#all the brothers ninja suits would be slightly different to fit personalities

[error707-thatdude]

I wanted to try playing around with a human design for Mikey! I have NO idea what to do with the other turtles (besides maybe Newyorican Leo) but I think I've got Mikey down! 🧡

[ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole]

Stories of Paris

Part Three

Part One Part Two Part Four AO3

Masterlist

...........................................

Dick stared at the photos on Bruce’s desk. He had been rummaging around desk in his office to find where Bruce had hidden his report. But he had gotten distracted by the photo’s had put on display. A bittersweet smile danced across his face at the sight of Martha and Thomas with a small Bruce. Warmth filled him viewing the one of him, Alfred and Bruce shortly after he arrived at the Manor. The third one. That one confused him though. It featured a young Bruce with a teenage girl dusted in flour smiling doing “ninja moves” in the kitchen.

For as long as Dick had known, Bruce had a permanent ban since forever of even entering the kitchen. He had obviously been baking IN THE KITCHEN without burning the place down. It frazzled his mind about that. Looking closer at the girl, Dick didn't recognise her at all.

Dick could place most of the Gotham socialites which Bruce knew and grew up with. He knew Oliver who Bruce had a friendly rivalry with from school. He was aware of the key people Bruce interacted with at W.E and in the JL.

This girl didn't fit into any of these categories. He couldn't place her at all. To have a photo of her, meant she was important.... and he knew her around his parents' death. So, who was she?

A polite cough brought Dick out of his thoughts to find Alfred staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I, I was looking for something Bruce left on his desk. Honest. No pranks either! Promise!" Dick rushed out, looking guiltily at Alfred.

"Is that the case indeed, Master Dick? I would suggest that instead then to wait until Master Bruce's home and he might be able to help you find it"

Dick knew that Alfred was subtly warning him to give up the search to avoid trouble. Dick needed a different tactic to distract Alfred to buy himself maybe a little more time to finish his quest maybe… hopefully…

"Alfred. Do you know who the girl in this picture is? I've not seen her before and it's odd!"

"Many things are odd in Master Bruces life, but I think you should ask Master Bruce that specific question Master Dick. It is the photo he chose to frame not I."

Alfred did pause at the photo and gently smile. It was clear to Dick that Alfred knew this mysterious person and was also fond of them. It was also clear that Alfred wasn't going to provide the answer.

"I suggest Master Dick we should leave the study for today and head back into the main Manor for some tea.”

Looks like his search was going to have to pause for the moment.

......

It was later that week when Dick finally found an opportunity to bring up the photo on his desk. Much to Dick's surprise Bruce lit up like a Christmas tree. He's whole demeanour softened and lost the harden edges and he, Bruce ‘I am darkness, I am the night’ himself, GUSHED.

"That picture is of Mari. She was my 'babysitter' so Alfred could get breaks.” Bruce rolled his eyes at the babysitter comment, but he did gain a soft smile. “She was amazing. Mari really helped me start to grieve shortly after my parents' death. The photo reminds me of her telling me stories of Paris while baking cookies. Where it all started."

"How come she never visits, and I've not met her?!" Dick pouted. Bruce talking so fondly of her, it was weird. The permanent cloud of gloom he usually shrouded himself in had gone.

"She's a busy woman running a company, finding time for visits is hard. We regularly talk on the phone though."

"Oh" Dick felt slightly dejected. This woman was clearly important to Bruce, but he never introduced her to him or vice versa in all the years he'd been living with Bruce. Also, the 'where it started' was oddly cryptic too.

"Next time she calls we can see if we can face time so you can meet her. I'd always wanted to introduce you in person. Have I ever told you about the time Mari and I got into a bet about who could decorate the most gargoyles on WE?"

"Nooo..." Dick replies cautiously.

“It’s how ‘Pinkie’ got his name and why you can still see bits of pink glitter on him. I’m still not sure what glue she used especially to be so effective...”

That evening Bruce told Dick these ridiculous tales of the mischief he and Mari got up too while Alfred wasn't there. It was hard to comprehend but for the first time in 5 years Dick saw a different lighter side to Bruce.

______________________________________________

Jason was curled up in 'his spot' in the library. It would catch the afternoon sun and create a warm blanket-esque feel. Like time pauses to allow him to escape reality. Today, instead of reading a classic, he was reading through a worn diary-like book he'd found while searching for a new Dickens to read.

The book was handwritten and almost childlike in style and language which intrigued the curious boy. It took a few pages to realise that this was likely to have been written by Bruce when he was younger. Maybe a similar age to Jason. The book read like a cross between a diary and writing a story. Some of the things a young Bruce was putting to paper were too weird to be true. A baby turning giant as wanted a lollipop?! A crocodile turning into a dragon?! Maybe Bruce wanted to be a writer when he grew up before he had decided on being a vigilante and CEO. The man was odd enough that it was a possibility. Jason did enjoy the heroes that were in the book. They seemed to learn on the job and didn't have an adult to boss them about and were powered by mini gods. So surreal.

Jason spent the afternoon devouring the stories of a young Bruce.

It was Sunday, and Alfred insisted on family dinner, Jason decided to teased Dick about if he got emotional, he would turn into more of a fashion disaster like an Akuma. Dick looked at the younger boy in confusion and Bruce paused.

"Where'd you hear that Jason?"

"In the book in the library B. You could have made a fortune with those stories. When'd'ya stop wanting to be a writer?"

"Book…" suddenly it clicked together in Bruce's head, and he smiled. "Those stories weren't mine. They were Mari's. She used to tell me all about what happened in Paris before she came to Gotham to study for a few years."

He softened, as he reminisced about the stories she told him. The adventures she described. He knew in hindsight she glossed over the horrors she'd experienced. She never hid them as such, just never went into the details. He now knew he saw it in her eyes, the misting over and faraway look reliving the pain, when she referred to the incidents.

Jason looked over to Dick for guidance. He'd never seen or heard Bruce act this way. It was weirding him out.

"Mari? As in Mari from *the photo*? Stories? You mean the kitchen antics you both got up to?" Dick asked, taking the lead from Jason. Even though Dick occasionally talked to her on the phone, he still couldn't really place her or understand that someone who was so physically distant had such an effect on Bruce. She seemed nice enough but the strength of Bruces attachment was odd.

"The photo?" Jason tilted his head in confusion. The Manor was filled with photos and knick-knacks. To know which one Dick was referring to specifically was a mystery. Jason was lost by Dick’s conversation direction.

"Yeah, Bruce has one of her on his desk. Like he has of us."

"Mari is family. Of course I'll have her photo on display. She was the one who taught me about found family. That I didn't need to be alone once after my parents, that I could choose my family. Why I *chose* you two. I had forgotten that I had written her stories down."

It was Dicks turned to looked at Bruce confusedly before glancing to Jason for clarification.

“I found an old book in the library which B had written. It’s about heroes and gods saving Paris from the original Mothman. B, well I guess, Mari, is an amazing storyteller. The whole story is so surreal. A new take on Alice in Wonderland sort of thing, Mothman created evil butterflies, Akuma, who took over a civilian and turned them into fashion disaster monsters which the heroes banding godlike powers had to defeat to save them!

The Akuma were forced into worse fashion than you voluntarily wear, Dick.”

Jason stuck his tongue out at his elder “brother” with his finally comment.

“Did I not tell you Mari’s stories that she told me when I was younger Dick?” Bruce butted in before the boys devolved into an argument about fashion. He really didn’t need to hear it when he got enough ribbing from Mari about some of the suits he’d worn to gala’s, he quite like not hearing more fashion “critique” at home.

“No Bruce!!! You’ve not told me about them!! I only found out about Mari by stumbling on her photo?! You claim she’s family, but you don’t seem willing to share her!” jabbed Dick. This woman was still a mystery to Dick (and now Jason) as to how she was so important to Bruce but was kept at arms-length from them.

With Dick’s reaction and Jason’s curiosity, Bruce after dinner took the book Jason had discovered and retold some of the stories of Paris Mari had told him. About the times she had taken him to ComicCon and had made them their cosplay outfits and maybe the small scene they had caused resulting in them being banned.

He also ended up having to promise the pair that next time she called they could get to talk to her. Jason was desperate to know more about Mari’s stories.

______________________________________________

Tim was rather animated at the dinner table this particular evening, Bruce noted. He was talking passionately about the meeting that had occurred in Bruce’s absence (thank you very much Riddler!!) which was highly unusual. Tim was trying to convince Bruce that they ‘needed’ to bring their European director to Gotham.

“She was *amazing* Bruce”, Tim stated with stars in his eyes, “I know it's all done by video conference and all. But her glare. It was such a bat worthy glare!! Every time the board members here tried to talk over me, she’d glare and call them out. It made them shut up. Every time they tried after that she’d raise an eyebrow they’d stop. It was just like Alfreds! And she listened to my ideas and then worked with me on how to adapt them to make it more profitable AS WELL as humanitarian. She didn’t treat me like a kid. Plus, all the statistics and reports show that Europe is W.E. best performing region. Please… please… pleeeaasseeeeeee Bruce can we get her to visit and like teach me her magic ways!”

“Tt - you’re begging behaviour Drake is a disgrace. It’s no wonder the board don’t take you seriously.”

Jason looked across to Dick and raised his eyebrow. Watching the Pretender and Demon Spawn verbal spar was the norm but seeing the Pretender beg at B was not what he expected when Dick had “insisted” that he visit for dinner for Alfred. Still, it was free entertainment alongside Alfred cooking.

“Her glares better than Batmans.” That seem to catch Bruce attention properly from the boy’s verbal jabs, “Who did you say was represent Europe at this meeting?”

“Ms DC? The European Director. Or that’s who she introduced herself as.”

The grin that Bruce gained was unnerving to those at the table which Alfred raised his eyebrow at. It was eerily like Damian’s when he is plotting their ‘downfalls’.

“I see that you met Ms Marinette then Master Timothy. It has been a while since she has visited. I would agree with your assessment Master Timothy for her to visit, but not for work, Master Bruce, I think I will get in contact to arrange for her to stay with us. She deserves a break from the chaos you cause her with W.E. As well as a proper introduction to your children you so regularly ask her opinions on, yet still seem to ignore her sound advice.”

Dick slammed his hands on the table. “WHAT!! You’re talking about MARI!! Bruce’s mysterious family?! The business you fob off me off originally was YOUR business!!! YOUR COMPANY!!! And Timmy got to meet her properly before ALL of us!! What the... Bruce!!!!!!!!”

Tim and Damian looked at each other in surprise at Dicks unexpected outburst.

“What mysterious family are you referring to Grayson? I am his family.... as well as you stray’s he has collected I suppose.” Damian gritted out.

“What Dickiebird is talking about Demon Spawn, is the reason we’re all here. Mari was his babysitter and introduced him to found family and like got him being semi human when he was younger. Bet he’s the train wreck of a person because she left.”

“Jason!” Bruce scolded, “Mari didn’t leave. She lived over here for years after finishing her studies. She took over the European office as a favour for me and to be closer to her husband. Apart from Alfred, she was my family after my parents died. You will not speak ill of her. She *is* family!”

Bruce looked over his chaotic children trying to decide if inviting Marinette over would be a wise idea after all. He hadn’t planned to let it get so far out of hand. He honestly thought he would introduce them much sooner than he had. But juggling being CEO (admittedly she had helped him so much with it), Batman (again she had assisted in training and sometimes as a sounding board), being a father to the rabble before him (who he regularly called to regale some amazing proud parent feat to her about or for parenting advice... which he may be a bit selective on actioning) he never found time to physically introduce her.

He spoke to her all the time that it sort have always slipped his mind that the boy’s may want to meet her properly. He knew Jason semi regularly was in contact with her after stealing her number from his phone when he first discovered her. It always slipped his mind Dick never did that. And given the workload that he might inadvertently ladened on her she probably didn’t have the time either. Especially if she took leave, it was to spend with her Parisian family. Maybe Alfred had a point.

“Alfred. I believe you are right. Mari is a gem that has dealt with a lot. Please contact her to arrange a trip over. I wish you all of Tikki’s blessings in trying to convince her to stay at the Manor rather than at a hotel. Oh, ensure that she uses our private jet, I do not want to inconvenience her at all. Also extend the invite to Kim. I know the pool isn’t up to his usual standards, but he’ll still have full access to the gym if he would like to attend.”

“Of course, Master Bruce.”

Next

Tags:

@neakco @jayjayspixiepop @prettylittlebutterflie @lady-bee-fechin @corporeal-terrestrial

[remmushound]

Bay/rise 37!! @errorfreak88 @selfindulgenz @digitl-art-monstr @brightlotusmoon @yarchurr @dakotafinely @sententiously-sarcastic @sprinklestheditty

Content warnings!! Mentions of death

The ringing in Leo’s ears was deafening. After his humiliating defeat, the best thing he could think to do was find someplace quiet to think. The single place in the lair that offered such solitude was Splinter’s room— the only single-person bedroom in the entirety of their home. It was small and Leo could barely fit through the doorway, and laying on the bed made him feel colossal, but he didn't care. He buried his face in the pillow and it smelled like his father and that was all that he cared about.

He didn't care about losing the spar. Sure, it was a bad sting to his self esteem, but at least his dad hadn’t been there to see it. But maybe if Splinter was there he could have talked some sense into Leo before he made a fool of himself in front of his brothers. He didn't know what he was doing and he admitted that to none but himself. He had been leader for almost four years— and even before then he had always taken well to bossing his brothers around. That’s why he had been made leader in the first place! Because Splinter saw something in him and chose to highlight that above all his flaws and faults. Leo still didn't know why!

As a kid, though he had always taken charge, his personality wasn’t just that. Not like what he was reduced to now. He remembered running the sewers with his brothers and mapping out the tunnels with their minds alone and how he was always the one who could find the way home even when Donnie’s techniques failed. He remembered Splinter taking them up to the storm drains so they could watch the parades go by in the streets. The colors, the people dancing, the music sounding off and filling Leo with such a bubbly, warm joy that he just wanted to dance along to any song that carried down the tunnels.

That was what ninjitsu was to him at first. Dancing. Memorizing the moves and following through as fluid and free as the dancers he saw on the streets and in movies. Trying to emulate what he saw— feeling the melody in the very blood that coursed through his veins. Then a fun hobby turned into an obligation. It wasn’t a game anymore— it wasn’t something to enjoy or a fun thing to practice in his free time. It was his duty, his responsibility. His honor. And he couldn’t let his father down!

He wasn’t human and he could never be human. He shouldn’t want to be human! He was a turtle— he was a mutant— he was Splinter’s son! He had to live up to all the stories he was told about how great he would be and he had to live up to his father’s expectations and he had to live up to what the people in the city needed him to be! He didn't need to dance, he didn't need to like his work—he shouldn’t like his work! Work is work and work isn’t meant to be enjoyed. He was a savior— a messiah in the form of a grotesque monstrosity and it was him and only him that could protect his brothers and the city and the earth and he just wished the ringing in his ears would stop—

Then he opened his eyes again. The ringing wasn‘t just in his ears. It was all around him. An alarm— Donnie’s alarm— sounding a warning of some enemy approaching. Leo looked up and dried his tears just as Donnie came rushing into the room.

“Leo! An alarm went off in the south tunnel! We should check it out! Are you gonna…?”

Leo stood up quickly, shoving his way past Donnie and reclaiming his swords on the way to the entry tunnel. He didn't dare look up at any of his brothers or their counterparts as he passed them by. He was a leader and he had to be strong and silent and he wasn’t allowed to cry. He wasn’t allowed to be weak. He had to be the best— he was the best! Even if Leonardo had beaten him.

They traversed the tunnels in silence. Leo’s brothers were all gathered around him, Mikey with his head hung low like a puppy and remarkably silent. Donnie gave Leo space instead of being right at his side as usual, and Raph put some distance between himself and his Leo for completely different reasons. He needed a chance to cool off before he strangled Leo for how the stubborn leader had been acting the past few dates. He could strangle him later, Raph told himself. Just wait until the sensei’s are safe.

Leonardo was in the lead of his family, Michelangelo clinging to his arm for security against the rushing water that tried to force him off his feet. Leonardo, slippery as he was, always had a better grip under the water than the land-dwelling box turtle could hope to achieve. Donatello was tapping away on his watch, though Michelangelo was half convinced that it was actually just a game. In the place of Raphael, who’s exhaustion couldn’t be moved even by the loud scream of the alarm, was April taking up the rear. She had yet to get her special baseball back, though whoever this Casey Jones was had promised to get it out of police holding for her. In its place she had a new, regular bat covered in nails. Not as effective as her mystic bat, but she was sure it could pack a punch nonetheless.

They came to the place where the alarm had gone off. All eight of them slowly came to a halt when they saw the intruder just standing there, calm as day, as if he had been waiting for them quite some time. Leo and his brothers all took an audible gasp as they stepped back, Leo putting his arms out to protect those behind him. Leonardo and his family, however, gasped for a whole different reason.

“HUESO!”

Despite Leo’s wide motion for them all to stay behind him, Leonardo lead his family to all ignore the leader and dash forward under Leo’s arms to greet the skeleton man. Hueso looked filthy, his normally flawless suit stained with the sewage he had to wade through and dripping even after he had found an almost-dry spot to stand on. 

“Oh Hueso! Es bueno verte! I can’t believe you’re here! I’d hug you if you weren’t so gross!” Leonardo laughed and held his arms out for a social-distanced hug.

“Yes, I’d do the same if not for similar reasons.” Hueso grumbled under his breath.

“How’d you get here Hues?” April asked, walking closer to the calaca than Leonardo dared.

“It is a very long story.”

***

“You go on ahead Cassandra. I got some loose ends to tie up.”

When Cassandra left through the rift and the portal closed behind her, only then did Draxum put Hueso back on the ground and release his vice-grip. Hueso gasped softly as he clutched at his throat, his eyes full of hate and locked on Draxum like he were the scum of the earth.

“What do you want from me?” Hueso asked finally, his eyes never once leaving the sheep yokai.

“We have a common means, calaca.” Draxum said, calm and steady. “I hear you are fond of the one called Leonardo.”

“Fond?” Hueso laughed, “I wouldn’t much call it fond as I would call it a... hostage situation.”

“But you know of him. You care for him?” Draxum made a fist and raised it to the air. “You are a very clever Yokai, I can tell. And I could trust no other with a message as important, and to accept what I am about to ask of you would ensure riches and safety for you and your family.”

A glint came to Hueso’s eyes. “What is your request?”

“My creations think me cruel. They know not of my plans, and I need a carrier to bring the news to them so we may unite our forces to take down a common enemy.”

“The Shadow Fiend…” Hueso whispered softly, looking to the place where the rift had once been. “He is not whole. He cannot be defeated in the state he is currently in.”

“Yes.” Drauxm growled softly.

“He must be made whole again, and the only way to do that is…”

“A sacrifice. A sacrifice of Hamato blood will bring the Shredder back whole. He’ll be defeatable.”

“But the cost...”

***

“...would be great.” Hueso finished. “You would be able to destroy The Shadow Fiend once and for all! He sent me here to be your guide.” Hueso looked to Leonardo.

“So he’s not bad!” Michelangelo said quite loudly, his voice echoing all around them as he ran fast to hug Hueso, almost tackling the older skeleton. “DRAXUM’S NOT BAD! I knew he wasn’t!”

“You… you’re just…” Leo pointed at Hueso.

“Just a bone man, yes.”

“Hm.” Leo smacked his lips together as he nodded ever so slightly. “Okay.”

“Can I touch your bones, dude?” Mikey asked, his mouth hanging open and eyes wide.

“That is extremely disrespectful.” Hueso spat, “You should show more respect to your elders.”

Everyone just stared at him.

“Well? Data prisa! We haven’t got all day!” Hueso started to usher the teens back down the sewer tunnel, his confidence and booming voice enough to compensate for the shorter and weaker form he had compared to the brothers. “Malditos chicos! Tan lento!”

The mutants scattered along at his urging just as they would if their Splinters had done the same. Hueso grabbed Leonardo before the blue ninja could get far. 

“Talk with me.” He said in Spanish before they started to walk again.

“Why the Spanish?” Leonardo spoke with the same tongue and in a hushed voice. He hoped none of the counterpart-brothers could understand what was being said.

“We must talk of your father in private.”

“Splinter? Why? Do you know something?”

“I told you the ceremony requires blood magic! It requires the host to be bled and possessed by the Dark Armor. The host would be your father with his hamato blood.”

Leonardo’s eyes went wide. He stopped walking for a moment, but Hueso grabbed him by the arm and forced him to keep going.

“B-but if we destroy the shredder then he’d be free right?”

“To destroy The Shredder, we will have to destroy the host.” Hueso looked up at Leonardo with mournful eyes. “If we go through with this, then you will have to kill your own father.”

[vannahfanfics]

18. The wedding song Shitamaru and boss ass bitch. 😘 you da best boo

Her, Like the Sun, and Him, Like the Clouds 

“Are you finished yet?” Temari asked impatiently as she felt the soft make-up brush still dabbing foundation across her face, which she felt had received plenty of treatment already. The brush retracted after a final sweep over the bridge of her nose, and as she opened her eyes, little flecks of the powder falling from her mascara-pumped eyelashes, Ino was pursing her glossed lips at her.

“Temari, you wear make-up every day. Why are you complaining?” the blonde-haired girl tutted while snapping the foundation case shut and began rooting around the various make-up items on the wooden counter beside her to find her next project. Temari just exhaled deeply and leaned back in the chair, trying to keep her frown from deepening too much because Ino would yell at her and say she was going to get frown lines. “Lighten up already! You’re the one who asked for my help!” Temari tutted a response, her blue eyes flickering to the mirror to stare at her rapidly transforming reflection. Despite the woman’s fiery personality and unfiltered mouth, which would grate the average person, Temari rather liked Ino and they had become fast friends throughout her courtship with Shikamaru. You couldn’t tell that now; Temari had been snipping at her since she arrived, but Ino just lightheartedly tolerated it. She probably didn’t blame Temari for being on edge; after all, she was nervous as all hell.

In a few hours, she would be married.

“Just relax, Temari. It’s the happiest day of your life!” Sakura chirped from another vanity, peering into the glass as she meticulously curled her lashes. After she flickered them a few times to ensure maximum volume and coverage, she flashed the former Sand ninja a smile. “Everything is going to go perfectly.” Analytical as ever, Sakura had easily ascertained the root of Temari’s anxiety. She had never been a perfectionist by any means, but something about the occasion brought such behavior out of Temari; she was just simply frantic that something would go wrong and it would be ruined.

Temari had admittedly been looking forward to the day with utmost joy. She had never been the romantic type (that was quite obvious from her awkwardness at the beginning of her and Shikamaru’s relationship), but after being with him for so long, Temari knew with every fiber of her being that she loved him more than life itself and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. Despite his own awkwardness and inability to say what he was feeling, she knew Shikamaru felt the same way about her. The Leaf and Sand villages had been cooperating well to make the ceremony a success. Yet, somehow, Temari just could not shake her pre-wedding jitters.

“I just don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she sighed deeply as Ino brushed a splash of blush across her cheeks. She went to lean her cheek in her hand until Ino firmly smacked it aside, and Temari’s mouth twitched. “I’m not getting second thoughts or anything. I just want it all to go well… I’ll only get married once, after all.”

“Stop worrying about it!” Ino said and forced Temari to shut her eyes so she could apply some eye shadow. Temari wanted to quip that it was easier said than done, but there was no winning against her. Instead, she tried to heed the two girls’ advice and relax herself. Everything is going to be fine. Everything will go well. She kept repeating that in her head, and though her worries did not disappear completely, she did feel a little better. By then Ino had long since finished her make-up and had swung her chair around to begin tackling Temari’s tresses of golden hair, pulling it out of her signature fluffy pigtails and combing it meticulously. “Damn, Temari, your hair really is thick, you know?” Ino grunted as she tugged and pulled at the strands with the brush and wound them around a curling iron.

Yes, she knew. No one ever knew it, but Temari had always secretly hated her hair. It was untamable, a pile of fluff on her head that obeyed no brush or hair products. She just always tied it back so she wouldn’t have to think about it and no one would ever know. That is, until Shikamaru. He always told her how much he loved her hair, running his fingers through it while they talked, complimenting how it caught the sun. As she thought about it, her heart swelled and a smile formed on her lips. He would probably compliment her hair today, too. “Done!” Temari glanced up into the mirror and her mouth fell open slightly in shock. Ino had transformed her poofy, golden pigtails into a gorgeous up-do, with the strands curled and pulled back into a messy yet stylish bun and curling wisps falling about her face. Temari turned her face from side-to-side, simply amazed with the look.

“You look beautiful, Temari. You’re gonna knock Shikamaru dead,” Sakura mused as she appeared over her shoulder, leaning over as she similarly marveled the bride’s reflection. Sakura’s hair was much shorter, so she had simply braided her hair like a crown around the back of her head. It was simple, but very elegant, Temari thought.

“Sakura, will you help Temari into her dress while I do my hair and make-up?” Ino asked as she plopped down in the neighboring chair and began her work. Temari accompanied Sakura across the bridal suite where her dress was hanging from a closet doorframe. She and Shikamaru had elected for a white wedding rather than a traditional one; her gown was pure white, of course, but she had wanted a splash of color. The gown featured golden ribbons for the corset that bled into a stream of golden fabric flowing down her back and through the train, eventually spilling out into a golden puddle amongst the milky whiteness. The slim-fitting bodice was threaded with golden patterns. Temari had decided on a sleeveless dress, given they were doing a summer wedding. Just as Sakura was tying the last of the laces together and Ino was piling her bleach-blonde hair atop her head, there was a knock at the door. After her vigilant make-up and hair artists confirmed it was not her groom trying to catch a peek of her, her brothers walked in.

“Well, boys? What do you think of our handiwork?” Ino grinned at them through the mirror, too busy expertly poking bobby pins into her hair to turn around. Temari smiled bashfully as the two younger boys walked over to look her up and down.

“You’re radiant, big sister,” Gaara smiled sweetly up at her, and Kankuro nodded in agreement. The fact that they were there meant that the ceremony would begin soon. Temari had no father to walk her down the aisle, so she and Shikamaru had come up with the idea that her little brothers would have the honor instead. They were both wearing tuxedos with ties that matched to color of the accents on her wedding gown. They had both tried to slick their hair down, but their locks were as untamable as Temari’s, so they still looked a scruffy mess. It made her happy, though. When they were young she was afraid they would never be close, especially her and Gaara, but time had proven her wrong.

“We’ll give you a moment!” Sakura grinned as she carted Ino out into the hallway, the girl protesting all the while that she hadn’t had the time to put on lipstick. The boys watched them leave before looking back at Temari.

“Ya know, I never would’ve dreamed that you would’ve ended up marrying Shikamaru,” Kankuro commented with a smirk. Temari knitted her eyebrows together in confusion.

“Why’s that?” An awkward look and a blush appeared on his face and he nervously rubbed the back of his neck while looking away.

“Well, you’re… you know… And he’s… You know…” he mumbled incoherently. Temari just giggled; she had only been teasing him. She and Shikamaru certainly were an odd match in a lot of ways; they had begun as rivals in the Chunin exams, and she had found him unmotivated and unimpressive, but he had turned around and impressed her in their match. Somehow, she had found herself gravitating toward him, a slacker who would rather watch clouds than do his duty but somehow still commanded her respect with his devotion to his friends and village. He had grown a lot and Temari had enjoyed watching him grow, though he sometimes got on her nerves with how clueless he could be. He was really the embodiment that smart people could still be really stupid in other areas- in his case, the opposite sex. She must have started daydreaming, because when she focused back on her brothers, they were smiling knowingly at her. It was her turn to blush.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just the perfect picture of a gushing bride,” Kankuro snorted, then cried out in pain as she smacked up upside his head. “Ow! Stop! You’ll smear my face paint, Temari!” he whined as he ducked another blow. Gaara laughed under his breath.

“I think they’re a good match. Temari has always been the most intelligent of us. It makes perfect sense that she’d fall for someone like him,” he mused. Once more a pink hue painted her cheeks. She wasn’t used to so much compliment and praise, especially from her little brothers. Gaara was usually to busy with his Kazekage duties and Kankuro was frankly just a little asshole. She was glad for it, though. Without warning, she reached forward to hug both of them around their necks, pulling their heads to touch them to her own, surprising them both.

“I love you both so much. Thank you for being here for me.” Temari knew that she had not told them that she loved them enough, and she was going to end that habit right that instant. Whatever their differences and annoying quirks, they were still her blood, and her best friends. They were stiff for a few seconds, and then each of them wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close.

“Yeah. We’re gonna miss you, Temari.” Kankuro was much too stubborn to come out and say it, but she knew that was just his way of returning her affections.

“Come and visit us,” Gaara added.

“Of course. I’m not going to be too far away, after all,” she smiled as she pulled back and looked at them. She then grinned widely and ruffled their already messy hair, causing them both to squeak protests and scramble away from her. While she laughed lightly, Sakura poked her head back into the door with a mix of a serious and overwhelmingly excited expression.

“It’s time!”

After the boys had settled down and she had tried to smooth down the spots in their hair sticking up with no success, they walked out of the room and down the hall to a winding staircase. The building was a popular spot for white weddings, which had risen in popularity in recent years; the upper level was the bridal suite while the bottom was a clear space for the ceremony. The reception would be in another area, with an even larger room and an outside pavilion. As she hovered in the landing of the staircase, she could hear the murmur of hushed voices. They didn’t want a huge wedding, so Ino was her Maid of Honor and Choji the best man, with Sakura as her other bridesmaid and Naruto her escort as Shikamaru’s other groomsman. They had already begun their procession down the stairs and down the aisle, and Temari hovered above the proceeding ceremony between her two brothers with mounting emotion. It wasn’t anxiety, but a fierce bubbling happiness that actually brought tears to her eyes. She closed her eyes and tried to compose herself with a shaky breath, knowing Ino would never forgive her if she cried after all that effort put toward her make-up.

“Hey. Don’t freak out on me now,” Kankuro smirked in her ear and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Are you nervous?” her other brother asked worriedly. Temari smiled, opened her eyes, and shook her head, alleviated simply by their presence… and the knowledge that the man she loved with all her breath was waiting for her only a small distance away.  

“No. I’m just… very, very happy.”

“Well, happiness looks good on you,” Kankuro smirked. Below, an attendant signaled that they should begin walking down, and the pair of boys each took one of her arms and began walking with her down the steps. The attendant passed her the bouquet as she passed, an arrangement of Ino’s of white and gold to mirror her dress, with splashes of blue to highlight her sky-blue eyes. They turned around the landing and Temari’s slippered feet met the roll of satin-like golden carpet sprinkled with white flower petals, and she lifted her eyes to look at the altar, where Shikamaru was waiting for her.

Seeing that smile on his face made her want to drop everything and run to him. Shikamaru never showed much emotion, but for once he let it all show; all the warmth and happiness and love in his expression rolled over that carpet to strike her like a tidal wave, making her actually stop in her tracks for a second. She managed to regain her composure when Gaara gave her a reassuring push in her back and began walking again. Her dress streamed behind her, pulling the flower petal with it. Temari supposed all the faces gazing at her were a mixture of awe and joy, but she didn’t know. Her vision was trained on Shikamaru, the man she loved so fiercely it felt like it hurt, the man who had won her heart and whose heart she had won herself. She didn’t even hear what her brothers said as they split off from her to sit down, and her hand extended on its own so Shikamaru could take it and pull her up onto the altar. She didn’t even look at the officiator; she just stared, captivated, charmed, hopelessly in love at her husband-to-be. She probably looked like an idiot but she could care less in that moment.

“You should probably be listening,” Shikamaru whispered to her with a chin nod to the man now speaking, and with a jolt and a flush of her cheeks she turned forward and actively began listening to the rites. Then she felt the strand of curled hair hanging beside her ear rustle and the tingle of Shikamaru’s breath against her skin. “You look gorgeous, by the way.”

“Thank you… You clean up well yourself.” Shikamaru looked fine as hell in his tuxedo, not that she would ever admit it aloud to him.

“I figured, with the way you were staring at me.” Temari puffed out her cheeks defiantly to stare up at him; of course, he had been baiting her, and was smirking in amusement. The officiator was still droning on about the blessing of marriage or whatever.

“I could still say ‘no.’”

“And miss out on netting this catch? I don’t think so.”

“You’re not a catch. More like a dirty shoe someone fished out of a dirty lake.” The officiator was either oblivious to their hushed back-and-forth banter, or simply didn’t care. Shikamaru laughed breathily, and while the officiator was looking off to the crowd, picked up that stray strand of golden hair and pulled it to his lips.

“Well, if I’m a dirty shoe, you must be the sun, because you’re glowing, Temari.” Temari opened and shut her mouth several times as she struggled to respond to that annoyingly smooth remark, while her groom laughed and hastily dropped her hair when the officiator returned his attention to them, as if nothing had happened at all. Ugh! He’s so annoying and so sexy at the same time! Such was the conundrum of their relationship; she hated when he got the one-up on her but damn it, she loved how smooth he could be when he managed to not be clueless about a woman’s heart. Shaken, she stumbled over her words as the officiator asked her to recite her lines, making Shikamaru smirk even more.

“I hate you,” she hissed at him as the clergy began to recite more lines. Her heart was pounding in her ribcage now, no longer from the excitement of the day but because he was so infuriatingly confident and suave at the moment.

“If that were true, you wouldn’t be standing here, would you?” They were interrupted by the clergy’s prompting again, and without missing a beat, Shikamaru popped off the required words. Trying to hide her bitterness, Temari faked a lovely smile and a sweet tone to do the same, and after it was done, she immediately looked up at him dourly. “Hey, if you keep scowling like that, your face may freeze that way.”

“Shut up.” She was aggravated that she couldn’t think of anything smarter than that. Finally it was time for them to say their “I do’s,” and of course she wasn’t going to say no, but she sure was bristling at that point. Damn him and his smart little remarks… I’m not gonna lose! She fumed silently as Shikamaru responded to the priest, and barely listened as he turned to her. She stared at the man speaking, painfully aware as Shikamaru leaned over to whisper in her ear again, in just a way that the man didn’t notice.

“Come on, Temari, don’t you have anything better to say than ‘shut up’?”

“I do!” she snapped, ironically at just the right time. She went pink as the officiator looked at her funny and the crowd rustled with confused murmurs behind her. “A-ahem. I do,” she repeated more clearly and more calmly, shooting Shikamaru a side-eyed glare as he stifling his snickers. The clergy began droning on again. “You’re dead meat.”

“No, I’m a dirty shoe.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Since when is that new?” The officiator announced that they could kiss, and her face was nearly red by that point. She begrudgingly glared up at him as she turned to face him, him and that stupidly sexy snarky grin of his.

“You’re awfully confident today.”

“Well, I am marrying the woman of my dreams.” Temari’s eyes widened slightly, and instead of anger she felt a flood of amusement and happiness, because she finally had something good to respond to his awfully on-point banter.

“Well, that’s good. I’m marrying the man of my dreams.”

“That mean you won’t kill me?” he chuckled as he wound one arm around her waist, and swept his other hand across her forehead to brush away a lock of her golden hair like the sun.

“Not today, at least.”

“I’ll take it.”

Temari really did feel like she was glowing as he leaned down to softly press his mouth to hers, shining as brilliantly as the sun as the happiness filled her body and the sound of applause filled her ears. If she was Shikamaru’s sun, holding him by her gravity and bringing him light, he was her universe, the thing that made her whole and gave her meaning. When they pulled apart, she was gazing up at him with the same intensity of love and joy she had seen when she had first appeared on the aisle.

“I love you, even if you get on my nerves,” she smiled, her expression morphing into a coy and playful one.

“I love you, even if you can’t go one sentence without insulting me,” Shikamaru laughed and leaned forward again to plant a kiss on her forehead. They were about to start walking to the reception, but Kankuro suddenly sprung from the crowd and belly-flopped onto Temari’s train to clutch onto her leg.

“I take it back! Don’t leave!” Temari gawked down at him, amazed that he would abandon his pride and experience so much emotion, and then looked back when Gaara walked over.

“Um, Gaara, maybe you should-“ She was interrupted as he worldlessly grabbed her arm and buried his face into her shoulder, blushing profusely. She blinked, completely dumbfounded by the turn of events, then began laughing loudly. “Oh, good grief, what am I going to do with you two? I can’t be married for a minute, at least?”

“No. Marriage is over. Divorce him and come back with us forever,” Kankuro grumbled, his voice muffled by the trusses of fabric in his face. Gaara was still just silently clutching onto her like a newborn, his dignity as Kazekage on the line but still overwhelmed enough to be unable to resist. Shikamaru just stared down at Kankuro, absolutely floored and unsure of quite what expression to make.

“Guys, I’ll come visit.”

“Promise?!” they both shouted and looked at her pleadingly with their fingers digging into her dress.

“Yes!” she laughed, and they both looked at each other before begrudgingly detaching themselves from her. Shikamaru cocked an eyebrow as Kankuro shoved a finger in his face.

“I’m warning you. Make her unhappy and you’re dead.” He then whipped around to march down the carpet to the reception area with a very embarrassed Gaara trailing after him, until Naruto sprang on him to drag him off to go try some of the delicacies at the food table. Temari giggled and leaned her head on Shikamaru’s shoulder as she watched her adorable little brothers go.

“… Did I just have a stroke?” he asked as he looked down at her in confusion.

“Oh, you know how people get at weddings. Anything can happen.” He smirked and bonked his head against hers for a second before glancing up at the sky. Eyes still watching the clouds, same as always, she thought as she watched his dark eyes trace the puffy white ships across the blue ocean above. Now that she thought about it, he was like the clouds; unassuming, simple, but yet also capable of bringing storms when needed. While he was side-tracked, she stood on her tip-toes to peck him on the cheek. “We’d better get going before people start to get impatient.” His face screwed up in annoyance.

“Man, you mean this thing isn’t over yet?” he whined but obediently began walking her down the carpet.

“I warned you that marrying me would be a drag.”

Their playful arguing aside, Temari knew that Shikamaru was as happy as she was, and she found herself looking up at the clouds to. She was floating in the sky, carried by a wind of joy and unable to come down, with the man she loved right there next to her. Love was a drag, but a drag that was completely worth it when all was said and done. With that thought in her mind and happiness in her heart, she walked with Shikamaru into the arms of their friends and through the uncertain, exciting door of their future together…  

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to perusemy Tableof Contents!

[pastelwitchling]

This prompt is courtesy of @likebadgal-riri.

prompts!! okay, i'm a simple girl with simple needs: kylex slow dancing to distract the person they're investigating. i love the classic tropes haha

***

               “Is that the guy?” Kyle said, his voice quiet as he leaned into his partner. “Markson?”

               Alex hummed without glancing behind him. As he took a sip of his wine glass, one hand in the pant pocket of his black tux, Kyle couldn’t help but once against silently admire the way the airman seemed to have eyes on the back of his head, always able to sense his surroundings. Though it was a harsh reminder of what Alex had had to endure after high school – the life of military training and codebreaking and covert ops – it was still amazing to believe that this was the same boy who had run around with Kyle for hours in their backyard, playing ninjas and sorcerers and Power Rangers and whatever else their imagination had wanted them to be.

               Now, here they were, trying to uncover a possible, essential member of Project Shepherd, and Kyle couldn’t help but feel like it was just him and Alex, in his backyard, playing spies. Except this was real, and there was a risk of serious danger, and despite it all, Alex barely bat an eye.

               “You don’t look too scared,” Kyle noted, taking a subtle look around the ballroom as he lifted his own glass of champagne to his lips. “Isn’t this supposed to be your dad’s right hand man?”

               Alex scoffed, raising a brow. “My dad doesn’t trust anyone whose last name isn’t Manes, and even then that’s a gamble,” he added in a mutter. “But his name was on all the files, he was in charge of disposing of evidence should anyone access the computers.”

               “Kinda sucks at his job then, doesn’t he? You accessed those computers months ago, and he hasn’t even changed the password.”

               “Because I’m smarter,” Alex said very matter-of-factly, as if this was no feat, as if – by being a Manes – it was only natural that he was smarter than most. As if even the accomplishment of being clever didn’t matter.

               Kyle kept his eyes on Alex, his fingers tightening on his champagne glass. He knew exactly who was responsible for that. Alex had never been the kind of guy to give himself much credit, but he was never the kind of guy to dismiss his own achievements so easily either. Not until he had opened his mouth, not until he had beaten Alex to the ground.

               Still, Kyle knew that this was not the time for this kind of conversation, and he forced a smile to his lips. “Oh, I don’t doubt that, but if you’re not hacking into his dating account and posting delicious photos of him in a bikini, what’s the point?”

               At this, Alex smirked, and Kyle couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pride bloom in his chest at being able to bring any kind of smile to the airman’s lips. He had been so miserable ever since…

               “The fact that my dad put that kind of task in his hands proves that he knows more than others might,” Alex said, the stance in his shoulders seemingly less tense. “The only question is; how much more?”

               Kyle glanced at the tall man – his pale blonde hair and beard streaked with gray, his suit a dark gray, and his dark eyes cold and uncaring as a drunk woman chattered on and on to him – and looked away. “You sure he would’ve brought that drive you told him to?”

               Alex nodded. “There are too many missing pieces in the files my dad had in the bunker, and I think a lot of it is owed to how old all the systems are. If Markson thinks he’s giving the drive to one of my brothers, then he would most likely include information that would help us fill in the blanks.”

               Kyle frowned. “So we still have to get it off him? How are we going to do that?”

               Alex huffed a chuckle. “Would it be enough to ask you to just trust me?”

               Kyle shrugged. Alex sounded so sure that Kyle would say no, and he couldn’t help but wonder how often he had been treated like a monster, like an enemy, that he didn’t think even the partner he’d been working with for months, the one he’d confided all his secrets to, would trust him.

               “Whatever you say, Manes,” he said, and Alex blinked.

               “Seriously?”

               “Yeah,” he said, “to be honest, knowing you’re on it kinda makes me feel better.”

               Alex stared, his look unreadable, and Kyle raised a brow. “What?”

               “Nothing,” Alex finally said. He looked over his shoulder, and back at his glass. Kyle thought his cheeks had turned a soft shade of pink, but when he looked again, the color had faded.

               “So,” Kyle took a deep breath, straightening his back, “what’s the plan?”

               “Wait for it,” Alex said, then as he took another sip of his drink, the music playing in the large room changed. It had been something classical, elegant, and as Kyle listened, he realized the small band in the center had changed their tune to what sounded like an instrumental version of a Celine Dion song.

               “Who’s picking these songs?”

               “The guy who owns this place,” Alex said, nudging his chin at the giant, golden-framed portrait on the wall of a very large balding man with a white beard. “I hacked into their program the second the invitations had gone out.”

               “So that’s how you got our invitations!” Kyle said, mocking disappointment. “And I thought you said you took a second shift just to buy us a nice evening out together.”

               Alex shook his head, though a smile played at his lips. Kyle wanted to smile himself. He didn’t think the alien cowboy who had caused Alex such heartbreak had ever seen him smile. He couldn’t have. How would anyone have seen Alex smile, and still hurt him?

               Alex buttoned his tux jacket, glancing subtly at Markson who had begrudgingly taken the woman who had been talking at him and held her as they danced, as everyone else had done with their dates.

               “I figured out the music score they’d be using,” Alex said, and straightened his shoulders as if preparing for some great leap.

               “The music? What for?”

               Alex answered him by holding out an expectant hand. Kyle blinked at it.

               “You want me to hold your hand?”

               “No, I want you to dance with me,” Alex said, and when Kyle remained still, confused, Alex rolled his eyes and took Kyle’s hand in his, tugging him along. Kyle briefly thought that Alex’s hand was surprisingly warm.

               Then he blinked several times and tugged it away. “Are you crazy?”

               Alex sighed, the impatience in his voice as he took another glance at Markson’s area evident. “What?”

               “It’s a slow song!” he half-whispered, half-yelled.

               “Very astute,” Alex said. “Are you coming or not?”

               Kyle blushed. “I-I thought the trick was to not draw attention to ourselves!”

               “It’s a cocktail party full of visitors from around the world,” Alex said, and gestured to two women in the corner who were practically sucking each other’s earlobes. “No one cares here, Kyle.”

               For a second, Kyle thought that Alex sounded almost wistful, as if he envied the women, but then he continued, his voice as firm and military-like as ever. “Look, we don’t have a lot of time to argue about this. Either you come with me, or I’ll do it alone.”

               “No!” Kyle said, incredulous. It wasn’t that dancing with a guy scared him, it was that the thought of dancing with Alex did things to his chest that were almost painful. Still, the thought of Alex handling this mission by himself hurt even worse. “I’m not leaving you alone, I’m your partner!” He glanced at Markson himself, took a deep breath, and nodded once. “I’ve got your back no matter what.”

               Alex swallowed, his eyes filled once again with that surprised, unreadable look, and he nodded slightly himself, put a hand out for Kyle to take, and Kyle – trying to ignore the violent thrash of his heart against his chest – slipped his hand into Alex’s, surprised at how easily their fingers fit together.

               The entire time, Kyle tried to focus on the back of Alex’s head instead of whatever they were about to do, but then he found himself following the messy dark brown strands as they stuck out in different places, both neat and tangled at once, and he wondered how soft Alex’s hair would be if he tried to run his fingers through it. Did Alex know he had some strands that were lighter than others? Like a batch of light and dark chocolate, mixed together –

               Kyle walked right into Alex, yanking himself out of his thoughts. Alex turned and looked at him like he was crazy, and without a word, he put Kyle’s hands on his hips, while his own hands went to Kyle’s shoulders. Kyle appreciated being able to hold him the only way he knew how. He tried to imagine Alex’s hands on his waist, then thought of those hands slipping further to his hips, then further – and he shut his eyes tight, ridding himself of the thought completely. This was so not the time for that.

               Alex must’ve noticed his expression because Kyle felt the hands on his shoulders tighten. “I know you hate this, but try to suck it up a little longer. It’s almost over.”

               “No,” Kyle said before he could help it. “I don’t – that’s not – I-I don’t mind the…” he took a deep breath at Alex’s questioning gaze. “I am perfectly comfortable with my sexuality to dance with my best friend. This isn’t weird, I’m just… nervous about being close to…” he trailed off as Alex’s eyes narrowed. “What? Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

               “Best friend? You mean me?”

               Kyle stiffened. “I mean, you know, it’s a figure of speech. That’s not to say I don’t like hanging out with you – hell, you’re the only person I really trust, I know that sounds weird, but –”

               “It’s not weird,” Alex cut him off, and the rest of Kyle’s words lodged in his throat.

               He was suddenly very aware of Alex’s warm fingers on his shoulders, of Alex’s muscle under his own fingers. He unconsciously raised his hands up Alex’s sides and brought them back down to his waist, taking in a shuddering breath as he did. Alex scrunched his shoulders, and this time Kyle was sure the airman’s cheeks had turned a deep shade of pink. There was no other word for it; Alex was cute. Kyle resisted the urge to touch him like that again to see his reaction.

               “I can’t say it back though,” Alex said, quiet. “I can’t tell you I feel the same way that you do, I can’t…”

               Alex, for the first time that night, seemed to struggle with the right words, but Kyle could somehow hear the silent; I can’t be your best friend yet.

               Kyle’s hands tightened on Alex’s waist, and it was at that moment that the ballroom around them, as well as the people – who were getting unusually close – and the band, suddenly vanished. It was just him and Alex now, the music playing softly around them. He didn’t know what song it was, but it must have been very powerful because it pushed Kyle to step closer to Alex, taking a deep breath. He briefly thought that Alex smelled like maple syrup and wood, and that his eyes glittered like he was always crying, golden specs dancing across the dark brown.

               “I know you’re trying, Alex,” he said softly, hoping that if Alex took nothing else he said seriously, he listened to this. “I know you’re trying your best to forgive me, to get past everything that’s happened to you.”

               “Kyle,” Alex said, as if he couldn’t believe he was being spoken to like this, as if he never expected anyone to tell him that he wasn’t broken, that he was trying his hardest, and that that was enough.

               Kyle held him tighter as they slowly moved left to right, hoping it would somehow keep him safe from anyone that might want to hurt him. He felt a burning anger in that moment, and he knew who it was directed at. “It’s okay, Alex. You’re doing okay.”

               Alex came to a stop then, and it hurt Kyle to see that the airman searched his face with utter disbelief, as if he really wanted to believe the doctor’s words, but he just… couldn’t.

               “Kyle,” he started, “I –”

               But Kyle never got to hear what Alex was going to say because right then, some giggling, drunk man all but fell against Alex, causing something to go wrong with his prosthetic leg and –

               “Ah!” Alex fell over, right into – Kyle’s eyes widened – Markson. The tall man stumbled as Alex straightened himself, patting down his own suit. “Sorry,” he stammered (to Kyle’s surprise, for Alex never seemed the kind to stammer for any reason), “I-I’m sorry.”

               The man tried to glare at Alex, but the woman he had been dancing with was fretting over him, asking him if he was okay in a language, Kyle now realized, he didn’t understand. Not only that, but nearly half the room gathered around, some checking on Alex, though he and Kyle were mostly shoved toward the door as the attention went to Markson and the drunk man who had apparently passed out.

               Kyle put a hand on Alex’s back as he turned away from Markson. “Are you okay?” he asked, his arm curling around Alex’s waist protectively as he guided him away from his father’s associate.

               Alex said nothing as he leaned over, his hand on his right knee, seemingly in pain. Then, when Kyle got them outside, Alex straightened and sniffed, fixing his bowtie as if nothing had happened.

               “I’m fine,” he said without the slightest trace of pain or agitation in his voice at having possibly ruined the mission he had – for the most part – planned.

               “It’s okay, don’t worry about Markson,” Kyle tried, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one had followed them out. No one had. “We’ll figure something else out. Let’s just back to the hospital, and I’ll – I’ll examine your prosthetic –”

               “That won’t be necessary,” Alex said swiftly, and Kyle was starting to think he was right as he hurried in front of Kyle to his black car parked in the front.

               “Alex, I get you’re upset about the mission failing,” Kyle said as he climbed into the passenger’s seat while Alex got in to drive, “but if you’re hurt, I need to make sure everything’s okay.”

               “Kyle,” Alex shook his head as he started the car, and Kyle was shocked to see him smile, amused, “the mission didn’t fail.”

               “What do you mean?” Kyle blinked. “We didn’t do anything.”

               “Wrong,” Alex said, pulling out of the parking lot and out the large front gates of the property, “you did exactly as I asked you.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a USB drive, tossing it to a wide-eyed Kyle. “You trusted me.”

               Kyle stared at it a moment. “H-How –” and he cut himself off, realization dawning. “You pickpocketed him when you tripped. Your leg never hurt at all, did it?” Alex smirked, and Kyle was beginning a smile as well until –

               “Wait, what about Markson? What if he saw our faces?”

               “He didn’t,” Alex said confidently. “You know that Greek woman he was speaking to? Old military friend of mine. I called in a favor, and she came.”

               Kyle shook his head, his eyes wide, his brows furrowed. “She was working with you.”

               Alex laughed. “Kyle, half those people in that ballroom were working with me. The couples surrounding us while we danced, a member of the band, the bartender – this is my dad we’re talking about, and after Caulfield…” his smile faded, and Kyle noticed his hands tighten around the steering wheel. “I wouldn’t have left anything tonight up to chance. Not when you were at risk,” he finished quietly, all traces of humor in his voice and expression gone. “They kept Markson from seeing our faces, it was priority number one, and these people are good at their jobs. So don’t worry.”

               Kyle stared a moment, trying to process everything he had heard, then he said in a voice barely over a whisper, the USB drive smooth and sharp in his fingers. “You’re such a badass.”

               Alex’s eyes widened slightly, startled, and he burst out into laughter. “Let’s not push it. It was standard procedure for any op,” he said. “Anyone could’ve done it.”

               Alex checked his mirror before he made a turn, and Kyle watched him for a moment before his eyes fell to the drive in his hand. His fingers tightened on it, and he knew there was something he had to do before the night was over.

                  Kyle didn’t know how long he had been waiting outside Michael Guerin’s trailer. Time had seemed to freeze as he leaned against the airstream, one foot crossed over the other as he ran over in his head exactly what he would say. He had been so sure that he needed to talk to Michael when Alex had dropped him off at his home, having not even bothered to change out of his tux, but when Kyle had parked, he had realized that he didn’t even know where to start. After all, this wasn’t his place. Alex couldn’t even really call him a close friend, and yet here he was, about to interfere in the airman’s relationship.

               Then Michael suddenly stepped out of his trailer, shrugging his jacket on – probably to go meet Maria, Kyle bitterly noted – and he realized that while Alex had been reluctant to accept Kyle back into his life, Kyle considered Alex a part of himself, one he would never give away again.

               Because of that, Kyle knew there was only one thing to say.

               “You shouldn’t have broken him,” he said, and Michael whipped around.

               His eyes narrowed for a moment at Kyle, as if he didn’t really believe the doctor was there, then he said, “Valenti? What’re you doing here?”

               Kyle straightened and slowly made his way to Michael. Despite what Michael did and said, Kyle knew that the cowboy wouldn’t hurt him. Because if he did, Alex would never look at him the same way again, and Michael wouldn’t be able to take that. One shift in how Alex saw him was more than enough. Kyle knew that from experience.

               “You shouldn’t have broken him,” he repeated. “Alex, Guerin, I’m talking about Alex.” He tilted his head. “Forgotten about him already?”

               Michael’s expression hardened. “You came here to talk to me about A…” he cleared his throat. “About him?”

               “Shouldn’t have taken me this long, I know,” he shrugged. “I guess I just never realized the kind of damage you did to him till tonight.”

               “What the hell are you talking about?”

               Kyle stared long and hard, trying to keep his voice steady as he said, “You know Alex hates himself, right?” Michael blinked, his brows furrowed, his frown deepening. “He thinks he’s evil.”

               Michael looked away, pursing his lips, but Kyle went on. “He doesn’t know how to take a complement. Try telling him he’s clever, you know what he’ll do? He’ll think you’re lying to his face. Try telling him he’s strong, and he’ll hate you for making fun of him. Try telling him he’s beautiful…” Kyle trailed off at the way Michael suddenly looked at him, as if to ask, ‘When have you been telling Alex he’s beautiful?’

               Kyle huffed a humorless chuckle. “He talks about himself like he’s a broken toy that you saw and hated and threw away. He thinks…” he took a deep breath, “he thinks he doesn’t deserve love. You did that to him.”

               Michael clenched his jaw and stepped back, placing his hands in his jacket pockets, but not before Kyle saw them ball into fists. “You’re out of your mind, Valenti. I haven’t even seen… I haven’t even seen him in months.”

               Kyle’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t even say his name, can you?”

               “Get off my property,” Michael said through grit teeth. “I don’t want to hear his name, and I don’t need to hear you defending him either. What’s it my fault if he’s too weak? He’s always let others get to him, I’m supposed to be the bad guy for wanting something more than that?”

               Kyle shook his head, his mind filled with disbelief. He felt at that moment that maybe he should punch Michael, scream at him that Alex had done everything he ever could, that none of it was ever enough because Michael didn’t want it to be enough. But all Kyle could really feel… was pity. Michael was miserable, that much was obvious. He missed Alex like Kyle could only imagine he did, and it was fear of losing Alex that had forced him to push Alex away in the first place. But Michael was always pushing Alex away. Kyle thought the airman deserved someone who knew he was worth the risk of heartbreak. And Michael wasn’t it.

               He put his hands in his pockets and sighed, his voice soft – surprising even himself – as he said, “You don’t deserve him. Maybe you did once, a long time ago, but not anymore.”

               Michael looked as if Kyle had just killed his brother or sister – like he had waited for the worst from the doctor, but never thought he would actually do anything so cruel. Kyle might’ve felt bad if he didn’t remember the shock on Alex’s face when he had told him he trusted him. Like even Michael had never given him that much.

               He walked past the cowboy, got into his car, and drove away, Michael still standing frozen to his spot.

***

I’m soooooo sorry if it’s not as you expected it to be! I hope you enjoyed reading regardless, and thank you so much for sending the prompt in. It let me get that scene with Kyle and Michael out already. I’ve had it planned for a long time, but never really knew what to do with it, so thank you! 💞

Truth be told, I’m not too happy with how this came out, but it let me get some anger out, so I’m glad for that. Despite my feelings about it, I really do hope you felt differently and enjoyed it 💞

[frederator-studios]

Graham McTavish: The Frederator Interview

At the moment, Graham McTavish is in Malta getting his head torn off by a Werewolf. Jack Bauer once rammed a fire poker through his chest then slit his throat. He’s been set on fire, drowned, strangled, stabbed, speared, knifed, shot - not to mention, kneed in the balls, punched in the face, even slammed over the back with a log by an over-eager young performer. All in a day’s work for the Scottish actor, who’s played the baddest of baddies on a slew of excellent dramas-with-a-twist, from Preacher to Outlander, 24 to Castlevania. But Graham himself doesn’t view his characters as ‘villains’ - just passionate, complex people, of which Dracula (though he’d resent to be called “human”) is the embodiment. Read on for Graham’s take on playing one of literature’s most iconic, dangerous anti-heroes—from the relative safety of a recording studio.

Are you in LA long?

I’m flying out tonight actually, back to New Zealand. My kids are there, so I split my time. I’m doing Lucifer at the moment for Netflix as well as Castlevania, so I had to come back for a day, yesterday - I flew back just for that. (wow whaaa?) Yeah. I do a lot of traveling, but even for me that’s insane! It’s also unusual for the scheduling to work out perfectly, which it does the next few months. I have an episode gap now, then in October, I do a film in Malta, and the day that wraps, come back to LA to finish Lucifer, and the day after that, fly to Canada to do a film with Willem Dafoe about the Iditarod. I’ve got to learn how to mush a dog sled.

That’s awesome. It’s like getting sponsored to learn a cool obscure skill.

It’s definitely a nice side effect of being an actor. What other job would allow you to learn how to mush a dog sled, unless you were actually becoming a professional dog sled musher? It’ll be great.

How is it for you to switch between characters, with so little time between roles sometimes?

It really depends on your approach to acting. I approach from the point of view of a child. I have two young children, and the great thing about being that age, is they can switch from one thing to another in an instant. Very fluid. I think because I’ve never trained as an actor, I can see work as play. Some actors live as a cobbler for 5 years to play a cobbler, and that’s what works for them. Personally, I pretend. When I'm mushing dogs, I will give the illusion that I really know what I'm doing. That’s what acting is: an illusion that the audience willingly participates in. And everybody is complicit.

You didn’t have professional training?

No. I used to write comic sketches at school with a friend of mine, and we didn't trust anybody else to perform them, so we did. The Drama teacher at school asked me on many occasions to be in a play, but I always said no. Then on one occasion, he asked me to step into a play called “The Rivals” by Sheridan, filling in for an actor who’d fallen ill three days before the production was due to be performed. I said yes. To this day, I have no idea why I agreed. But I did the play, and was of course bitten by the acting bug.

After that, a local Dramatics company asked me to join them, so I did amateur theatre for a year. Then I attended Queen Mary College London University and majored in English literature. I was lucky enough to have a professor who loved Shakespeare and Jacobean drama, and he cast me in all of those plays. As an English Lit major, I was doing two or three Shakespeare plays a year, performing roles that I never would have been given if I'd been at Drama School. I'm not against it, but I don't think it's for everyone. I got my union card in Britain after doing a Beckett play, and then just started working professionally. I also did a lot of Repertory Theatre in the UK, which I think is a great training ground for actors. So it was all slightly accidental, the case with a lot of people.

How did you choose to play Dracula? What about that part compelled you?

I played him onstage once, a great experience. Dracula is the sort of character people love guiltily. If you get the opportunity to play that, it's a no-brainer. Just reading Bram Stoker’s book, your sympathy is with Dracula, in many ways. You live the story through him. It's such a wonderful ride to be playing a man whose been alive for hundreds and hundreds of years. Dracula plays to our secret desires, our secret fears. I think in all of us, there is a fascination with the idea of living forever. Fear of living forever, and fear of death; the Dracula myth plays on that edge. It’s so powerful because it takes something that we all have to face one day and says, what if you didn’t? But in gaining immortality, you lose something very important. Dracula is very enviable in some ways, but is also deeply sad and tragic.

How is it, playing tragic characters?

Among the few advantages of getting older is you have more life experience, including with tragedy. It’s inevitable. And you can draw on those memories. But you can also draw on your fears as well. I did a scene in Outlander, toward the end, where my brother is dying. I thought of my own father, and all the things I never said to him. Those emotions definitely informed that scene. When tragedy and death and loss touch your life, you carry those feelings into your future.

Are you an animation fan?

I love animation, I grew up with it. Along with books, it was my first experience of storytelling. Cartoons, as we called them; they fired my childhood imagination. It’s like how we were talking earlier, about children, and the profundity of animation to them. The first film I saw in a theatre was Walt Disney’s Peter Pan. I was five and had no question that those characters were real. To such an extent that when they took the posters down at the cinema, I got upset. I was like, “But where’s Peter? Where’s he gone?” Because I thought Peter lived in the cinema. I still get absorbed into great pieces of animation, when the artistry is powerful, and it’s part of my attraction to doing animated work. And this show, Castlevania, is particularly beautiful.

How were you introduced to the project, and did you have expectations going in?

I knew it was going to be great. I was recording Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles when the Voice and Casting Director, Meredith Layne, pulled me aside. She said she was on a project and couldn’t tell me much, but she thought I’d be a fit, and would I like to be considered? Meredith has great taste, so I said “Of course” and sent in a tape. And when I heard that Warren Ellis was the writer, that was a huge attraction. I love his comic book work, and fiction as well. The Crooked Little Vein is one of my favorite books. Really, it couldn’t not be great, and the more I learned of the creative team behind it, the more sure I was. Everything put into the show - the casting, directing, producing, animation - elevates it so hugely above anything comparable. I love that it occupies this unique space.

What do you feel Castlevania’s Dracula uniquely brings to the character?

It’s his being human that makes it so interesting. When I portrayed Dracula onstage, there was no suggestion that that version of him felt love, or experienced empathy. But in this production, a woman, Lisa, takes him by surprise. She makes him feel, and turns his life around. I love that, because everybody can relate. You think your life is one way, then you meet someone who changes everything, opens your life up, makes you think about it differently - and makes it more enjoyable to be alive. And since Dracula is essentially dead, that irony is very clever.

Do you have a favorite representation of vampires in Media?

I'm a little biased, but I love the portrayal of Cassidy by Joe Gilgun in Preacher. It’s so unconventional. Herzog’s Nosferatu springs to mind, just incredible. Gary Oldman’s Dracula is wonderful. And I loved Let the Right One In, the original Swedish version. It’s genius. It took something familiar as a vampire story and gave it a whole new spin.

You work so much in the fantasy genre - is that purposeful?

Oh yeah. I love the variety. I've been a Viking, a Roman - twice - after always dreaming of playing one, I got to be one for a whole year. Growing up in the UK, you never imagine yourself getting to be a cowboy. On the first season of Preacher, there was a scene I rode into a western town: the whole duster coat with the Stetson guns, surrounded by horses and wagon trains, all the paraphernalia. I had to look cool and unbothered. I wanted to jump up and down in excitement. I was so, pathetically excited. I did a season of 24, and I’d been a huge fan. Every day I’d go up to the producers telling them I was a huge fan. After a while, they’d say, “Yeah, great, we get it. You like the show. You’re in it now, so if you could just be the character that’d be great.”

And I still get a pathetically childish enjoyment out of playing Dracula. What kid doesn’t want to play Dracula?! I once talked to Lance Henriksen, and he said one of the reasons he went into acting was to be thousands of people. You get to be a cowboy and a vampire and a dog musher and a Highlander in the 18th century and a dwarf in Middle Earth. I'd definitely rather do any of that than put on a suit and do a courtroom scene. Not that I wouldn’t! I’ve just never been asked. No one’s ever looked at me and said, “Let’s cast him as The Dad.”

Have you ever played a “Castlevania” game?

I am a terrible game player.

But, but - your voice is in like every game of the past decade!

Yes, I have done loads of video games. I did a franchise called “Uncharted”. Award-winning; incredibly popular. Never played them. I played one game years ago with my friend, called “Gears of War”. I was so bad at it. I'm the guy that shoots in a circle around his feet. I’m useless at them.

Your character's bad-assery makes up for it. Anything to say to fans of the show, in advance of season two?

I just really hope you enjoy it and get carried along with the story and and want to see more. That’s always the greatest thing, if you can get the fans to clamor for more ❀

Follow Graham on Twitter and Instagram

Thank you for the interview Graham! Without a doubt, you’re the kindest chronic bad guy I’ve come across. 

- Cooper ❀

(Craving another CV interview? Read Richard Armitage’s here.)

[letsloveimagines]

For a Price - Chapter II

Summary: Arthur knew he was going to die and he was learning to live the rest of his time with this knowledge. However, the news came to him that there might be something and someone who could save him from the disease that plagued his body. He didn’t want to believe. But if there was a chance, even a small one… Why wouldn’t he try?

Warning: Violence, bad language, spoilers.

Word count: 1.191

Dedicated to: @ninja-nurse​

And so three days later, against his better judgment, Arthur was on his  way to the same place. Galloping in his beautiful mare, a thousand thoughts ran through his mind.

He was no longer a naive boy, maybe he had never been ... He had a hard life, and it seems that it was always getting worse. The world that he lived in, the kind of life he led... it was not easy. Life was cruel and had never been kind to him before. So why did he want to believe that there was a chance, however small, of healing himself!? Why didn’t he just give up and let fate take over his life? Was it the fear of death? Feeling the body fail and succumbing to the disease didn’t sound really encouraging.

Hosea, Lenny, Sean, Kieran, Jenny, Mac and Davey... they all paid the price, they all lost their lives for the sins that the gang committed over and over again, on a path that never seemed to end. But they were good people... good people who deserved a better fate. Arthur wished he could go back in time somehow, if there was only one chance, and change what happened. Switch places with one of them, with all of them.They deserved better. Hosea deserved better. Oh, how he missed him.

From that day in Saint Denis, where the doctor finally diagnosed him, Arthur felt that there was nothing more to live for. As long as he was sure that those left would be all right Arthur could leave in peace. He felt slimmer and weaker every day. Things he used to do with the greatest ease now seemed harder.

Life was sad. And Arthur knew he deserved all the sadness the world could give him.

But then Sadie and him released John from the Sisika Penitentiary - even going against Dutch's orders -, and Arthur felt again a bit of happiness. No matter how big his disagreements with John could ever be, John was his brother! At that moment Arthur saw that he wanted to live. Arthur wanted to be alive to see John and his family be happy.

Something in the gang was not right, he could feel it. Arthur had to live to solve whatever it was!

Ghost jumped on a fallen log and the cough once more plagued Arthur's body. Just one more chance, please... One more chance to be better.

Rowena was waiting for him at the door of the old cabin, smiling charmingly as she watched him get down from Ghost and tie the white horse to a nearby tree. What a strange woman she was... mysterious too! Arthur knew nothing about her and her weird line of work. But there was something genuinely gentle in her hazel eyes as she greeted him:

"Good to see you again, Mr. Morgan!" Leaving the entrance slightly open, she waved her hand. "Come in, come in, I got what we agreed on."

Hesitantly, Arthur came in and the vision inside seemed the same. The same dozens of candles, bones and bottles. The cauldron still made bubbling sounds over the fire, but the liquid inside was different this time. It was now a pale tinge of purple and the scent that emanated had left the interior of the hut with a faint sweet scent in the air.

"Thank you, ma'am. It's good to see you again. "

"Enough of that silly ma’am thing. Just call me Rowena, please."

Arthur watched her inspect the cauldron, toss anything in there, and rummage the liquid with a old soup ladle that sat on the table beside a small wooden chest. Finally satisfied, she whirled in her dark green dress and stared at Arthur with a beautiful smile on her lips.

The cowboy felt a small smile rise to his face as the young woman approached him and held out her arm.

"Give me your hand, Mr. Morgan." There was that gesture again. Without much ado, Arthur put his large hand on the woman's small one and gazed at the blank look on Rowena's face once more. She was beautiful, there was no doubt about it. Brown almond eyes, a small, loving nose, and handsome lips. Very beautiful.

A few moments passed until she let out a small sigh, her empty gaze being replaced by that gentle glow again -Arthur preferred that look on her, it suited her better -, and interlocked her fingers in his.

"How have you felt in these last days? Are you getting worse? "

Arthur felt a strange emotion as he looked at their fingers together, his bigger and paler than hers. Looking at her face again, he replied, "Slightly worse, ma'am."

"Rowena," she insisted.

"Rowena," Arthur said.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Morgan."

Arthur laughed deeply, a laugh that caused him a small coughing fit. "If I must call you by your name, call me by mine."

The shorter woman (the top of her curly head only reached his chin) laughed as well, gently separating their fingers and turning to the wooden table in the corner.

"I have something that can help you then." Picking up the small wooden box in the center, she showed it to Arthur. "Open it."

Arthur approached the woman's body, opening the beautifully crafted box carefully. On the outside it was of a dark color, carved in several spirals and the interior was lined in cream and soft fabric. That was not what caught his attention, but rather the six small glass bottles perfectly aligned in three.

Rowena took one with her left hand and set the box on the table again. The content inside was a stunning light blue coloring, which sparkled when the light hit the glass.

"Here it is, as agreed."

Arthur felt himself in a trance, unable to look away from what might be his salvation. Was it real? Oh, how the man wanted to believe it was. He reached out, wanting to feel the cool glass in his skin, wanting to feel that it was real.

“Now... "Rowena started, putting the little bottle back in the wooden box in front of her, next to the others, listening to the little tinkling sound the glass made as it touched the nearest bottle. "Making this was not really difficult, what took me so long was to get the right ingredients, and we can say that each one was in a different corner of the map. This will heal you, that I can promise you."

Arthur felt his heart leap in his chest and tried not to let the hope invade his body again. As soon as he opened his mouth to say something, perhaps show some appreciation to the person who could change his life, the brunette woman was quick to interrupt.

"I don’t want to be cruel, far from it actually. And do not get me wrong, you seem a good man, but a woman has to earn her living." She sighed, resting her hands one on top of the other, and looked truly sad as she continued her sentence. "I want to help you, and the cure can be yours. For a price."