#I'll go back and edit it in later

[doesthebatfamknowpopculture]

Tim Drake has seen Back To The Future III

Helena Bertinelli has seen Fistful Of Dollars

[cybernomads]

you got a fast car // i want a ticket to anywhere maybe we can make a deal // maybe together we can get somewhere

[yikesb3rg]

losing my mind over kenshi's fit details so i'll put it on the backburner for nowge sorry kenshi

[nimbusclan]

Interlude 2-3

[Previous] [Start] [Next]

Aw, one big happy famil-- oh, no. oh, wait,

[Previous] [Start] [Next]

[reikunrei]

how will our hero brave this encounter?

[molathesunfish]

my limbus bugs mainly based on characters that may or may not show up later... and one mystery feature for your guessing fun:]

[jsvausvqbd]

Bae Seok Ryu and Song Hyeon Jun

Truthfully, the circumstances just weren’t in their favor, regardless of how much they loved each other and dreamed of a future together. They were faced with a huge obstacle in the form of stomach cancer, for which Hyeon Jun fully committed to being Seok ryu's caretaker, taking a sick leave from work and even putting his whole life on hold for Seok Ryu, because he loved her and wanted to be there by her side. However, Seok ryu's decision to not tell her family and close friends meant leaving Hyeon Jun- who respected her decision and even after they broke up, kept her illness hidden from her family- as her sole caretaker and support system, which was bound to take a toll on him as well sooner or later.

After her treatment ended, they were yet faced with another huge blow in the form of depression -none of which are Seok ryu's fault by the way. But once again Hyeon Jun was left as her sole source of support. Now, I'm not saying that one's partner isn't supposed to be there (I mean, "in sickness and in health", right?), but it's clear that it was too much for him at this point. This reminded me of a cancer research conference I attended years ago, where one of the discussed topics was caretaker burnout and the importance of respite for them, both the sick person and those around them are greatly affected both physically and mentally, and that's what we saw in the episode; Two exhausted people who, despite loving each other, just couldn't bear with how exhausted they were and Hyeon Jun ended up snapping. Does this mean he's a shitty person? No, we saw him be by Seok ryu's side through thick and thin, but at last he was tired and snapped in a moment of desperation. This sadly just means they just weren't what the other needed at the moment anymore, and this is a very realistic portrayal of relationships where there isn't respite nor a proper support system.

I do think he loves her and feels guilty for being so burnt out, but sadly she's ready to move on and that's all that's left for him to do now. Move on.

This sets up a huge challenge for Seung hyo tho, how do you get through her walls when she’s seen first hand what can happen to a relationship when faced with adversities? She said it herself, she’ll be constantly on the lookout for her cancer possibly coming back or even spreading. How can he convince her that he won’t burn out? How can you convince someone who knows firsthand that sometimes love is not enough? Good luck Charlie!

[mintjeru]

hypothetically speaking, these would be cute sticker designs ^^

open for better quality | no reposts

[n7punk]

glitter, spice, everyone fight

Pairings: Adora/Catra (Catradora). Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018). Series: Outside of the War. For: SPOP 5th Anniversary Big Bang (@spopbigbang)

Rating: G. Chapters: 1/3. Words: ~10k.

Summary: The Horde has a surprising amount of glitter. It’s considered a necessary asset in training young cadets against the dangers of fighting princess magic. As a kid, Catra discovers it is only momentarily beautiful. The training is harder on Catra than it is on anyone else, and she takes the blame for faults that she can't control. She doesn't think she can ever find it pretty again, but like a lot of things, she eventually finds a world beyond the Fright Zone where she can be proven wrong. (Or, why Catra knows what glitter tastes like)

Note: This fic is archive-locked, which means you will have to be logged into an AO3 account to read and view it.

[sainz100]

2024 Hungarian GP | x (edited)

[cityandking]

daichi + stoic character flinching, either because they’re so out of it or the pain is Just That Bad. 1.7k. set some nebulous time post-campaign. requested by @thewildmother (ty!) + ozy belongs to @snapdragonling and scratch belongs to @monsterinthemountain

They find Ozy, eventually.

“Where the hell have you been,” snarls Zaref, at odds with the way he kneels and sets Daichi’s limp form down. The hollow they’ve picked for their campsite is some hundred yards back from the river, far enough to keep from flooding and largely sheltered by the massive ferns that fan between the even larger tree trunks.

“Zaref,” says Scratch, mostly placating, though her eyes are tight and her spectral tail lashes at nothing. The forest creaks and chitters around them, everything settling down for sunset—except, of course, the things that are waking up.

“Scouting,” Ozy says shortly, taking them in—Zaref bleeding badly from a wound down one arm with an eye swollen shut, Scratch in one piece but in disarray and obviously on edge. Daichi, limp on the ground.

It’s simple arithmetic. He kneels without the conscious thought for it, fingers searching for Daichi’s pulse. For a heartbeat—between the hungry forest and Zaref’s fury—he expects not to find one.

But— No. It’s there. Fast, but comfortingly strong. Ozy pulls back, looking at the others, the beaten and battered pair they make. His eyes narrow.

“What happened? Did you find the princes?”

They’d been meant to follow Abraham and Kalindre’s trail, but Abe and Kale are clearly not with them now.

Zaref’s jaw works. “We didn’t find them.”

“What did you find?” he presses. Something, clearly, given the state of them.

“I don’t know,” Zaref says, terse. “I didn’t see it.”

Up close, beneath the blood and the bruising, his face is unusually pale. Scratch paces beside them, tail still flickering

“It was big,” she says. “It came out of nowhere. Literally, it wasn’t there and then it was. Even Daichi didn’t see it. I thought—“ Her stride stutters, and she looks at them. “I thought there wasn’t supposed to be any magic here.”

Zaref’s jaw tightens. Ozy, instinctive, teaches for the familiar touch of Selene’s blessing and—as he has these past three days—comes up short.

“A natural ability, perhaps,” he contemplates, refusing to let himself linger on the unpleasant familiarity of absence where divinity ought to be. He’d just as happily ignore all the various troubles of this patch of the forest, which seems to have made a point to stump all of them. Perhaps the princes have been lucky enough to stumble out the other side, though Ozy doesn’t put much stock in luck these days. “Some kind of camouflage.”

“But it wasn’t there,” insists Scratch. “There was nothing to hide! Unless it was some kind of physical trigger? Or it changed shapes—“

Ozy leaves her to talk through the problem for a moment, his eyes finding Zaref’s.

“What happened?” he asks again. Zaref holds his gaze, then glances down at Daichi.

“Like Scratch said. It appeared out of nowhere. He didn’t see it.” His hand hovers over Daichi’s chest, near but not touching. Ozy generously doesn’t mention the tremor in his fingers. Instead, he reaches out to peel away the fabric of Daichi’s cloak.

The sight beneath is not a pretty one. He can understand their panic.

Something has rent a hole in Daichi’s armor, a heavy, ugly blow straight through to the meat beneath. It’s hard, through the bent and twisted metal, to see quite where the wound lies, and for a moment Ozy recalls the searing afterimage of another fusion of metal and flesh, a melting obsidian construction. Yes; he understand the shaking of Zaref’s hand.

The sluggish pulse of blood down Daichi’s side and the pale, greening tint of his skin around his mouth doesn’t help matters either.

“Do something,” says Zaref, sharp as an order. “Help him.”

Ozy sits back on his heels and nearly brushes his hair back before he stops to think about the blood. Around them, the forest has begun to dim. Night falls swiftly here and lasts longer than it should. They’ll need to hunker down for the night, set a watch. It isn’t a promising situation.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do,” he says calmly.

“You know healing.“

“Barely.” He nimbly avoids memories of old companions, old field medicine. Those ghosts are of no use here; he has never been a medic. “Without magic—“

“I’ve seen you do it. If you mean to let him die—“

“Of course I don’t.” He might mean to curse him, though. Trust Daichi to find himself bleeding for their sake without a thought to how they feel about it. “I’m only saying. There isn’t much to be done.”

Zaref’s face hardens. “You’re wasting time.”

“I’m setting expectations.”

“Would you both,” wheezes the body between them, “stop.”

Zaref’s attention snaps away in an instant, and Ozy will admit he isn’t far behind. Dai’s head shifts, brow furrowed, and one eye cracks open. The usual ring of gold around his pupil is dull, fading.

“Don’t speak,” Zaref says. “You will need your strength.”

Daichi rewards him with a look far softer than Ozy has seen him give anyone else. He resolutely shoves down his own flickering flinch of absence. He’ll be back on Asdor soon enough.

“Had a stinger,” Daichi whispers, and that’s directed at Ozy—the softness is gone, and in its place is a familiar, iron-cool expectation. By now, Ozy almost thinks it might be some kind of trust. “Need— kit.”

His healers kit. Yes. Ozy twists to stand and Scratch is already there, satchel in hand. Ozy takes it with a nod and lets Scratch rest a hand on his shoulder. In truth, he can’t say if it’s more for her or him.

“The armor will have to come off,” Ozy says, and Daichi gives a twitch of a nod. Zaref takes a breath.

“Help me,” he says to Ozy. Ozy sets his jaw.

It takes both of them to maneuver Dai to sitting and all three of them to get his breastplate unbuckled. The worst is the front; Dai grips Zaref’s hand so tight his knuckles go pale as Ozy works to separate the buckled-in front of his armor from the wound. When it’s done, he collapses back on the ground, head lolling for a minute. Zaref bends towards him like a reed in the wind, their foreheads pressed almost to touching. It is several long seconds before Daichi’s eyes crack open again.

“Okay,” he says, though he seems to be speaking mostly to himself. His chest heaves as he breathes, and more blood spills down from his gut, thick now without the armor to mask it. “Okay.”

“What do you need?” asks Zaref, and Daichi reaches for the healer’s kit. His fingers fumble at it for a moment before he seems to realize he can’t do it himself. His eyes find Ozy again.

“Blue vial,” he says. “Antivenom."

Ozy finds three in varying shades, but when he holds them up it’s the brightest of them that Daichi fumbles towards. Ozy hesitates. He has little experience with this, is it to drink or—

“Over the wound,” Daichi says. Zaref has taken his hand again, but Ozy doesn’t miss the way Daichi doesn’t quite hold it back. His head has fallen back too, eyelids fluttering. “Then— bleeding. May need to cauterize—“

“Alright.” Ozy cuts him off. He doesn’t need the full picture; he can do the basic triage. He glances at Zaref, who stares at him resolutely, the anvil weight of expectation.

“Do you want to do the honors?” Ozy asks. Zaref, in response, bares his teeth. “Alright.”

He uncorks the vial and eyes the wound. It’s starting to go an unpleasant black around the edges. Selene help him.

“Next time, perhaps consider letting someone else get stabbed,” he says, mostly to himself, and then he pours the serum over the wound.

Daichi’s stomach jumps as he flinches, and a low, grinding moan slips out from between his lips. It’s a noise Ozy had never hear from him before, a whimpering animal sound, and his chest heaves as the wound fizzes. Zaref is muttering something under his breath in Voidspeech that Ozy can’t be bothered to understand. His attention is fixed on the wound, on Daichi, on the rapid pant of his breathing. His fingers find his pulse again, gone fast and thready, and for a moment he thinks— he fears—

“If you die,” he mumbles under his breath, “I’ll kill you.”

The fizzing eases. His pulse steadies. His head lolls, and the moaning stops. Zaref looks up.

“Is he—“

“Stabilizing,” says Ozy. “I think.” He doesn’t move his hand for another minute. Not until his heartbeat has stabilized.

“The bleeding,” says Zaref, watching him again. The small, distant part of Ozy that notices such things wishes he would stop.

“Do you need help?” asks Scratch, wringing her hands. Ozy takes a breath.

“He should have sutures in the kit,” says Ozy—he’s seen him use them often enough. Scratch nods and begins looking through it as Ozy finds a fresh cloth to wipe away the oozing aftermath of the antivenom. A moment later, Scratch produces the suture kit.

“If anyone else wants to do the honors,” Ozy offers, but neither of them respond. Scratch had gone back to her pacing, attention on the trees as night falls. Zaref’s attention is on Daichi, unwavering. Ozy sighs.

“Fine,” he says, reaching down to thread string through the needle. He can’t fucking wait to be out of this fucking forest. “Zaref, hold him down. Just in case.”

He needn’t worry, though. Daichi stays pleasantly knocked out for the whole of the stitching process, and afterwards Scratch brings Ozy water to wash his hands and the needle before he packs it away again. Night has fully settled on them.

“For the record,” says Ozy, sitting back on his heels and looking between Zaref and Scratch. “Scratch, I fucking hate your planet.”

“I know,” she says. “Is he going to be okay?”

“I certainly hope so.” But— Yes. He thinks, yes.

“Thank you,” says Zaref. When Ozy glances up, the man isn’t even looking him. Ozy huffs.

“You’re welcome,” he says. On the ground, Daichi takes a deep breath, eyes flicking beneath closed eyelids. Zaref peels his cloak off and lays it over him, tender.

They sit in awkward, relieved silence for a long time after that.

[soriastrider]

i've been drawing some valentines day dirkjake nonsense but at this point i probably won't finish it by the end of today. so here's some other dirkjake for now :) 💚🧡

[caluupin]

saw an AAI screenshot from a tweet and had to draw it

[one-and-a-half-yikes]

Another Day, Another Fanny Chapter...

Well that sure was fucking something huh? I promised I'd at least start talking about IM chapters on here instead of keeping it strictly to the discord server so here I am. Though most of this I already said, I don't mind going over it again, since I feel like I can better organize my thoughts on this.

Also there's no word limit, which is also great.

MY THOUGHTS ON CHAPTER 348: RABBIT REFLECTIONS

So to start, let's rip the bandaid off and just say that everything Fanny said to Vicious in this chapter was bullshit.

At this point in the story with how Fanny has been acting around Cuphead I hope I don't need to specify how Fanny is in love with Cuphead when there's just too much evidence to support it. She kissed him because she wanted to kiss him, not because she was trying to see what kind of lowdown man he was. If Fanny had truly believed that, she would have confronted him about it long ago, but she didn't and we know why. And on some level, I think she knows why, too.

I think it's much easier for a reader to imagine this chapter as a conversation Fanny is having with her conscious. Saying something like this:

Is not her responding to Vicious but to her own thoughts that weigh on her. That kiss has been on her mind for about a week. And her reasoning behind it has changed even moreso. This is her settling on a final conclusion. This is her convincing herself of her own convictions. Of her worldview. That what she did was right, that she didn't ruin something good because it was never good to begin with. So that she doesn't have to confront that ugly realization in the pit of her stomach.

That Cuphead doesn't love her the way she loves him.

That last part specifically. Let's look back at the screenshot yeah?

-"She could almost see Oswald's glare. It was all the same dance. A carousel of pain and betrayal, around and around."

It's a strange thing, isn't it? To bring up Oswald. To equate Oswald to her current situation with Cuphead. Because that is essentially what she's doing, isn't it? It may seem odd, but I do have a reason for why she's thinking that.

Rejection.

Oswald broke up with her and moved on with his life, and Cuphead literally ran from her. Literally the only thing they have in common here, is the fact that they rejected her. But there's another thing too.

"No, she shouldn’t complain. She was lucky she’d found a man with a decent job. Little fights like these weren’t going to end it all for them. Besides, it wasn’t like marriage was about love and all that stardust. She had tried that avenue, and it had ended in heartbreak. Definitely not worth it. Dumb rabbit." (Chapter 74)

The bold is obviously about Oswald. Now compare that to now. Do you see what I mean? She fell in love again, and she got hurt in the process. Nevermind that in both these scenarios the men were also hurt. Especially Cuphead who trusted her and from his perspective, probably assumed she planned on using him for her own needs. Just like Meg. Just like Natasha. And in that way it's very interesting the wording she's using to describe Cuphead, and also Oswald for that matter, rejecting her.

Pain and betrayal. Very edgy, it's giving listening to that one slowed down piano version of Numb that everybody made fandom AMVs to back in the 2000s.

But seriously, why those words? It's a betrayal that Cuphead wasn't interested in the same way she is? Painful sure, that's kind of how rejection works, but betrayal really?

Or.

Is it a betrayal to herself? Thinking of certain aspects of this chapter as Fanny talking to her conscious would definitely lead me to believe that that's partially what it is. She'd already tried the avenue of love twice and it's ended poorly for her, so why did she do it again when she said she wouldn't. Why now, and why with someone like...like him? Like Cuphead? It's absurd in her head. It's something she can't make sense of. Doesn't want to make sense of it either.

So the betrayal could be referring to herself. But, I also think it could be something else, too. But for me to talk about that I have to talk about Oswald and Fanny's relationship because even after a disastrous break up they just can't stay away from each other~

So even though we don't have a lot of context for their relationship, I'm going to go off on a hypothetical that the "betrayal" in regards to Oz is that he offered Fanny (either literally or just like, the idea of the relationship with him gave her that impression) a way out of the dark. From chapter 327 that her home life wasn't great, and she doesn't seem to have any high opinion of her parents at all. Even the mere suggestion of going back home after her break up with Oswald seemed like a worse fate to Fanny than being homeless.

Oswald betrayed her because he was her first love, and also because she was supposed to be living the good life with him. They were supposed to be together forever, but then he broke up with her and next thing Fanny's hearing he's got a successful career and a beautiful wife and kids. She left everything behind for this man only for it to turn out like this. In some ways I can kind of understand what she means. But then she applies this to Cuphead and it's a bit stranger.

Because Cuphead never did anything other than offer her friendship and nothing more. Of course, at the beginning, Cuphead did have a crush on her, but by the end of the Wonderful Winter book he's basically over it. But then I think back to that book specifically, and I think about their interactions throughout and wonder if the betrayal is because Fanny misconstrued everything about their relationship because of how he'd previously acted. Is it the case, that Fanny thought they were both in the same boat, using each other as a form of escapism. She even calls Cuphead out for this at one point and makes an observation about it. Did she think it was the same for him as it was for her? That the feelings were mutual?

And, okay I actually can't blame her for that part. Look, no matter how you slice it, Fanny and Cuphead were just straight up flirting with each other in the early chapters. Not to mention Cuphead asking to take Fanny out to dinner? The Christmas group date? The aftermath?

At the beginning, there may have been mutual feelings of attraction sure but things have changed since then. And even though Cuphead put aside his feelings for her for good, if Fanny had shown any form of reciprocity then maybe things could have changed, but she didn't. But even still it doesn't really explain how Cup could have betrayed her. It stumps me and I've had a good nap to think it through and it's still confusing.

[moretheta]

yessss you're back, I've been awaiting your reaction.

I don't mean to distract you from the morenaposting (god bless) but I'd like to bring to attention how during the yes/no questions bork doesn't even ask something like "is the number of members higher than 23?" she just goes straight for the number and then immediately intuits it's lower. Girl has really impressive people skills, or maybe she's just perfect for morena. She also totally fucking marked that R card when she asked to check the cards, and then scrunched it up to hide the evidence. Also, we didn't see this kiss directly because Borksen won't consider it their real first kiss until the second one. Trust.

frr!!!! god all the women in this arc are popping off, keeping it together in horrible situations with genius-level analytical skills. i think the more we've gotten to know her, the more borksen has proven to me the insane capabilities' she'd have as a specialist. giving me major kurapika and chrollo vibes in terms of the speed with with she processes information- not to mention, the ability to keep her cool. morena sure does know how to pick em

and i've come to the same conclusion as you: borksen for sure found a way to cheat w/ the game! it's telling how we saw her internal narration in (407? i think) where she said she was convinced morena isn't the type of person to cheat- so her random accusation at the end has gotta be a play. maybe she bent it somehow, or left some kind of mark so she'd be able to distinguish the return card? and then crumples it up afterwards to hide the evidence. beautiful stuff. i'm obviously biased, but i'm like 90% sure that morena caught on to her play and let it happen anyway.

god just. look at morena's eyes. and volksen's nervousness- trying to see if she's gotten away with it. soooo much subtly in the body language throughout these last few chapters it's been incredible. i can def conceive morena letting volk get away with it as partly a power move but also partly a demonstration of how their relationship could be going forward. this whole game was created to make volksen feel like she had a sense of agency in her decision- i mean, volk basically surmised as much in 407, right?

which makes her ultimate decision all the more scrumptious. i think she's realized the extent of the situation and her powerlessness within it, and came to the conclusion that learning nen was her best chance at survival- although i'm sure there's much more cooking in her head!!! and i might be reaching, but i'm totally seeing parallels between morena recruiting someone supposedly against her best interests w/ borksen, and then chrollo doing the same thing w/ hisoka, and perhaps even illumi later. delicious parallel after parallel!! if we get some borkjudas imagery i'll ascend to a higher plane.

as for your last point-- i hope and hope and pray and pray!!!!! maybe theyre saving it for the inevitable morena/theta/borksen threeway (i'm sane.)

[witchysniffles]

that old familiar feeling

These gays. They're trying to murder me.

This was meant to be a short little prompt fill for the prompts 😘: kissing things better, 🍓: homemade food/treats, and 🗓️: working late. (Thanks @snezus-christ-risen for the prompts!!) 4.4k words later, I do think I technically checked all those boxes.

A/gathario ft. sick A/gatha (and R/io who's not immune to irritation...)

Please don't reblog to non-kink blogs! Minors DNI.

Rio wasn’t sure what the hell the Scarlet Witch had put in that TV spell she’d locked Agatha in, and she definitely wasn’t sure what was or wasn’t intentional at this point, but she had to admit, she respected the hell out of whatever power had made the bold choice to turn the grand finale into a sick episode.

She’d noticed it from the first moment she saw Agatha in her ‘office’, which was really just a cluttered living room that was in serious need of a good dusting. Or maybe not. That would probably just make things worse.

It had been a long time, but Rio still knew Agatha better than she knew herself and the little signs were all there: the tired, watery eyes; the scratchy voice and dull congestion she couldn’t quite shake; her reddened, irritated nose that she kept rubbing in a way that had Rio suddenly very aware of the seam in her slacks as she crossed her legs.

And then there was the sneezing.

Despite a couple of quivering breaths and one rather promising false start that quickly fizzled out, Agatha had managed to keep it together during their initial meeting, but Rio had hung around the ‘station’ for a while after, which was a nicer way of saying she’d lurked around Agatha’s garden to try to get a better read on the situation. It wasn’t her fault Agatha left her windows open so that Rio could hear her fighting an increasingly frustrating battle against her nose for the better part of the afternoon.

So now here she was, standing on Agatha’s front step in the dark with a bag from the local pharmacy loaded with tissues and canned soup and anything that had looked even remotely useful from the cold and flu aisle.  It had been a very long time since she’d had cause to buy cold medicine—the last time had been 1893, if memory served, and back then it had mostly just been a question of what flavor you preferred your cocktail of tranquilizers—but the guy at the cash register who rang her up said she clearly had all her bases covered, so she figured that was good enough.

She wasn’t sure Agatha would actually take any of it, but it wouldn’t hurt to give her some options. This Detective Agnes character didn’t seem like the type to take care of herself very well. But then again, neither was Agatha.

With a deep breath to calm her nerves, Rio reached out and knocked on the door. For a long moment, nothing happened, but then Rio heard footsteps coming closer, unintelligible grumbling, a lock clicking, before the door was wrenched open and Rio was face-to-face with a thoroughly disgruntled Agatha.

“What?” Agatha growled. She had a scowl on her face, clearly intending to send her unexpected guest packing, but once she noticed it was Rio, something in her expression shifted.

Her eyes widened in surprise, her lips parted; maybe it was just wishful thinking on Rio’s part, but she seemed almost…softer. Or at least as soft as this prickly version of her could look with a flushed face, tired eyes, and a frizzy halo of flyaways. She still looked grumpy and frankly sick as a dog, but for an instant, Rio almost caught a glimpse of her Agatha beneath the hexed shell. It tugged at something deep inside her, and she found herself biting the inside of her cheek to keep her expression neutral.

“Did you know,” she started evenly, “that it is a universally-acknowledged truth that a lady cop cannot be good at her job and have a healthy personal life at the same time?” Rio held up the pharmacy bag and jiggled it enticingly. “I brought the good stuff.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes and sniffled.

“What is this?”

“A peace offering, since we got off to such a rocky start,” Rio said with a shrug. “You seemed out of sorts at the station earlier, and I know there’s something nasty going around right now, so it didn’t take much to put two and two together.”

 “Huh.” Agatha crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame. “Nothing gets by you, does it?”

“Nope,” Rio said. “That’s how I earned the big badge. Now can I come in? Your canned soup is getting cold.”

The corner of Agatha’s lip twitched at that, but she played it off with an irritated grumble even as she stepped aside to open the door a little wider.

Well that was easier than Rio had expected. Maybe the Detective Agnes model wasn’t so bad after all.

“Kitchen?” she asked.

“T-to the left,” Agatha said. “Wh-hh-what do you need the-hih-the kitchen for?”

“The soup,” Rio said, valiantly ignoring the way Agatha’s breath kept snagging on the edges of her words. “It might not be home cooking, but I promise you I can doctor up a mean can of Campbell’s.”

“You don’t hah-have to d-do that.” Agatha’s eyelashes were starting to flutter. She ducked her head to the side as she closed the front door with one hand and pressed the side of the other against the underside of her nose. Her red, irritated nostrils quivered as her breath hitched again, and she switched to pinching them to try to stave off the inevitable.

Rio didn’t say anything; she just watched Agatha’s war with herself with bated breath. Agatha was putting up a hell of a fight, but her body was fighting even harder. With one final, fluttery inhale, she pitched forward and squelched a sneeze into a near-silent shudder. She released her nose with a heavy sigh and a wet sniffle, subtly wiping her hand on the hem of her shirt. Rio thought she’d call that round a draw.

She turned away before Agatha could catch her looking, but she couldn’t resist calling a soft “Bless you!�� over her shoulder as she headed towards the kitchen.

She glanced towards the dining room as she passed, and had to do a double take when she noticed the spread on the table: file folders labeled ‘EVIDENCE’, photographs of the neighbor’s flowerbeds, typed forms and handwritten notes that proved that at least the hex was still providing Agatha with more than enough mental stimulation.

“Burning the midnight oil, detective?” Rio asked, looking back and raising an eyebrow at Agatha who at least had the sense to look a little sheepish as she pressed a knuckle to the underside of her nose.

“Case doesn’t stop for the sniffles,” she said.

“No, but it does take a break,” Rio said sternly. “I’m gonna start on the soup. In the meantime, pack this up and get comfy somewhere. You’re not to think about it until at least tomorrow.” Agatha started to open her mouth like she was going to protest, but Rio was quick to cut her off. “That’s an order.”

She knew she was pushing it by trying to pull her fake rank, but she was pleasantly surprised that it…worked. Agatha didn’t look happy about it, but she busied herself clearing off the table as Rio set about unpacking her haul on the kitchen island.

Her attention was only half on her work, though. Apparently looking down at the table was enough to shift the congestion in Agatha’s sinuses and set her nose running. She sniffled once, twice, and swiped at her nose with her sleeve. By the third desperate, snuffling inhale, Rio rolled her eyes and tore open the tissue box she’d brought.

“Here.” She waited until Agatha lifted her head and tossed the box so it landed on the table next to her. “Blow.”

Agatha nodded her thanks as she traded her sleeve for a handful of tissues and cleared her nose with a couple of forceful blows. She didn’t lower her hands right away, though. Rio could tell from her shaky breath exactly what was happening, and she watched as sure enough, Agatha’s eyes closed as she pinched the tissue tight around her nose with one hand, bracing herself on the back of a chair with the other, and sneezed again.

“Hh-g’tx! H’gXHT! Ugh,” Agatha wiped her nose and sniffled again. She lowered her hands, but at the last second, another sharp inhale overtook her and she only just managed to get her elbow up in time. “Heh’ESSHhew!”

Huh. Interesting.

That was the first time Rio had heard a truly let out sneeze from Agatha all day, and she was pleased to learn that despite the new butch affect and that ridiculous accent that seemed to come and go the more time Rio spent around her, Agatha still sneezed exactly the same.

“Bless you,” Rio said casually.

Agatha rolled her eyes. “You’re gonna get tired of that real quick.”

Rio flashed her a grin. “Try me.”

Agatha chuckled and shook her head as she turned back to her work.

Rio, meanwhile, dumped both cans of chicken noodle soup into a saucepan and set it to warm on the stove while she raided the rest of Agatha’s kitchen.

“Wow.” Agatha had wandered over to the island and was pawing through the various boxes and bottles of cold medicine that promised to reduce fevers, ease congestion, soothe coughs, and knock you the fuck out to fix everything else. “Did you stick up the pharmacy on the way over?”

“Invoked eminent domain, actually,” Rio quipped. “No one ever seems to want to argue when you flash the badge.”

That made Agatha chuckle, and Rio smiled to herself as she grabbed a carton of half-and-half out of the fridge.

“You kndow,” Agatha sniffled hard and cleared her throat in an effort to regain control of her consonants. It didn’t really work, but it was cute that she tried. “You did’t have to do all this.”

“I know,” Rio said. “I wanted to.”

“Why?”

Now there was a loaded question if Rio had ever heard one.

It wasn’t like she could tell her the truth, at least not outright. The layers of this spell ran deep, and Rio was terrified to risk ripping through it all at once. It was better to be gentle, take it slow, guide Agatha towards the light on her own. If she had to tear her love’s world apart once again, Rio at least still wanted to be kind about it. Even if Agatha didn’t always see it, Rio had only ever tried to be kind.

Then, there was also the selfish part of Rio—a thing she never had before Agatha came along—that very much did just want to spend as much time with her as she could in whatever form she could get. And it didn’t hurt that she was frankly kind of loving the show that Agnes was putting on. She’d seen Agatha undone like this plenty of times over the years, and it was a sight that she could never grow tired of, but there was something about this particular performance that had Rio captivated. The essence of Agatha was still there in the thinly-veiled frustration, the reluctance to rest, the abuse of her irritated nose, but it was all just slightly off so that Rio never quite knew what to expect. It was almost thrilling that even after all these years there was a new way to watch this all play out.

And then, of course, she'd be lying if she said there wasn't a hint of self-preservation involved. Rio was fairly certain at this point that even in her human form she, herself, couldn’t be killed. If there was an exception to that rule, though, she was also fairly certain that Agatha would be angry enough to find it if Rio woke her from the spell and she found out that she was sick on top of it.

The soup was boiling now, and Rio poured in the cream and brought it down to a simmer before she realized she still hadn’t given Agatha an answer.

“Would you rather I kick you while you’re down?” Rio asked. “Because I could definitely do that instead.” She swapped the cream for some chicken bouillon and a few plastic spice jars that were all well past their best by dates. Black pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, thyme, and oh, red pepper flakes. “How do you feel about a little bit of spice?”

When she didn’t get an answer right away, Rio turned to find Agatha leaning heavily on the island, one hand on her forehead while the other was rubbing up and down the bridge of her nose.

“You ok?” Rio asked.

“F-fine,” Agatha said. “It-hih-it’s fide. S-sometimes they ju-h’huh-just get stuck and I…” She trailed off as her breath hitched once, twice, and she dropped her hand as her lips parted in anticipation and she—

“Ah, fuck’s sake!” Agatha dropped her head onto the counter and sighed.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me your nose has performance anxiety,” Rio teased.

It did. It was a horrible irony that Agatha’s nose could be so sensitive, but paying it too much attention could leave her breathless and frustrated, and not in a way she enjoyed. Rio knew this, but she had to admit that she was rather enjoying watching Agatha squirm.

Agatha didn’t lift her head—to hide her flushed cheeks, Rio presumed—but she grumbled a toothless, “Fuck off, Vidal,” as she flipped Rio the bird.

“Ok, sorry,” Rio said. “I’m not paying attention. Just pretend I’m not even here.” She turned back to the soup. Agatha hadn’t answered her question, but Rio knew the spice was probably still a yes. She measured with her heart, stirred everything in, and valiantly ignored the sounds of Agatha’s breath hitching desperately behind her again. Somehow not seeing it made it feel like even more of a distraction.

“Hh’hih…hh-hih—HH’heh…hH’HEgxtCH! HEh’xsh!”

“Salud,” Rio said as Agatha blew her nose with a congested sigh. “You know, you shouldn’t stifle like that.”

“Who are you, mby mother?”

“Thankfully no,” Rio said. She looked back and smirked over her shoulder so that she could watch Agatha’s cheeks flush even redder as she added, “I doubt we’d be having near as much fun if I was.”

“Is that what we’re doi’g?” Agatha asked, raising an eyebrow as she rubbed at her nose again. “Havi’g fud?”

Rio shrugged. “Could be.”

“Sure,” Agatha scoffed. “I bet I’b real fud all stuffed ub a’d gross.”

Rio didn’t say anything, just hummed lightly as she gave the soup another stir. It was just about done now, and Rio turned off the heat as she reached for a spoon to taste it. It looked nearly homemade, and it smelled like it too. She inhaled deeply, relishing the warm, spicy scent on the steam and she…ohh fuck. Rio just managed to drop her spoon on the counter and get a hand vaguely in front of her face before the burning tickle in her nose reached a crescendo.

“Hh-HAH’ESHhoo!” The first sneeze erupted out of her with little more than a shuddering gasp as a warning. She just barely remembered to turn away from the stove so she wasn’t directly spraying the soup, but the persistent itch didn’t give her much time to do anything else. “H’ASHhu! Oh-hh fuh-fuck I c-can’t AESHtshu!”

“Oh, shit! Are you…fuck, hold on.”

Rio was vaguely aware of Agatha scrambling around in the background, and under almost any other circumstances it might have made her laugh, but right now the only thing she could think about was how badly she still needed to sneeze. Her breath hitched once, twice, and then suddenly there was a hand on her upper arm, and Agatha was at her side, pressing a piece of fabric—was that a dish towel? Hadn’t Rio just given her tissues?—into her hand.

 “HehEASCHoo!”

Rio was far too preoccupied with the persistent itch that was still smoldering deep in her sinuses to think about covering, but thankfully she didn’t have to. In the split-second she had between her breath stuttering and the next sneeze, Agatha took it upon herself to press the dish towel against Rio’s nose.

“AETSHhu! Ohh-hh g-god I hih-hESHH’hoo!”

That last one seemed to finish the job, but neither Rio nor Agatha moved for a long moment as Rio gave an experimental sniffle into the damp dish towel. With a sigh of relief, she straightened up, taking the fabric from Agatha and blowing the last remnants of irritation into it. When she was finished, she tossed the crumpled-up makeshift tissue onto the island. The actual tissues, she noted, were still on the dining table, and she felt a smile tug at her lips at the thought of Agatha being so panicked she hadn’t even thought to look behind her.

And on the subject of Agatha, Rio noticed that she was still hovering anxiously in front of the sink, not saying anything, just watching Rio closely.

“What?” Rio sniffled. There was a strand of hair that had come loose from her bun at the edge of her vision, and she tucked it back behind her ear. “No manners?”

“Oh, shit, sorry. Uh…bless you?” Agatha pointedly looked down at the stove as Rio casually scratched the side of her nose. “Sorry, that was just…that was a lot.”

Rio shrugged. “Spice always does me in like that. Guess I was just a little distracted.”

Agatha’s cheeks flushed impossibly redder and her hands twitched at her sides, so she just crossed her arms over her chest and exhaled heavily.

A devious smirk curled at the edge of Rio’s lips. If she wasn’t here on a mission, she’d have loved to get to play around with this a little more. Agatha’s…enjoyment of Rio’s sneezing had initially been a bit of a surprise to them both, but fuck if it wasn’t one of the hottest things Rio had ever experienced. She was pretty sure based on this reaction that Agnes had gotten that trait too, and Rio was willing to bet the good detective could be a real freak in the right light.

But she couldn’t think about that now. Every moment she was here was nothing but borrowed time for Agatha; Rio could be horny about it later.

She hip-checked Agatha out of the way of the sink so she could wash her hands. Agatha stepped back, but was still watching Rio with a strange expression on her face now. She looked pensive. Curious, even, like she was fitting together pieces of a puzzle without getting to see the picture on the box first.

For the briefest of moments, Rio considered that her own sneezing might have been jarring enough to at least rattle the bars of the spell Agatha was under, and if that were true, she was never letting Agatha live it down.

But then Agatha’s nose scrunched up again, and she pressed her knuckle hard against it, closing her eyes as the congestion shifted audibly. It didn’t go any further than that, but when Agatha opened her eyes again, any hint of recognition was gone. Rio supposed she’d just have to try harder next time.

She stirred the soup and tasted it. Perfect. She turned back to Agatha and nodded in the direction of the table.

“Wash your hands, then go sit down,” she said. “I’ll bring you a bowl.”

Agatha did as she was told without protest, and Rio busied herself rummaging around in Agatha’s cabinets until she found a mismatched set of bowls. She portioned out the soup and turned around to see Agatha flipping through a file folder at the table.

“Hey!” Agatha jumped at Rio’s sharp tone. “What did I say about working right now?”

“I kndow,” Agatha said. “I won’t, but just…would you do mbe a favor while you’re here and look at a couple of pictures?”

“You’re really asking for my help with your case?” Rio tutted as she set the steaming bowl on the table. “Have we checked your temp yet? Because that sounds like a fever talking to me.”

Agatha looked up at her, and it was clear that she was trying to look formidable, but all Rio could focus on was her pale skin, her watery eyes, her little halo of frizz from the messy ponytail that had no business looking that good on anyone. The steam from the soup in front of her was making her nose run and she scrunched it up as she tried to sniffle before resorting to using the edge of her sleeve pulled over her thumb to wipe it away. She looked so pathetic and adorable it damn near made Rio’s heart melt in her chest.

“Alright, fine,” she said, settling down in a chair across from Agatha. “I’ll look as long as you’re eating.”

“Ok, just gimme a second to find it.” Agatha licked the thumb and forefinger of her left hand as she started flipping through pages of crime scene notes and photos, picking up speed as she went until—

"Ah, shit," Agatha hissed. She dropped the folder as she shook her hand reflexively and stuck her index finger in her mouth.

Rio winced. "Papercut?"

Agatha nodded.

"Can I see?"

Agatha narrowed her eyes uncertainly, but still held out her hand. Rio didn't miss the way Agatha flinched when their hands met, but she didn't pull away. A little dot of blood had welled up again on the tip of Agatha's index finger. Rio held it up to the light, and studied the lines of Agatha’s face as she considered her next move.

"May I?” she asked before she could second-guess herself.

Agatha's brow furrowed in confusion, but even through the sleepy haze of the low grade fever Rio could feel on her skin, those sea-blue eyes were curious and hungry and desperate to know what happened next. She nodded once, and Rio smirked.

Slowly, gently, Rio guided Agatha's hand closer to her, keeping her eyes on Agatha the whole time until she could press her lips feather-light against the tip of Agatha's index finger, parting them just enough to press the tip of her tongue against the cut. Agatha sucked in a breath and Rio pretended not to notice.

Agatha had always described the sensation of Rio's healing magic as a dangerous sort of pleasure, like holding her palm just above a lit candle and letting the flame lick at her skin in the instant before it burned. For Rio, the push and pull of her own magic against Agatha's had always made it feel more akin to a static shock: electric and exhilarating. But here, now, in this ordinary house with Agatha's purple under someone else's lock and key, she could feel for the first time the warmth of her own magic as it melted against Agatha's skin and knit the minuscule cut back together.

Rio kept her eyes on Agatha as she held her hand back up to the light.

"Look at that," Rio said. "Didn't even break the skin."

Agatha's gaze dragged from her healed finger to Rio's eyes, and for just an instant, something like recognition flashed across her face before the confusion took over again. Agatha’s eyes went unfocused, her brow furrowed, her lips parted, and Rio was so caught up in watching her this close up that she was caught completely off-guard when Agatha snapped forward with a sudden harsh sneeze.

“hh-hETSHhoo!”

Agatha wrenched her left hand free of Rio’s gentle hold, and cupped it over her nose just in time to cover another harsh sneeze as Rio lunged for the tissue box. She held it out to Agatha who nodded her thanks as she replaced her hand with a couple of tissues and blew her nose.

If the heavy sigh that followed was anything to go off of, this cold was really starting to catch up with her. Feeling brave, Rio reached out to tuck a stray curl behind Agatha’s ear. Agatha flinched at the initial touch, but she didn’t pull away, and Rio let her nails drag lightly along Agatha’s scalp. That earned her a congested moan as Agatha’s eyes fell closed.

“How about this,” Rio said gently. “I’ll come back over and check on you tomorrow and we can talk about the case as much as you want then. But for now I think you need to eat something and then get your sorry ass to bed.”

“Fuck off,” Agatha grumbled in a tone that said she knew Rio was right and she was gonna listen, but she had to be kind of a bitch about it first. With that out of her system, though, she picked up her spoon to try the soup and her face instantly changed.

“It’s good, right?” Rio asked with a grin.

“It’s great,” Agatha said. “They teach you this shit at Quantico?”

“Nope, I'm self-taught,” Rio said. “I mean, I learned the basics from my ex.” Not a lie. “She’s a pretty decent cook, and I could barely even feed myself when we first got together. She taught me a lot, but I feel in love with the process and the rest is all just years of trial and error."

“Ex, huh?” Agatha scoffed. “Her loss.”  She shifted in her seat, cleared her throat, scratched at the side of her nose before taking another spoonful of soup.

Rio laughed lightly and shook her head. “You have no idea.”

Agatha glanced at Rio and caught her eye for a moment before slowly, hesitantly reaching her right hand out just a little bit. She didn’t even make it halfway across the table, but the gesture was heard loud and clear: Agatha was reaching out. She was asking Rio to stay.

Rio thought about the rest of the soup on the stove that she’d have to put away sooner or later. She thought about the mess she’d left on the island that she’d have to find a place for when Agatha inevitably refused anything stronger than Tylenol. She thought about following Agatha up to bed, tucking her in, leaving water and tissues on the nightstand before leaving her alone when really Rio wanted more than anything to get under the blankets and just hold her.

Rio thought about all of this as she looked back at the hand she knew as well as her own. She’d have to leave soon. One way or another, she always had to leave. But right now she didn’t let herself dwell on that. Instead, she let her own hand creep closer to Agatha’s until they could fit their fingers perfectly together. Rio squeezed lightly, and when she met Agatha’s eyes, there was a shadow of an old familiar warmth in them.

Sooner or later this would be over, but for right now, it felt like enough.