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dourpeep · 3 years ago

Note

i have even more ideas now...

what about like the moment you open up about your relationship with kazuxiao the fans who were already seeing that happen were celebrating and on both of y'alls insta or something is where you announce and it's like a picture of all 3 of you chilling together or something

and then when they finally appear on a variety show they're just questioned throughly and they talk about how you guys meet and what they like about you

ok but the moments where you just feel sort of insecure since being an idol is hard and you're technically dating your seniors and you're just hit by the antis who are against yourself relationship so you lock yourself in your room in your dorm by yourself to cope. your roommate (can be whoever) contacts them both and they immediately come over and come in and offer soft kisses and soft murmurs of reassurance that they'll never leave you and that everything's gonna be ok.

side note i can see xiao just being a whole meme without realizing?? for like variety shows he's just known for his dead pan expression and then i can see him being so competitive on shows like running man..mans ripping tags left and right, while kazuhas just hiding in a weird spot or something

kazuha on the other hand i can see him being a troll, he likes to mess around with the hosts of the show and manages to mess up some of their plans, he also likes messing with his group members, where xiao likes to say that kazuha looks innocent but is a part of the devil line with venti

onto albedo i can see him like answering questions in his vlive and fans realize that a lot of his songs are more romantic and sort of pining?? and they're asking where the motivation is from. he answers that it's just something that he saw recently so he felt motivated (it wasn't the fact that he had realized that he was 100% in love with you)

but like all of this mans inspiration comes from you, he's had multiple songs dedicated to you before your relationship was even open to the public, and when your relationship finally does, it just clicks for fans and it suddenly makes sense, your ship name trends worldwide for the day

but how you and albedo met, i can see both of you guys being in the industry already and you guys are sort of know each other but it was for a one time off collab with other artists involved so you didn't really talk with each other. like i said before albedos a solo artist while i can see you being a part of a popular group already. but then both of your companies decided to do another collab and especially picked you two since you guys already worked on a collab before.

at first it was like awkward since albedos really socially awkward but then things click when you guys start writing the song together. everything just matches so well?? and you guys just compliment each other?? and that's when you learn of albedo just staying at the studio so late so you often bring food. this leads to you guys getting closer and albedo even stops his work just to talk to you more. when your song comes out and everyone is waiting for the stage, there's just so much tension?? but the good kinda and everyone is awed by the song and the vocals coming from you and albedo.

i can also see the both of you guys appearing on variety shows together too, like appearing on a show where you two travel to another place and experience the culture there, with albedo being your tour guide and showing you all the famous places (one of the many times where fans were awed by his research and knowledge) and then if you guys were to appear together again after you guys reveal your relationship, a lot of the times they show idols as they wake up, they'll see you and albedo being clingy af to each other.

on another side note, albedos totally a troll on variety shows, he likes messing around with the hosts and other contestants since a lot of the time he's not really interested in the show itself, it's more for publicity. however, when he first appeared on a show with you fans noticed that he actually seemed interested for once and that's where your ship name started.

albedos totally a golden child tho, he's like basically perfect in everything so a lot of the times variety shows don't catch him slipping, however the one time that he did was when you were mentioned, the clip of with his ears bright red was trending for a couple of days :)

GIVING ME SO MUCH GOOD FOOD THANK YOU ANON

I think that this covers everything hehehe so I won't add to-

wait wait I put it all under the cut b/c it's a lot again-

Okay okay but like for the 'announcement' picture, what if it's like those photo booth pics (but like each picture you need to scroll through like on Insta) where it's cute and wholesome! The three of you are having fun wearing some silly glasses or hats, doing peace signs or finger hearts....and the very last photo is the three of you sharing a kiss- or, at least trying to.

It's sweet, a little silly, and most of your fans take it really well! After all, they can see the chemistry that you share and can't deny that the three of you would have a good relationship.

As for the insecurities of dating your seniors, Kazuha and Xiao are quick to knock back any of those worries. They love you so, so much and hate the fact that something like that makes you doubt for a single second. If anyone ever tries to bring it up, you know that they're going to immediately quip back.

Naturally, you're roomed with Venven :D He's technically an up-and-coming after he stopped doing idol stuff for a few years, so not only does he know the ropes, but he's also one of your biggest fans and biggest supports (outside of Kazuha and Xiao).

Though he's silly and light-hearted, he's quick to recognize when things are serious and need handling.

So as soon as he sees that you're not doing so great or if he notices the comments on your posts are going in a bad direction, he speed dials Xiao and the two of your boyfriends are right at the door in under 15.

Not only are they fast about it, but they have all your favorite snacks, a movie or two, some popcorn, and a ton of love and affection because they'll be damned if their love is going to be affected by some asshole's comments about their love life! What do they know anyway??

Actually this all could work too if Kazuha and Xiao are part of 4NEMO-

Hmmm

That'd cause so much more ruckus- not only is half of one of the most popular idol groups are taken, but by the same person??? And each other??? Man, that's wack.

BUT THE GAMESHOWS

Xiao would most certainly be super intense with those. He just can't help it--competition drives his blood and makes something snap in him. He's dead serious about doing well, regardless of the game. I actually have never watched said game shows, but--

Like...he's out for blood. No one is safe. Not even you or Kazuha if you're on opposing teams, though he'll be a bit more gentle. Maybe even with the hint of a smile while you have an expression of utter shock at the fact that he's just so fast-

Or if it's not a game show and instead you're doing some sort of idol group activity with a few others to get to know each other?

Someone suggests ping pong and, knowing how competitive Xiao gets, he's pitted up against Tartaglia and man. That's scary. There's no doubt that someone would clip the video and make it into an overly-dramatic retelling complete with music.

Hilarious.

As for Kazuha! He'd be a bit of a mish mosh! He enjoys poking fun at others, and he's so sly! Those poor hosts don't realize that he's goading them on, but sure enough--he is. Who knew that his charming smile and mild-mannered attitude could be so devastating?

But even then, he's mostly wholesome! There's a lot of little clips, mostly of your doing, of him in a 'kiss the chef' apron getting caught off guard while cooking something up. The videos aren't great because you're giggling while recording and he ends up placing the ladle down calmly before wrapping you up in his arms. Half the video ends up being the two of you laughing and joking while it's pointed at a weird angle towards the counter.

Sometimes it'll point just right and you'll get a half-blurred view of Xiao sitting at the kitchen island with his reading glasses perched on his nose and book forgotten. He tends to get up and join in for a few smooches before reminding Kazuha of the food that's still cooking.

Albedo!! He absolutely is the golden child. He's fantastic handling things under pressure in a cool, calm manner. Handsome, charismatic, incredibly smart--man's hit all the stops and just keeps going.

It's not until it comes out that the two of you are together that his cool façade (hardly one, though) falters and at the mere mention of you, he'll go soft. There's a tenderness in his eyes, a small smile on his lips, and his blush? Absolutely adorable. How can anyone object when he's obviously so in love with you?

And the idea you mentioned with the two of you traveling and experiencing stuff together sounds so cute (':

He particularly enjoys exploring new cuisine, so expect him to feed you some food from his plate-

There's also a few times where you two have gotten lost in the new places, more because you're both so busy taking in the sights to realize you've taken five wrong turns- But then you make it into a whole adventure, foregoing the map and deciding to wander around. What better way to discover and learn about somewhere than getting lost and wandering?

You find quite a few hidden gems this way since otherwise you'd be hitting more popular areas!

Wait- do they really show idols waking up???

Ahh regardless, Albedo's definitely a cuddler. He loves it, can't get enough of it. It's not often that he gets a good night's rest, but with you it seems like he's fully recharged and ready for the day! It's cute too because it doesn't matter--big spoon or little spoon, you on his chest or him resting on yours. Even a few times with you facing each other with your hands intertwined.

I also agree that Albedo would mess with the game show's hosts and contestants. Not only would he, but he'd be entirely smug about it (after all, we need to have that #smugbedo going on).

No doubt, there's been times where the cameras even focus/zoom in on him where he's sitting because he's got that smirk on his face.

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mochegato · 4 years ago

Text

Pixie Spy

Chapter 6

Chapter 1 Chapter 5

“What the fuck is this bullshit! Are you sure?” Chat Noir exclaimed loudly from his perch across the street from the hotel.

“Just telling you what I see, dude. There’s no Nightwing in that room.” Carapace reported with very little sympathy from his position across the street from the hotel on the other side from Ladybug and Chat Noir. “And I’m only seeing four heat signatures so I don’t think I’m just missing him. It looks like the big Bat, the little bat, and the middle bats. Basically, all the bats that were in town except Nightwing.”

“Wow! That is totally like a fuck you directly to Chat.” Rena Rouge laughed, turning to face toward Chat despite not having a direct line of sight to him.

“That matches with what the front desk staff said.” Bee confirmed as she examined her nails. The roof she was on, a few blocks from the hotel in a different direction, had very little light to help with the examination, but she was determined not to let such little details prevent her from making sure she looked immaculate. She had standards damn it. “They only saw four men checking in.”

“And you’re just telling us this now why?” Rena Rouge inquired exasperated. Even with the distance between her position a few blocks away in a separate direction from everyone else, the roll of her eyes could be felt by everyone.

“Uh, because they just reported it? Plus, there is no way to know if that was accurate. They could have been trying to sneak the other one in to surprise us.” Bee responded as though anyone who didn’t understand that without her saying it was an utter idiot.

“Sorry, Chaton. Guess there’s no kissing tonight for you.” Ladybug smirked at him.

Chat looked at her with a pout trying to hide the amused glint in his eyes. “And what about your man? How are you planning on kissing him anyway? Even once you get past that atrocity of a mask, he’s like two of you on top of each other.”

“I am not that much shorter than him!” Ladybug declared indignantly, pouting her lips at him.

“He’s not too far off. That man is huge and you are… compact.” Rena tried to offer kindly but the sardonic grin on her face was evident in her voice.

“Sounds like that puts her at the perfect height to make him really happy.” Bee smirked wickedly.

“Bee!! That is absolutely not something I want to discuss right now… or ever. We are never having that conversation.” Ladybug exclaimed trying to cool down her burning cheeks. She had a hard enough time focusing when just thinking about caressing his face or running her fingers through his hair or… or kissing his perfect, luscious, inviting lips… Where were they again? “Can we please focus on the issue at hand before they scatter and announce their presence to Hawkmoth?” She wasn’t sure if she was talking more to the team or to herself.

“Just trying to help,” Bee shrugged as though everyone listening didn’t know that was a complete lie.

“Right… so the first order of business before we attack them is you reacting to that mask, right?” Chat asked with a wide childlike grin, already anticipating the carnage.

“We’re not going to attack them. We are going to politely inform them that their services are not required and kindly return to their own territory.” Ladybug corrected him, trying to get the team to focus on the mission.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘fuck off’ in the politest terms possible.” Chat dismissed her comment.

“No need to be polite about it,” Bee cut in.

“But, first order of business, right?” Chat continued barely restraining himself from bouncing back and forth on his toes.

“Can we focus on the task at hand, please?” Ladybug muttered. “I want to be ready to stop them before Hawkmoth sees the Batfamily are in Paris and sends akumas for all of them.”

“So how are you planning on handling this? Good cop, bad cop?” Rena asked.

“How about strict but polite cops?” Ladybug offered instead.

“Boo,” Carapace said over the coms.

“No,” Chat responded quickly and a bit louder than necessary. “I want to be bad cop. They left Nightwing at home. They deserve it.”

“You just want an excuse to be a vindictive dick to someone.” Ladybug rolled her eyes at him.

“And?” Chat asked flatly.

“And we are fucking professionals and we will act like it.” She said. Chat gave her kitty eyes. She grunted and rolled her eyes, “Damn it. Fine. Bad cop, disappointed in your life choices cop. But they haven’t done anything to deserve us being assholes to them yet so reign it in unless things get hostile.”

“No, don’t reign it in. They need to know they are not welcome here.” Bee advised sharply.

“We can make that clear without creating enemies. If we push too hard, they won’t back off, they’ll push back and although we can take them, I really do not want to deal with the international fallout of permanently injuring the bats.”

“You know, you wouldn’t have to permanently injure them.” Carapace pointed out.

“No, no, I’m going to permanently injure them.” Ladybug said overdramatically. She turned toward the hotel and let out a sigh. “I’m trying to be strategic with this. So far, what they know of us is we worked with Constantine and we didn’t call them in to help. That and breaking into their Batcave are the only things they know about us. That’s it. It is natural to want more information. I’m going to give them the benefit of the doubt. They might be assholes but I try not to be.”

“Since when?” Rena snarked.

“Fuck you,” Ladybug quipped back.

“Ugh, fine, but they are going to disguise their intentions behind innocuous questions and innuendos. Don’t hold back once they go there. Call that shit out. They are trying to get enough information so they can take over and we are well aware. They’re not that smart and we’re not that dumb. Just because we’re pretty doesn’t mean we’re stupid. They need to know it is in Paris’ best interests if they leave and quickly.” Bee stated flatly.

“Aww. You think we’re pretty?” Rena responded batting her eyes unseen.

“No, but I’m pretty enough to bring up the average,” Bee responded with a smirk.

Before a snark war could start, Ladybug interceded. “I’m aware Bee. I won’t say anything more than is available on the Ladyblog.”

“Oh damn!” Carapace swore over the coms. They could hear the wince in his voice. “That had to hurt.”

“What happened?” Ladybug demanded settling into a defensive posture.

“Your man just proved Edna Mode right using Robin as an example.” Carapace chuckled.

“Trust issues.” Bee said like a gameshow host introducing a prize.

Ladybug grimaced thinking about Robin’s costume. “Speaking of flashy and attention seeking, Rena, have you figured out what your distraction is going to be?”

“I have a few ideas. Any requests? You want big and flashy or subtle? Maybe mess with their heads and make them paranoid?”

“I want flashy. You wouldn’t do it with that last akuma. Give me this. Plus Batman is known for his dramatic entrances, but he’s on our turf now and I want to show them what dramatic really means.” Chat pouted at Ladybug’s unimpressed look.

“You were saying something about professionalism, Bug?” Bee’s voice came back.

“Are you suggesting petty grudges aren’t professional?” Carapace responded. “Because, I’m pretty sure that is the business model for most major companies.”

Ladybug lowered her head and shook it letting out a long, strained breath before she reacted, “You heard the man, Rena.”

“Flashy with a hint of fuck you, it is.” Rena confirmed with a nod.

“Movement in the room. It looks like they’re making their move.” Carapace reported.

Ladybug straightened immediately. The news rippled through the team like a flipped switch. Their relaxed postures and jovial comments were left behind in favor of vigilance. “Okay team, it’s starting. Carapace get into position. Rena, you got the distraction ready?”

“Know exactly what to do, Ladybug.” Rena confirmed.

“Perfect. Everybody in position?” Ladybug asked.

Affirmatives rang out from the three. “And remember LB, this isn’t about them, it’s about Paris. They don’t need to be happy with the results, they just need to leave.” Chat reminded her.

“Right. Understood.” She looked down and took a deep breath bracing herself for what was about to come. She rolled her shoulders back and stretched her head from side to side. She knew she could make them leave easily but she needed to do more than that. She needed to make them understand why they needed to stay away and agree to do so. Barring understanding, she needed to make them fear coming back, which was not a direction she wanted to go, which meant she really needed to make them listen. All while Jason was there, looking at her.

She was not looking forward to seeing him again. No, that was a lie. She was very much looking forward to seeing him again, just not today, not like this. She didn’t want to have to manipulate him. She didn’t want to lie to him. That’s how they got in this situation in the first place, because she had the stupid, overwhelming urge to be honest with him, to let him in. But she wasn’t in a place where she got to do that. Letting people in meant making them a part of the fight. It made them vulnerable and wrecked their lives. She tried to contain the damage to mainly her and a bit to Adrien, but everyone who joined suffered. And the thought of causing him that much pain or having to fight an akumatized Jason…

Ladybug looked back up toward the roof across the street with a renewed determination, her gaze steely and her lips set. She waited until the last of the Bats had arrived on the roof before whispering into the coms, “Rena, you’re on.”

<><><><><>

Red Hood landed on the roof last, bringing up the rear for the group. He looked out over the city willing himself to feel which direction he should go to find his Pixie Pop. He was focused intently on nothing in particular when he felt someone slap his arm. He whipped his head around to see Red Robin staring across the roof dumbfounded. He followed his line of sight and saw an odd looking fox sitting next to some pots on the other side of the roof. After a few moments Red Robin finally got his voice back and decided to use it to make a brilliantly insightful observation. “There’s a fox… on the roof.”

“How did a fox get up here? What kind of irresponsible hotel is this?” Robin demanded.

The fox hissed at him like she was personally insulted and ran toward them, rounding the edge of the pool so closely, she just barely missed falling in. Robin’s breath caught and he automatically reached in the direction of the fox, ready to rescue her should she fall into the pool. The fox continued on as though she hadn’t almost fallen in the water, increasing her speed as she ran between Robin and Red Robin toward the edge of the roof. Robin whirled around and jutted forward to grab the fox before she got hurt or fell off the roof. But the fox seemed to have other ideas, speeding up even faster and racing toward the edge of the roof before jumping off.

Robin ran to the edge to see if the fox might have landed on a balcony, but fell back, landing hard on the ground when a cloud of bats flew up into the sky at a breakneck speed from the same spot the fox had jumped. Red Robin flinched back from the bats’ sudden appearance but Batman just narrowed his eyes at them. Red Hood cocked his head to the side watching the bat-like things flying around above them before taking off away from the hotel. “What the actual fucking fuck was that!” Red Hood exclaimed.

Ladybug and Chat landed on the roof behind the bats and watched them for a few moments. They turned to each other with smug smiles. No matter what else happened that night, they were always going to remember the chaos they had caused the bats. They were counting that as their first win. They turned back toward the bats and schooled their expressions. Ladybug gave them a few moments to notice them before she stage whispered to Chat, “How long do you think it will take them to notice us?”

“Super unimpressed right now.” Chat shook his head in disappointment, leaning casually on his baton.

The bats whipped around in unison. Batman and Robin refused to show the shock they felt. Instead, Batman stared intently at them while Robin glared at them. Red Robin looked back and forth between the Parisian heroes and the space where the bats had been flying, his face scrunching in confusion as if trying to figure something out. Red Hood however focused entirely on Ladybug, squinting at her as if trying to piece something together that refused to fit, not that anyone could see it under the mask.

Ladybug and Chat jumped down off the ledge but stayed on their side of the roof, allowing the pool to mark the division between the two groups, acting as a buffer between them, easy enough to get around should they need to, but demarcating the sides. Ladybug looked between the vigilantes, her gaze lingering a bit longer than it should on Red Hood. That hurt more than she expected, to see him but not talk to him, not really, not be able to acknowledge him or see what he was thinking. Because he couldn’t know it was her and even if he did, he couldn’t stay. She moved her gaze back to Batman with a strained smile, trying to calm her erratic heart. “Hello. Welcome to Paris. My name is Ladybug. This is Chat Noir.” Ladybug introduced them politely but with an edge to her voice.

“Is there anything we can help you with before you leave?” Chat asked innocently. Ladybug pressed her lips together in annoyance but kept her eyes on the bats. Not as bad as it could be.

“Good evening Ladybug, Chat Noir. I’m Batman. This is Robin, Red Robin, and Red Hood. We would like to discuss the situation here in Paris with you.”

“You’re missing your whole team. Where’s the other one?” Chat asked nonchalantly. Ladybug fought rolling her eyes. To be fair, Chat had warned her he was going to be a petty dick, she just was expecting a bit more of a focused dickishness. They were going up against Batman. They needed to focus, to project confidence and control.

“Really, dude?” Carapace asked through the coms.

“Where’s your other one? Where is the one that makes portals?” Red Hood asked not even attempting to mask the interest in his voice, and that hurt even more.

“And breaks into secret bases?” Red Robin grumbled loudly.

“She has been exposed thanks to you, Redwood. And the rule of the miraculous is once your identity is exposed you can no longer wield a miraculous.” Ladybug responded. It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. It was longstanding rule. It was heavily ignored, but it was still the rule. It was the jaywalking of the miraculous rules; there but nobody ever acknowledged it unless the situation was really dangerous. She lowered her eyes in guilt. He hadn’t made her tell him. She had done that. It wasn’t his fault she had divulged their secret. She weighed letting him believe it was his fault so he would back off versus the guilt he would carry with him. She couldn’t let him carry that with him because of her. “She made her choice.”

“So you just, what? Kicked her to the curb?” Red Hood demanded indignant on behalf of the woman whose name he didn’t even know. How dare they use her and throw her away like that! She had risked going into a potential enemy’s base for them and they just throw her out like she was nothing. She lifted her eyes to him and studied him closer. His face was obscured tragically but his body was tense, angry. Not a good condition for Paris.

“Forget about the scapegrace.” Robin growled breaking their link. “Let’s get this over with.”

Red Hood glared at him but Ladybug cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes in concentration, studying Robin, looking for something in his face. When she didn’t see what she was looking for, she spoke up, “Chat, you speak English better than I do, was that an insult? That sounded like an insult, but I can’t tell.” Chat shrugged and gave her a non-committal grunt. She hummed in response and flashed an overly wide model smile Adrien used on the red carpet with overly pushy reporters, “I’m going to take that a compliment. Thank you for your kind words. I will let her know you send your well wishes and admiration.”

Robin growled at her. Red Robin looked down to hide the smirk that tried to push through and break his serious expression. Looking back up at the heroes, he started firing off his questions to hide his smile, “So she was using a miraculous. Which one was she using? Are you using a miraculous? Is that what your villain is using as well? How many miraculous are in play right now? How many do you have? How did you know we were here?”

“That’s a lot of questions for people who aren’t welcome here and won’t be here much longer.” Chat answered sharply.

“Chat…” Ladybug said warningly. “Polite, remember?”

“That was polite.” Chat objected. She gave him a warning look. “This is our territory they invaded and our villain they were just about to offer their services to.”

“Now you guys are concerned about boundaries?” Red Robin deadpanned.

“We came here to find out more about the situation here.” Batman stated loudly bringing the attention back to him. “We were only recently made aware there was a situation and we would like to learn more about what is going on.”

“I’m sure you would, gothboy,” Bee growled over the coms.

Ladybug looked down to hide her smile. Getting her focus back, she asked, “And you needed almost your entire team to ask a few questions?”

“We weren’t sure of your receptiveness to visitors. We wanted to be able to protect ourselves in case you attacked.” Batman stated logically.

“Reasonable.” She nodded absentmindedly. “Better to be prepared than caught unaware. Although, it’s cute that you think you would stand a chance even with your whole team.” Ladybug said confidently. She wasn’t inviting a discussion on this and she wasn’t threatening them. She was stating a fact, one they should be aware of. Okay, maybe she was a bit more condescending than she had to be. But the bats had to know, they were not the power players in this group. The miraculous team were.

“You presumptuous, little feist. You have no idea what we are capable of, what we’ve done.” Robin growled. Batman’s hand on his shoulder cut his lecture short.

“Oh Sweetie, we are well aware of what you are capable, of what you have done.” She responded lowly, fixing him with a dark glare that had Robin faltering and Red Robin gulping. “It’s why we’ve made a point of keeping you away from this situation. You are the ones who don’t know of what we are capable.” A thunderclap sounded in the sky as though to accentuate her point.

Chat pursed his lips so hard to keep himself from laughing that the pink could no longer be seen. He was going to buy a drink for Alya after that.

A tense silence fell over the rooftop until Batman finally broke the tension. “You are correct, we do not know what you are capable of or what the nature of the situation here is. Could you give us a bit more information? We just want to see if there is anything we could do to help.”

“And not to take over because you think you can do better?” Ladybug asked with a raised brow.

“Clearly we could do better. You’ve been fighting the same villain for 5 years.” Robin scoffed at them.

“Robin!” Batman admonished him.

“Ignore him. He’s being a jealous little prick. He is physically incapable of being anything else.” Red Hood implored.

“When’s the last time you fought half a million enemies at the same time, little one? And defeated all of them?” Ladybug asked throwing out the comment on his age and size knowing he would take it as a slight. “Because that was last week for us. One million was the week before. Not particularly impressive, I know, but it’s been a slow month.”

“Also, how’s the Penguin doing? You’ve been fighting him for over a decade now, right? You can’t even stop a fucking flightless, cold water bird.” Chat scoffed.

“You realize he isn’t an actual bird, right?” Red Robin asked wryly.

“Wait, What!? I have been sorely misinformed.” Chat gasped dramatically and brought his hand to his chest. “I completely take it back. It’s much less unimpressive that you’ve been fighting with billions of dollars of support and technology against a single person with no super powers for a decade.” He said dryly.

“Honestly would have been more impressive if it had been an actual bird. Significantly cooler too.” Carapace over the coms.

“We’re not here to fight.” Batman said calmly.

“Could have fooled me,” Chat grumbled.

“Probably, doesn’t seem like it’s too hard to do.” Robin scoffed.

“Oh, that little… next time I’m coming too. Give me just 5 minutes with that little gremlin.” Bee growled through the coms.

Ladybug crooked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes, “Yeah, non-hostile is definitely the vibe we’re getting from you.”

Red Hood held out his hands trying to placate them, “We found out about the situation from the other woman and we want to help. She said things were bad. She said you needed help.”

“That seems highly unlikely,” Carapace scoffed.

“What the hell did you say back there?” Rena asked skeptically.

“She told you we needed help? She said she wanted you to intervene, Redwood?” Ladybug questioned him incredulity in her voice.

Red Hood furrowed his brows and huffed, “Red Hood.”

“What?”

“It’s Red Hood, not Red Wood.”

She furrowed her brows in confusion, “I meant Redwood like the tree? You know, the… the tree…” she motioned indicating something tall. “Is that not the word for those really big trees in America? Redwoods?” She asked Chat uncertain.

Chat looked at her wide-eyed, “Did you… did you make his name into a pun?”

She looked back at him horrified, “No! Why would you… oh, yeah, I see it now. Shit.” She looked over to Chat with desperation in her eyes. “That nickname never happened. We all forget that happened and we never mention it again.”

“No, no. That’s the only way we are referring to him from now on. I’m spreading the word.” Chat grinned at her.

“Word is spread, dude.” Carapace responded back. “He is now dubbed Red Wood the Dancer.”

“How’s that professionalism looking right about now, Bug?” Bee asked with amusement clear in her voice.

“I hate you,” the ‘all’ went unspoken but everyone on her team heard it.

“You know I’m still here, right?” Red Hood spoke up.

“Yeah, but your opinion of what we call you doesn’t matter.” Chat shrugged.

Ladybug let out a long suffering sigh, looking back to Red Hood to continue the conversation. She immediately squeezed her eyes shut, “And could you not wear that thing while you are talking. It’s extremely distracting. Who designed that for you and what dishonor did you inflict upon them and their ancestors to cause them to punish you with it, and thereby the rest of us?”

“I… this helmet serves a purpose.” Red Hood defended himself.

“To terrorize your opponents?” She asked skeptically.

“That’s part of it.” Red Hood confirmed.

“Mission accomplished, but not the way you intended, I think.” She said narrowing her eyes at him. “Seriously, it’s like looking at an elementary school play about Hellboy.”

Red Hood was left gaping, grasping for words. “Disappointed. You could have done better, Dudette.” Carapace said through the coms.

“I expect a follow up to that next time you see him,” Rena added.

“I changed my mind. I think I’m warming up to them.” Red Robin grinned.

Red Hood glared at Red Robin, “Back to the original question, no. She said Constantine was helping. She said people were suffering, children were suffering. I want to help end that. We just want to help.”

Robin shot a condescending grin at them, “Of course if you want to keep allowing the people of Paris to suffer because you’re too proud to accept help you so desperately need, yet too incompetent to end it on your own…”

“Excuse me? What! Oh no, I was totally wrong about him. Go for it. Take him down, Dudette.” Carapace growled.

“So to be clear, she said she was already getting help and you heard her tell Constantine you weren’t supposed to know about the situation let alone welcome in Paris and you came anyway.” She stared them down, letting her words sink in. “You need to leave now. You can’t be here. Leave in the morning or we will force you.” Ladybug says grimly.

Robin glowering at her. “As if someone like you could”

“Without breaking a sweat, Sweetie. The warning is purely an attempt to keep things friendly. And with all due respect…”

“Which isn’t much,” rang out from all four members of team at the same time.

“…I assure you, if we have to remove you, things will be considerably less friendly and you won’t even know what hit you.” Ladybug stated coldly.

“You contemptible, duplicitous, mendacious, cretinous, Jezebel!” Robin raged.

“Robin, if you do not shut your fucking mouth right now,” Red Hood growled as he stalked toward him only held back by Red Robin, “I will personally toss you right the fuck after that fucking fox without your grappling hook.”

“You might want to apologize, Robin, or my arm might give out and not be able to hold him back anymore.” Red Robin hissed.

“Boys!” Batman thundered. “We are on a mission.”

Ladybug crooked her head to the side again, “I know you haven’t been doing this very long so a piece of advice for you; I understood very little of what you said. As a result, I am not nearly as offended as you wanted me to be. Look, I understand that Pompous Asshole is the only language you speak, but it may enhance your effectiveness if you were to work on bettering yourself in the communications area. It’s hard to intimidate someone if they have no idea what you are saying.”

Robin turned red at the suggestion he was inferior in any area, especially intimidation. He was to be feared not belittled. He had been trained as such since he was born. “See, I turned you redder than my suit solely using words you understood.”

Red Robin turned slightly toward Red hood with a huge grin and said quietly, “I’m definitely warming up to them.”

“Not to mention you are letting your anger undermine your stated purpose for being here. To make it clearer to you, you are messing it up for your team because you are incapable of controlling your emotions, so interested in making us feel like failures that you are causing your entire team to become one.” Ladybug broke it down sternly but softly, like she was speaking to a child, which she was. Despite what he thought of himself, he was a child.

Robin tensed to jump at them, reaching for his sword but stopped when Batman placed his hand on his shoulder and squeezed hard giving him a hard stare. “We are not suggesting you haven’t been doing a good job.” Batman stated. Robin scoffed. “We did not come to fight, I promise.”

“Wise move, but I think not everyone on your team got the memo.” Ladybug said coolly.

“It’s a shame he doesn’t have parents to teach him manners.” Chat stated casually as though he was thinking out loud. “Or maybe they’re more like mine, too invested in their own interests to actually invest in parenting their kids.” He turned a sharp gaze back to Batman, “Anyway, I digress, you were saying something?”

Red Robin grinned at the ground again as Red Hood interceded, attempting to change the topic. “We are all here to get more information and if you aren’t willing to give that then… then that’s fine. Can I just speak with the other woman, please?”

“Hood…” Batman warned.

“Ooo, LB. He’s got it bad.” Rena smiled.

“I assure you, you won’t get a different answer from her.” Ladybug responded plainly, forcing her eyes to stay sharp instead of softening like they wanted to do. He was not playing fair and he didn’t even know it. He was messing with her heart making it speed up and stop and skip beats all at the same time. It wasn’t fair.

“That’s fine. I just want to talk with her.” Red Hood asked, a touch of desperation leaking through his words.

“I think she has said quite enough talking already. She won’t be doing any more, not with you, not anytime soon.” Ladybug responded harshly. She still felt guilty for letting herself expose them to him like she had and needed to remind herself.

“What did you do to her?” Red Hood asked warily.

“She’s fine. We don’t harm our allies.” Ladybug said pointedly throwing a glare over toward Batman. “She does not want you here right now either.”

“You don’t speak for her,” Red Hood growled at her.

“Right now I do. She agrees the situation is too dangerous to have the Justice League here. It’s too dangerous for her and for you to be here until we have ended the threat.”

Red Hood desperately looking for some way to recover this. He couldn’t go back without getting some clue about her, without getting closer. He needed a chance, just one chance to get closer. “Cat guy, you going to let her speak for you?” Red Hood tried instead.

“Oooh, that was the wrong move.” Rena winced.

“Dude’s desperate give him a break. He’s looking for anyone who’ll give him a different answer.” Carapace offered weakly. He was rooting for him and willing to give him a break on one desperate, stupid attempt.

“Me? Yeah, that’s the way it works. She does the talking, I do the destroying.” Chat glared back at him then whispered “Black Storm” causing a black ball of condensed misfortune to appear between his hands. “Unless you’d really like me to take over…” he said rolling the ball between his hands like a magician’s floating ball.

“We are trying to help you dolt. We have experience and training, which you are sorely in need of.” Robin shouted at them.

“And excellent control over your emotions clearly. Tell me class why is that combination, NOT a benefit in this instance? Anyone? Anyone at all? Bueller? Bueller?” Chat taunted him.

“Listen here, you and your entire team, including that cat thieving hussy…” before Robin could finish the sentence Red Hood yelled, “Can you shut your trap for 3 seconds so we can have a conversation. We have a mission here and you are blowing it.”

A realization suddenly hit Chat, he pointed at Robin and looked at Ladybug wide eyed, “Oh it was his cat.” He turned back to Robin, “it was your cat. That explains the…” motions towards him and the hostility rolling off him in waves.

“You stole a cat?” Rena asked.

“Can’t wait to hear that story.” Carapace grinned.

“Interesting,” Bee said thoughtfully.

“That’s it. Taking the com out now. If there is anything important, announce it.” Ladybug said quietly pulling out her com.

“Sorry about that. Cats just really, really like her.” Chat motioned toward Ladybug, “I can attest. But we returned him to you little man, so… all good, right?” Robin glared at him and opened his mouth to speak but was cut off.

“Why don’t you tell us why it is a bad idea?” Batman interceded, attempting to bring the conversation back to the topic at hand. It had not escaped his notice that they had been speaking for a while now and had yet to get any information on the situation in Paris. “We would appreciate more information on the situation.”

Chat was done with this conversation, with the false promises, the hostilities, and the disrespect. “Huh, where did all that confidence and bravado go? Just a second ago I swear I heard something about knowing how to handle the situation better than us because we were so utterly, helplessly incompetent and yet here you are asking us what the situation is and for advice on how to handle it. Well here’s the advice; Get Out. Your interference will make Bialya look like a success.” Chat growled. Ladybug put a hand on his arm again warning him to back down on the hostility.

“Bialya was… an unfortunate event.” Batman conceded.

“That is putting it mildly. But the Justice League always knows better, right?” Chat hissed.

“Chat! Robin insinuated the incompetence not Batman. Batman is asking why we think it is a bad idea for them to stay and we want them to understand that, remember?” Ladybug offered attempting to bring down the hostility and suspicion on both sides. She was still well aware of Batman’s true intentions and he needed to be called on it, but they were edging to pushing too hard.”

“We just came to find out what is going on. Offer assistance if you needed it. NOT take over.” Red Robin repeated, looking directly at Ladybug. Chat was looking for a fight, but Ladybug appeared willing to talk. She was willing to work with them, at least a little. She was the one they needed to focus on.

Chat scoffed but Ladybug tightened her grip on his arm stopping him from continuing, “We appreciate the offer but we will kindly have to decline it. We have considered the options, researched the players, and we have decided at this point in time having members of the Justice League, or affiliated organizations, in Paris is too dangerous for us and for Paris.” Ladybug stated diplomatically, ignoring what she was sure were angry cries coming over the com in Chat’s ear about her being too nice.

“We would like to see if there is room for us to offer assistance. We would be negligent if we just took your word for it.” Batman said sternly not giving an inch.

“Already doubting our word and trying to force your way into the situation I see.” Ladybug quirked a brow but kept her voice light. “You can get the information you seek from any of the many online resources available.”

“Those aren’t available outside of Paris.” Red Robin pointed out.

“Well then I suggest you download the contents of the sites before you leave in the morning. You could also call up business people here to discuss the situation under the guise of investigating whether adding a Paris branch to… a company,” she just stopped herself from exposing their identities. Even if she was confident there were no cameras up here, it was still good practice. “…would be dangerous. Not to mention the files in your possession that we copied. They contain more than enough information to give you the insight you desire.” She suggested well aware of the fact that even with decryption software working full force, they would not be able to decipher the Grimoire texts. “There are options other than being here and exposing yourself to our villain.

“The abridged version is we have a villain that takes advantage of people’s negative emotions to possess them. It allows him to use that person’s knowledge, combined with his own against us. As a result, having people in Paris who are experts in combat or people who would go to any length to find out our identities is extremely dangerous to us and could tip the balance in Hawkmoth’s favor. That’s a double strike for you.”

“We don’t need to know your identities. We can help you without knowing them.” Red Robin assured them.

Ladybug cocked her head to the side, her voice dripping in skepticism. “Can you honestly say none of you would try to figure out our identities and how to defeat us? That you don’t have files on everyone you work with, on how to take them down, their weaknesses, where to hit to have the strongest impact, including discovering their identities with or without their permission?” Thank you to Constantine for that little tidbit. “Our identities are secret by necessity. We don’t even know each other’s identities,” a small lie, but a necessary one. It still made her uncomfortable to say it, she curled her fingers and straightened them back out in response to the uncomfortable feeling. “Imagine that information in the hands of Hawkmoth.”

“Like we would let someone take it.” Robin sneered at them.

“Like you could control it.” Chat sneered right back at him.

“Regardless of intent or actual physical possession of the files, as I mentioned before, our villain takes advantage of people’s emotions to turn them into supervillains with their own superpowers. He takes over their minds. Any negative emotion makes you susceptible. Have you ever felt sad? Mad? Frustrated? Guilty? Desperate? Then you’re susceptible. Tell me who in the Justice League would be immune to that?” Ladybug looked them in the eyes, refusing to back down or soften this blow.

“I’ve seen the moon destroyed and the world annihilated. We’ve seen the city flooded and a super volcano half the size of the city bubbling away instead of our suburbs. We’ve seen the very air turned into sulfer dioxide. Have you ever heard children screeching in more pain than any human should ever have to experience? Have you heard hundreds at the same time? Have you had to listen to the inhuman sounds they make? We have and we relive it every single night. Have you had to dig through your partners’ blood to find their miraculous after watching them die in front of you, get beheaded next to you, in order to finish the fight? He has.” She said gesturing toward Chat. “Those were people with newly acquired powers but no training. Imagine what would happen if one of the Justice League became akumatized, familiarity with how to wield powers and strategic training with new and unlimited power… It was not a risk we were willing to take.”

Red Hood stared in horror. That was why his Pixie Pop was so angry at the gala when she thought Constantine was messing around and wasting time, because that is what she had to deal with and any delay meant the people of Paris had to deal with more of it. That was what she was so desperate to stop, Hell on Earth, constant agony. And every additional second they had to bear it was torture.

Red Robin stared dazed at her for a few moments but then narrowed his eyes realizing an inconsistency in her story, “The city looks amazingly unharmed, considering all you claim to have seen.”

“That’s my power. I fix miraculous related damage.” Ladybug responded tiredly.

“Convenient” Robin quipped.

“Not nearly as convenient as preventing it from happening in the first place, I assure you. The cure fixes the physical damage but it doesn’t fix the psychological damage done. It doesn’t take away the memories. Everyone remembers what happened to them and to the ones they love.” She turned to Batman with soft eyes, “I understand that you want to get as much information as humanly possible so you can feel like you have some control over this situation but you don’t. You won’t. You can’t. The help that would be most valuable to the city of Paris is if you could convince Bruce Wayne to send fleets of therapists. I understand you have a unique relationship with him.”

Batman stared silently, letting the description settle in. If what they were saying was true, then the situation was worse than he had anticipated. They were handling it but heroes had died. She was right that therapists would also be advantageous, not only for the citizens of Paris but for the heroes as well. It was a miracle they hadn’t had anyone break from the stress yet. If anything, it solidified his resolve to get to know everything he could about the situation so they could step in when one of the heroes inevitably did succumb to the pressure.

“We could help in other ways. We could offer support from a distance. We could help, we just need to know more about the miraculous and how they work, what their strengths and weaknesses are. We can work together.” Red Robin offered.

“Is that what you would do? Made a deal with a group that has a history of betrayal and violence towards allies? We know Batman would and has. Would you? And trust them to keep their word? Give them all the secrets and insights on how to undermine us or neutralize us? Trust them to stay out of Paris and not ‘know better than us how to handle it’? Not get us to trust you so you could find out more about the miraculous and take it so you could keep it better protected?” Ladybug asked in a dubious tone.

Batman stayed silent in response to the obvious suggestion. Not denying it. Red Hood and Red Robin shot Batman glares from the corner of their eyes, not wanting to make it completely obvious that she had deduced the plan they had been arguing over earlier.

Ladybug took note of their silence and hummed in response. “I thought so. It sounds like we made the correct choice after all.”

“No, please. It sounds like you have a lot of issues with B here. That’s fine, I understand. I do too. Let me stay and help.” Red Hood took off his mask revealing his face, no domino mask to preserve any semblance of secrecy. He wanted to lay everything out in the open. He moved closer to Ladybug and Chat until he was halfway between them and his family. He needed them to see how earnestly he meant his words. Ladybug’s breath hitched looking into his eyes shining with sincerity as he plead with them. She wanted to look over to his family to see how they were reacting but she couldn’t take her eyes off of Red Hood’s.

“I can act as intermediary, support, nothing more. B and his team stay out of the city. Justice League stays out of the city. And I help train you and help you track down your villain. I’m a damn good detective. I can help.” Red Robin stared at him incredulously and Robin glared at him. Batman’s look was indecipherable.

He started to say something but is interrupted by sound of “Akumas incoming, multiple” coming from the areas of Chat’s baton and Ladybug’s cord around her waist.

“Dammit,” Ladybug yelled. “5 minutes! 5 fucking minutes! And honestly it could probably be any of them.” She pulled a familiar set of glasses out of her yoyo and threw them to Chat. “It's time for you to leave. Longg, Tikki, Unify.” She commanded as the necklace she was wearing glowed and she was washed in a golden light causing her suit, mask, and hair to change transforming into Dragon Bug.

Chat grabbed the glasses out of the air without looking, keeping his glare settled on the Batfamily. “Looks like you managed to endanger all of Paris in all of 5 minutes. Congratulations, you’ve surpassed our already low expectations for you.” Chat sneered at them putting the glasses on and yelling “Plaag, Kaalki, Unify!” allowing a teal light to wash over him and change his suit, mask, and hair as well transforming him into Cheval Noir.

“Wait, what is an akuma?” Red Robin asked in defensive stance ready to attack whatever it was coming at them.

“It’s what turns you into unstoppable monsters. It’s why we didn’t want you here.” Ladybug snapped. “How long do we have?” Ladybug yelled searching the sky around them. The sound of “Maybe two minutes, if you’re lucky.” came from her waist. She nodded and focused on the pool.

There are many advantages to becoming an adult. Suddenly a person can participate in the government, vote, drink, buy a house, get married… But for Marinette and Adrien, the most significant advantage was they could expand their existing powers and unlock new powers. The moment they turned eighteen they were able to do new and exciting things with their miraculous. Their time limit was now nonexistent, they could call on their powers multiple times without recharging, and they could access new powers, powers like Black Storm and Tidal Wave, assuming they had been trained on how to call on them, or had access to and knowledge on how to read the sacred texts that described them, which they now had thanks to the files they had pilfered from the bats.

“Tidal wave!” Dragon Bug yelled moving her arms slowly. Everyone on the roof stared at Dragon Bug wondering what that command did. Their eyes were drawn to the pool when they noticed the water begin to move, slowly at first, swirling like a lazy current under the surface. The movement became faster as the water started to swirl around and rise above the edges of the pool. The bat family and Chat watched in disbelieving awe as the water rose out of the pool in one solid mass, swirling and twirling around and back into itself, and heading straight toward the bat family.

The bats on the other side of the pool moved back a few steps but didn’t move fast enough in their stupor to escape the water. “What the hell?” Red Robin exclaimed quietly as he and Robin were swept up into the vortex that was now moving too fast for them to fight the current. Batman had managed to fight against the water for a few moments, but Robin and Red Robin, whose bodies were much lither were swept up immediately. The water carried them around again at a faster and faster velocity, on their second trip around the vortex, they collided with Batman, knocking him off his feet and forcing him to be at the mercy of the current.

Chat was so mesmerized by the water show he forgot he was supposed to create a portal. Staring instead in wonder at the new power Ladybug had somehow mastered in a few hours. He found out about Black Storm yesterday and still could only roll it around a bit. He still had no idea what it would actually do if he used it. “Chat! Portal to the Batcave now” Dragon Bug screamed at him.

“Right! On it!” Chat exclaimed waking up from his stupor. “Voyage!” he called out motioning toward the water, creating a portal behind it. Ladybug pushed the water through the portal. She flicked her eyes over to Red Hood and hesitated.

“Got about 20 seconds at most, Bug. If you’re going to do something, do it now!” Carapace yelled.

“Are you leaving on your own or do I need to make you?” She asked with pleading eyes. She did not want to make him. She needed him to understand and believe in her enough to do what she asked, even if he didn’t know it was her.

Red Hood looked between her and the portal. He turned back to her, “Please just let me help.”

Dragon Bug looked at him with a conflicted look in her eyes. “It isn’t safe right now and we can’t deal with the akumas if I’m worrying about you too. We just don’t have time to prepare. I need you to go.”

Red Hood stared at her uncertain. “Please, we don’t have time.” Dragon Bug begged him again. He relented and walked backward toward the portal. She let out a grateful breath turned her attention toward the incoming akumas.

“There’s the first one,” Chat yelled. Red Hood whipped his head to where Chat was looking just barely seeing a butterfly over his shoulder as he picked up his pace and started running toward the portal, jumping through just as it closed behind him.

Chapter 7

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Full Disclosure: I came up with the Redwood nickname WEEKS before I realized it could be a pun. I was just looking for names indicating very large things. Chat has a much better ability to spot a pun than I do.

And it is my personal headcanon for this story is that Adrien is a bit like Dick. He likes to keep things light and jokey but if you want to go there, Bitch, he’ll go there with you. His lightness is a self-defense mechanism. Without it, he will go to a dark and scary place and he will take you there with him.

And also, I’m pretty sure this is before Duke was brought into the Batfamily. I think Damian was older than he is in the story when Duke appeared. Otherwise, clearly Duke would be the most rational person to send to Paris.

#Pixie Spy #jasonette #maribat

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mariephillipswriter · 4 years ago

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Square Eyes

Do they still say that if you watch too much television you'll get square eyes? Or is that an expression that went out of fashion when kids started spending all their time in front of the internet? Putting aside the obvious riposte (televisions aren't square, they're rectangular) I can report that I have been doing extensive research in this area and have come to the scientific conclusion: no, you won't. I have been watching so much television. SO MUCH TELEVISION. I never believed that I could watch such an immense quantity of television. On the whole I don't watch it during the day except for sometimes when I am having my breakfast and also when having my lunch, but in the evenings, when I have finished pretending to work, I might start watching television at about 6pm, or 5pm, or 4pm on a bad day, and keep going until, say, 11pm or midnight. HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE. HOW CAN A PERSON LIVE THIS WAY. Well it's easy enough, it turns out, if you're under lockdown in London in December and it's dark from 4pm and raining most of the time and you have the emotional resources of a gnat and reading is too demanding and talking on the phone is too exhausting and the light in the living room is not good enough for doing a puzzle in evening hours and you quit social media a month or so ago because it was driving you out of your mind with anxiety. I don't watch six or seven or eight hours of television every night. Don't be ridiculous. Some nights I only watch about three hours of television because I have a Zoom call or I'm cooking dinner or I've got stuck into a good cryptic crossword, maybe the Saturday Times Jumbo one because the Guardian ones are too gimmicky, or at last I've found a book gripping yet easy enough that I can't put it down (thank you Robert Galbraith, thank you Marian Keyes), but I would say that three hours is the minimum and my god that is a LOT. EVERY DAY. THREE HOURS. MINIMUM. But you don't need to me to explain that to you because you are all watching three four five six seven hours of television every day and when you are not watching television you are phoning your friends and first of all talking about the specific way that your own personal lockdown is terrible but then eventually saying 'what are you watching on television' because what else is there even to talk about? At the start of lockdown there was quite a small pool of television that everyone was watching (that thing about the Tiger King, which I didn't watch because by the time I got back from my early lockdown in Costa Rica you'd all seen it, and Normal People which I didn't watch because I was too embarassed to sit through all the sex scenes with my flatmates, and I May Destroy You, which I didn't watch because about five minutes of it was enough to send me into a massive panic spiral, but I hear was very good), but once we had all (other than me) got through that and Covid dragged on for months, our conversations began taking on the tenor of Vikings crowding around one another as a boat returns from a foray, WHAT IS OUT THERE, WHAT DID YOU FIND OUT THERE, IS THERE SOMETHING OUT THERE THAT I MIGHT DESIRE? And the Viking says yes, there is this thing called Schitts Creek but you really have to push on through the first season because I promise you it gets better and better and you will start to love that obnoxious family. And then we all watched Schitts Creek. (Including me, it's wonderful, you have to push on through the first series you will start to love that obnoxious family, Dan Levy is a divinity in human form and if you want more of him you could do worse than checking out the lesbian Christmas-themed romcom Happiest Season, which you can rent from Amazon Prime.) And now we are beyond even that and all our lives resonate with the screeching sound of a televisual barrel being scraped and now this is when things get really interesting (or put another way, VERY VERY BORING) because everyone has fractured and we are all watching different kinds of random stuff found in the dusty corners and unloved algorithms of our streaming services. There's the friend who has got into watching obscure French crime series on Netflix (The Chalet! La Mante!) and the friend who is watching every episode of Poirot on Britbox (thirteen series, 70 episodes) (though that pales in comparison with the friend who did a total rewatch of Friends from beginning to end (236 episodes) and finished it ages ago and is starving for more) and the friend who calls me up seemingly every week with a new old show nobody else has ever heard of (such as the early 1990s Nigel Havers and Warren Clarke comedy spy drama Sleepers, which he is watching old-school-style on DVD, and which apparently is like The Americans only with Nigel Havers and funny, and also, you should watch The Americans.) When I look back on the amount of television I have watched this year it defies comprehension. There were the things I would have watched anyway like the whole of Strictly Come Dancing and His Dark Materials, and the things that took me by surprise, like the stealthily hilarious Danny Dyer gameshow The Wall that was on straight after Strictly and drove me into a total obsession with the way that Danny Dyer says "Drop 'Em" (he's talking about the balls that are dropped down the wall, it's hard to explain, you can find it on iPlayer, but meanwhile if you only click on one link in this whole newsletter PLEASE click on that one), there were the things that were created especially to get me through lockdown (the wonderful David Tennant and Michael Sheen Zoom comedy Staged, which is not only extremely funny but allows you to see inside David Tennant's house which I'm not sure I am technically allowed to watch because of the restraining order? Anyway, new series coming on Monday, fellow DT fans) and the familiar things I watched to soothe me when it all got too much (Doctor Who, starting before Tennant even gets in on the action, right at the begining of the New Who seasons with Christopher Eccleston, because armchair space travel is the only kind of travel we are going to be getting for a while) and the exciting things I watched when I could no longer bear the tedious repetition of every identical day (Line of Duty, in which the famous-for-the-far-inferior Bodyguard writer Jed Mercurio delivers ludicrously compelling twisty-turny stories about police corruption that cannot be predicted for even a nanosecond) and the things that I watched just because I loved them (Fosse/Verdon, the Bob Fosse and Gwen Verdon bio-series starring the breathtakingly charismatic Sam Rockwell and Michelle Williams, which is one of the best-made pieces of television I've ever seen, Love Life, the Anna Kendrick romantic comedy series which was surprisingly touching and truthful about the relationships that make up a life and which didn't make me want to open a vein as a single person the way that many looking-for-love shows do, and Better Things, a sort-of-comedy sort-of-drama written, directed by and starring Pamela Adlon, which began as a collaboration with Louis CK and initially reflected the sensibility of his show Louie, but became far more experimental and interesting once, after CK's disgrace, Adlon took over completely - the fourth series is maybe the closest thing I've seen on TV to a representation of the rhythms of real life, with long scenes of Adlon just cooking a meal on her own, or contemplating the rain, of having arguments with her children that explode from nowhere and end just as suddenly with tears or laughter or nothing at all.) And this entire paragraph is just things that I have watched on the BBC. Not even everything that I have watched on the BBC. The BBC is INCREDIBLE and my license fee has been serious value for money, before you even count all that time spent watching the news [Munch Scream emoji]. But overall, it doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of television that I have watched this year. Though while we're here, have you noticed that sometimes it's more relaxing to watch something bad than something good? Have you noticed that a vapid, cliched show like Virgin River (heartbroken city nurse with a secret moves to small town and falls in love with battle-wounded bartender with a secret), a show that makes This Is Us look like Succession, has the same effect on your brain that taking off your work shoes and putting on your slippers has for your feet? You can rest now, it says, there is nothing more for you to do. Have you noticed how easy it is to chug down, say, four episodes in a row of Designated Survivor - a show designed by a committee charged with taking elements of The West Wing, Homeland and 24, and making something similar but, crucially, much more ridiculous - without your mind even noticing that anything has happened at all? And if you're really ready for something utterly idiotic, might I suggest The Bold Type, in which three twentysomething girls in bonkers designer outfits "work" at an aspirationally "feminist" glossy magazine, and by "work" I mean constantly leave the office in the middle of the day to take care of personal business, and by "feminist" I mean "empowering women by for example having them post selfies of themselves looking perfect but without makeup on social media", a feminism so very feminist that they called the magazine's parent company Steinem in the first series and then had to change it to Safford, I can only presume because Gloria Steinem threatened to sue them. A couple of episodes of that is the televisual equivalent of having a nice relaxing full frontal lobotomy. Don't get me wrong: I love these shows. I owe them more gratitude than I can say. I would be unable to survive without them. I've managed to watch five hours of television just since starting this post24 hours ago (three episodes of Doctor Who, half a really cheap and very bad Sky Arts documentary about the musical Hamilton, and a travelogue in which Torvill and Dean go in search of a frozen lake in Alaska on which to dance Bolero but can't find one for almost the entire show because of global warming, which made me simultaneously and conflictingly want to give up air travel, fly to Alaska immediately, become obsessed with Torvill and Dean AND wonder how they managed to skate together all these decades without killing each other especially Torvill but also especially Dean). Five hours of TV, sounds like a lot, but with eight hours of sleep, that still left me eleven hours to fill in this boring boring boring boring BORING BORING BORING boring boring BORING boring BORING BORING lockdown. I think I am being incredibly restrained, all things considered. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some time to kill, having finished writing this post, and with at least five hours to fill before bed. I wonder what's on TV?

***

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writerice · 5 years ago

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Honestly, South Park is a really good show. Anyone who calls it racist today, fundamentally misunderstood why it makes of fun of busybodies, as well as why remaining chilled, calm and cool is actually a good thing. People complain a lot that South Park is a show where uncaring is cool, and where people who care too much are the butts of jokes. Now, I never want to do this- I don’t want to deny someone else their perspective- But these opinions are built on shaky premises, and misses the mark. First lets start with Eric Cartman, who is recognized as the source of a lot of the bigotted comedy in the show. Eric Cartman, ever since the first season, had almost always been put in the role of an antagonist/ that one drama queen who no one wants to get involved with. He finds ways to manipulate situations if it’ll mean he’ll receive something out of it, and is a self-centered person to the extreme. When he says bigotted things, we’re supposed to find him disagreeable and hateful, and his being funny will never make what he says to be okay. We’re also supposed to feel refreshened whenever Stan and Kyle immediately admonish him for being a dick, which is also funny, because holy shit, not only do we have a child spouting antisemitic bullshit, but we have children who will actively tell their peer to fuck off! Its wonderous. This is WHY South Park was so fascinating to begin with; Before South Park, there was never a seriously funny depiction of kids using realistic adult profanity while having childlike discussions on topics that were considered political. Now lets move onto Stan and Kyle: These two are clearly shown to be awesome and cool kids who just want to have fun and enjoy their lives. They don’t want to be roped into things that adults tell them that they’re supposed to be worried about. They’re kids, they live in the present. They live uncomplicated lives, as any 8-year old should, unless its something they’re interested in, like an adventure involving other kids from their class (anyone remember them capturing a paper fortune teller from the girls?). They don’t force themselves to care about things. They understand from a young age that ungenuine about causes can be harmful, and a waste of time and energy.

When they DO genuinely care about things, we have cool and rich plots emerge that are related to our understanding of them as characters- Stan has successfully helped save the lives of veal up for slaughter, as well as whales. Kyle navigates his Jewish faith and identity while being one of the most compassionate human beings on television. Even better than that, these boys arent’ even particularily strongly identified. Stan isn’t that “animal rights activist”, and Kyle isn’t that “humanitarian child”, they’re flexible and dimensional characters. They have their moments where they’re just being kids and are relaxing and having fun like normal, as opposed to brooding over shit that they can’t control. It seemed like South Park had an accurate depiction of what a healthy attachment to identity/cause actually looked like, WAY beyond this era of neuroticism where people are encouraged box themselves.

It says a lot of sad things about children nowadays, too. Children in the current generation are pushed harder than in prior generations in being perfect students, with mandatory volunteer work pushed onto them and being told that they need to develop their life’s passion in time for college plans. Some of them get pushed into becoming esports stars or child Youtubers by their parents. When do they even have the chance to be children anymore?

Now, onto the adults of the show: The adults are always screwing things up. They want to ride on causes that they aren’t truly aware of.

They are their own society’s disruptors; They often neglect to critically examine whether their call for action and change are justified. They don’t check to see whether their actions are necessary, or if their methods are reasonable. Sometimes, their actions create more damage than if they didn’t do anything at all! And this is why we mock them- Not “for caring”, but because they’re busy bodies; Their motivation to act or call for change comes less from wanting to affect meaningful change within their society, and comes more out of a vague desire to want to “better themselves”.

Its the type of selfishness that we don’t really speak enough about in our current society as we should be- How people get intertwined into causes they aren’t truly thoughtful enough about, because they’re just encouraged to get passionate about “anything” that moves them, or “anything that seems worthwhile”.

And this is both stupid, as well as dangerous, because you want people to be mindful about what the real affect of their “help” is. Some things that people do in the name of “help” either don’t help the people it’s intended to help (the only poor family in South Park, the Mc Cormicks, get a single can of vegetables on Thanksgiving via a gameshow-like contraption, and they don’t even get a can-opener for it), or make matters worse for those it claims to help (Like Bono claiming that Timmy playing in a band was akin to mocking his disability). People can, and should be encouraged to help make a difference, but you don’t want a culture where you keep pushing people to change things for the vague reasoning of “being a good person”. You want people who are informed, aware, are capable of critical thinking, and who can tell when and where their efforts are actually needed.

Also, this is extremely important: But South Park is, like literally everything ever, a product of it’s time. This show was made during the 1990′s to early or late 2000′s, when things like media activist groups existed to police and censor stuff for people because of those things being deemed “insensitive”. This was before the internet was fully used on the scale it is today, so people were being limited from being able to watch/read/play or otherwise access media based purely on stupid, petty shitty reasons.

Like not allowing children to enjoy Canadian television because farting or using cusswords is “too offensive”, where you were dealing with Karens who had way too much power and time to spend. It meant telling Karens/Boomers relax and not to deprive other people of their ability to express themselves just because they didn’t think their interests were “appropriate”. Totally a different thing than when we talk about the generalized concept of sensitivity today, when we’re refering to how human beings are made to feel as based on their identity.

Kyle’s lectures at the end of an episode are meaningful- It doesn’t exist to “undo” any offensiveness in an episode. He’s a voice of reason who brings together the social commentary. I don’t see why anyone would ever have a problem with it. Is it obvious and easy? Yes. Does it put a nice cap on the end of an episode to return everything to status quo in time for the next one? Yes. I loved it. I thought it made for a comfortable, easy viewing experience. It may be considered formulaic, but thats how they made the end of an otherwise edgy episode feel wholesome, or depart a message of value.

Its easy to see this as an “attack on caring”, if you’re applying it directly to today’s movements and stuff, but that requires a lot of willful ignorance, and an even greater lack of understanding the context the show was made in. We all have access to wikipedia, no one has an excuse.

TL;DR, it didn’t “age badly”. It was extremely relevant for its time. Context matters, and this show was perfect for the context of it’s time. The creators are doing their best to address current modern day topics with new story-telling, so maybe look to the present and be amazed by how much they’ve decided to change in those regards instead of repeatedly making everyone who grew up with the show feel old. Sincerely, a nonbinary pansexual liberal woman of color who just wants to enjoy South Park as the greatest still-running animated satire ever, thank you

#south park #rant #long post

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sunlitroom · 5 years ago

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Hi! For the ship chart - Gobblepot, Wayleska, BatCat, Nygmakins

Thanks for asking, anon :)

Well, I like all of these :D But to elaborate. And by elaborate, I mean - write a massive essay, because I’ve been in lockdown for over a month now.

Gobblepot - The best OTP of all OTPs

I’ve written a ton of meta (how unfashionable of me) and had conversations with very clever people about Gotham’s writing. It has its flaws - as does everything - but when it does things well, it does them well. Jim and Oswald are paralleled from beginning to end. Even when they’re not technically sharing a story - it’s made clear that these people are connected. Prisoners offered a good example of that, which I recapped here

Jim and Oswald’s connection is made clear right at the beginning - we start off with their story. Jim’s freshly arrived in town, full of big ideas and hopes. He has a shiny new job and a beautiful fiance. Oswald doesn’t seem to have the same external trappings of growth and success - but he’s planted several seeds in the hope they’ll come to fruition later.

It’s interesting to see how reckless and brazen they both are in season one, too. They both stare down the barrel of a gun at points, and practically swagger up to certain people and dare them to kill them. They both retain their impulse to thumb their noses at authority, and do downright dangerous things - but they become increasingly less blithe about it over the seasons as their respective trauma accumulates. There’s a joy in it at the outset, more of a desperate grimness as we go on.

We also get to see their vulnerabilities. There’s little hints early on that there’s more underneath. Jim might look like the invulnerable golden boy but - to quote a line from Silence of the Lambs - his face is all scars, if you know how to look. Look at his immediate bond with the bereaved Bruce, because Jim saw his father die at the same age. Look at Jim’s reaction when Loeb comments about not following in his father’s footsteps. Look how quickly his relationship with Barbara falls apart - in fact, just look at it in the first place.

Oswald’s vulnerabilites are more and less obvious. He’s the Other to Jim’s all-American hero. He’s flung about all over the place in season one - tiny-looking in comparison to the likes of Falcone and Maroni. He’s left with a permanent limp after Fish’s beating. Less obviously, we see that he’s strongly motivated by his need to make his mother happy, and that the notion of causing her shame hurts him to the point of tears.

All that kind of stuff, all the careful details, built slowly, really make it for me. They’re built on later - in many ways they’re very different, but in others, very similar.

This difference/similarity plays out in their encounters, too. They’re oddly fascinated by each other. Oswald’s attraction is made very apparent from the outset . Yes - Jim might be another piece on the chessboard (albeit one he won’t sacrifice) - but he blushes and stares and lights up when Jim appears. Even later, when all the hurts and wrongs between them have mounted up, he still can’t quite resist gazing.

Jim’s a combination of uneasy but fascinated in Oswald’s company. The early scene in the alley pinpoints it so well - the moment right after this one:

Oswald - who is adept at reading people (in season one, anyway) grins - because Jim is rapt. He has his whole attention. To steal a line from Hannibal this time. he watched the red sparks pinwheel deep in his eyes and felt the excitement of a child approaching a distant fair. Although, in this case - it’s all more illicit and scary. Jim knows he shouldn’t go to this fair, and this fair is a dangerous place.

And that odd fascination never really goes away. Even at points when Jim is angered or revolted by Oswald’s actions - he’s never repulsed. He’s more likely to shake him than turn his back on him.

This dynamic might morph a bit, depending on circumstance - but Jim always stands too close, stares too long, likes to tease, and is quick to head in Oswald’s direction when the chips are down.

A last point. Something else I enjoy is that they know the best and worst of each other, and seem to have an endless capacity for forgiveness.

Wayleska - sort of an OTP? I do find it a heartbreaker of a ship.

Pre-gas Jeremiah is so instantly smitten with Bruce. That first interaction and he’s completely gone. I’m posting the gifs again because they’re glorious. I know they’re all different sizes, but meh.

What makes it all so painful is that you can see - post-gas - this is still there. He’s still head-over-heels, and there’s slivers of awareness there. But the gas has twisted everything, and you can see part of him is mortified and pained at how this is all playing out.

Especially here, in these next gifs. Even the big showy gesture is laced with pain, and afterwards just seals it

Given his secretive and hidden-away past, you could probably hazard a guess that this is the first time Jeremiah has been in love. On top of that, he seems reserved and restrained by nature. And here he is - being forced to reveal his feelings like this.

On saying all that, I loved what I saw in show - but maybe prefer it as a pairing in fics. Bruce - for me, anyway - doesn’t seem mature enough to deal with the intensity of Jeremiah’s feeling - pre and post-gas. Maybe when he’s a little older, it’s something he could at least take in and process, but it seems a little one-sided in show just because Bruce doesn’t really seem to recognise what’s happening, let alone parry it.

The only point where you could argue that he was aware, and that there’s feelings there, I think, is the fact that he’s so angry at Jeremiah. With Jerome, Bruce almost felt responsible for his actions, and does what he can to mitigate them. But with Jeremiah, Bruce refuses to even tell him that they have a connection in order to save people’s lives. His anger and obstinacy feels more visceral and - if I prod it - looks like hurt and betrayal. Bruce saw Jeremiah, at least, as a friend. His reaction to the loss of that seems a bit disproportionate - so maybe there are nascent feelings there?

But generally. yes, better in fic where the writer can take more license and time with Bruce.

BatCat - It’s not an OTP - but it’s sweet and I like it? I’m not so mad keen about how forgetful Alfred and Bruce can sometimes be of Selina in earlier seasons, and sometime tone-deaf at points later - but yes, it’s nice.

Nygmakins - I like this. It’s maybe not an OTP - but I ship it. The foundations aren’t quite as extensive as with Gobblepot - but they’re there. They’re both seemingly sweet-natured, sciencey and fascinated with the darker side of life. Very early on, we know they have interactions that we don’t see. Lee apparently allows Ed to use the lab and exam room when he wants, and he dreamily remarks that she smells nice.

Later, we see more similarity as their duality becomes more apparent, and their shared taste for violence, darkness and power. Lee enjoys the applause of the crowds in the Narrows just as much as Ed enjoys the audience adulation for his ‘gameshow’. Lee’s revenge on Sofia is as protracted and merciless as Ed’s on Oswald.

Last up - they both have a desire to be entirely seen, which is something they seem to find in each other.

Thanks for the ask, anon. I fire the same pairings back at you, if you feel like answering :)

#Anonymous #ask #shipping

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skaylanphear · 6 years ago

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I didn't realize you were so critical of Voltron's writing. Is there anything you think the writers did really well?

Not… really?

The one episode that sticks out to me as having been well-written was an episode in season 3–the one where Keith is leading them into that planet and all their tech gets screwed to hell. It works on a lot of levels because it introduces Lotor as a scary villain, establishes Allura as inexperienced while giving her the chance to learn, and shows Keith learning a lesson while Lance gets to stretch his legs as an actual competent member of the team. What I loved about it though was the lesson Keith learned onscreen and how he learned it–we got to see actual development as well as him opening up to another member of the team other than Shiro. It’s one of the best episodes in the series and really goes to show what Voltron could have been if the writers actually knew what they were doing. I assume, at this point, that the episode was merely a happy accident.

Now that isn’t to say Voltron doesn’t have memorable moments for other reasons–the scene where Keith and Shiro fight was wonderfully animated and probably the most beautiful looking scene in the whole series, but that doesn’t mean how we got there was as good by comparison.

One of Voltron’s biggest problems (among other glaring issues) is that it relies heavily on concepts, but pretty much fails to expand those concepts into actual narrative development. We’re told via Hunk’s one episode in the Galra empire that he’s become quite the diplomat, but we never see that in action or see him struggling with that arc at any other point in the series. We’re told Lance has become a great member of the team by seeing his sword form during training, but we rarely get to see those skills in action. And yeah, Lance takes up giving commands when Keith and Shiro are busy, but it’s never highlighted. He’s never given his moment to truly prove himself to the audience. Which makes it all little different than telling the audience that development is happening offscreen, which you should NEVER do. Which brings me to Keith. Not only was Keith’s path through “development” poorly concocted, but we didn’t even get to see it. Why was he such a great leader after having spent time with his mother? What did that do for him? Fans can speculate all they want, but at the end of the day, Keith is one character when he left and another when he comes back, and WE DIDN’T SEE IT HAPPEN!

This leaves me with one of two conclusions: Either the writers were too lazy to put any effort into telling a proper character arc OR they simply don’t know how. And seeing how poorly every other character in the series is handled, I’d bet on the latter. The Voltron writers don’t know how to do their jobs on the most basic level. Even Shiro, the second-shining child of the series after Keith, doesn’t get any development. He’s got PTSD, sure, but he’s literally the exact same character he was in the beginning as he is now, much like the rest the cast. What would have made Shiro’s character really great would maybe be some regret on his end, or some self-doubt following his PTSD issues, or maybe a loss of confidence he had to overcome or literally ANYTHING! Instead he’s relegated to a plot device.

Which brings me to another glaring issues with Voltron alongside the character development–they’re taking what should be a character-driven narrative and pretending it’s a plot-driven narrative.

You want to know why Voltron was so promising from the start? Because it had a perfect premise for character building. It was like Avatar the Last Airbender but in space. You had a big baddy in the distance that the characters had to work their own skills up to in order to face. It gave the characters time to explore both themselves and the world around them, while still retaining a goal that implemented a sense of urgency. Which is why the originally episodic storytelling of Voltron in the first season worked so well and why the series seemed so promising. Each episode had a different character or couple of characters that had a problem they needed to overcome before the resolution of the episode, or a couple of episode as they sometimes did them in twos. This is a good format for storytelling with a big cast because it gives each character the turn they deserve, while still giving time for things like comedic relief and problem solving/conversations between characters, which is the FOOD of character development. Being able to have two character sit down and simply chat is the main course of character development and interpersonal relationships, hence Shiro and Pidge’s relationship was so precious in the first season, and why people latched onto Keith and Lance so hard, because they were constantly snarking at one another.

The problem comes with season 3, where the writers tried to change Voltron from an episodic format into a serial format while trying to retain the same tone. Serial storytelling has an overarching pot that the characters work toward the whole season–like all of a season is a single episode. Yes, Voltron already had an overarching plot, but it was secondary to the character story-telling. That was, until season three, when the writers decided that they wanted the story to be “epic all the time” instead of sticking to what was originally good.

Avatar the Last Airbender isn’t good because it’s epic all the time. It’s good because it’s well-balanced. Because the characters got the time to build themselves up so that when those epic moments finally happened, the audience actually cared. Voltron decided that they wanted to be edgy and took all of that away from us to make the show serial and focus more entirely on the end plot instead of each individual character’s struggles. They tried to retain a bit of this, but in contrast with the more serial episodes, it feels like whiplash. This is why season 3′s tone is so vastly different from season 1 and 2, and why so many people were so shocked. And why it feels so fast.

But the problem is that the writers clearly want to write an episodic show, they just don’t realize they do, which is why we’re getting TOLD character development instead of shown in favor of over the top battles and other “intense” mumbo jumbo that falls flat when anyone takes a moment to sit and think about what they’re watching.

This is why I got so infuriated when all those new characters were introduced in season 7–we don’t even know the characters we got originally and now I’m expected to care about these new ones? No, absolutely not. And this is also why I get angry every time we get a “filler” episode. Avatar had filler episodes, but Avatar was also episodic and used that filler to develop the characters, with the exception of Tales of Ba Sing Se, which was amazingly done for other reasons entirely.

Voltron made itself serial, which means we don’t have time for filler. It’s jarring and takes the viewer out of the experience. I don’t care about a stupid gameshow episode because the writers have made it overly clear that the situation is dire and serious and now I feel like I’ve been slapped. Especially when that filler does nothing for the characters. It’s a waste when they could have been using the time for something more worthwhile. Instead, they just wanted a Q episode, or a D&D episode, as if their storytelling had been good enough prior to earn them that wasted time.

Which brings me to yet another glaring issue that Voltron has–pacing. Not only did the change in storytelling alter the pacing in a way that was jarring for everyone, but they can’t keep up with the pace they decided to set, nor do they know how to keep tension going in the story so as to take advantage of that faster pace they forced on themsleves. Pidge, Lotor, and Zarkon are prime examples of characters whose arcs were slaughtered by this incompetence. Why was Pidge’s search for her brother concluded at the beginning of a season in a standalone episode that is so far outside the serialized plot? Well I can tell you why–because they didn’t know how to integrate it properly with the rest of the story. Which is why it feels like filler. Like fan service. Why it’s so out of the blue. Why is Zarkon’s death so lackluster? Because we’d been told that Zarkon was the big baddy the whole time and then they ended his reign in the middle of a season. Not only do we see Zarkon suddenly in the daylight outside his scary space darkness, but his entrance is lame and lacking impact. And then Lotor, a newer character by contrast, is the one to take him out. Suddenly, the show is without the big baddy that had been pushing it from the beginning, which is glaringly obvious in how disorganized the plot becomes after his death and Lotor’s subsequent defeat. Sorry, but by default of the role she had previously, Haggar is not as scary as Zarkon was, nor is Sendak. It’s like we’re supposed to now watch Voltron clean up the leftovers instead of fight a war, which is fucking stupid. And don’t even get me started on Lotor’s arc. They wanted to make him seem like Zuko and then pull an Azula? Well, sorry hons, but your storytelling capabilities aren’t strong enough to accomplish either.

Lotor was not made sympathetic or psychotic enough to pull off either act, which just makes him fall rather flat. The most interesting thing about him was his relationship with Allura, which was only interesting because we hadn’t gotten any romance yet in the show so everyone was super paying attention to how it’d unfold.

This pacing issue is continuous from season 3 onward. The story regularly takes detours it shouldn’t and focuses on things we don’t care about and interjects important plot-points at the wrong time while completely leaving out others. Like Haggar coming back in season 7. If we’d actually seen a bit of what she was up to, the addition of the last robot to the final fight might have been a little less stupid, but we didn’t see that, so it’s still just regular stupid.

So the characters in Voltron suck, the plot sucks, and the pacing sucks. The only thing that’s saving Voltron is the fact that it looks nice and that the fandom is happy to take concepts and run with them in fan works. There’s a reason the fandom is so happy to explain away everything in the series, because expanding the series for themselves is the only option they have. Voltron itself doesn’t do it on but rare occasions, and if the fan creators didn’t give the characters depth, no one would. Every piece of “character” we get in Voltron is a concept, not actual storytelling. They set up what could be something amazing and then dash it at the last moment by completely ruining everything. People say Voltron never ceases to surprise them, but this isn’t because they’re great storytellers, it’s because of the exact opposite. Voltron rarely follows through with minor plot points set up previously, instead settling to just tell you about them later in favor of laser battles. Lance is insecure? Just give him a sword, he’s fine. Hunk has no development? Give him a short, five minute moment about his family–a family he talked about one other time and a plot point that should have rightfully gone to Lance. Pidge’s “arc” is over? Just have her say a whole bunch of nonsense in the next scene. Need someone to do something cool? Better get Keith since that’s all he’s good for anymore due to his character being so inconsistent. Need some of that quality angst? Throw in Shiro too, because god forbid Keith relate to any of the other characters on a personal level and actually break out of the isolated existence that caused all his character problems in the first place. Oh, and don’t forget Allura, whose overpowered abilities have become such an expected norm and so unexplainable at this point that she’s nothing more than a bore-fest to watch.

Voltron had everything going for it–it could have been great, on par with Avatar the Last Airbender by sheer default of how the original premise was set up and how interesting the characters were to start with. And then the writers screwed it up because they didn’t know how to properly tell the story they’d set up in the first place.

This is why people who don’t watch Voltron or who don’t see anything special about it don’t understand why it’s such a big deal (and why comparing it to Avatar the Last Airbender is such an insult). Why it’s plain toast in comparison to other, better shows. Because anyone who actually takes a step back and looks at the show with more thought than “oh I like this character because of what they could have been,” they’d realize just how badly concocted Voltron is.

I know. I was once one of these people that had faith in the concepts that I eventually realized would never come to fruition. I was happy to ignore the faults in the show because I kept hoping it would get better. But then it never did and all that was left were the faults.

Voltron is not a good show. Like, it’s just literally not well done. The visuals are nice, which is part of the reason it’s gotten so popular. But even if the art is nice, at the end of the day, the writing has been and always will be the heart and soul of any narrative, and if that’s a pile of trash, the entire show will end up that way.

#skaylanphear replies #anonymous #voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender

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forestwater87 · 6 years ago

Text

A big box o’Gwenvid AU ideas: A is for "Aww” and “Angst” and “AAAH”

This post is fucking rad as balls, and I started thinking of fun AU ideas . . . until I remembered that I already have approximately 2 billion WIPs already and don’t necessarily know if any of these have legs as actual fics. But it was fun to think about, so here we are! This is the first of . . . presumably 26 of these? Who knows, but this post we have:

Accidental Marriage AU

In which Campbell convinces incredibly wealthy investors known for their focus on “family values” that the Camp is a sweet family business run by a husband-and-wife team of counselors. The problem, of course, is that it isn’t sweet and its head counselors aren’t married. Campbell only has enough booze to fix one of those situations.

He’ll figure the rest out in the morning. He thinks better with a hangover, anyway.

(Yes I think this one would be awesome in Campbell’s POV. You cannot change my mind on this.)

Actor AU

Okay, real talk this would just be @whiskyarts‘s gameshow AU. Because I kinda love the idea of Jerk!David who just pretends to be a sweetheart for the cameras. Except I would cover it with my filthy Gwenvid hands and make it shippy in that antagonistic-hatemance-eventually-turns-into-something-resembling-feelings. There would be lots of angst and snark and sparkly clothes and I would love it and probably no one else would.

Alien AU

An Interplanetary Anthropologist, Gwen, manages to land a position on the Campbell after years of education and networking and plain old hard work. She is an employee of the most impressive warship in the galaxy -- sure, it’s gone to seed a little bit in the last few decades, but it still has its shine if you look at it sideways and squint a little -- and more importantly, it’s work experience! Paid work experience . . . as a janitor.

When the Campbell picks up a POW that the ship’s commander plans to (illegally) sell to the highest bidder, Gwen decides to treat it as an opportunity to build a real-life case study on one of the universe’s rarer life forms while it’s within arm’s reach. But the more she learns about the strange, sunny alien who was his platoon’s only survivor, the more uncomfortable she is with letting him disappear into her captain’s nefarious dealings and --

Oh fuck, this is The Shape of Water, isn’t it? I mean, I’ve never seen The Shape of Water but I’m pretty sure that’s what this is. Fuck. Goddamn it. Fuck.

Amnesia AU

David takes a rogue bus to the . . . well, everything -- something that’s more or less routine by now -- and hits his head hard enough to knock him out for almost a full day. When he wakes up, he’s the same cheerful David the camp is used to . . . except for three strange new things:

He doesn’t know where he is or what he’s doing -- doesn’t, in fact, remember anything after some vague memories of childhood.

He’s completely terrified of the forest, and especially of Spooky Island.

He has no idea who Cameron Campbell is, but he’s quite positive he hates him.

Android AU

Actually @ciphernetics and I put this idea together a little while ago! Basically Camp Campbell has a state-of-the-art off-brand helper android named David, who is a perfect camp counselor, childcare provider, and comes equipped with the finest Forest Survival software Cameron Campbell could find for free online in half an hour.

Gwen, the new (requisite human) hire, hasn’t ever really interacted with androids, and doesn’t especially want to now. David is used to the distrust, even outright hostility -- very few of the campers seem to like him, and he knows that his presence can be unsettling to humans, and look, it isn’t a D:BH AU okay? It just looks like one, and acts like one. And is one.

Angel/Demon AU

Um the perfect Angel/Demon AU literally already exists, but they only wrote one chapter back in 2017 and never updated, and that makes me absurdly sad. Regardless, David being very bad at being a demon and Gwen being very bad at being an angel is the ideal setup for this kind of AU, in my humble opinion.

However, David being an angel trying to reform his fallen ABFEL (angel buddy for eternal life!), who probably became a demon over something stupid and probably horny, also sounds extremely cute. They’re still friends, even though that is against literally all of the rules, and they secretly meet and hang out. David is convinced he can bring her around, and Gwen insists that she hates having him hanging off her nonexistent wings all the time.

Honestly, probably neither of those things are true. Gwen wasn’t cut out for heaven -- and probably, neither is David.

Apocalypse AU

Cameron Campbell was probably doing something dangerously stupid in the hopes it could make him money. That, or the Quartermaster was doing something dangerous for reasons only he could ever understand. Hell, maybe that’s what that weird Daniel guy’s cult was trying to do. Whoever was doing what, they ripped a hole in their dimension at the bottom of Lake Lilac, and all sorts of awful things start creeping through.

There were signs, of course -- that weird fish-monster certainly didn’t come in through customs -- but an inopportune explosion, or wayward firework, or the rumblings of Sleepy Peak Peak, or something ripped a hole in the fabric of reality big enough for Lovecraftian monsters to start crawling through. There’s no stopping it. Really, there’s no chance of even fighting it.

The second the rift opens, the story becomes one of just trying to stay out from under the Elder Gods’ feet.

Arranged Marriage AU

I think the easiest way to make this one work is by making either David or Gwen Campbell’s actual biological child -- maybe an heir, albeit to a highly illegal fortune and a mountain of credit card debt. But Campbell gets in trouble, the kind of trouble where he’s gambled everything and the only collateral he has left is a kid he got saddled with because their mother had better lawyers. A kid he’s been more than happy to put to work for the last 20-something years, who happens to have caught the eye of a ludicrously wealthy magnate -- not for her own sake (though Campbell would’ve been open to that too) -- but for her child, one she loves more than anything and keeps carefully shut away until the Right Person comes along.

His kid isn’t necessarily the right person, but for the first time in his life Cameron Campbell has a genuine treasure on his hands.

And, like all the fake treasures he’s passed off over the years, he just has to find a way to shine them up and make him a fortune.

Artist AU

Gwen is a starving artist living in a rat-infested hovel in the city, scraping by on a series of uninspired landscapes she paints on postcards and the goodwill of friends, family, and significant others. One day, a bright young man bounces up to her “studio” (it’s a cardboard box outside the park) and tells her excitedly that he’s been looking for her for weeks; he thinks her postcards are the most beautiful things he’s ever seen, and he would like to know if she’d be interested in moving down to a cabin by the lake. He runs a summer camp, he explains, and he knows they’d all be honored if she would teach them art lessons -- and of course paint in her spare time! The views are indescribable, and he’s sure she’ll have no shortage of inspiration.

She weighs the cost of what little artistic dignity she has remaining against room, board, and a steady paycheck for three months, and takes the job immediately.

Art Student AU

Put them in an art college -- maybe condense the ages so that the campers are like, younger students? -- and have Gwen as the Serious Art Student who cares a lot about theory and form and doing things right, and she’s constantly irritated by her classmate David, who sits at the same table as her and has declared them art buddies, and is convinced that the point of art is just to have fun and do your best! Maybe force them to do a group project together and really see them clash.

(Alternatively, there is the infinitely more shameless route of one being an art student and the other being a newd model for figure drawing. I am obviously much too classy to ever insinuate such a thing, but if someone was really looking for a way to write smuht . . . it’s sitting right there. On a table. nekkid. I HAVE TO CHANGE THE SPELLING TO MAKE THIS GO IN THE TAGS ARE YOU KIDDING ME)

Athlete AU

There are 4 major ways this one can go, I feel like:

Basically HSM: Gwen is a small part in her school’s musical (techie, maybe, or the orchestra) and lanky jock David -- which is the most hilarious phrase ever but he’s probably a runner or tennis player, something light on muscles and heavy on speed and springiness -- who’s well-mannered and cheerful but not the brightest, is put into the show as an extra-credit way to bump up his GPA so he can keep sporting his sports, and it turns out he’s both very good at and super enthusiastic about it.

A little like HSM, but as grown-ups: Gwen is the head of the drama/art department, which has just faced heavy cuts to support the superstar sports program, and she furiously storms over to the head coach’s office to let him know exactly what she thinks about him and his stupid meathead jocks. Of course, when the man who opens the door is a sweetheart beanpole with big eyes who already knows her name, she finds it hard to keep up her righteous indignation. And when it turns out that he was completely ignorant of the hit her department took from the budget cuts (or maybe not ignorant, just terminally oblivious) and is almost as upset as she is to hear about it, she’s forced to reconsider everything she’d assumed about Coach Greenwood; maybe he’s not the enemy after all, but someone with whom she can formulate a new battle plan.

Reporter/Famous Athlete AU: Either Gwen is a professional sportsball person and David is the shy, bumbling photographer eager to prove himself, or she’s the plucky, intrepid reporter and David is a good-natured professional athlete who she’s determined to interview.

Teammates AU: Professional or amateur sports team, and they’re just trying to scrape their way out of the bottom of the league without killing each other.

Author AU

There are a lot of potential interpretations of this AU, but my personal favorite is Gwen as a novelist with two distinctly differing careers: as G. E. Santos, the high-concept writer whose books are critical darlings in the maybe 3 publications that care about such things but whose sales can’t quite crack the triple digits; and as Annabelle Elizabeth, whose steamy erotica regularly tops the bestseller lists and is reviled by all of G. E.’s colleagues as “populist genre trash.”

The only person alive who knows about her Jekyll-and-Hyde author personas (besides her older sister Audree, who plays the part of charismatic and sensual Annabelle flawlessly) is her editor, David. He’s an odd choice, as her colleagues in both fields have pointed out -- reading her romance novels with his pen in one hand and the other covering his eyes, peeking through his fingers to write tremulous notes in the margins; stumbling through her ponderous literary works with a dictionary in his lap and his tongue between his teeth, poring through them like he’s learning a new language -- but he’s the only person Gwen will allow to touch her writing.

Maybe it’s because he always seems like her biggest fan. Maybe it’s because she’s known him since they were at a summer camp together years ago. Maybe it’s because he believes in her in a way no one else does -- in a way she absolutely doesn’t believe in herself.

David is, for reasons she’s not entirely sure how to explain even to herself, the only person she trusts.

Avian (Bird People) AU

Centuries ago, it was said, avians were a rarity, an aberrant mutation to be locked up and intently studied but never trusted. Some people thought they were antichrists, a sign of the end times, when all normal humans would be destroyed and only the strange bird-people would remain.

In a way, maybe they were. Because when the earth’s crust ripped open and flooded the planet with magma and boiling water miles deep, avians were the only ones who could take to the sky.

Not all of them, certainly. In fact, most were locked up in detention centers and laboratories when the Swamp formed, and were unable to escape in time. Considering the people who could get to high enough elevations to escape the deluge, there were decades afterwards where the decimated human population outnumbered the avian one. Those were periods of tension, outright war and tentative alliances -- even romances, the kinds of great love stories that dragged both avian and human populations a few generations along when one or both of them should’ve died out.

That was over two hundred years ago, however. Now the Swamp is a murky expanse of scalding water and the boiled remains of civilization transformed into unrecognizable muck, with islands of “land” cobbled out of what remains. This is where the avians live, now. And humans don’t live anywhere, not anymore.

At least . . . that was what they thought.

#campcamp #camp camp roosterteeth #cc david #cc gwen #cc campbell #gwenvid #forestwriting #big box o'gwenvid aus #this was absurdly fun #the fun thing about the last one is it could be either avian!Gwen and human!David or vice versa #or avian!Gwenvid and human!insert-camper-of-your-choice (it's max. it's always max)#there are some cool ways to work with it #humans could be the bad guys #there could be no bad guys #i actually really like this au idea even though i doubt i'll write it

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lassielowrider · 6 years ago

Text

One’s a Skeleton, One’s Infamous

When a string of murders occur in a tiny village in the Irish countryside, Skulduggery and Valkyrie have no other choice than to go undercover as a newlywed couple.

There's no way this can go wrong.

Valkyrie Cain/Skulduggery Pleasant

“You must be kidding.” Valkyrie came to a complete halt, something Skulduggery didn’t notice at first. He was a couple of steps ahead of her when he stopped. His head dipped in what she knew was a deep sigh. Well, that, or he saw something interesting on the ground – it was equal chances, when it came to him.

“I’m really not,” Skulduggery said while turning around.

“There’s no way – no way – that this is the only solution.” She crossed her arms over her chest, hoping to properly emphasize her glare.

“Of course it isn’t, but it’s the only way.”

“You just said it’s not!” Sometimes, Valkyrie really wanted to hit something. In this case, she really wanted to hit someone, and that someone was her partner in crime solving. He must’ve recognised the impulse, because he took a careful step backwards.

“The other way includes razing the town.” How Skulduggery could manage to make his skull give a deadpan expression without ever activating the façade, she still had no idea. Of course, it might just be that she’d known him long enough to be able to read him, but his entire face just screamed deadpan at her.

“…that seems like overkill, but it still makes far more sense than your idea.”

“Just admit that, as per always, I’m right.”

“Yeah, you’re really not, but you’re slightly less wrong than I hoped.”

It wasn’t until they got back to the car – a 1954 Bentley R-type Continental in absolute mint condition, kept that way mostly through sheer stubbornness and a miracle or five – that Valkyrie brought it up again.

“How, exactly, do you plan to make this work, o wise one?” Valkyrie said, words dripping sarcasm. She’d crossed her arms over her chest again, well aware it looked like she was thirteen and sulking, but this situation really merited a good sulk and glare.

“Why, like always; with my dashing charm and rapier wit, and your,” Skulduggery paused, weighing his words. “Tendency to hit things that annoy you.”

“I’d be offended if this wasn’t what you always say. However, that’s not what I meant and you know it,” Valkyrie returned, shaking her head at him. “How do you expect us to go undercover in a village, where some are mortal and some aren’t, and not be recognised? You’re a skeleton and I’m infamous!”

“Ah, you see, I have a plan, and like all my other plans, it is a genius plan,” he said, turning off the main road onto the driveway leading to Gordon’s house. Valkyrie was a bit surprised they were there already, having been too occupied with Skulduggery’s hare-brained schemes to notice much of the trip. “It’s a genius plan because I came up with it, and I am a genius.”

Valkyrie hummed doubtfully at him, but chose not to say anything.

“What’s this plan of yours, then? Because so far you’ve only given me the premise which still is ridiculous.” She uncoiled from her tense, scrunched up position, turning in her seat to look at him in anticipation. Skulduggery, however, just kept looking straight forward, but there was a distinctly smug tilt to his skull.

“Oh, big word! You’ll see when we get to the house, and the idea is not ridiculous. Just because you have no imagination or joie de vivre doesn’t mean everyone has to be like that.”

Valkyrie slumped in her seat, muttering about annoying partners and their secret keeping ways. She didn’t look at Skulduggery, but she didn’t need to. She could’ve felt his smirk from a mile away, so it was no trouble when sitting right next to him.

When he stopped the Bentley outside Gordon’s house, Valkyrie got out of the car, stretching and sighing in relief. She watched curiously as Skulduggery stopped mid-step, seemingly looking at her but in reality just lost in thought. He shook himself, like a dog fresh out of the bath, before finishing his small trek to the boot of the car. He grabbed a plastic bag before closing and locking the car.

She led the way up the porch stairs, unlocking the door and flinging it open. It was a motion that still felt unfamiliar despite the house having been hers for decades. Having hung her coat – a Bespoke original, like all her outerwear – on the hanger, she turned to Skulduggery in antsy expectation. He tsked but handed her the bag. She still hadn’t figure out how he could tsk without tongue or lips, but that was a pondering for another time.

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You must be joking,” she said, deadpan, while looking into the bag. Hanging his coat next to hers, he didn’t bother removing the fedora before turning to face her.

“Why is that your gut reaction? Can’t you just admit I’m a dashing, suave genius who has solved every single issue with this?” She fished the bottle of hair dye out of the bag, inspecting it. When she saw what colour it was, she had to clench her fist around the bottle to not throw it at her partner. He hadn’t quite done anything to deserve that. Yet.

“Skulduggery. I’m not going bottle blond, no matter what the cause.”

“You said yourself that we’re too recognisable, this way you won’t be.” That did it. She threw the bottle of hair dye at his head. She’d like to fool herself into thinking it was due to her superior throwing skills that it connected, but she had a feeling it was mostly due to him letting it hit. “Ouch! What was that for?”

“You’ve only got yourself to blame.” That’d be her story and she’d stick to it, no matter what happened.

“Honestly I thought you wouldn’t be exalted about the hair dye, so I asked our esteemed Grand Mage to whip up a façade amulet. When she heard it was for you she was more than happy to oblige,” Skulduggery said, fishing the amulet out of his pocket. He was all too happy to give it to her when she made grabby hands at it.

“Oooh, pretty!” Valkyrie’s inner magpie was pleased, at least. While she’d like to credit China alone for it, Skulduggery did have impeccable taste in all things not replacement cars. The amulet was no bigger than a coin, and felt like it was made from solid silver. On one side, the façade runes were etched, and on the other a tree of life, set with sapphires. If the hue of the sapphires matched Skulduggery’s favourite suit, Valkyrie was certain it happened to be a coincidence and not a hint of any kind from China. “Put it on me?”

“Of course.” Laying the amulet on its corded leather band in Skulduggery’s outstretched hand, she turned her back to him, sweeping her hair out of the way.

“Why the sapphires?” He brushed her cheek when putting the band around her neck, and she definitely did not swallow nervously. That her cheek tingled where he’d touched it was simply due to his gloves being cold, and nothing else.

“Gemstones work as a receptacle for certain kinds of magic, enabling the amulet and façade to function regardless of how your magic works – or doesn’t work, as the case may be.” Valkyrie felt him tie the leather band into a secure knot, the amulet resting just below the hollow of her throat. She probably imagined the way it felt like his fingers lingered ever so slightly on her neck after he was done. “Why sapphires in particular, well, China said you’d appreciate them, so that was a purely aesthetic choice.”

“So – they’re magic batteries, got it.” She didn’t deign to say anything about the sapphires. Deftly activating the façade with a mere touch of her fingers to the runes, she grimaced at the phantom feel of her facial features adjusting.

When it was done rearranging her nose she hurried over to the mirror. She’d seen it enough on Skulduggery to not want to see it happen to her own face. Looking in the mirror, she met the gaze of a stranger, only tangentially familiar. Her hair and eyes had lightened from their usual ebony to a dark brown, her eyes were set slightly wider and her eyebrow slightly higher, giving her a perpetually surprised look.

Valkyrie frowned, the familiar expression turned strange on new features. Her cheekbones had lowered slightly, too, leaving her face roundish in shape. Turning her head this way and that, she realised what was so familiar – she looked more like Crystal and Carol than she’d ever be comfortable with. Feeling her nose, rounder than usual, she turned to Skulduggery.

“Well, how do I look?” She spread her arms to the side and gave a coquettish spin, well aware it looked ridiculous in her usual leather getup. Skulduggery didn’t say anything at first, looking at her with the blank expression he usually wore while deep in thought.

“It’ll do,” was all he said, in the end. She couldn’t help but feel disappointed, for some reason. “Now, pack your bags, we’re going to Tracester! We’ve got a murderer to catch.” Valkyrie felt that maybe he could try sounding a little less like a gameshow host, because this wasn’t amusing in any way.

And that’s how it began, the mission where Skulduggery Pleasant and Valkyrie Cain, best magical detectives in at the very least all of Europe, went undercover as a married couple. This could only end well.

***

This would never end well, was the only thought running through Valkyrie – no, Valerie’s mind as she looked at the house that would be her home for the foreseeable future. She had better get used to the name. To calm her jittery nerves she mentally went through the cover story again. She hadn’t been this nervous about a case since the very beginning, and she felt ridiculous about it.

There was nothing to be worried about, except literally everything going wrong.

She was Valerie Nice, in-the-know mortal wife of Rascal Nice, a handyman who made up for his lacking magic powers with excellent skills in, well, everything else. They were both in their early twenties, Valerie in between jobs at the moment, and had decided to settle down in the small village of Tracester due to its rich, mixed population.

The village was nigh on idyllic, one small stone cottage with thatch roof next to another. All the streets were cobbled, there was a single pub and a post office doubling as convenience store, and despite there being a steady influx and outflow of people everyone seemed to know everyone.

The one thing ruining the postcard-picturesque feel of the place was the occult and brutal murders taking place there.

All of the victims had been in-the-know mortals married to a mage of some kind, which was why Skulduggery had hatched the absolutely ridiculous plan of going undercover as a married couple.

Due to him being an ancient skeleton kept together with some magic and a miracle, he couldn’t pretend to be the mortal – Valkyrie, with her weird white lightning magic, could easily pretend to be one.

Of course, they had to get to Tracester first, which may be easier said than done, especially considering they were going in yet another of his ridiculously coloured Ford Fiestas. She’d decided to call this one the Limerick Lambaster, due to the particularly eye searing shade of green it was painted.

Then again, she wasn’t the only one complaining.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Skulduggery said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“It’s my charming ways and beautiful smile, you can’t help falling for it every time.” Valkyrie smiled, but couldn’t help but feel that the usual beauty of her smile wasn’t quite what she achieved. She still hadn’t gotten used to the façade, it still felt so weird looking in the mirror and seeing, well, her cousin looking back.

“Yes, but. A dog. Do you know what dogs do? They bury bones,” he grumbled, his activated façade letting her see him throw a sideways glance at the subject of conversation.

“Oh don’t worry, she’s a darling and will behave!” Valkyrie scoffed at him, hugging the puppy in her lap a bit tighter.

“Valkyrie, if you haven’t noticed it yet, I’m literally nothing but bones, no matter what else my suave and dashing persona exudes.”

“Then I’ll come home and find you buried in the garden one day, think of it as a trust-building exercise.” Valkyrie shrugged, stroking the puppy from head to tail, delighting in the softness of her fuzzy fur.

“Look at her, she’s slobbering at the thought of eating me.” The puppy was, in fact, sleeping, not much slobbering going on at the moment.

“She’s an eight weeks old English Mastiff, she slobbers at everything.” She did, she really did, and Valkyrie loved her with all her heart. Of course, she’d probably only be able to keep the dog in her lap for a month or two more, due to her already being big, but she’d enjoy it while it lasted.

Before the argument could continue, Skulduggery pulled the car to a halt by the curb in front of a tiny little cottage. It was a stone cottage with a thatch roof, had a good sized garden and, she was glad to see, was situated on its own a bit away from the other houses on the street (one of three in the entire village).

“Oh! Is this it? It’s adorable!” Valkyrie didn’t even have to pretend to be excited about the house. It had charmed her the moment she saw it.

“Yes, here we are.” Skulduggery switched the car off, content to sit and watch her trying to juggle the dog and the seatbelt at the same time. At her glare, however, he sighed and got out to help her.

They’d both seen the neighbours watching curiously, so they sank back into their alter-egos. It rankled a bit, Valkyrie had to admit, accepting help to get out of the car, but newly-weds were touchy-feely constantly, weren’t they?

“Oh, it’s absolutely lovely…” She held the puppy to her chest with one hand, the other still clutching the hand Skulduggery had held out to help her, watching the house with veritable stars in her eyes.

“Well, you said you wanted a thatch roof, dear, and you know I do my best to make you happy,” Skulduggery replied, going all in with the soppy voice and loving looks. It took all she had to not flinch when he called her dear in that tone of voice, instead holding his hand tighter. Oh, this was going to hurt, wasn’t it?

“Do you have the key?” Skulduggery didn’t reply, choosing instead to dig through his trouser pocket. He held the key aloft in triumph when he found, releasing her hand in order to open the wrought iron gate and unlocking the door.

The door led into a small hallway, cosy rather than confining, with open view into the kitchen. Valkyrie sighed happily upon seeing the country-style kitchen, but opted to go in search of the dog bed they’d ordered to have set up in the living room. Of course, the living room wasn’t so much a room as a cosy little den, the big dog bed taking up much of the available floor space.

She’d found a company that made personalised dog beds, and hadn’t been able to resist having one with the name embroidered on it. When she put the puppy down, she was happy to see she’d managed to pick a colour for the embroidery that perfectly matched her fur. The Artemis nearly gleamed in the light, as Artemis slept on next to it.

Artemis already weighed nearly 15 kilos, and while it was no problem for Valkyrie to carry her, she quickly became cumbersome. She watched for a moment, to see if she woke up again, but the mastiff just snuffled and kept sleeping.

Walking back over to Skulduggery, they commenced the tour of the cottage. Valkyrie couldn’t help but fall more and more in love with it for every bit of it she saw. Her thoughts came to a screeching halt when they reached the bedroom, however, as she reluctantly came to an important insight.

“The moving company finished yesterday, so all that’s need to do is unpacking the last few boxes, and making the bed. The clothing we can leave to tomorrow, what there is of it,” Skulduggery said, gesturing to the bags of clothing piled by the wardrobe. He seemingly hadn’t noticed the great big elephant in the room, so Valkyrie took it upon herself to inform him.

“You realise we’re going to have to share a bed, right?” The face Skulduggery made when she said it would’ve been amusing if she didn’t feel the same way.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous, of course we won’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, we really will. If the households are being watched, which is likely, they’ll notice if you don’t go to bed.”

“…if I snore, wouldn’t you tell me to sleep in another room? Or on the couch?” he tried, gesturing out into the hallway. She shook her head.

“We’re newlyweds, Skul. There’s no way I’d consign you to the couch, at least not yet.” They’d elected to go with names that could be shortened – Rascal for Skulduggery, so if she slipped and started with Skul, they could claim it was just a nickname. The same for her, even if Skulduggery of course had claimed he’d never slip up. Valerie was similar enough to Valkyrie, too, that she felt she’d have no problem getting used to it. “I can share a bed if you can. I promise I won’t molest you in your sleep.” She rolled her eyes at him, trying to disguise her own nervousness.

He mumbled something in answer.

“What did you say?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

“I said that with my virtue guaranteed there’ll be no problem.” He turned away from her, missing her raised eyebrow. Considering the façade’s eyebrows, it didn’t elicit quite the same effect as when she did it with her own face, so it might be just as well he didn’t see it. However, while she hadn’t heard exactly what he’d mumbled, it hadn’t been that.

***

When Valkyrie woke up the next morning, she was alone, not surprisingly. What was surprising, however, was that she was more or less hugging the pillow that had been designated Skulduggery’s. She couldn’t help but blush, and hoped she hadn’t been cuddling him during the night, instead of his pillow. She had a tendency to cling in her sleep, she knew.

It was pretty early, but she knew Skulduggery had already had a job lined up that would bring him into some of the villagers’ homes, so he’d had an even earlier start.

She rummaged through the wardrobe, looking in distaste at the clothing. None of it was Bespoke, and none of it was in her style – it was, however, Valerie Nice’s style. Floral tank tops shared space with likewise dresses, right next to jeans that she knew would be skin tight. She didn’t mind the trousers being tight, of course, but she really missed her leathers (and, well, all her other clothes).

When she’d found clothing that weren’t quite as jarring as the sun dresses, she made her way downstairs, being greeted by the snuffling snores of a sleeping Artemis.

A note on the kitchen table informed her that Skulduggery had taken ‘the menace’ outside before leaving that morning, and Valkyrie could just picture his disgruntled visage.

Putting the kettle on and bread in the toaster, she turned and leaned on the kitchen counter. Surveying the chaos of boxes – most if not all filled with cheap, brand new things neither of them would mind leaving behind – she sighed. This would take an eternity. The kettle shrieked and she gratefully turned her back on the chaos that was her temporary living room, busying herself with breakfast. The kettle also woke Artemis, who made a beeline for Valkyrie’s knees. Legs buckling, she couldn’t help but laugh. Who knew her biggest weakness was a giant puppy?

When Skulduggery came back from work, it was to a house in disarray, but quite a few boxes less than there were that morning. In the midst of it all was Valkyrie, spread eagle on the living room carpet, Artemis curled up on her legs.

“Honey, I’m home!” He just couldn’t resist the cliché greeting, knowing it’d rankle her something fierce.

“I hate moving. Hate it. There’s too much stuff.” Valkyrie didn’t bother opening her eyes, just launched straight into a diatribe.

“You don’t have to do it all on your own.”

“No, I’ll just ask any one of all my none local friends.”

“Well, you’ve got the menace, it’s about time she starts pulling her weight.”

“Ah yes, when you’re at work I’ll just ask Artemis to help out, of course. Why didn’t I think of that? Speaking of work, how did it go?” She sat up, easily folding her legs into a relaxed lotus position, Artemis only moving to more properly put her head in her lap.

“Clearly you’re just not as intelligent as I am, which of course is in no way a surprise. Well, we’re officially the neighbourhood curiosity, and also invited to the village fete weekend after next. I’ve heard some snatches about the others, but nothing tangible.” Skulduggery had forgone his usual fedora, the headwear not in something Rascal Nice would wear, and he had to admit he missed it. He hung up the denim jacket he’d been wearing during the day, glad to be rid of it for a while. China had improved the façade enough that it for him covered his entire body – he hadn’t quite counted on how stifling it would feel.

“Village fete?”

“It’s a party, this year held at Wisteria Lane. Everyone’s invited, apparently, and Marlon Chimes – mortal, looks like a middle-aged Charlie Sheen, needed help with the electricity – said it’d be a superb moment to introduce ourselves.” Skulduggery sat down on the couch, a huge oxblood monstrosity that was easily the comfiest piece of furniture he’d ever had the pleasure of sitting on. It was with some suspicion he watched as Artemis turned her head to look at him, tongue lolling out. “She’s slobbering at me again.”

“I know what a fete is!” Valkyrie replied indignantly. “And she’s really not, she’s just happy to see you for some unfathomable reason.”

So it continued, the two of them bantering as they tried to put their temporary home to rights, the enormous puppy following at their heels – too close for Skulduggery’s comfort, if anyone asked, which Valkyrie categorically did not.

***

“Oh, you must be Valerie – from over at Willow Lane, right?” Valkyrie didn’t react at first, still not quite comfortable with the name, but then she realised the middle-aged woman was in fact addressing her.

“Yes, yeah, that’s me! Sorry, I’m so caught up in moving I think I accidentally packed my brain into one of the empty boxes,” Valkyrie dragged her hand through her hair, trying to laugh it off all while mentally reprimanding herself for such a rookie mistake.

“I know the feeling dear, don’t you worry. How’re you settling in?” The other woman looked to be approaching middle-aged, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything in their community.

“It’s lovely here, really – I’m so used to the suburbs, you know, living in a block of flats and all the noise. Here it’s… idyllic, really, that’s the only word I can find.”

“Dearie me, I can see that being very different to here. Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t introduce myself – Juniper Chimes, I’m over at Wisteria Lane.” She held out her hand, Valkyrie quickly juggling her bag of shopping so she could shake it.

“Oh, Marlon’s wife, right? Skul – Rascal, my husband? He said he’d been over, and Marlon had invited us to the village fete, I think…?”

“Of course you’re invited! Yes, Marlon and I talked about it just before, and said it was obvious we’d invite you. Since it’s being held at our place this time, it’s entirely up to us.”

“Should I bring anything, or so? I don’t want to show up emptyhanded and make everyone’s first impression a bad one…” Valkyrie played at the kind of shyness she’d never felt, rubbing the back of her head and looking at Juniper through her lashes.

“Yourself and a good mood, that’s all we ask!” Juniper said jovially. Valkyrie’d always associated joviality with Santa and no one else, but there were no two ways about it. Juniper was jolly. It scared her a little, to be honest.

“Oh, it sounds lovely – is it okay if I bring my dog? She’s still a little puppy and I don’t want to leave her alone too long.” Valkyrie carefully omitted just how large this ‘little’ puppy was.

“Of course! Have you had her long?”

“We got her just as we moved here, actually – Skul promised me a dog as soon as we were out of the flat, and with me between jobs at the moment we thought the timing wouldn’t get any better.” She didn’t even fib, she’d always wanted a dog but with their arbiter work it hadn’t looked to be a good time for it. Now, with nothing to do but sit in her – their - temporary home and twiddle her thumbs, well, it really was ideal.

***

The weekend of the fete arrived quicker than Valkyrie thought possible, especially as every day and night dragged on spectacularly. The days were spent walking around the village when she wasn’t trying to get the cottage into the shape she wanted, and she’d probably met most if not all villagers already. An adorable ten week puppy is an amazing icebreaker, if nothing else. She’d done some careful digging, but so far nothing new had been unearthed.

Skulduggery had been able to do some proper detecting, as he so proudly called it, while performing his job as a handyman. He hadn’t found anything either, to his growing consternation. If it hadn’t been about murders, Valkyrie would’ve ribbed him endlessly for his fruitless search.

The nights, however, the nights were the worst. Valkyrie knew she was a cuddler when she shared a bed with someone she lo- liked, and Skulduggery sadly wasn’t the exception. She could only thank god he wasn’t very easily woken when meditating, because so far he hadn’t seemed to notice her attaching herself to him during pretty much every night. She couldn’t even blame it on heat seeking tendencies – he was dead, so he didn’t exude much warmth.

She shook herself out of her thoughts when they neared the larger cottage on Wisteria Lane, where the fete was in full swing. She and Skulduggery were walking arm in arm, and she couldn’t help but be extremely aware of every single square millimetre where they were touching. To not arrive emptyhanded, no matter what Juniper said, she’d whipped up a quadruple batch of muffins, stuffed into a basket she’d forced Skulduggery to carry. Well, when he heard it was either the basket or Artemis’s leash, he’d voluntarily grabbed the basket.

After calling out generic greetings in a few different directions they split up, Valkyrie heading for the shade with Artemis in tow, Skulduggery towards some of the men he’d worked with so far during their stay. What children there were flocked to Valkyrie’s side, and she felt a small pang thinking of when Alice was that little. The biggest draw was Artemis, of course, who couldn’t look happier with all the attention she was receiving. Seeing that nothing would befall her beloved dog for a while at least she felt safe enough to walk around a little, introducing herself to the few villagers she hadn’t already met.

She was deep in a conversation about English Mastiffs with one of the little old ladies from Weigela Lane when she saw Skulduggery make his way inside. That was her signal that the plan was to commence.

They did actually have a plan, a good, well-thought out plan for once. They’d split up at the party, mingle, and then separately make their way inside, where they’d be able to snoop to their hearts’ content.

After carefully ending the talk about mastiffs, Valkyrie made her way over to Juniper, shyly asking about a bathroom. She received directions, and making sure to look like she was repeating them silently all the way indoors.

As soon as she was inside the doors, she immediately stopped slouching. Valerie Nice slouched, the epitome of a wallflower lacking much social adjustment. It also served to make her look shorter than she actually was, which could only be a good thing when being undercover.

She found Skulduggery outside the study, the door of which he carefully closed behind him.

“Nothing yet, not a single paper out of place,” he whispered to her, frustration making Skulduggery Pleasant’s voice shine through instead of Rascal Nice’s.

“I saw bookcases in the living room, have you checked those? The wardrobes in the hallway?” Valkyrie whispered back. Skulduggery only shook his head in answer, and they made their way downstairs again.

The bookcases in the living room turned out to be mysterious, however not in any way relating to their case. No, they were only disguised magic books, many of which Valkyrie had seen, if not actually read.

“Someone’s coming!” Skulduggery hissed in her ear just as Valkyrie was about to open one of the wardrobes in the hallway. In return, she did a rookie mistake. She panicked.

She’d hold fast to that claim forever, saying that’s the only reason she did what she did.

Valkyrie looked around quickly before grabbing Skulduggery by the shoulders and pushing him up against the wall. He didn’t have time to do more than open his mouth – to complain or ask what the hell she was doing, she didn’t know – before she kissed him.

Luckily, he got with the program rather quickly, wrapping an arm around her waist, tangling the other hand in her hair. She moved her hands a little, turned her grip from a death grip to more clutching at him. She had to give it to him, for someone who’d been dead for several hundred years, he sure could kiss. It felt like he was trying to devour her, and if he kept kissing her like that she’d be happily devoured. She didn’t even have to fake going weak in the knees, leaning more of her weight against him, trusting him to hold her up.

Valkyrie put a hand on his neck, thumb stroking the hinge of his jaw, tilting her head a little to get a better angle. She moaned when he tightened his grip on her hair, her knees feeling like rubber when he growled and nipped at her lips in return.

The gasp behind her back quickly brought Valkyrie back to the present, however.

“I’m so sorry, I was just going to the kitchen,” Juniper Chimes said, averting her eyes and blushing the colour of a tomato.

“Oh, it’s us that should apologise, Juniper, I’m so sorry – I can only blame being newlywed,” Valkyrie said, willing herself to blush even redder still. Skulduggery was still leaning against the wall, gobsmacked look not shifting in the slightest.

After another round of apologies from both Juniper and Valkyrie, their hostess left and Valkyrie sighed in relief. Turning to look at Skulduggery, she could only stare in surprise at the empty spot where he’d just been.

When she came back into the garden, Marlon was the first to approach her.

“What on Earth flew into Rascal? He left as if the devil himself on his heels!” She’d never talked to him before, but she recognised him based on Skulduggery’s description – a middle-aged Charlie Sheen was surprisingly accurate.

“Oh, he… he gets awful migraines, sometimes, you know how it is. He felt it coming on now, a bit too much right now is all. I’ll make my rounds and say goodbye to everyone, see if I can find my dog…” She’d never been good at fibbing on the fly, and after that kiss she probably didn’t have quite all the mental faculties she usually did.

The conversation repeated for most every couple she talked to, all of them sad to see them go but fully understanding them both.

When she came home, Artemis in tow and her muffins basket now stuffed full of leftovers, Skulduggery had shut himself in the study and locked the door. She felt like crying when he didn’t even say anything when she knocked.

If she fell asleep on a wet pillow that night, well, Artemis wouldn’t tell.

***

When Valkyrie woke the next morning, the other side of the bed wasn’t slept in. Biting back tears she performed her morning ablutions, releasing Artemis into the fenced-in backyard before sitting down by the kitchen table. She buried her head in her arms before changing her mind, rubbing at her eyes and then leaning her head back in what felt like a futile attempt to not cry.

She’d probably ruined her longest lasting friendship with that stupid stunt she’d pulled yesterday. Yes, the kiss had been amazing, everything she’d ever dreamt of (she could admit to dreaming of it) and more still. She could even admit, quietly and only to herself, that she didn’t just like Skulduggery, she loved him. Was in love, even. And now she’d ruined it all.

Barking in the yard pulled her out of her downward spiral, and she got up from the kitchen table to look at what Artemis had gotten up to. The large puppy was standing in the corner of the yard, looking and barking at something on the ground. Making her way over to inspect whatever it was, Valkyrie didn’t get more than halfway across the yard before something heavy hit the back of her head and everything went black.

***

When she came to again, she was kneeling on a rough stone floor, arms raised and shackled above her head. She kept her breathing even, not moving or opening her eyes, just like Skulduggery had taught her. She supressed the pang she felt when thinking about him. She’d been kidnapped, she could cry about other things later.

It seemed like she was alone, wherever she was, so she dared to open her eyes a fraction. Still seeing no one, she opened them fully, craning her head this way and that to try and get a full picture of just how deep she’d gotten this time.

Deep, was the answer. She was shackled in such a way that if she moved her arms even a tiny bit, she’d dislocate her shoulders, and while she could do that she preferred to use it as a last resort. Her kidnapper had been sloppy however, they hadn’t taken her amulet from her nor used binding chains. Then again, if her kidnapper was the murderer, they probably didn’t feel they needed binding chains. They only took mortals, after all.

“Awake, are you? Got to be thick, that skull of yours. A hit like that should’ve kept you out of it for far longer.” Valkyrie raised her head at the familiar voice. Descending the stairs at the far end of what she now recognised as a basement was Marlon.

“Marlon? Marlon, what are you doing?” She tried to sound frightened, twisting her arms in miniscule movements to make the chains jingle without dislocating her shoulders. The man laughed, a high, cold laugh. Valkyrie had gone toe to toe with Lord Vile, and this man, a mere mortal man, genuinely made her more nervous than the armoured menace had. Marlon, she didn’t know what he wanted, what he was going to do. Lord Vile was nothing if not predictable.

“Oh, don’t you fret my dear. As soon as my wife gets here, it’ll all be over for you.” What Valkyrie had taken for kindness when she first met him was in fact calculation, she now saw.

“What’s going on? What are you doing to me?” Keep him talking, just get him to keep talking, give herself time to figure out a plan (or time enough for the cavalry to come, at this moment in time she wasn’t much bothered which solution presented itself first).

“Ah, I can answer that, Valerie dear,” Juniper cut in, descending the stairs. She was wearing a velvety pink cocktail dress with matching heels, and Valkyrie didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone more out of place. “You see, much like you, my dear Marlon here is mortal. Not an ounce of magic in him, sadly. Well, maybe a thimble, but that’s as much magic as any mortal has, really.”

“Exactly! I’m mortal! What do you want with me?!” Valkyrie felt that her scared shriek was very believable. Maybe she’d go into theatre, now that her partnership with Skulduggery was most definitely over. Another, even smaller, very detached part of her mind realised that what was happening to Valkyrie at the moment was shock, brought on by the cold in the basement and a probable concussion from the blow to her head. Well, that, and also panic. She had no idea how she’d get out of this.

“Well, my dear girl, enough thimbles and you’ll have a cup. If we steal the miniscule amount of magic in a mortal – a mortal aware of magic, mind you, otherwise it won’t work – over and over again, why, we’ll soon have quite a bit of magic,” Juniper explained, like it was an everyday topic of conversation and not a discussion of how to murder and steal the magic from in-the-know mortals.

“I don’t need enough magic to be able to perform any tricks, of course. I just need enough to stop aging. I refuse to leave the light of my life behind.” Marlon shrugged, not bothered by how crassly they were discussing literal murder, just so he could live a little longer. “It works, too. For everyone we’ve killed, I’ve gotten a little younger, and every time it lasts a little longer.”

“Everyone?” Valkyrie gasped, as if she’d had no idea. “How many have you killed?”

Marlon opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say anything, his wife was enveloped in flames. Valkyrie sagged in relief, the movement hurting her shoulders but she really couldn’t find it in herself to care right then and there. Marlon spun on his heel, ready to throw himself headfirst into a fight, but never got that far. Instead, he received a gloved fist to the face, and soon thereafter an unforgiving stone floor to the head.

With an irritable wave of his hand, Skulduggery put out the fire licking at Juniper’s dress, the action doing nothing to silence her shrieks. She quieted, however, when two Sanctuary Cleavers stepped forward, cuffing both her and Marlon.

Skulduggery, however, busied himself getting Valkyrie out of her shackles, not even once meeting her eyes. He couldn’t hate her too much, she reasoned, because at least he caught her when she fell forward, the shackles no longer on her and therefor no longer providing support.

For the second time that day, everything went black.

***

They had to stay in Tracester for another three days, to tie up loose ends and ensure Valkyrie’s concussion had more or less passed. It was three days of Valkyrie having the entire house to herself – well, almost the entire house. Skulduggery had shut himself in the study the moment she woke up from her bout of unconsciousness, and didn’t come out until it was time to leave.

“I’m calling Tanith, she’ll pick me up. You go on ahead,” Valkyrie said, waving a hand vaguely in Skulduggery’s direction. She didn’t dare look at him, she didn’t know what she’d do if she did.

“What? I thought you’d come to like the, what did you call it, Limerick Lambaster?” he jested, trying for his usual mannerisms.

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Skulduggery. There’s an elephant in the room that we’re both ignoring so hard it’s turning orange.” She snorted, turning to a pile of kitchen towels that needed to be refolded.

“I’ve never seen an orange elephant before, it might be interesting.” Even with her back turned, she could see the inquisitive tilt of his head. It was the same tilt he did whenever a new, unexpected clue showed up.

“Please, just. Leave, Tanith’ll come to pick me up. Me and Artemis. It’ll work out.” The towels weren’t turning out evenly folded, one bigger than the other but smaller than the third. From the corner of her eye she could see him reaching a hand out to touch her shoulder.

“Don’t! Touch me,” she more or less shouted. Skulduggery flinched, taking a step back.

“Oh. I’m – sorry. I should’ve realised I’d made you uncomfortable.” She couldn’t understand why he sounded so distressed. It was her at fault here. She couldn’t even fold the flipping towels right, damn it. She started over again with the pile.

“It’s not that. I’m just.” She decided to treat it like a band aid, just rip it off. “We won’t be working together anymore, when we get back home.”

“Are you – quitting?” The distress in his voice heightened further.

“After this? Of bloody course I am. And you call yourself a genius…” She was aware her words were dripping derision, but she’d always been the type to channel her sadness into anger, and this time was no different.

“Is there nothing - ? I’ll ignore it, if you do, it’ll be just like before.” He sounded like he was making a noble sacrifice. She felt like playing golf with his head. Ignore it, bah.

“Can you? Can you ignore it, though, pretend like nothing happened?” she asked, trying to keep the tone neutral and the rage out of her voice. She wanted to activate the façade again, make it so Valerie would be hearing this instead, but it didn’t work like that. She imagined she could still feel the burning of where he’d brushed against her neck when putting it on.

“I have for quite a few years now, I’m sure it won’t be a problem.” Valkyrie heard how he started to pace, could picture him. She’d caught a glimpse before, he was wearing the sapphire blue suit she loved so much. Part of her wanted to turn to look at him, but she knew that if she did, she’d fall to her knees and beg just as likely as she’d zap him with as much white lightning as she could.

“Oh, great, bloody thanks for that. I knew it was unwelcome, but you don’t have to sound that happy about it.” She felt like she was boiling. She swept out with her arm – curse those bloody towels, anyway – and straightened up from where she’d been bent over the kitchen table.

“Unwelc - ? Valkyrie.” Skulduggery came to a halt in the middle of the floor, and he could only watch as she began to pace instead. Whereas he was somewhat of a stationary pacer, in that he only moved his feet, she was a very active pacer – windmilling of her arms included.

“What?! What do you want to hear? I’m sorry I fell in love with you? I’m sorry that nothing I do can make me stop loving you? What do you want to hear?!” The last few words she shouted in his face, but he refused to back down this time.

“Valkyrie. I’ve been ignoring my feelings for you for the better part of a decade.” He looked her in the eyes, as much as he could without the façade activated at least, trying to make her understand.

“…oh.” She blinked a few times, mouth moving like she was going to say something but then thought better of it.

“Yes, oh,” he said, fondness and, dare she think it, love colouring his words. “For two geniuses, we sure are dumb.”

Valkyrie could only nod dumbly in answer. She’d just had most of her world view turned upside down, she felt she could be excused this once for being a bit slow on the uptake.

He cupped her cheek with one gloved hand, the other sneaking inside an already open shirt to activate his façade. It didn’t quite register what he was doing until she met his gaze properly instead of staring into his skull.

Almost blushing at her daring, her hand followed the path his had just taken, thumbing the façade off again. She had time to register his surprise before she kissed him, properly this time.

It was a new, but not bad, feeling, kissing Skulduggery Pleasant. It was mouth to teeth, no tongue or lips to meet hers, but it was still Skulduggery she was kissing – his wordless rumble of pleasure she heard when stroking her thumb over the joint of his jaw, that same growl she’d heard last time when she pressed against him. He could definitely make her knees weak, whether he had lips or not.

He was Skulduggery, she was Valkyrie, and that was really all that was needed.

#skulduggery pleasant #valkyrie cain #valduggery #fanfic #friends to lovers #bed sharing #ripe with tropes

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migleefulmoments · 5 years ago

Note

I'm from SC and to be fair, it's the Palmetto state. I'd feel like it'd be pretty easy to act like SC palms are LA palms. It's so weird to me that they use her as a source, nothing she says can be backed up or validated? Doesn't she claim to be a PR insider, or something like that? Why would she live on the opposite coast, in SC of all places

That’s an interesting tidbit-something I hadn’t considered.

No, her posts were never backed up with proof- she never provided enough information to make it possible to vet her posts. Here are a few from the last week of March 29-31, 2017. These are literally all the post that she wrote for that period- aka this is the the information her followers were getting except for a thread about Ben that I left out and the reblogs.

Nomie party (X)

You did????? When? Was I annoyingly perky or in professional mode??

That’s freaking awesome. We must have lunch.

Didn’t post the ask cause that was too many details on that party. 😂😂 already been in trouble thanks.

Glad I’m not the only one that thought he is an ass.

Anonymous asked:

You are gloating aren't you?

Who me? I would never……😇😇😇😇😇

Yeah okay maybe a little. 😈😈😈😈😈

Anonymous asked:

Just being nosey...what are you gloating about?

I might have overheard some of the highlights to a certain article and had mentioned them. The nomie didn’t believe me. 😁 guess they do now.

Anonymous asked:

Thoughts on the recent posts of the sock acct?

She seems like she has had a meltdown. Maybe she is high? Honestly not being funny here.

She is all over the place. One minute she is deleting. One minute saying his Fandom is over, another saying let’s be friends and nice to everyone no matter the ships, then next raging at everybody. Deleting even her favorite responders comment’s…

All this while insisting she isn’t able to be online. 😑😑

Anonymous asked:

You have overheard the lea's article??

More like… at the right party at the right time.

Anonymous asked:

I wonder where m is? And what's happening in the next couple days.

Couldnt tell you.

I mean in in La and in hollywood right now working. (Well not today I had a free day)

we hear different things here. Pr talk is a bit different here. Its kind of like…. everyone knows stuff. But it different than what or wants you to know. So I couldn’t even begin to answer what GA folks are being fed.

Anonymous asked:

You have overheard the lea's article??

More like… at the right party at the right time.

Anonymous asked:

When did you see them out? Details

Can’t really say where I was as it included what I was doing and with whom. But it was here after the first of the year

****************************************************************

These are typical posts she would make about her personal life- cryptic, over-the-top and full of BS. She claimed at the time that she was staying at the home of some uber-wealthy guy who was letting her stay there with the roomies and she had permission to take his BMW anytime she wanted- but she never did-she took Uber and posted about her favorite Uber driver. She claimed she was an working actress and model for Fenty among other companies. She had an IG which was full of Fashion Nova posts where she called herself an actress, model and influencer.

La chronicles day… I think I just live here now.

Feeling better yeah!!!!

On the list of things I never thought I’d say with such enthusiasm..

“I fought the housekeeper and won!!”

Aka I made dinner and it is full of veggies.

Because apparently some men don’t understand that I’m not 99% muscle

😑😑😑 they are acting like I demanded they be drawn and quartered. Eat the damn veggies you big babies.

Side note, you know that heifer glared at me, sighed and mumbled under her breath that I would mess up her kitchen. Bite me lady.

la life

eat the damn veggies

veggies won't kill you

Legit conversation that happened at lunch

Background. Met the rookmies 😄😄 (this just tickles me) for a late lunch before my shoot. As I’m sitting at the table waiting for them… cue ego tripping hetero male who apparently thought he was gods gift to manhood. (I didn’t get the memo) . He will hence forth be called male chauvinist jackass or Mcj for short …….

Mcj: hi babe, how you doing… Me: 😐 Mcj: I said hi babe how’s you?….

Me: I heard you I was just waiting for you to say hi miss or hello ma'am or something. Mcj: whatever. This seat taken (as he sits down)

Fill in pointless small talk. Me mostly using one word answers.

Me: yes actually Mcj: whatever so I was thinking, you me dinner then maybe head back to my place, watch a movie….

Me: no thank you. Mcj: babe, come on now, don’t you know who I am? Me: no, should I?

Mcj: why yeah I’m on tv. Me: so? I’ve been on tv and will be again.. your point?

Cue more pointless small talk me just nodding. At some point the rookies show up and are headed over to the table. And I point them out.

Mcj: look so I’m doing you a solid, you can go far being attached to me, so ditch the gay boy band. and let’s go.

This mofo actually pulls out my chair and takes my arm.

………

So what did I learn this evening?

1). 5 inches wedge heels apparently hurt like a bitch on ones instep. 2). Apparently some dudes think this is cute. 3). Don’t piss off the gay boy band, any one of them can kick your butt and not break a sweat. 4 ). Telling a woman to get a real job after I mention why I was busy that evening is probably not the way to get a date. 5) all of the above behavior is not the way to get a date.

I’ve totally summed this up. But for the first time I was able to project anger in photos 😂😂😂 usually I have problems going there lol.

la life

some dudes are idiots

So break in the shoot for some entertainment.

Overheard conversation

“Sandra…. sandra. Bring the butt pads.”

“The lifters or the volume?”

“She has lift, bring the volume” Then heard mumbled “ she’s black… how does she have a white chick ass? She has boobs for days but no ass.”

Then… you realize sandra is walking towards yours truly.

Well ya can thank my German ancestors for that one. Don’t blame me the stylist put me in this maxi dress.

Oy vey………

la life

I'm not bad I'm drawn that way

La premorning gameshow

When your sitting in hair and makeup, wondering if you think they think you can breathe through osmosis.

Omfg. Could you have picked a tighter pair of jeans?

I’m not exactly sitting … more like reclining with style.

FYI deserts before the sun comes up… are cold as heck. Holy crap. 😜😜😜

Ugh. La chronicles .. . time to catch up .

Paying for those two days off. Make up time. Shoot before the Crack of dawn (and i do mean before the crack of dawn) and one this evening.

la life

Busy busy.

Okay soooooooko Goes from cold to….. let’s melt you skin off. 😂

On the plus side. Done til 5pm and I get to do it all over again.

Beach side this time whooo hooo.

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luminary-gremlin · 6 years ago

Text

The Jesting Host (Part 4)

A/N: Welcome back to part 4 of the Jesting Host! I don’t really have any comments but once again this fic was fun to write! Let me know how you feel about this fic!

Word Count:1913

Now that the Jims have been taken care of, it was time for Host to check up on their little star of the documentation, Bim Trimmer. He flexed his wrists and fingers before taking a deep breath, this next recreation will require him to create quite a large object. He felt a surge of energy rush through him at his plans for the optimistic gentle soul.

Bim was currently touching up his make up for the next show, everything had to be absolutely perfect before he dare show his handsome face to the world. He extra polished his spectacles in such a way were any smudge was eradicated off the crystal surface. He fixed his beautiful raven hair until it was perfect without a signal stand out of place. It often took the man such a long time to perfect every single detail that his show wouldn’t start until another hour! Not to mention helping Wilford and trying to keep calm and then fix himself again.

Host perceived his form with his mind eye, now…how on earth was going to play this out WITHOUT possessing the man. As he brainstormed millions upon millions of possibilities, he picked up with how frantic Bim would check his schedule…he only did that if something different was planned…perhaps he may not need to order Bim to do his bidding, thank god, but rather persuade him.

Bim squinted at the mirror closely, did he use “MAC Powder Blush – Mocha” or “MAC Powder Blush – Blushbaby”? Yes this was very important, one was just a smidge to dark for his paling skin, evidence from the lack of staying outside. Maybe he should take it off and start all over again.

He sighed as he grasped the make up remover and wiped down his face before splashing himself with cold water to refresh his face. Okay no big deal you can do this Bim. He looked at the folded paper that laid on his make up dresser. He was for sure he knew what was coming up…but one more glance couldn’t hurt. He fixed his crystal spectacles and muttered the list out loud before gasping dramatically.

“A MAGIC SHOW PARTICIPANT?! IN 10 MINUTES?! Oh god how did I miss this?!”

That was the Host’s cue to lightly knock on the door, disguising as a magician that Marvin would be jealous of. The showman flinched before screeching out,

“I’M NOT READY DON’T COME IN!”

The Host came in anyways and Bim hurringly covered his clean baby face, muttering swears into the towel.

“Ahem, I apologize for the sudden intrusion sir, but perhaps you would be interested in possibly quickly practicing for our small act. I would prefer preventing any chance of actually cutting you in half.”

Oh my, Bim didn’t think about that. He had never done this before! How could he get so absorbed in his facial features. He hesitantly dropped the towel and discarded it before facing the masked stranger.

“Yes yes of course. Apologies for the naked look, I was just trying to fix up and something went wrong. What exactly is your name?”

“...Ganjileom. But please, call me Gan for short.”

Bim blinked at the name and held out a hand, in which the man named Gan firmly shook. It ease Bim’s nerves with how friendly and patient he was, almost as if it was a familiar feeling he’s had before. He clapped his hands readily as if he was about to announce something.

“So! What was that about cutting me in half? Oh that was always my favorite trick in magician shows!”

“Yes yes, I have brought the box with me for practice. Please step in. This act often is a people pleaser with the illusion of someone cut in half and surviving as well as put together.”

Bim gulped nervously…yeah, that was why it was his favorite act. He slid off his Gucci dress shoes and lied down on his back in the silk covered box and pushed his feet through the holes, in which “Gan” had locked them in with a devilish grin.

“Now to begin, you will come on stage as my assistant after I have announced my act. You will climb into the box and I will lock you in. I will announce to the crowd that the box is all one piece and spin you around and then just to show the people these are indeed your feet, I will give them a little tickle. Are you ticklish perchance Mr. Trimmer?”

Oh god Bim blushed…this was the reason. Just the way how a magician would teasingly tickle the assistant’s feet just to prove they were real, even if it was just for a second, made him feel all bashful. He began to cover one socked foot with the other in a shy manner before speaking.

“A-ah yes, just a little.”

The Host’s evil smirk grew in to a toothy grin and lightly scratched one of his exposed soles to test the waters. As he suspected, the gameshow host squealed outloud and wiggled his sensitive foot around. It was worse that he couldn’t see and therefore unable to predict what would happen next.

“Excellent. Now after that I will get my saw out and place it inside the box. This blade will absolutely NOT touch you. I wanna tell you this because it may get close, but I will not let anyone get hurt under my watch. Do you feel that slight vulnerability around your ah…buttock?”

To be honest Bim was feeling a much more different vulnerability around his feet, but the moment Gan pulled the box in half he felt his butt almost…sag down a bit. Ah so that’s how it’s done. He arched his back to let the box slide back in. He felt quite confident now with the current situation.

“Wow, it’s that easy? I never thought magic could be that simple!!! Now ah, shall you undo the stocks?”

“Possibly, but first…I am awfully curious about your feet and their sensitivity. This sort of thing cannot go unnoticed. Most of the time I hear a giggle or so, but you…you’re different. Different in a good way of course!”

Bim flushed a beautiful bright pink at that and rubbed his feet together bashfully. It embarrassed the heck out of him whenever people commented on his ticklishness. He felt dread pool into his stomach at the realization…he was stocked, he couldn’t see, his trapped feetsies were going to be tickled! Not that he minded of course.

The Host grinned at his flustered silence, sensing the emotion Bim felt at the realization, and then began. He slowly peeled off his socks to expose the soft, well taken care of skin of Bim trapped soles.

“My my, it seems your facial features aren’t the only thing you take care of Bim~”

The Host purred. He then dragged a single finger up and down his soles greedily, enjoying the squeaks and sweet laughter of Bim. It was almost amusing how one little finger already got the poor man to unwravel.

“CEHEhehhHEHEHEase AHAHahhahAHHAt OHohohOHonce FihihIHiHiHend!”

“…Fiend? You call such a simple, gentle gesture…fiendish? Well, well, well…it seems someone needs to be reeducated about what such a word ACTUALLY means!”

The Host sneered before snapping his fingers, causing Bim’s toes to uncurl and spread open as far as the could comfortably before freezing in that position. Bim couldn’t move an inch and now his toes where completely open under the “magician’s” mercy. Oh how he wish he could take it all back. If he had just kept his mouth shut. Before he could apologize, he was cut off with hysterical laughter at the feeling of something super, feathery soft like a make-up brush teasing the ball of his left foot along with 5 blunt, scratching nails traversing up and down his sole.

“BWAHAHHAHAHAHHA ANOHOHOHHOH PLEHEHEHEHHEHEHASE!!!! GEHEHEHEHHEHT AWAHAHHAHAHAY FROHOHOHOHM MIHIHIHIHIHY FEEHEHEHHEHET! IHIHIHIHI’LL SUHUHUHUHUE YOU WHEHEHEHHEN I GEHEHEHEHT OUT!!!!”

He howled with laughter. He banged his fists against the box for a way to open it. He shook his head wildly as red blush burned his delicate skin. It was blissful ticklish agony. The two wildly different techniques on different areas of his feet was driving him mad. Meanwhile the Host was having a blast of a time. He had made sure to check in on his levels as to not go too far.

“Now tell me Bim, which tickles more? The make-up brush or my nails~?”

Oh god don’t make me choose, he thought to himself. There was nothing worse than having to focus on what was the worse than the two evils. The scratchy, suuuuper tickly claws of this magician…or the feather soft brush teasing such a sensitive spot. The choice was horrible as it was about equal, but he knew he’d have to give an answer quickly for fear of upsetting his captor.

“THEHEHEHHEH MAHAHHAHAHAKE UP!!!!! THEHEHHEHE BRUSH THEHEHHE BRUHUHHUHUHUSH!!!!! THHEHEHEH BRUSH IHHIHIHS WOHOHOHOHOHOHRSE!!!!”

He cried out in hysteria. The Host continued to keep an eye on his limit, figuring that despite the man having excellent stamina, he would prefer not to push him to his limit. He was such an innocent one after all.

“Excellent. The H- Ii-i-I mean…the great Ganjileom is delighted that you willingly answered his question. You are granted freedom from the box.”

The Host unlocked him out from the split box, lifting him up and setting him in the chair while fetching a cold bottle of water. Bim’s lungs were on fire, sweat dripping from his skin, his hair was a mess as tears stained his adorable cheeks. Once he was given the water, he greedily guzzled it down thankful for its refreshing coolness. The Host then placed a cool rag over his head as well as cleaning up Bim.

“Ah it’s impossible. There’s no way to fix this and the show is about to begin! I can’t go out there!”

“Perhaps Bim, you are focusing too much on your perfect complexion. Yes a bit of foundation may help with making you appear correctly skin colored. But is perfection really necessary? The crowd loves you for your personality. You’re able to wow a group using a pinecone and a crunchy leaf!”

Bim…hadn’t thought of it that way. He’s been so obsessed with how he appeared to others, that he had forgotten his talented skills of show business!

“W-wow…you really think so? W-why thank you…I guess…I HAVE been obsessed…but is it possible to at least quickly fix up?”

The Host chuckled fondly at him and nodded.

“Well of course, you don’t think I’d actually expect to leave you like this did you?”

With a snap of his fingers, Bim’s features were all fixed up. He wore a brand new tailored suit, clean, combed hair, as well as clear, fixed spectacle. His eyes glistened and hugged the Host happily.

“HOW IN THE WORLD DID YOU DO THAT?!”

“A magician never tells his secrets~”

“T-thank you! I swear I owe you one! Anything! Let’s knock this event out of the park!”

“Yes indeed let us…and by the way… ‘Blushbaby’ appeals more to your skin than ‘Mocha’.”

And so the two men set out on their performance together, receiving quite amount of applause and cheers for their act. Bim was able to crack some jokes and wow the crowd with his own commentary as well as assure the crowd their favorite showman was quite fine after being cut in half.

4 down, 9 to go

#Lee Bim #Ler Host #The Jesting Host #part 4 #tickle #tickling #magician's box #masterpost

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snappedsky · 6 years ago

Text

Fanatics 68

Zim runs for mayor against Charles Von and Celio Mussolini. Previous! Next!

Zim for Mayor

Johnny yawns as he falls onto the couch. Stretching, he turns on the TV to some random sitcom.

“Breakfast is ready,” Squee announces as he walks into the living room, handing Nny a plate of fried eggs. “What are we watching?”

“I don’t know, some dumb show,” he replies as Squee sits beside him.

The screen suddenly changes to the news broadcast title with a woman announcing, “breaking news!”

“Ooh, I hope it’s something interesting,” Nny says.

“The mayor is resigning,” the newscaster declares.

“Ugh, boring.”

The city hall is shown on the TV with the reporter standing outside it surrounded by a crowd of people. And standing on the steps is a man who looks much older than he is, with huge bags under his eyes and a shaggy suit that probably used to fit him properly.

“Behind me is the soon-to-be former mayor of our city,” the reporter says, “now, mister former mayor, you’ve been mayor for almost five years. Why resign now?”

The mayor twitches and fidgets as he addresses the camera. “It has been a very…eventful five years. But I feel that it’s time to let someone else suffer-ah, I mean, t-take the wheel.”

“What sort of challenges are to be expected for the new mayor?” the reporter.

“Ch-challenges, yes. Like uh paperwork and-and um t-taxes and-and the monsters and ghosts and murders. Oh so many murders! I can’t take it anymore!”

He rips off his tie and leaps off the staircase, screaming hysterically as he races off into the distance.

“Well, there you have it,” the reporter says, “a new mayor is needed. Elections will begin immediately for any and all applicants.”

“What kind of person would want to be mayor of this city?” Squee scoffs as he takes a drink of his juice.

“I shall apply!”

The familiar voice on the TV causes Squee to spit out his juice and both him and Nny to quickly sit up. The camera pans around as Celio Mussolini approaches the city hall, dressed in a fancy suit with two large men flanking him. The crowd can be heard whispering excitedly to one another.

“Yes, I shall run for mayor!” Mussolini says again once he’s at the top of the staircase. “I promise to be a fair and compassionate leader.”

“Celio Mussolini, the head CEO of Mussolini Banks, the biggest bank chain in the city,” the reporter announces, “the richest and perhaps the most powerful man in the city, running for mayor. I think that makes this election pretty cut and dry.”

“On the contrary.”

The camera pans around again, revealing Charles Von, another rich man of the city who is secretly a vampire. He smiles warmly as he walks up the steps of city hall and stands next to Mussolini, who’s glaring at him viciously.

“I too shall run for mayor,” Charles announces.

“Unbelievable,” the reporter exclaims, “Charles Von, a rich philanthropist running against Celio Mussolini. What a race!”

“Mussolini cannot be mayor,” Squee says, “Nny, we gotta do something.” “What do you expect me to do?” he asks, “I can’t vote. I can’t even go on planes.”

“Well, there’s gotta be something we can do.”

“A debate will be held Monday followed by the election,” the reporter explains, “candidates will have until then to explain their plans for office and gather supporters. That is all for toda-.”

“Wait!”

The camera pans upwards just as what looks like a small rocket flies overhead. Something drops down the rocket and lands just behind Charles and Mussolini. They stand up and point dramatically to the sky.

“Zim will be mayor!”

Squee sighs and leans back in the couch. “Saw that coming.”

“Amazing!” the reporter exclaims, “a third mystery candidate has just appeared! What an election this shall be! Who will be the new mayor of our city? Who will you choose? I can’t wait to find out!”

The show cuts out and changes back to the sitcom.

“Why does this feel more like a gameshow?” Johnny mutters.

Squee frantically grabs him arm. “Nny, I need you drive me to city hall.”

About half an hour later, Johnny pulls his car over a couple blocks from city hall. It’s busy so there aren’t many parking spaces.

Squee quickly jumps out of the car and races to city hall. There are a couple reporters outside but no sign of Zim. He quickly goes through the glass doors and looks around. Office workers are milling around, talking to one another.

Squee looks back as Nny catches up to him. They glance at each other.

“Excuse me, can I help you?” one of the workers asks, startling Squee.

“Er, yes. I’m looking for…one of the candidates…?” he replies.

“Oh, sure, follow me,” he says and leads Squee and Nny deeper into the building, to a second floor hallway. “Who is it you’re looking for?”

“Zim…?”

“Oh, that one…” he says awkwardly then clears his throat. “Uh he’s in the third door on the left.”

“Thank you,” Squee says as he lets himself in.

The door leads to a small meeting room with a round table in the middle and a large window on the far wall. Dib, Gaz, and Pepito are already here, with Zim standing at the front of the room.

“Ah, Squee, perfect timing,” Zim chimes, “please, take a seat.”

While Squee sits with the others, Zim eyes Nny suspiciously as he leans against the wall.

“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just here to watch,” Johnny says, “this looks like it’ll be hilarious.”

Zim scoffs and faces his teammates. “Now that we’re all here, we can begin.”

“Zim, you’re actually gonna run for mayor?” Squee questions, “you know this crazy, right?”

“I’m not just gonna run, Squee, I’m gonna win,” he declares, “and you’re all gonna help me.”

“Squee’s right, Zim,” Dib says, “you can’t just randomly run for mayor. There’s preparation you have to do beforehand. You have to make yourself known to the public, you have to-.”

“Dib, you’ll be my campaign manager,” Zim announces.

“C-campaign manager? Really?” Dib questions, clearly elated.

“Gaz, you’ll be my bodyguard.”

“I do like knocking people’s heads in,” she nods, approvingly.

“Pepito, you’ll be my hype man.”

“I do enjoy hype,” he smirks.

“And Squee, you’ll be in charge of the smear campaigns.”

“You want me to reveal bad things about your opponents,” Squee says, “one’s a vampire, the other’s a mob boss. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

“That’s the spirit!” Zim cheers, “now we only have two days to get people on my side so we have to work fast. Any questions?”

“Yeah, I have one,” Johnny says, raising his hand. “What the hell is this election?”

“This election is my first step to being ruler of Earth,” Zim declares, “and nothing is gonna stand in my way.”

Zim stands in the meeting room, looking through the window. From here he can see out onto the main street. The yard in front of the building is full of reporters. Passersby go about their business up and down the street. Zim watches them, grinning.

“I can get used to a view like this,” he says, “what do you think, Gaz?”

She’s sitting in a chair, her feet up on the table as she plays on her Game Slave. “Huh?” she grunts, barely looking up. “Oh uh yeah it-it suits you.”

Zim smiles agreeably and looks back outside. The peacefulness is suddenly ruined when Dib kicks the door open. He kicks it closed behind him as he walks in, carrying a large stack of binders and books.

“What’s all this?” Zim asks as Dib drops them on the table.

“This is my work as your campaign manager,” Dib replies, “first, the polls.” He takes a paper off the top of the pile and lays it down on the table. It shows a bar graph with two long bars and an empty space where a third bar would go.

“Currently Von and Mussolini are tied for popularity,” Dib explains, “whereas you are virtually non-existent.”

“What? This is an outrage!” Zim exclaims, “everyone should love Zim!”

“Relax, don’t get upset,” he says, “this was to be expected. The public doesn’t know you yet. But they will after your press conference when you reveal your campaign.”

Dib grabs the top binder and flips it open. “More paranormal investigators; ghost detectors, holy water, and silver bullets equipped by all police officers; laser turrets on all rooftops for impending alien invasions-.”

“Maybe we should also do something about getting better supplies in schools?” Gaz suggests.

“Yeah, yeah sure,” Dib says dismissively, “and paranormal studies in schools. Also-.”

He’s cut off when Pepito kicks the door open. “Everyone shut up! I’ve done it!”

He walks in carrying a rolled up poster. He knocks all of Dib’s stuff to the ground and slams the poster onto the table.

“Pepito!” Dib squeals, “do you have any idea how long it took me arrange that?”

“Who cares, Dib,” Pepito scoffs and points at his poster. “This is what an electoral campaign is really about: the campaign slogan.”

“Behold,” he smirks as he unrolls the poster. “We can’t do it; but Zim Can!”

On the poster is a drawing of a black-gloved hand doing a thumbs-up with the words ‘Zim Can’ in big pink letters next to it.

“Pepito, that’s perfect!” Zim exclaims, “I want this printed on anything and everything with a flat surface.” “Way ahead of you, Zim,” Pepito says, “I stopped at the copiers store and got it printed on loads of posters, fliers, pins, hats. By the end of the day, everyone in the city will know Zim Can.” “Yes,” Zim smiles excitedly, “this is going great.”

Pepito grins as he steps over Dib, who’s scrambling along the floor trying to gather all of his papers, and leans against the table next to Gaz.

“You look busy,” he comments.

“Oh, yeah,” she grunts, “real busy work being Zim’s bodyguard.” He looks around. “So where’s Squee?” “He’s working on the smear campaigns,” Zim replies.

Meanwhile, across the city, Johnny drives his car with Squee in the passenger seat, and Devi and Tenna in the back.

Squee is busy scribbling in his notebook. He’s written ‘Charles Von’ with a line connecting to ‘vampire’ and a line connecting that to ‘Need Proof!’

“Thanks for coming with me, guys,” he says.

“No problem, Squee,” Devi says, “but um…are you really supporting this? Like does no one see anything wrong with Zim running for mayor?” “Oh there’s lots wrong with it,” Johnny replies, “but it’s hilarious so who cares?”

“Actually, Devi, I really believe in Zim,” Squee says, “I think he can be a great leader. That’s why I wanna help him.”

“Even if it means writing a smear campaign on the most dangerous man in the city?” Devi asks.

“Ah, Charles Von isn’t that dangerous.”

“I wasn’t talking about Charles Von-.”

“Oh, right here, Nny,” Squee says.

Johnny pulls the car over on one of the richer streets, close to Charles Von’s house. And parked a little ways ahead is a familiar van.

“Huh, that’s the Night Terror’s van,” Squee states. He gets out, walks up to it, and knocks on the side door. After a few seconds, Aron answers, looking as exhausted and ragged as ever.

“Oh, hello, Squee,” he says.

“Hi, Aron,” Squee responds and peeks inside. No one else is here. “Where is everyone?”

“Eh, Serena’s dad had her move back in and she invited them to stay for a while,” he replies.

“Wow, that sounds like a terrible idea,” he comments.

“Yeah, that’s probably why she did it,” Aron shrugs, “what are you doing?”

“I’m working for Zim, one of the mayoral candidates,” Squee smiles, “I have to write some smear articles on Von and Mussolini.”

“Wow, really playing with fire there,” he comments.

“Eh, I’ve done worse,” he shrugs, “hey, you’re a reporter.”

“Barely.” “Wanna help?” “Sorry,” Aron replies, “I’d like to stay as far from Mussolini’s bad books as I can.”

“That’s understandable.”

“But I do have a file on Von you can have.”

“Why do you have a file on Von?” Squee asks as Aron goes to the front of the van and grabs a folder bag.

“I uh wrote a story on him for one of my classes,” Aron explains, “did a lot of research for it. It wasn’t gonna get published so I figured I’d be safe. So if you do publish this, leave my name out of it.”

“No problem,” Squee smiles as Aron hands him a folder. “Thanks, Aron. This will make it much easier.”

“Not if you’re writing a smear campaign,” Aron mutters as he sits in the front seat.

Squee glances at him curiously but doesn’t ask anything as he goes back to the car, flipping through the files.

Back at the city hall, the candidates are taking turns doing press conferences on the front steps. Mussolini has gone first. Zim, Dib, Gaz, and Pepito are watching from the meeting room window.

“With a face like that, I’d stay away from cameras,” Gaz comments.

“It just shows how scary he can really be,” Pepito says, “if he tried to hide his scars, people would make fun of him. But because he shows them off, everyone is intimidated.”

“He won’t be so intimidating when I take him down in this election,” Zim sneers.

“Von will be up soon, and then it’ll be you,” Dib says, “we better get down there and start preparing.”

“Right,” Zim nods. They leave the room and start heading downstairs.

“Here are your cue cards,” Dib says as he hands him a stack of about twenty cards. “Each of them contains different points on your campaign.”

Zim starts reading through them. “Satellites for alien detection. Funding for monster hunting equipment. Searchlights for UFOs.”

“Jeez!” Pepito exclaims, exasperated. “Being a leader means doing what the people need, not what you want. And I do mean you specifically,” he says, pointing at Dib.

“Fine,” Dib huffs and pulls out another set of cards. “I did make a ‘PR’ set. It contains things like housing for the homeless, more school supplies, and a larger budget for emergency workers.”

“That’s better,” Pepito nods approvingly.

As they reach the first floor, they run into Mussolini walking with his lapdog, Carson. Carson looks away but Mussolini glares right at Zim.

“This ‘charade’ you’re putting on is adorable,” he says, “but now would be the perfect time to shut it down. I will not be beaten, especially not by a delusional insect.”

“The only delusional one here is you,” Zim retorts, “thinking you even have a chance at beating me.”

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we,” Mussolini snarls as he walks by. They glare at each other the whole time until he’s disappeared from view.

“This is why I love politics,” Pepito grins.

Zim, Dib, and Gaz laugh as they approach the front door and wait for Von to finish his turn.

Zim slides into the meeting room, arms up, cheering, “woo!” Dib, Gaz, and Pepito follow close behind, grinning ear to ear.

“That was great!” Zim exclaims happily, “everyone loved me! Don’t you think? Don’t you think they loved me?”

“You did great, Zim,” Dib says, “you were collected, professional, and you made your views very clear. I think your polls are gonna raise exponentially.”

“And the ‘Zim Can’ hashtag is trending on Twatter,” Pepito adds as he scrolls through his phone. “This is going great!”

“You’re all saying great too much,” Gaz grunts, “but I will admit this is going better than I thought.”

“And it will go even better when Squee finishes those smear campaigns,” Zim says, “I wonder how he’s doing.”

Almost on cue, Squee bursts into the room, looking disheveled and a little panicked. “We got a problem,” he sighs.

The mood in the room changes almost immediately as Squee walks in and drops a folder on the table.

“Charles Von is clean,” he states.

“What?” Dib questions, “he can’t be clean.” “He’s squeaky clean,” Squee insists, “half of his income is given to the city and major donations; he is quoted multiple times as to saying how he’s all about ‘family values’ and ‘taking care of the planet’; and no one in his family drinks real blood. It’s all some kind of blood substitute. He’s like a legitimately good person. If he’s got any dirt on him it’d be his kids, but he’s got them on a tight leash right now. He even had Serena move back in so no one can say he’s not a family man.” “This is not good,” Zim grunts.

“That’s not even the worse part,” Squee says, “I think Mussolini is gonna rig the votes. I broke into his building earlier and I saw a bunch of his people compiling fake but realistic ballots all with Mussolini’s name checked. He’s gonna cheat and with his connections I have no doubt he’ll succeed. Against Von, you stand a fair shot. But against Mussolini, no one will win.”

Dib, Gaz, and Pepito look down despairingly. Any hope they had and fun they were having has been shattered.

Everyone looks up with surprise when Zim starts laughing, maniacally, hysterically. He settles down as he looks out the window at the sunset.

“And here I was thinking this election was starting to get a little boring,” he chuckles. “So Mussolini wants to play dirty, does he? Well, that’s my favourite way to play.”

He spins around, slams his hands onto the table, and faces his team, grinning. “If Mussolini is our only real threat, then we just have to take him out.”

“But how? If we do anything uh unsavoury, it could ruin your running,” Dib points out.

“Mussolini’s the unsavoury one,” Zim retorts, “and we’ve gonna prove it for everyone to see.”

Grins spread across the faces of Dib, Gaz, Pepito, and Squee as their minds start spinning with plans and schemes most sinister.

Monday morning: the day of the big debate, followed by the election. Everyone has gathered in the town square to watch. A stage and a jumbotron have been set up so everyone will be able to see and hear the candidates clearly.

Johnny, Devi, and Tenna are amidst the crowd. Tenna is snapping lots of pictures while they wait for the debate to begin.

“So this is really happening,” Devi says, in somewhat disbelief. “They’re actually serious about this.”

“Squee left the house pretty early this morning so I’d say, yes they are,” Johnny nods.

“You think he’s actually gonna win?” Tenna asks.

“You know what, as long as Mussolini doesn’t win, I don’t care,” Devi declares.

“Either way, it’s gonna be fun,” Nny grins.

Meanwhile, on the main road, a van is parked displaying Mussolini’s campaign slogan. Mussolini is sitting the back, straightening his suit. Two of his men are sitting in the front seats, listening to him ramble.

“…and make sure the ballot box gets switched out as soon as the voting is closed,” he orders, “and keep an eye out for those kids. I cannot let this be ruined by those meddlesome brats. If I miss this chance, I won’t get another one for years.”

He looks at the front seats with annoyance. “Hey, are you listening?”

“We heard every word,” the left one says as they both grab the brims of their top hats and turn around, grinning. “Scarface.”

Mussolini flinches back as the Doughboys step out of the seats. “You two!” he exclaims. He starts to grab his cellphone when Sickness and Reverend Meat suddenly pop out from behind his seat. They grab him before he has a chance to scream.

Meanwhile, in a building overlooking the town square, Zim watches the debate stage through the window. They’re still setting everything up but it’ll be ready soon.

“How’s it going, Dib?” Zim asks as he looks back into the room. It’s pretty empty except for a table that Dib is leaning over, typing on a laptop. Gaz, Pepito, and Squee are crowding him, watching him work.

“Almost done….and there!” Dib announces, “we’re patched into the jumbotron. One push of a button and the webcam will broadcast everything.”

“Excellent,” Zim purrs and wrings his hands. “Now after Mussolini gets here, get it going on my signal.”

There’s a knock on the door. Squee quickly opens it and the Night Terrors walk in, leading Mussolini with a bag over his head and his hands bound behind his back.

“Thanks, guys,” Squee says, “now make yourselves scarce.”

Reverend Meat salutes before they disappear out the door, closing it behind them. Squee unties Mussolini’s arms and takes off the bag. He looks around with surprise then glowers angrily.

“You little cockroaches,” he snarls, “you realize what you’ve done? You are gonna be in so much trouble.”

“What about you?” Zim asks, “cheating on the ballots? How do you think everyone will respond to that?”

Mussolini blinks with surprise and smirks. “So you found out about that, did you?”

Behind his back, Zim points his finger. Dib immediately taps his keyboard, activating the webcam.

Outside, the debate mediator takes the stage and says into a microphone. “The debate will now begin. Could the candidates please come to the stage?”

Charles Von walks onto the stage and takes his place behind a podium. But none of the other candidates follow.

“Uh, Mr. Mussolini? Zim?” the mediator questions.

The audience mutters questionably and looks around.

The jumbotron suddenly blinks on, showing Mussolini in a dimly lit room.

“That’s right, I’m rigging the ballots,” he says.

Everyone starts exclaiming with shock and confusion. Johnny nods and smirks. “It’s getting good.”

“How could you betray the trust of all those people?” Zim asks.

“They’re morons,” Mussolini snaps, “those blind sheep wouldn’t know greatness if it regularly stole from them.”

“Like you do?”

“Exactly. And they have no idea. They never know anything. That’s why I had to make sure that I win.”

“Why do you wanna win so badly? You’re already the most powerful man in the city.”

“It’s not enough,” Mussolini says, “I have to be on top, not just on this one horse town, but on the world.”

“And you don’t care who you hurt along the way,” Zim sighs.

“Of course not!” he guffaws, “all those people out there, they’re just a staircase to help me climb my way to the top. I’ll steal what I have to, murder who I have to! Nothing’s gonna stop me!”

Zim grins and bends forward so he’s looking into the laptop’s webcam. “You heard it here first, folks! Mussolini’s a thief, a murderer, and a fraud! Is this really the man you want to be mayor?”

The audience outside immediately erupts into a cacophony of ‘no!’ Mussolini blanches.

“What…” he breathes and looks outside. From the window he can see the jumbotron, with his face on full display.

“You…” he says with disbelief then snarls. “You…set me up!”

“For the people!” Zim declares, “to liberate them from your tyranny! To give them the respect they so deserve!”

Mussolini flushes angrily. He reaches into his coat and whips out a handgun. He points it right at Zim, who doesn’t even flinch, and pulls the trigger. But nothing happens.

“What!” Mussolini exclaims and constantly squeezes the trigger of his empty gun.

Behind the laptop, Dib leans in close to Squee and whispers, “nice touch having them take out the bullets but leave the gun.” Squee grins and they snicker quietly.

Mussolini tosses his useless gun to side and races for the door. Gaz and Pepito step in front of it, cutting him off. He steps back uneasily.

“You’re not going anywhere, Mussolini,” Zim states, “you will pay for your crimes. In fact, I think I hear your retribution right now.”

Sirens can be heard in the distance, slowly getting closer. Mussolini looks around frantically for an option but finds nothing.

Zim grins contently and approaches him. He leans in closer and whispers so the webcam can’t hear him. “Consider yourself lucky. If it were up to me, I’d end you myself. But being a leader means doing what the people need, not what I want.”

Mussolini starts trembling. He falls against the wall and barely holds himself up. “N-no. No. You can’t do this to me. I’m the most powerful man in the city.”

Zim chuckles as he steps back. “Not anymore.”

Mussolini blanches and falls to his knees. The police arrive after a few minutes. They arrest Mussolini and lead him away. As soon as they’re gone, Zim swipes his hand across his neck, motioning for Dib to cut the footage. He closes the laptop and the jumbotron goes dark.

“Mission accomplished!” Zim cheers. Everyone laughs as they crowd together.

“Nice acting,” Pepito comments.

“Why, thank you,” Zim replies.

“God, I wish I could like bottle the expression on Mussolini’s face,” Squee beams.

“Yeah, let’s see how powerful he is in prison,” Gaz laughs.

“He’ll never forget this moment and neither will we,” Dib says.

They laugh victoriously for a minute but quiet down when they hear something outside. The audience is raucously cheering and shouting, “Zim Can! Zim Can! Zim Can!”

The kids watch from the window, bewildered for a second. Then Dib smiles and pats Zim’s shoulder. “Well, you better go please your adoring fans.”

Zim beams. He steps onto the window sill and leaps out. Rockets pop out of his PAK, propelling him through the sky. He lands on the stage and throws his arms into the air. Everyone starts cheering even louder.

Dib, Gaz, Pepito, and Squee lean against the window and watch, smiling proudly.

“There’s gonna be no living with him after this,” Pepito says. The others laugh.

“Zim will not be mayor.”

“Despite winning the race in a landslide,” the newscaster explains, “Zim will not be made mayor after a background check revealed he is just a high school student. As a result, Charles Von is now mayor.”

“In other news, Celio Mussolini, head CEO of Mussolini banks, has been tried for multiple counts of fraud, theft, and murder. An internal investigation will be held in his company to find any other corrupted individuals. And now-.”

Zim turns off his TV and leans back in his couch. Dib, Gaz, Pepito, and Squee join him in a collective sigh.

“You know, in hindsight, we really should’ve thought of that,” Gaz points out.

“Yeah,” Squee nods, “sorry, Zim.”

“No need for apologies,” Zim says, “I may not have won the election, but we did put Mussolini away, which is a big victory for us.”

The others nod agreeably.

“And,” he adds as he stands up. “For a second, no matter how brief, I got a taste of how it felt to be a real leader. And it was glorious.”

He faces his team, smiling. “Next time, it will be for real. That’s a promise.”

They smile proudly.

“And when will next time be?” Dib asks.

“Who knows,” Zim shrugs as he sits back down. “There’s no need to rush. I have all the time in the world.”

“So what now?” Pepito asks.

“I don’t know,” he replies, “you guys wanna watch a movie?”

They all nod agreeably and settle in for an easy night.

#Invader Zim #Invader Zim fanfiction #Johnny the Homicidal Maniac #Johnny the Homicidal Maniac fanfiction #IZ JtHM crossover #my ocs #my art

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mr-mikey · 6 years ago

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I finished watching season 7 of voltron last night and after a night’s sleep I’m ready to try and get my thoughts together about the season. Of course my thoughts about the season can change and I’ll try to make edits as my feelings about the seasons change along the way.

There were a LOT of character interactions I enjoyed. Keith teaming up with Pidge or giving Hunk some much needed emotional support was enjoyable. When I saw Axca talking to Allura talking about how they were both deceived by Lotor and Axca deciding to change her ways to make up for what she’s done in the past I was really glad and I’m interested in seeing what Axca might do for the next season. (Right now I’m feeling that the other two generals aren’t dead, considering how much they’ve all been through and survived already. I could be wrong but we’ll see)

Hunk really stood out in this season and I’m grateful he’s getting so much appreciation. He’s always been smart and someone that’s genuinely passionate about food, plus now it’s great to see how brave he can be.

Despite the gameshow episode calling Lance ‘the dumb one’ he was still a very dependable and reliable teammate, and it warmed my heart seeing him reunite with his family. Being called ‘Uncle Lance’ warmed my heart. His sister Veronica is a good character and I enjoyed seeing her interact with her brother through the season. Plus he was the first of the team to tell the two generals to leave pidge alone. He’s always been the first to step up to protect his teammates/friends. He did it with Coran, he’s done it with Allura and now he’s done it with pidge.

And I like that Shiro went and took charge of the Atlas. He’s still very comfortable in a leadership/mission planner position like we saw in seasons 1-4, and if he’s in command of the earth’s forces he will be in charge of a lot more people than before. The only thing I would have preferred is that he was the one to beat Sendak during their fight as a means of tying up thier connection and not Keith because I felt it was more personal for Shiro and it echoed how Shiro confronted Zarkon about the Black Lion.

One hope for Shiro at the end of Season 8 is that he gets the chance to meet a new guy that he feels comfortable enough to form a new relationship with. He was involved with Adam, but they went their seperate ways when Shiro showed he was determined to go with Samuel Holt into space. It would be nice for Shiro to get a happy ending with someone and for happy a queer couple to exist by the end of this series.

Allura did have a smaller role this season, but I still enjoyed her presence and the things she did. One particular aspect I enjoyed the most was seeing her react to having to deal with Sendak’s memories that had been stored away. Seeing those brought up painful emotions and memories and she rightfully took a step back. And then she remembered her father’s words, took that pain and used it to build Shiro his new arm. Which I think was amazing.

And I enjoyed seeing the Holt family take charge on earth when things went bad. Seeing Iverson apologize to both Shiro and Keith was quite nice, as was Keith’s own admittance that he wasn’t an ideal Cadette to train. All of these interactions and more made season 7 an overall enjoyable watch.

I was also surprised to see that the druid that Keith fought was the same one that he battled all the way back in season two, as was the slow set up that the altean colony had vanished and that an altean had been used to pilot the robeast we see at the end of the season. I’m looking forward to see Haggar/Honerva in season 8.

On a side note, People are definitely overreacting about Keith and Axca’s interactions. Keith himself got annoyed by the other two generals teasing Axca about him (which I found funny tbh). I’d be interested in seeing Keith and axca interacting more in season 8, but I don’t consider their season 7 interactions romantic.

But after seeing the k/ance fandom giving everyone else and the show VA’s/creators so much shit I’m enjoying them squirm over Lance and Allura’s continuing interactions. I don’t often feel petty but this feels like one rare exception to the rule.

EDIT 1: And I’ve generally enjoyed the interactions between Lance and Allura through the entire series. Lance has come a long way from the hopeless flirt he used to be, and he’s become very caring and supportive of Allura while she’s grown to respect and care for him in her own ways. Would I like more interactions between them? Yes. Would I like to see Lance and Allura have a talk about what happened in season 6? Definitely. Lance still feels unworthy of Allura’s affections and I feel that a long talk between the two would help clear out any misunderstandings between them.

I’ll probably add/remove more as my thoughts and feelings change about the season.

EDIT 1: I’ve seen posts and meta about the situation with Adam and the fandoms outcry of ‘bury the gays’ and the more I think of it the more I understand the need for be a happy queer relationship within V:LD. There’s plenty of happy heterosexual relationships within the season and fans shouldn’t miss out on a happy queer relationship.

#mikey speaks #mikey talks voltron #I've already made one set of editing to the post

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planetsam · 7 years ago

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omg i just found your blog and i love it!! please please write a mike x eleven story kali goes to hawkins and reunites with el and that’s how mike, hopper, and the rest of the boys find out el has a sister

Kali doesn’t believe in miracles anymore.

Not if she’s one of them.

She believes in 011 though, so she goes after her. Back to Hawkins. She sends the others off to do it too, not sure how this will go. If she was odd before she’s a freak on another level now, with her painted appearance and her shadowed eyes. She shouldn’t be surprised to find 011 has done the same things she has. Built a family, carved a life, drawn what she needs into her sphere. It looks different, it still has the shine Papa liked so much.

“What are you doing here?” 011 asks quietly when she sees her.

“I came to see what all the fuss is about,” she says with a flip of her hair, “didn’t realize I was interrupting third period and homecoming,” she sneers and 011 at least has the grace to turn pink in the ears before her face hardens.

“I’m sorry I’m not robbing a bank,” she shoots back and Kali glares.

“Well not as the daughter of the police chief. Though you’d have an easier time of it. No surprise there.”

It’s a cruel thing to say but she’s cruelest at her most vulnerable. 011 grabs her wrist and yanks her over to the phone booth. She pulls out a quarter, jams in a number and talks quickly. Quietly. Then she turns to Kali.

“Stay here,” she orders.

“Going to be late for fourth period?” Kali demands, making her voice high and girlish.

She rolls her eyes as 011 storms away, rolls them again as she runs when the bell starts to ring. It was a mistake, she thinks. Coming here was a mistake. Next time she’s going to someone else. She bets 01 has a way cooler life than this town. Running away from here makes more sense than whatever the hell is happening here. She rolls these thoughts in her head, enjoying them as she waits as instructed. Trying not to wonder at why she’s waiting at all. The car that pulls up comes dangerously close and she almost has to slam on the hood to get it to stop. The driver has the grace to look surprised but then his eyes narrow, like this is just a regular day for him.

“Are you Kali?” he questions, opening the door.

“Depends on who you are,” she says giving her best devil may care smile. He lets out a long suffering sigh like this is just what happens now. “you are?” she prods.

“I’m Steve,” he says, “Jane called me.”

She appraises him, all slim lines and chiseled jaw. He looks like one of those boys that Dottie likes seeing on her magazines. Or Axel sometimes stares at a little longer than he should. His clothes are good quality but have seen better days. Unless he’s just been gardening, in which case, he’s not like the boys on those magazines at all. She wonders if 011 has been stupid enough to tell him the specifics, or if she’s just told him to stand still like Kali’s some wounded, skittish animal.

“Are you my babysitter?” she asks and he smirks.

“Yeah, so get in the car,” he says without missing a beat.

She looks back at the high school and shrugs.

Can’t possibly be worse than where she’s been.

He actually is a god damn babysitter.

It floors her when the day lets out and there’s a dozen rugrats 011’s age scurrying around. For all the things they can do, she forgets how young 011 actually is. And yet no age can make this better as they talk about things they shouldn’t know about like they’re discussing the weather. Steve has snacks ready to go and somehow gets the circus that’s happening under control while she stares at it with a mix of frustration and exasperation. 011 seems to be steadfastly ignoring it, looking down at her textbooks like a coward.

“Does this happen every day?” she demands rounding on Steve.

“Uh, most days,” he says.

“And what are you doing here?” she questions.

“Identity crisis,” he says without skipping a beat.

She lets out a noise of frustration.

“Screaming room’s there,” the one called Dustin says pointing his pencil, “we killed a Demidog in there so it’s got bad vibes. Get it all out.”

She’s going to kill them all.

Steve makes up the sofa because, again, he’s a babysitter. And a maid. And a chef apparently, which seems like a lot for someone going through a crisis. He studies a lot too and she finds that even stranger. She remarks that one day, flopping on the couch and watching some dumb gameshow she’s never seen.

“You’re very busy for someone in the middle of a crisis,” she says.

“I multitask,” he replies.

She swings herself off the couch, dressed only in a long t-shirt and saunters over to him. He glances up once and then looks back down, focusing intently on a book until she grabs it out of his hand, spinning it back towards her. She glances at it and then looks at him, raising an eyebrow as he suddenly finds the counter interesting.

“This is a chemistry text book,” she says.

“Yeah.”

“You graduated didn’t you?” she asks and he nods, “so why are you—“

“I’m taking a year off,” he gets out, clearly embarrassed and she rolls her eyes, shoving the book back at him.

“I didn’t even go to high school,” she says airily and retreats back to the couch.

011 has told her boys everything. Kali’s been smart enough to keep her band at an arms length, not telling them everything. 011 hasn’t extended that courtesy. They aren’t even surprised to see her, though she supposes that one can go to straight old logic as the labs were kind enough to number them chronologically. Her 008 has caused her a lot of frustration over the years but now it feels obvious. Like a marker everyone is aware of in ways she doesn’t want them to be. Irrationally she wants to hunt Terry Ives down and demand to know if the crazy bitch has more plans to ruin everything. Or maybe her sister does and can meddle some more.

“I cried when they tattooed me,” she tells Steve one day when it’s raining out, “they said it wouldn’t hurt but it did,” she fingers the numbers, “at the time.”

“You get any since?” he asks and she turns over her shoulder to flash him a wicked smile that makes him shift his weight.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she says. His eyes linger just a fraction too long on her collar bone and she rolls over, gets to her knees, “do you have any tattoos?” she challenges and he laughs.

“Not the type,” he says.

“What type is that?” she asks, “the dangerous type? The rebellious type?” she closes the distance between them, “the delinquent type?”

“I was gonna say the kidnapped and imprisoned type,” he says and she purses her lips.

“No, I suppose you’re not the type at all.”

She really can’t place him which becomes a source of frustration to her. They’re known for drawing in people who are useful to them—which he isn’t—or who please them—which he doesn’t—or who are trustworthy. He offers nothing, pleases no-one and he might be trustworthy but she doesn’t trust people. 011 trusts too many it seems. She corners the bowl haircut one with the sad eyes. Not to be confused with the bowl haircut one with the goo goo eyes and questions him. He coughs up the answer with minimal prodding and she saunters over to Steve.

“So,” she says, “you got your heart broken. Trying to win back fair maiden’s hand?”

“No,” he scoffs. She leans forward and he pulls back.

“Your ears are red,” she says, curling a piece of hair out of the way as if to show him. He jerks at the touch and she grins, “you know being a stay at home dad is kind of a libido killer. You should be out there showing how desirable you are.”

“Thanks, but, I’m not taking romance advice from—from—“

“Someone who can make someone do anything they want?” she asks, “I could win Nancy faster than you,” she says, wicked ideas occurring to her, “I could win her back for you,” she says, “make her want to see you instantly.“

“That’s not love,” he says and she laughs.

“They can’t tell the difference.”

“Yeah, but you can.”

It’s an obvious statement. Her laugh is edged in brittle all of a sudden, sharp edges clawing out. Brittle doesn’t have a place here. Not in this storybook kitchen, not in the lives of people who haven’t been ruined. She knows she’s the oddity here, but just how odd seems to hit her with the unexpected look in his eyes. She knows that look, the scientists used to give it to her all the time.

“It’s all the same to me,” she dismisses, pushing away from the table, “when you want me to get your girlfriend back, you let me know.”

She lays awake that night seething. It’s been a long time since she turned a conversation over in her head like this. She’s not sure why. Steve Harrington is a loser, in the kindest sense of the word. A bright star who fell fast and he’s now reduced to this shit town with his shit job and babysitting these shit kids. She hates this town. She never should have come back here. She starts to formulate a plan to leave.

She must talk in her sleep because there’s a lot of waffles for breakfast.

She stares at them and then at the one responsible.

“Don’t win my ex-girlfriend back,” he says, “not loving someone back isn’t a crime. And she has someone she loves so, just, leave it.”

She stares at him.

“Are you really that good of a person?” she questions.

He shrugs.

“Nah, i’m not.”

“Thats what a good person would say.”

She takes the peace offering, realizing what it is. When she’s done she sets her silverware down and stands up, coming in front of him. He follows her with his eyes as she gathers the hem of her shirt in her hands and pulls it over her head, turning her back to him. He stares at the tattoo and she gathers her hair up for the full effect. He swallows tightly and she drops her shirt back on.

“They marked me with their name, so i marked my own.”

She enjoys the look in his eyes maybe a little too much as he watches her sit back down and dig into another waffle. Steve stares at his plate silently and she feels a shiver of delight at a power that she rarely gets the chance to use. When color comes back into his cheeks, he clear his throat before getting up and walking away, shifting his too tight jeans as he goes.

Running away taught her a long time ago that men come in all shades of monster. There’s all kinds of violations your body can go through, all kinds of walls you need to keep them out. Steve could easily be one of them, he has the constantly frustrated look of someone who spent a long time thinking the world was one way, only to find out it isn’t. There is nothing malicious about him though, but Kali has been wrong about that assumption before. Trusted too easily, paid a price in a long line on her right breast that will never go away.

She resolves to try it, just a little push to see how he reacts. Little is often easier with proximity and darkness so that night she goes to his room. She closes her eyes and reaches for his mind. It’s pliable and soft, he’s no great genius nor does he have a wealth of defenses up against her. The goodness is there, somewhere deep in all of this but deeper still is the determination. The grit. It catches her off guard, slips her control and she’s wrenched back to where she is, standing above him. His eyes open and he jerks awake, looking at her with wide eyes. She chokes on something that she’s not calling emotion, waiting for the anger. But he just reaches over to the side of the bed and pulls out a tissue.

“Your nose is bleeding,” he says. When she makes no move to take it he presses himself to his feet. He towers over her but maybe for the first time in her adult life, this is simply a fact. “Here, lemme.” He touches the tissue under her nose and takes her hand, guiding it there. She goes to tilt her head back and he shakes his, “lean forward,” he says. She looks at him doubtfully, “just trust me?” She doesn’t move, “what do you have to lose?”

At the moment? Nothing.

She doesn’t want that to change.

She tips her head forward anyway. The bleeding stops quickly. He hands her another tissue and she takes it, careful not to touch any of him. He sits back on the bed as she tosses them into the bin. He looks up at her and she feels unsettled by how calm he is.

“You okay?” He asks and she starts at the question, “you wanna sleep here?”

She waits until his breathing is deep and even before she risks looking over at him. He’s curled on his side, his back is to her and she wonders what else Dottie said is a lie. Or if Steve is just different. She doesn’t like either option. She closes her eyes and lets out a long breath, trying to steady her pounding heart.

She has to get out of here.

“And go where?” 011 demands.

“Nowhere you need to worry that pretty little head about,” she says.

“Why did you come?”

The question stings and makes her feel embarrassed all at once. None of which she’s willing to show. She looks over her shoulder. Steve is pretending to read, but his eyes are fixed on one word. It stings across her mind like a brand and she hates him for it. Especially the intent behind it.

“I was looking for my sister,” she says, “if you ever find her, tell her I was here?”

She walks out as Jane’s face collapses. As the book slams shut. As Steve catches the door she throws open and follows her out. Venom floods her mouth as she turns, ready to burn the last thing she has here. The stupid, fragile thing that will ignite with nothing from either of them. That’s how the world works.

“Hey!” He says, “you can’t talk to her like that! She’s just a kid!”

“I was a kid once too, that didn’t stop anyone from talking to me like that!”

“That’s your excuse?” He demands and she feels her hackles raise, “someone did it to me so I’m going to do it to someone else?”

“I’m sure that’s not easy for you to understand with people giving you everything and you just passing it along. I’m surprised your parents aren’t worried with you playing house like this, surprised they’re so willing to share their precious boy.”

She knows she crossed some kind of line, knows it a moment too late at the look on his face. Amidst her crashing stomach she consoles herself with the fact that she made him angry, which was always her plan. The anger is there, but it’s mixed with something far worse and she rails against the pity. She doesn’t want anyone’s pity. She wants his fear, she wants his respect, she wants–she shoves away the alarming number of things she wants and glares up at him.

“You don’t know the first thing about me,” he says and she laughs cruelly.

“I don’t need to,” she says, “you’re just like everyone else.”

“Spoken exactly like someone who shaved half their head,” he snaps, “you think standing in the corner makes you unique? Or better? Everyone has their own story. Their own past they’re trying to deal with.”

“I’m sure you had such a hard life,” she sneers, “delaying growing up playing house with all these kids. Going for Dad of the year like yours was?”

“And you’re doing the exact same thing the lab did.”

She slaps him.

Not with her mind, with her hand. Slaps him and feels the sting of it in her had.

“Take that back,” she hisses. He says nothing, “take it back!” She yells and reaches for his mind.

He screams through gritted teeth as she digs in. Everyone’s yelling and she hears them coming as he drops to his knees. The bastard still throws a hand out to stop them. She ignores it and digs through his thoughts, his emotions. Past the goodness to the determination, to the core. She sees parents who aren’t there, parents who don’t care. A mother who laments her son losing a great girl without knowing he was lied to, a father who shakes his head and never sees. She sees bruises under his skin, pain that isn’t the kind you can stop but leaves a much deeper scar. She sees a boy sitting forgotten on the steps of a school, his pain indistinguishable from a girl who goes to sleep with no one to tuck her in.

“Let him go!”

The boy who tackles her ignores him and though she catches him, she’s not quite fast enough to catch 011 who severs their connection. Steve’s bleeding too, his eyes going in and out of focus but he still staggers up, catches Dustin in his arms.

“It’s okay, man, I’m okay,” he says, “let it go.”

“Leave!” 011 roars at her, the moment they’re in the house, “I want you gone. Steve did nothing but be nice to you and you hurt him. We might be sisters but you–you are not welcome here anymore,” she looks at her, “apologize first, fix it, then you leave.”

Kali stares at her quietly, unable to find her anger.

He really is a good person, she thinks dully, too shell shocked to push the thought away. She trails down the corridor to the bathroom. Steve’s hunched over the toilet, Dustin, Lucas and Max all arguing above him over a bottle of aspirin. Steve’s trying to wave them off. She feels the memory of no-one doing this for him. They all look at her and she feels rightfully embarrassed, but it’s been a long time since she has and she refuses to give into it around them. Steve’s head moves up and she rolls her eyes, realizing she’ll have to get over it.

“Can I fix him? Please?”

“Hey screw you, you’re not going in his head again,” Dustin snaps.

“Fine, he can stay like that,” she says as he hurls again.

“Let her in,” Steve groans and she moves in, sticking her tongue out when he isn’t looking. She kneels down by the toilet, ignoring the smell, “can you–” he begins miserably before being sick again.

She’s not good at this, it’s on her tongue to say so, but he looks like he wants to die and the three kids behind him look like they want to go with him. She has to try. This is her fault. Taking a deep breath, she reaches forward and flushes the toilet. Her hand comes out and pushes through his hair, finding the spots on his skull. She closes her eyes and nudges again. Steve chokes and she bands her other hand around his chest, stabilizing his jaw. She feels and pulls, soothing the sharp edges of their connection she forced. She tries to cling to his determination, his goodness, all the things that seem so miraculous to her and are so natural to him. After a long moment, she releases him and they collapse onto the tiled, staring at each other.

When she goes to push herself up, his hand covers hers and he shakes his head.

She looks back at 011 who raises her chin and then turns, walking away. She pulls her hand back, knowing that he may have seen things that she didn’t want him to. She’s embarrassed, suddenly. Even though she doesn’t think she should be. She is. She licks her lips and tastes blood. He pushes himself up and grabs toilet paper. Instead of giving it to her he looks at her and she nods, letting him touch the paper to her upper lip. He tosses it into the bin and lays down. After a moment she scoots over, pulls his head into her lap.

“I don’t want to be like them,” she says, “I don’t want to be like this,” she shakes her head, “I don’t want to be stuck.”

“Me neither,” he says finally.

Kali closes her eyes and lets herself feel ashamed.

Steve grasps the hand she has settled on her shoulder.

For the first time in a long time, she feels fear.

She wakes up with a stiff back and a Steve snoring in her lap. She’s as stuck as he is in a completely different way. She doesn’t know why she cares or even if she should. She probably shouldn’t. No, she definitely shouldn’t. The thrill it sends to her is dangerous on every level. Dangerous in a stupid way. She really does have to get out of this shit town. She folds a towel and replaces Steve’s head on it. She throws another one over him in case he gets cold and goes off to find his protector.

“We need to talk.”

A few hours later Steve comes out as they’re finished packing. He rubs at his eyes which are less bloodshot. His head still might be sore but he’s just going to have to deal. Dustin elbows her and she steps forward, handing him the two aspirin and the water. He takes them both silently, looking at her with confusion.

“So, I am sorry again for psychically attacking you,” she says, “they don’t make an apology card for that.”

“This works,” he says hoarsely and takes the pills.

“And,” she continues, “I’m leaving,” he pauses and sets down the glass. Her mouth goes dry at the stab of disappointment and hurt in his eyes. Emboldened she puts her chin in her hand, “but I can’t get there in time by myself, so, you’re going to have to come with me.”

He drops the glass.

“What?” He croaks, looking at the fragments on the floor, “I can’t just–”

“Drive off with a mysterious stranger?” She asks, “that’s odd because they say you can.”

Dustin grins and holds up his duffle bag. Steve stares at him and he nods encouragingly. He looks at her and she meets his gaze. They are both stuck, that’s been admitted even if it was under duress. She’s stuck in a way that she’s not sure she can ever undo. Even wants to undo. He’s stuck in a different way. One that seems so easy to fix for her. Maybe some part of him hopes that the way she’s stuck might be easy for him to fix too. She can see him thinking everything over and realizes she doesn’t want the embarrassment if he says no. She’d rather lick her wounds alone. She picks up her bag and slings it over her shoulder, stepping out on the road and shading her eyes. She flits with the idea of stealing his car and dismisses it. Though it would be a good lesson. By the time she turns around, though, it’s too late.

He’s there.

Something in her chest gives. He looks nervous as hell and she can’t blame him after the past day, but that stubborn look is in his eyes. This is why he’s not like his parents, because he refuses to be. It’s not the kind of thing that can be taught, not in time. But she can marvel at it anyway. He opens the trunk and puts his bag in, looking at her for a second before nodding. She drops her bag besides his and smiles daringly up at him, squinting in the bright light. Whatever catty thing she’s about to say is lost as he settles a pair of sunglasses on her nose.

“Better?” He rasps.

She stands on her toes and presses her lips to the corner of his mouth. Electricity shoots through her in a way it hasn’t before and her seems to jump with it too. For a moment she considers their connection might still be there, but she’s out of his head. The only thing that’s done this is the part of her that is very much like everyone else. She gets her smile up just in time, pressing her finger to his jaw.

“We’ll see.”

#steve harrington #kali prasad #stali #Steve x Kali #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things spoilers #prompts #I said I wasn't going to #and then this happens

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