#hes ready to risk it all for the silly television

[yesmaddyposts]

I've been writing angst for several days and needed to break up the fog with something happy and silly, so here is a rough draft snippet of part 2 to my Barbie & Her Android Boyfriend Ken AU:

~~

“This is a bad idea,” Barbie says. “This is a bad, horrible idea.”

On the screen of her phone, Kate shakes her head. “What are you talking about? This is a great idea! It’s the perfect opportunity to see what he can do!”

Barbie paces the length of the hallway with her phone in hand. She takes a peek through the cracked open door to her home office. Ken is still in there, spinning slowly in her desk chair and staring up at the ceiling. He’s been at it for ten straight minutes, and she wonders if dizziness was left out of his programming.

She returns to pacing outside the room. “I can’t bring the world’s most expensive android prototype to Gloria’s vow renewal ceremony!”

“Well you should’ve thought that through before you brought the world’s most expensive android prototype home with you,” Kate reminds her. 

She’s right. Barbie knows she’s right. But she’d let her curiosity get the best of her. Ken had been online for three full weeks now, and so far Mattel had only let him stretch his legs to go between the showroom—a large windowless space designed to look like a standard apartment’s living room, complete with a double sided mirror so executives and engineers could look in without being noticed—and the engineering lab. Ken wasn’t being used to his fullest potential, and none of the executives would listen to Barbie whenever she brought up bringing in real subjects for Ken to interact with. 

They were wasting him. They were impeding his progress, and she had no idea why. She’d tried keeping him distracted for a while, going so far as working overtime just to sit with Ken in the showroom watching television with him. Gloria had even been kind enough to bring some board games from home to test out Ken’s reaction speed. They all learned the hard way through several games of Uno and Candyland just how much of a competitive streak the android really had.

But as the third week of movie marathons and board game nights came to a close, Ken suddenly expressed something to her that just about broke her heart. 

“Barbie, I’m bored.” 

So that’s how she ended up here, at home with a platinum blonde android sitting at her desk. It had been embarrassingly easy to get him into her car. He could walk by himself, and didn’t hesitate to follow her to the parking garage. All he needed was a hoodie and some sunglasses to conceal his face from the security cameras, and then they were free. She had every intention of bringing him back, of course. Just after he got a little outdoor time. It was for research! 

“It’s for research!” She says aloud. 

“Exactly! What better way to research his capabilities than by putting him in a social gathering setting?” Kate’s phone shakes as she props it up against something and leans back on her couch. She whistles sharply and Tanner, her golden retriever, jumps up on the couch for a snuggle. 

“Listen,” Kate starts. “Allow me to impose upon you some Weird Barbie Wisdom.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call yourself that,” Barbie laments. Kate waves her comment away with a dismissive hand. 

“You know just as much as I do that Ken needs practice. The investors are going to want to see him in action sooner rather than later, and with the way things are going he won’t be ready. All of our hard work is going to go down the drain if we do things by Mattel’s book.”

Kate pauses to fend off Tanner when he stands on his hind legs to lick her face.

“The executives are a bunch of nepo-babies who don’t know their head from their ass when it comes to robotics. You gotta start taking risks.”

“But what if something goes wrong? What if Ken isn’t ready to be around all those people so soon?” Barbie bites her thumbnail subconsciously. 

A bitter tang hits her tongue and she purses her lips in disgust. She drops her hand back down to her side. Of all the times she’d tried to stop biting her nails, it had been Ken who really got it to stick. Last week while they’d been watching Bring It On, one of her favorite so-bad-it’s-good comfort films, he noticed her nibbling at her thumb. She did it when she was stressed, bored, or deep in thought. At that point her poor thumb was almost completely bitten down to the skin, leaving it red and raw looking. 

Ken had gently grasped her wrist and brought her hand down, interlacing their fingers. She’d turned to him, caught off guard by how careful his touch was. 

“You shouldn’t do that. It looks like it hurts.” He’d told her. 

Two days later when she came into work, he’d been so excited to tell her that he and Gloria had spent all weekend looking up ways to quit the habit of nail biting. He recommended she get bitter tasting nail polish so that she would no longer get satisfaction from biting, even going as far as to spend ten minutes breaking down all the best brands by price, brand, and product reviews. 

“If the whole thing goes tits up, you’ll have me and Gloria there as backup. We’ll get him out of there with some excuse about food poisoning or being late to a self tanning appointment, whatever.”

Kate scratches the underside of Tanner’s chin, and the dog starts kicking his back leg so hard against the couch cushion Barbie can hear the dull thumpthumpthump of his paw through the speakers of her phone.

“But I’m not worried. We did a great job with Ken’s programming. He’ll be a natural.” 

Kate’s general “it’ll all work out” attitude always had a way of convincing Barbie into things she didn’t want to do. She has a feeling this was going to be no different. She sighs, but before she can respond with another excuse not to go through with this, Ken speaks from inside the office.

“Barbie? Who are you talking to?” 

Barbie pushes open the door and enters the office. She turns her phone around to show Ken her screen. “I’m on a call with Kate from work.”

Ken gets up to see her phone better. When he’s closer, his face lights up in recognition and he grabs the phone from Barbie’s hand.

“Hi, Kate from work!” He exclaims excitedly, his wave at the camera a blur of motion. “Love the new mohawk.” 

“Thanks, Ken!” Kate responds just as excitedly. “I was thinking about dying it a crazy color. Maybe half purple and pink, or ombre.”

As Ken and Kate become invested in the topic of hair color options, Barbie shakes her head and takes a seat at her computer desk. Looks like she’s going to have to go shopping for men’s formal wear. 

[oneminutereviews]

Chernobyl Prayer by Svetlana Alexievich

After the reactor explosions in Chernobyl on 26 April 1986, Armand Pien, the most popular weatherman in the history of Belgian television, said in one of his weather forecasts that the cloud of radioactive dust that was spreading over much of Europe was not passing over Belgium. Many television viewers were sceptical and it later transpired that the Belgian government had told Armand Pien to make that claim in order to prevent a panic. Possibly, the government had forgotten to forbid him to talk about the rest of that cloud’s trajectory because Pien did not conceal that it was also travelling over the Netherlands and France …

Compared to what people in the Soviet Union had to endure, the above anecdote is entirely innocent, almost silly even. In Belarus, Ukraine’s northern neighbour, one in five persons, or 2.1 million people, live in the zone contaminated by the Chernobyl disaster. To put that into perspective, Alexievich tells us that one in four Belarusians was killed during the Second World War.

The response of the Party apparatus was to call up young men to serve as clean-up workers in the power plant and the contaminated land. On the roof of reactor No. 4, radiation was so intense that each worker’s exposure should not have been longer than forty to fifty seconds, but the work required at least several minutes. Radio-controlled equipment broke down within hours due to the radiation, so only humans could do the clean-up work near the reactor. However, the workers did not understand the risks; their military commanders, trained in indoctrination but not in physics, were ignorant about them. One of the clean-up workers says, “I believed in my lucky star. Ha ha! Now I’m second category disabled.”

In the zone around the nuclear power plant, where much radioactive debris and dust had fallen, clean-up workers were instructed to remove the top soil and bury it in pits. They also buried entire villages. According to one interviewee, around 340,000 troops were brought in for the clean-up work. Several former clean-up workers talk about the readiness to sacrifice oneself. Not all of them were conscripts, some were volunteers. When a former first secretary of a district party committee says that “there was such a thing as Soviet character”, that even sounds plausible.

However, indoctrination and heroism don’t protect against radiation and its consequences. When soldiers were given dosimeters at all, the readings were kept secret by the KGB. Clean-up workers weren’t given any information they would be able to pass on to their doctors. While the clean-up work was going on and villages were being evacuated, people were also brought into to plough the fields, sow and later harvest from them, because the Plan had not been altered and quota needed to be fulfilled. Radio-active wood, meat, milk, grain, potatoes and vegetables were sold as if nothing had happened. Those who suspected that something was wrong were unable to outwit the system. For example, some started buying more expensive sausages, hoping that those would contain uncontaminated meat: “We soon found out, though, that they were deliberately adding contaminated meat to expensive sausage. Their logic was that, as it was expensive, people would buy only a little of it and eat less.”

Before the disaster, nuclear physicists were the elite among academics and people had an idyllic view of nuclear energy. The atom was “a peaceful labourer” and accidents simply could not happen. After Chernobyl—people don’t even bother to say “the Chernobyl disaster” since the name of the power plant is now synonymous with the catastrophe—this all changed. The scientists were now fallen angels. In addition, several interviewees think that the disaster contributed to the demise of the Soviet Union.

One of the most damning testimonies is that by Vassili Nesterenko, who was director of the Institute of Nuclear Energy in Belarus at the time. As soon as he heard about the reactor explosion, he tried to get urgent information through to Mikalay Slyonkow, first secretary of the Communist Party of the Byelorussian SSR. Slyonkow’s response was that the accident was nothing more than a fire that had been put out and that there was nothing to worry about. That was probably what he had been told by Moscow. Nesterenko went to the Zone to measure the radiation and contacted Party officials who might be able to take action. However, instead of taking measures to protect the population, the Party confiscated all of the Institute’s equipment for monitoring radiation and brought criminal charges against Nesterenko. Slyonkow, by contrast, was promoted to Moscow.

Chernobyl Prayer is not a factbook about the disaster and its consequences. Alexievich’s book is a collection of testimonies, introduced as “monologues”, by people affected by the Chernobyl disaster. The order of these testimonies is not random: they are grouped in three long sections, each of which ends with a “choir”. A “choir” is a grouping of shorter testimonies that are not attributed individually to any specific person. Both before the first section and after the last section, there is a chapter titled “A lone human voice”. In each of these, we hear the account of a widow: the first the widow of one of the first firemen who were called up to extinguish the fire in the reactor, and the second the widow of a fitter who was sent to the Zone in October 1986. Both saw their husbands slowly die after returning from Chernobyl. In view of the number of clean-up workers that were sent to Chernobyl, there must be thousands of similar stories related to the Chernobyl disaster and how it was handled by the Party. There is also a generation of children from the contaminated zone who think they will never grow old and who may never have healthy babies. One girl, who was in tenth grade, told her mother, “Mum, if I give birth to a freak, I’ll love it anyway.”

By way of an epilogue, Alexievich cites a newspaper article about a travel agency in Kiev that started offering tourist trips to Chernobyl in 2005. “You will certainly going to have something to tell your friends about when you get home.” Chernobyl, or the banality of death.

Svetlana Alexievich: Chernobyl Prayer: A Chronicle of the Future. Translated by Anna Gunin and Arch Tait. Penguin, 2016 (294 pages). ISBN 978-0-241-27053-0.

Review submitted by Tsundoku.

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - May 2

I know I say every week that I read a lot this week but I have been indulging in my favorite coping technique and so this list is ridiculously long. Twitter encouraged me. Blame them. 

**Indicates my recent favs 

~*~ 

On the inherent homoeroticism of cake decoration by welcoming_disaster (616/8K)

“She’s matchmaking, Barton,” Carol sighed.

“We,” Thor corrected, thumping himself hard in the chest, “art matchmaking.”

“Who, Cap n’ Tony?” Clint asked, his mouth full.

“Cap and Tony,” Janet confirmed, cutting herself a thin slice of egg and gently depositing it on her whole grain avocado toast, “it’s getting ridiculous.”

“Wait, I thought they were—“ Clint frowned, glancing around the room as though to confirm. Nothing but confused faces met his questioning gaze. “Huh. I really thought they were fucking.”

“And there is the crux of the issue,” Jess licked a bit of spaghetti sauce off her lip.

“Aye,” agreed Thor, “there’s rub.”

-----------

The team tries to set up Steve and Tony. Things don't go as planned.

Baby lovers like you and me (never say die) by FestiveFerret (Old Guard AU/7.5K)

The Avengers. They'd found him frozen in the ice, told him he was immortal, of all things. And with the way he'd lived through seventy years deep in the Atlantic, he found himself inclined to believe them. They'd also been very… convincing.

Without question, they integrated him into their unit - The Avengers, a secret team of unkillables seeking wrongs around the world and making them right, supported and housed by an enigmatic billionaire named Tony Stark. Their immortality, it seemed, was a secret to everyone but him.

Ready, set, bake by ChocolateCapCookie (Great British Bake Off/11k) 

The Avengers are on a nationally televised baking competition, but nobody seems to have warned the producers that the Avengers, while they save the world everyday and put their loves at risk doing so, are a) insanely competitive, and b) absolutely terrible bakers. Steve Rogers, especially, has a competitive streak a mile wide, and he's determined to win this competition, but it's not easy when his only real opponent is also the man he's been in love with for years.

***To make flowers grow (in this barren heart) by SoldiersShield, KakushiMiko (Hanahaki AU/16K) 

“You hide yourself away in your technology, but you are just as human as the rest of them. Your heart betrays your desire to possess.” Her gaze falls to the arc reactor, and Tony's blood runs cold in his veins.

“The Earth will reclaim what we have lost,” she says, dragging a hand over the chestplate of the armor. “It is you, and your kind-- your greed that pulls life from the soil as if it were nothing. You will reap what you have sown, Stark. The avarice in your heart will strangle the very life out of you.” Arna meets his eyes once more, a serene smile on her face as she leans forward.

“I hope he is worth dying for,” she murmurs, before digging her hand into his ribcage.

(Tony Stark falls in love with Steve Rogers. A rogue enchantress ensures he pays for it.)

Shelter from the storm by silkspectred (KidFic/5k) 

Tony adopts a baby. Guess who's Majorly Fucked Up™ about it.

Keep on beating by itsallAvengers (Domestic Fluff/6K) 

There were an awful lot of things Steve loved about Tony. But one thing in particular Steve could never get enough of was his heartbeat.

The good or bad thing by petreparkour (Multiverse/10k) 

 “It’s the metal suit,” Thor informed Steve, his normally-booming voice tinny over the SHIELD comms. “What did Stark call it—Iron Man?”

“But he’s down here,” Steve protested as the Hulk roared in Stark’s face, startling him into waking with a shout. “How could—”

“It’s damaged,” Thor reported. “But it looks different. More advanced. And he—ah. He’s carrying you, Captain.”

“Please tell me nobody kissed me,” Stark breathed out, and then Stark’s voice suddenly came over the comms, but the man lying next to him hadn’t moved.

“Guys, come on, you’re killing me here. What is it, 2012? God, I hate time travel. First, I'm fighting Thanos. Now, I have to deal with my past self and Thor's bad haircut? Oh my God, Cap, yes I hacked their comms, they’re my comms.”

Steve nearly opened his mouth to protest that he hadn’t said anything when he realized that this replica of Tony Stark wasn’t speaking to him.

***The tipping point by nightwalker (Domestic Fluff/7K) 

Tony has a few quirks. Steve's still trying to figure them all out.

We two, how long we were fool’d by glassessay (Soulmate AU/9K) 

Steve Rogers comes into the world as unblemished as his mother. When Anthony Stark is born, his soulmark is an obvious pattern of ink across his tiny chest.

It only takes a century, two names, and a shared love of Walt Whitman for them to find each other.

The tape in the cave by betheflame (Canon Divergent/5K) 

Steve had no idea what was happening.

“You think I didn’t know that?”

Tony was staring Zemo down as though the Sokovian was actual vermin - which, Steve reflected, he kind of was.

“You think that I,” Tony continued, not hiding the sneer in his voice, “Anthony Stark, who has more powerful technology in my literal fingers than most nations have, that I wouldn’t know everything possible about how my parents died? That I wouldn’t know it wasn’t an accident, that your silly little HYDRA Nazi knock-off pals are the ones who murdered them? Please, you are pathetic.”

Happy ending by Robin_tCJ (No-Powers AU/28K) 

 Steve is a mobile massage therapist, and Tony is a stressed billionaire. What could go wrong?

With a decent happiness by torigates (Teacher AU/16K) 

Tony Stark is Iron Man. Steve Rogers isn't, and never was Captain America.

Or, the one where everything is the same except Steve is a kindergarten teacher.

Nothing left but scars by SailorChibi (MCU/6.7K) - Reread

Steve wakes up to the fact that no one ever compliments or even says thank you to Tony, and that he has fallen into the same trap of painting Tony with a specific paintbrush.

This is how he showers a very confused Tony with praise to make up for it.

Our hearts should remember and follow by frostfall (MCU/5K) 

Steve hums. “I didn’t know you could play. Or sing. Don’t think I’ve heard anyone mention it before.”

Tony shrugs. “It’s one of the few things, skills, I don’t flaunt. Not something people are interested in, anyway. Not gonna sway any board members by playing fucking Für Elise for them. Sides’, there’s a high chance I wouldn’t even play. Well, maybe if you get me drunk enough and near an instrument. Then, I might reconsider.”

(After a dream leaves Tony rattled, he turns to the piano as a way to distract himself.)

Finally, you and me by pensversusswords (Multiverse/10K) 

Because in every layer of time, in every conceivable dimension, he was always meant to love Steve.

By some miracle, Steve was meant to love him back.

***Full disclosure not required (but appreciated) by Potrix (Identity Porn/16k) 

The one where Steve knows more than he lets on, Tony knows less than he pretends, Clint has a big mouth, Bucky is a little shit, and everyone learns why keeping secrets never ends well.

Almost never, anyway.

Heartlines by nanasekei (MCU/7.9K) 

“Let me,” Tony repeats. He regrets it deeply, so much, he wants to stick the words back into his mouth again, and it must show, in the way his voice wavers. He feels exposed, all of a sudden, as if he’s asking something bigger than what he can actually say. Let me touch you, let me take care of you. “Just… Let me do it.”

i found a way to let you in, but i never really had a doubt (marriage series) by quidhitch (Marriage Series/16k) 

Tony Stark doesn’t believe in marriage. It’s nobody’s fault. —Well, it’s Howard's fault, probably, but Tony doesn’t like to think about that for too long, finds that it dredges up all sorts of issues he’d rather keep buried under a mountain of strategically employed sarcasm, humorous self-deprecation, and the occasionally effective substance abuse.

***Hide your love away by sineala (Soulmate/33K) - Reread

Tony has suspected for a long time that the soulmark on his chest matches Steve's -- but he's never told Steve about it. And then it's too late to tell Steve anything at all ever again. In the wake of Steve's death, the Skrull invasion, and Norman Osborn's rise to power, the identity of his soulmate is just one of the many things Tony cuts out of his memory forever.

When Tony returns to consciousness, he's forced to deal with the aftermath of a war he no longer remembers fighting, not to mention a Steve Rogers who can barely stand to be in the same room with him. Surely the last thing Tony could ever need in his life is more amnesia. But that's what he gets. And Tony's new missing memory just might be the key to finding out the truth of his soulmark... as well as his chance to make things right once and for all.

Break the chain (can’t live in circles again) by orphan_account (FWB/19K) 

There had been seven amazing weeks of dating Steve Rogers before Tony realised that they weren’t dating at all. And then it was a scramble to adjust to the situation as it had always been: being Steve’s friend-with-benefits.

And if Steve seemed a little confused and bewildered by the way Tony was acting, well. Tony was probably just misreading that, too.

Five times steve and tony (tried to) bail each other out of jail by Teyke (MCU/6k) 

Twice before Civil War, twice after, and once during. For very loose definitions of both 'bail' and 'jail'.

Cracked hearts under iron ribs by XtaticPearl (Established Relationship/14k)

Rhodey is away for almost six months now and comes to meet Tony after the mission. He doesn't understand the domesticity of the whole Tower and unknowingly sets off a whole truck of insecurities which make Tony crawl back into being a Stark instead of just Tony. The team is not at all happy and Rhodey joins them in trying to figure out a way to help their resident genius feel better in his skin.

The single biggest problem with communication by BlossomsintheMist (616/108K)

In the wake of Steve's return from the dead and the end of Norman Osborn's reign of terror, the superhero community is recovering--Steve has taken on a new role and Tony is trying to put his life back together. Things are still awkward between them, but they're determined to put things to rights. But when a discussion about their feelings leads to further misunderstandings, they discover that might be more difficult than either of them realized. Set in the early Heroic Age after the end of Dark Reign, this is a get-together story about crossed wires--and second chances.

What are friends for? by bobertsmallismydad (MCU /2.8K) 

In which Steve is targeted by a virus. Will the Avengers be able to save him in time?

Starving by festiveferret (Vampire AU/2K) 

Steve woke up starving.

***Everybody wonders (What it would be like to love you) by SoldiersShield (MCU/3K) 

“...Is that what this is about?” He asks slowly. Steve blanches.

“Oh my god. It is.” Tony has no right looking as giddy as he does. “Steven Grant Rogers, are you jealous?”

--

Or: Steve and Tony have been dancing around each other for a while now, and Steve's rather content with it. Attending a gala together just might change that.

Re(A)d all over by brandnewfashion, MusicalLuna (Drunk Flirting/3k) 

Contrary to popular belief, Tony Stark can blush.

It just takes Steve getting drunk on some magical Asgardian mead for it to finally happen.

***The Do-over Proposal by nightwalker (Established Relationship/1.2k) 

Steve wants to go on a journey, Tony doesn't think it's a good time, and Bucky needs to beat some sense into both these idiots.

A Winter’s Ball by alliejowrites (Victorian AU/3.8K) 

Steve moves to London in search of a patron, so that he can finally devote himself to painting. He is not expecting everything he finds upon meeting Lord Stark. A fluffy little Victorian AU. One-shot.

What’s a fanfic by starksnack (AvAc/1K) 

Kamala introduces Tony and Steve to the world of fanfiction. There is a surprising amount of content about them being gay.

[pemfrost]

Dimiclaude- arranged marriage ?

I had something else in mind completely, but then I saw a preview for "married at first sight" and decided to do a modern AU. Never seen the show, so I just made the rest up. Hope you like it!

Dimitri assessed himself in the ornate mirror again, acutely aware of the cameras capturing his every movement, every emotion. Even his wildest daydreams never once included a television camera crew filming his wedding. Yet, the chaos helped keep his attention far from the very real vows he was about to make to a man he had never met. 

The venue was fantastic, he couldn't have selected something better himself. It warmed his heart to know the man he would be marrying found an outdoor wedding ideal as well, and where better than a vineyard overlooking a lush valley? So far, everything was perfect. Perfect venue, perfect weather, perfect suit, and, if all went well, he would leave with the perfect husband. 

Sylvain's laughter announced his arrival, and Dimitri wasn't surprised to find the Producer, Manuela, fawning over him. "Heya, Dimitri! Whoa, Felix wasn't joking when he said you're dressed to the nines."

Manuela laughed, a practiced sound. "Of course, we couldn't have our star looking anything less than his best on his wedding day!" She clapped her hands together, "Alright, we need to film some camera confessionals to splice into the intro and before the breaks. Are you ready?"

Dimitri nodded, not trusting his voice. Dedue, his best man, had left to take a personal call. He was his rock through the whole process, by his side from the day he caved into Sylvain's suggestion and signed up for the matchmaking television show. Dedue's calm presence kept him centered while he waited months for a match to be made.

"Alright," Manuela clapped again, bringing his attention to the camera now in front of him. "First question: How are you feeling now?"

Dimitri inhaled and mentally repeated the general rules Manuela gave him for talking to the camera. He didn't want to redo the shots like he often had to at the beginning of the process. Being in front of the camera was nothing new for him, but filming reality television was very different from filming one of his movies.

"Right now… I am still in disbelief. I gave up finding love years ago, and to have this chance…" He looked away from the camera. "Knowing the man waiting for me at the altar is there because experts have determined we are compatible… Knowing he is not here because of my family name or my wealth means so much."

"Good, good. Question two" Do you think getting married will impact your career?"

"I hope not. My movies have been successful because of my talent, and while I am very aware of my… fan club… I believe they will be happy if I am happy."

"Question three: any pushback from your family during this process?"

"Only concern from my friends, but they support me going through with this. One of them is actually why I signed up for it- after a lot of cajoling. And some alcohol to calm my nerves."

Someone with a clipboard and earpiece grabbed Manuela's attention, and she motioned for him to walk around for some action shots as she disappeared out the door. He complied, but was disappointed to note Sylvain had slipped away during his interview. Typical; the man couldn't stay still on a normal day. 

He walked to the window, looking out at the vineyard. Two small guest houses sat on the estate, built so couples could get ready for their wedding separately. There was no chance he would accidentally see his fiancé, and even if he did, how would he tell him apart from the other guests and crew milling about the property? 

Would he like the man they chose for him? After so many interviews, personality tests, and various questionnaires, he sure hoped so. More importantly, would he like Dimitri? Was his custom Brioni suit too much? Would the non traditional deep blue be acceptable? His life was often a whirlwind when he was filming a movie, could his husband handle it? It was one of the most common relationship killer for him, and had been one of the first things he mentioned when he first signed up for the show. Had they remembered to take it into account? 

"Good, good." Manuela's voice filled the room once more. "We can throw a voice over this, the audience will eat up that pensive staring out the window. Dimitri, are you ready?"

"Ready?" 

"To get married, silly. We're about to start."

It was time already? 

"Dimitri." Dedue's strong voice came from the doorway. He turned his gaze to Manuela, "May we have a moment?"

"Of course." She motioned for the camera to keep rolling and Dimitri sighed. Even with her out of the room, he needed to be camera ready. 

"Dimitri," Dedue said again as he pulled Dimitri into a tight embrace. How in his head was he if he hadn't noticed Dedue crossing the room? "Breathe."

"Aww, are you guys having a moment I wasn't invited to?" Sylvain appeared at his side as he pulled away from Dedue. Immediately, he pulled Dimitri into a hug of his own. "If this doesn't work, then I had nothing to do with it. If you fall madly in love, then you're welcome."

Dimitri chuckled and pulled away from the embrace. Lingering just out of reach stood Felix. He knew better than to try and hug his prickly friend, instead he nodded towards him. "Thank you all. I could not imagine doing this without your support."

"Not having a change of heart, are we?" Manuela's head peeked into the room. 

Dimitri forced a smile through his anxiety. "No. Let's go meet my future husband."

Manuela ushered him outside and into a covered golf cart. As they were driven up the hill to where he would get married, she double checked the microphone hidden in his Boutonniere. "Alright, so this venue is a tricky one since it's outside. There are two curtain boxes set up opposite each other. You will both step through them on cue and walk towards each other and meet in the middle at the altar. Got it?"

Dimitri nodded as the cart came to a stop. Manuela exited first then motioned for him to follow her. She pointed to where he should stand, and he strained his neck to catch a glimpse of anything before the white curtains blocked his view. A similar curtain was on the other side as she'd said. Chairs were set up for the few guests each brought with them, but were currently empty. 

As he stood behind the curtains, Dimitri strained to hear what was going on. He couldn't see the chairs or the altar, but after a few minutes the sounds of soft chatter floated to him. The altar was just beyond a thin fabric. His husband was just beyond thin fabric. 

Dimitri focused on his breathing. It was real. He was about to marry someone who's name he didn't know. While he thought he worked through his anxiety over it, he clearly had not. What did he do with his hands? What if he tripped as he walked to the altar? 

Before he could continue to spiral further, Manuela was signaling him to walk out. He hesitated. His friends were out there, his husband's friends were out there. His husband was out there. With a deep breath, Dimitri pushed the curtain aside and stepped out. 

He paid no attention to the people to his left, focused only on the man already standing across from him. Gorgeous did not do the man justice, and once Dimitri stepped out his face lit up, flashing Dimitri a wide smile. There was something familiar about him, something Dimitri couldn’t yet place as distracted as he was by the way his green eyes danced. 

His husband stepped forward, breaking the spell he put over Dimitri. When they met in the middle, between the altar and their friends, Dimitri thought it was too good to be true. 

Remembering himself, Dimitri smiled down and introduced himself. "H-hello, I am Dimitri."

"Whoa," the man said. "I thought my eyes were deceiving me, but it really is you." Dimitri's heart began to sink, afraid he was just another fanboy until he continued. "I'm Claude."

Oh- it clicked. Claude Von Riegan, lead singer of the band The Golden Deer. "This is really happening."

Claude smiled, "Yeah, it suuure is."

Dimitri wanted to talk to him, ask so many questions- touch him. But they were not alone up at the altar and a soft voice startled them both out of the moment they were sharing. "Welcome, everyone. I am Byleth, the officiant for this joyous occasion."

They paused to give Dimitri and Claude a moment to catch their bearings. Dimitri risked a glance to his friends, and was relieved to find them looking content. Annette gave him a thumbs up at the same time Sylvain wolf whistled. Claude's side was just as lively, and Dimitri recognized members of his band in the front row. 

Byleth continued, bringing their focus back to them. "We welcome Claude Von Riegan and Dimitri Blaiddyd-"

Dimitri couldn’t focus on their speech, too busy getting lost in Claude's eyes. He had enough sense about him to respond to the vows when prompted, and was endlessly glad they didn't have to write their own. 

"Now, I pronounce you married. You may now kiss your groom, forever sealing your union."

Dimitri was eager to do so, his nerves falling away when Claude's lips found his. He completely forgot about the cameras as he eagerly returned the kiss, and nearly groaned when Claude pulled away. 

Cheers rang out from their friends. He heard Sylvain's shout of, "Power couple!" over everyone else. 

They were ushered down the aisle, through their friends' congratulations and into another covered cart. Claude's hand found his as they were driven to where the reception was being held, and Dimitri squeezed it in silent answer. 

"Hey?" Claude looked at him, a smile tugging playfully at his lips.

"Yes?"

"We're married," Claude said, nudging his shoulder into Dimitri's. 

Dimitri leaned over, placing a chaste kiss on Claude's cheek. "Yes, we are." He brushed his knuckles along his husband's cheek before diving for his lips. 

He couldn't be happier with the outcome, and looked forward to getting to know his new husband, and starting their life together. 

Thanks for reading!!

[fandoms-are-my-friends-1321]

Holy Matrimony

This is my first time writing for the Prodigal Son fandom, but I’m still excited either way. This was requested by @jiejie-eonni-onee-sama, and the idea is so adorable and funny. Gif and characters are not mine. Hope you guys enjoy it!!!

Description: Malcolm plans to propose to his girlfriend during their date at a fancy restaurant, but some of the team and his family arrive to make sure he doesn’t blow it. An unexpected quest also makes an appearance

Warnings: just some mild swearing, spoilers for season one, and a brief description of a crime scene, but otherwise none

“I know this is a big night for us, but you didn’t have to rent out one of the fanciest restaurants in town. I’m perfectly fine with a night in at home.”

Malcolm turned to look at his girlfriend of eight months as he continued to button up his white dress shirt. “Come on, Y/N. It’s going to be wonderful I promise. Besides, I would do anything for you.”

That was very true. This was the longest relationship that Malcolm had ever been in, and Y/N was different. He was worried after what happened with Eve, love would never return into his life. It did, however, and he was grateful to Y/N for all she had done for him so far. Tonight was the night he was going to show how much he loved her.

“Our cabs here,” Y/n said as she straightened her outfit. “You ready for go?”

“Yeah, just a few more minutes. You can go ahead down stairs, and I will catch up with you in a minute,” Malcolm responded. While Y/N was a little suspicious as to why Malcolm needed to stay back, she shrugged it off and walked out the door of the apartment. Once Malcolm was certain that she was gone, he opened a drawer that was located discretely under the bar.

He pulled out a small velvet box, and inside was the ring that he planned to propose to Y/N with. His family and friends were all supportive of this move, and yet he was still a little worried. He took a deep breath and placed the box in his suit jacket. “It’s okay,” Malcolm whispered to himself. “Nothing could possibly go wrong.”

Sunshine tweeted happily. “Thanks, Sunshine. The next time you see the two of us, you’ll have a new mom to look after you.” With that, Malcolm opened the door and dashed down the stairs to the cab. The giddy energy he felt fueling his steps.

——————————————————————————

The couple sat in a rented out section of the restaurant. Malcolm didn’t want to raise any extra attention when he proposed to Y/N, and while renting an entire room might have been much, he didn’t want to risk it. His family already had to much attention focused on them because of his father, and he didn’t want anymore.

“Excuse me, but I’m going to go use the restroom before our food gets here,” Y/N said as she stood up from the table.

“Sure, that sounds great! I’ll be waiting here doing nothing in particular,” Malcolm stuttered as he fidgeted in his seat. Y/N smiled at him as she walked out of the room. He’s a lot jumpier than normal, she thought, Perhaps he has a recent case on his mind. In fact, the only thing Malcolm had on his mind was her, and he mentally screamed as he placed his head in his hands.

“Oh my god he’s going to blow it. My son needs to get it together.”

Outside of the restaurant, Jessica Whitley was standing outside with a pair of binoculars, her daughter Ainsley by her side. They were leaning against the brick wall of the building across the street. The pair was trying to spy on Malcolm and make sure that he didn’t mess this up.

“Well, you know how my brother can be,” Ainsley replied as she examined her fingernails.

“Your daughters right,” Gil chimed in as him and the rest of the team walked up to Jessica and Ainsley. “Malcolm Bright does whatever Malcolm Bright wants to do. We can’t control him.”

“I’m his mother for crying out loud, so I have more control than you think. What are you guys doing here?”

“Coming to see how Malcolm will manage to pull off this proposal. Same as you guys,” JT stated.

“I think you guys are being to hard on him,” Dani commented, “As much as Malcolm loves Y/N, he will know exactly what to say.”

“That’s right! From my statistical analysis, their love for each other is 100% legit,” Edrisa added in as she appeared from behind Gil, Dani, and JT. “Also, it’s a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Whitley.”

“Likewise,” Jessica said with a smile. “Well, looks like the gangs all here.” The group waited and watched as Y/N returned to her seat at the table. The couple had begun eating, but the group that they didn’t know was waiting outside began to twist with anticipation.

“That’s it! I cant take this anymore. I’m going in,” Jessica declared as she shoved the binoculars she was using over to Ainsley. With determination, Jessica strides across the street. All the while Ainsley and Gil were trying to drag her back, but it was to no avail, and they began to follow her too. The rest of the team was close behind. However, another lone figure was lurking in the shadows.

“Holy crap, this pasta is the best I’ve ever had. No offense to your cooking of course,” Y/N said through a bite full of her food.

“None taken,” Malcolm replied with a chuckle. “I know how much you love Italian cuisine.”

“You know what I love more than pasta?”

“Day time television?”

“No, silly. It’s you! Ever since we first met at that crime scene, I just felt a connection with you.”

Malcolm couldn’t help but grin at the memory. Y/N was also part of the team, and the two had met during a case at a Bakery. At first Malcolm didn’t understand how Y/N was able to eat pastries while a man’s guts were strewn across the floor. Then he soon realized that she had witnessed a lot of crime scenes in her day.

This had to be the right moment. Somewhere deep inside, Malcolm knew that it was time to pop the question. Malcolm took a bite of his pasta, and tried to begin his proposal. However, when he saw his mom walk through the entrance of the room, he nearly choked.

“Mom! What are you doing here?! How’d you even know we were in here,” Malcolm questioned as he whiped his mouth with a napkin.

“Oh please dear, finding you wasn’t that hard. I came in because you need to stop stalling and do what you came here to do,” Jessica replied.

“Well I was going to say it, but-,”

“Jessica please, come back outside and let the kid do his thing,” Gil insisted as him and Ainsley enterted the room as well.

“Gil?! You’re here too? Let me guess the whole rest of the team is here,” Malcolm added with a wave of his hand. The rest of the team slowly made their way into the room, and Malcolm let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, now that everyone is here. May I please finish?”

Everyone nodded eagerly, and so Malcolm turned back to his girlfriend, who was still in shock by all the people who had just shown up out of the blue. It was a lot, but Y/N didn’t mind. Malcolm grabbed her hand, and Y/N’s E/C eyes met his icy blue ones. “Ever since I met you Y/N, my life has changed for the better. When I’m with you, the darkness in the world fades away. Now while I wasn’t expecting so many people to be here for this, I’m still certain that this is the right-.”

“Now hold on, my boy. Before you say those oh so famous words, aren’t you forgetting the one person that’s not here?”

The entire party froze as Malcom’s father, Dr. Martin Whitley, emerged from a dark corner of the room. Gil, Dani, and JT all pulled their guns from their holsters. “Holy shit,” JT said, “I thought this dude was in prison?”

“Yes,” Jessica snarled. “That’s exactly where he should be.”

Martin simply rolled his eyes at his wife and the others. “Oh come on now, you can’t expect me to miss the biggest day of my son’s life do you? I promise I will go back as soon as everything is done. Gil will make sure of that I’m sure.”

“Damn right I will, but for now I’m reluctantly allowing this to happen. No funny stuff though,” Gil said. Martin simply nodded as he gestured for Malcolm to continue.

Malcolm took a deep breath and focused his attention back on Y/N. “Well, as you can see my life is pretty crazy. I have a serial killer for a father, a mother who can sometimes be just as crazy.”

“Hey, that’s not very nice,” Jessica said as she pretended to be hurt, but her smile gave it away. Malcolm shook his head as he continued. “All of these people support us, and I plan to support you until the day I die, which hopefully will be a long time from now. So, without further ado,” Malcolm got down on one knee, and opened the velvet box. The central diamond in the ring sparkled due to the chandelier light from above, and Y/N let out a gasp. “Y/N L/N, will you marry me?”

“Of course I will!! Now come here my soon to be husband,” Y/N pulled Malcolm up by the lapels of his jacket and kissed him on the lips. At first her boldness caught Malcolm off guard, but he relaxed into the kiss. All the while cheers filled the room, and Martin even gave a few claps himself.

“So, will I be invited to the wedding,” Martin asked with a raised brow.

“Unless you happen to escape again, I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” Gil retorted as the cuffs snapped on Martin’s wrists. However, Martin only laughed at this. If he escaped once, he could easily do it again, and nothing was going to stop him from seeing another big moment in his son’s life.

[100daydresschallenge]

Day Thirteen

The weather today is awful. There are winds up to 50mph here in the fens and icy raindrops are clattering against the windows. I have to get some exercise and fresh air otherwise I’ll turn into a baked potato so I’m psyching myself up for braving the elements and taking the long-suffering dog for a walk.

Having washed and dried The Dress on Friday night it still feels fresh and clean today (Sunday). By the end of the day on Friday I had truly had enough of the 100 day challenge and was ready to burn everything I was wearing. I was oily and dirty and I felt like I could smell everything that had touched The Dress since its previous wash. It was like wearing an ash tray full of food scraps and sweat.

I put this down to feeling a bit grim and also ✨hormones✨ because I’m pretty sure my sensitive nose is linked to whatever is going on chemically in my silly body. However, I had a chat with my health-conscious brother, in which he told me that when he’s fasting he reaches a point after about 36 hours without food where he can smell things from several rooms away. He gave the example of being able to identify stale bread in a room 3 doors away from himself. I wonder if being in a fasted state gives the human nose powers of food detection that we don’t normally utilise?

This brings me on to a topic that I said I wouldn’t go into, so I will be brief. I’ve been maintaining a calorie deficit since mid-January in order to reach a weight that’s more suitable for my height and thus reduce my risk of lots of nasty diseases. Taking progress photos is something I would never have done willingly. Looking at pictures of yourself critically is not pleasant and I don’t think I’d find it helpful. But wearing the same piece of clothing every day and taking daily photos without specifically trying to show my corporal form has been helpful. This isn’t necessarily from looking at the photos to see evidence of weight lost, but more because each one jogs my memory of what I wore each day, and that led me to notice how the fit of the dress has changed. It’s not been two weeks yet, but the drape at the back is better and the fabric clings less around my hips and back.

When I ordered The Dress my measurements were at the lower end of the XL size but I bought an L, so the original cling problem was my fault. Now that I’m slightly firmer I’m glad that I went with an L and I’m actually feeling motivated to see how it fits me on day 100. An unexpected benefit of the challenge, for sure!

Another benefit I hadn’t expected is that I’m getting more comfortable taking photos of myself. I knew I would find photographing myself every day quite unpleasant. I’m not a selfie-taking person and I don’t like being in photos generally. There’s pressure to look good. Every moment is fleeting and I, like a lot of people, rely too much on memories captured in images rather than in my actual, you know, memory. We’re bombarded by photos all the time and they form how we recall what people look like more than memory of their living faces. I’ve ditched Facebook for good but I still have an Instagram account. Since the pandemic 90% of my social life is conducted online with photographs of people instead of real, three dimensional photos.

It’s worth noting at this point that even if you are aware that people only post photos of themselves looking good, and you know about filters and photoshop, and that people pose themselves to look taller, slimmer, fitter than they really are, you’re still being bombarded by photos of good looking people constantly. After some time, is it not natural that this would skew your perception of what normal humans look like?

My mother had coronavirus back in March 2020 (before it was cool), and she quarantined for a long time. She was very sick and struggled to leave the house until the early summer. I went to visit in July and she told me that after months of only seeing the family in the house, and people on the television she had forgotten the variation of actual human faces. Once she could go out and walk around the town, see faces of people she didn’t know and watch normal people interacting with each other, she said she realised “how very ugly real people are”.

After 13 days I’m finding that my hang up about looking bad in photos is changing. Does it matter if there’s a photo where I look awful? I see fucking ugly people every day and it never did me any harm. The people I actually know and care about already know what I look like and they probably don’t care how I look in a photo. When you know someone you stop seeing what they look like. You see them for who they are and how they make you feel. The beauty of familiarity isn’t the same as the beauty of a symmetrical and healthy face, but it’s beauty nonetheless. A face ‘only a mother could love’ still has the strongest love of all.

Anyway, here is me, knackered and with wet out-of-the-shower hair and a glass of wine, messy room and no accessories:

[all1e23]

Between the Stars [Pt.7]

Pairings: Past!Steve x Reader, Bucky x  Reader

Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. It’s pretty angsty if I’m being honest. Things mellow out as the series goes on. TW: Military/Spouse death

A/N:   This might be my favorite chapter yet. Bucky is soft, and I love him. Reminder because I know the timeline for this fic is confusing with switching between readers and Bucky's POV, we are eight months past Steve's death. Bucky has been home with her for seven. Thanks to my beautiful beta @moonbeambucky​​​ for looking this chapter over for me. If you like it write me a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

Eight months after Steve’s death, Y/n was playing again. It wasn’t on the same scale as it once was and she was no longer teaching, not that it mattered. It was a big deal, Bucky didn’t downplay just how huge this was. She had given up, threw out her dreams in search of new ones as some misguided form of punishment; maybe she thought it was her penance for some terrible crime she convinced herself she committed by living. Bucky understood that feeling better than most, he really did, but she had nothing to atone for. The only one who needed absolution was Bucky and he hoped that by helping her get her life back, he was earning a tiny bit of forgiveness for everything he had done.  

Nothing would ever completely absolve him, but he prayed this would help to even the scales.

Over the last month, Y/n hasn’t mentioned Steve as much. Bucky didn’t know if that was because she was starting to heal or if it hurt too much to keep talking about him. She still slept in his room most nights, only slightly closer to him now, her foot usually wrapped around his ankle and Steve’s pillow was no longer hugging her back -- it was still there every night though. A handful of nights she fell asleep on the couch watching trashy late-night television and Bucky didn’t know if he should pick her up and carry her to bed. Was it too intimate of a gesture? Should he touch her that way? And if he did what bed would he take her to? It wasn’t something he was ready to test and he wouldn’t risk the potential hurt the wrong move could make. So he let her sleep, and stayed close by, sleeping on the small window bench nearby in case she needed him. 

Things began to resemble something better, calmer and there was a bit of normalcy returning. They even started going out. It began with small outings, a trip or two to the market, or down to the Mexican restaurant twenty minutes away for takeout. A few Fridays back, they spent the entire day at one of those you-pick farms a couple of hours away from the house. She told him she wanted to go get peaches. Bucky wasn’t about to tell her no or tell her that they could pick some up at the grocery store without the hassle of having to pick them off a tree. No, he wouldn’t do that. This was a big step for her; she wanted to go out, and well, she’s so damn pretty when she’s smiling. 

The farm was enormous for the area, sitting at around 200 acres. They had blueberries, pumpkins, peaches, and strawberries. Some of the produce wasn’t ready to pick, but Bucky knew Y/n was planning their next trip as soon as the seasons changed, and he really didn’t mind. They had a petting zoo they found upon arrival, at which point Y/n squealed over the baby goats, and they spent some forty-odd minutes feeding them. Then Bucky spent the next hour talking her out of having a baby goat of her own. Okay, Bucky would get her a damn goat if she really wanted one, but he was praying she would forget about it on the drive home. There was a hay maze that was still in the process of being prepped for the upcoming season but Y/n’s eyes lit up at the mere thought. 

The food had to be Y/n’s favorite most of all. 

There were candied peach slices that she had been so excited about. Bucky couldn’t help but laugh when Y/n had a bite with too much of the ginger that was sprinkled on top and wrinkled her nose in disgust. She glared at him, but it only made him grin wider. They both tried the vanilla scones with fresh peach jam and shared a large Mason jar full of peach iced tea because she said it was silly to spend the extra money when they could share. One sip and all Bucky could think about was the sweetness on his lips is what she would taste like.

Maybe the food had been Bucky’s favorite part, too.

The sun was starting to set, and despite being forced to leave the goats behind thanks to closing, Y/n was still smiling. Bucky followed behind her, letting her lead him to whatever tree she deemed had the best peaches. Y/n delicately placed three more peaches in the pail he was carrying and then set her eyes on him, scrutinizing and somehow still playful. She stepped towards him and flicked the bill of his NASA ball cap, causing it to pop up and sit crooked on his head, and she grinned at the feigned look of annoyance he was giving her. 

“I can’t see your face when you wear a cap.”

She told him that as if it was an excuse for her assault on his favorite hat. 

“Well, I’m trying to hide my stupid looking hair.” 

She giggled at that. 

Y/n giggled, and the little bit of his heart that didn’t belong to her became hers. She leaned in, and if he was a stupider man, he would have thought she was going to kiss him by the look in her eyes and how close their lips were. Y/n slowly reached up and pulled his hat off his head only to plop it on top of her own. If she was his, he would have pulled her close and claimed those pretty lips, savoring the honeyed peach and candied ginger he knew was still lingering on her tongue as he took his sweet time tasting her. He would have kissed her until she was smiling and giggling and sighing in that soft way she does when she’s really happy. 

She wasn’t his. So he didn’t. 

But he would dream about what it would be like if she was. 

“Looks better on me anyway,” Y/n told him with a grin, wandering off towards the next row of trees. 

Bucky could only watch as she walked away with his hat and his heart. He mumbled quietly to the peaches hanging nearby, “Yes, it does.” 

After their outing, their day trips became something they both looked forward to. It wasn’t their norm. In the past, they spent a lot of their time watching movies, sitting in the quiet enjoying each other’s company, or Bucky would read while she played and worked on her music. But this new normal was good, too. It was nice to see more than the seafoam green walls of her living room, and he would do just about anything if it made her happy. 

“Hey.” 

Bucky looked up from his spot on the couch to find Y/n standing next to him in those black skinny jeans that make his knees weak and a plain white t-shirt. He knew she was wearing that black lace bra of hers because he could make out the imprint of the lace against the delicate fabric of her shirt, and he recognized the design from an embarrassing mix-up on laundry day. Bucky couldn’t seem to find his voice so he met her gaze, a question lingering in his own eyes as he waited for her to spill whatever she was so excited about.

“Wanna take me out?” 

He laughed softly and closed the book in his hand. He found it funny that she still asked him that. The answer would always be yes. For her, it’s always yes. 

“I’ll take you wherever you wanna go, Y/n.”

They went out to dinner that night. It wasn’t anything lavish, but it was the right amount of rowdy. There was a band playing out on the patio and the music carried through the open doors to where they shared a small booth inside, it was loud but not so they couldn’t talk. She ordered pasta because pasta always makes her happy, and Bucky tries his hardest to make sure she’s happy. They talked a lot, well, she talked a lot. That wouldn’t be so strange if she hadn’t been so closed off the last eight months. 

Bucky let her talk about how she wanted to see if the band had any shows soon because she wanted to see them play in a better venue, and she told him she liked lights the restaurant had above the tables -- a large beam with hanging Edison bulbs wrapped around them. She talked about the funny picture of him Sam posted on Instagram. Bucky had rolled his eyes at that. Sam had the bad habit of taking candid photos of everyone, and he always posted the worst ones of Bucky. This one happened to be from the worst possible angle; the camera caught his mouth hanging wide open as Bucky took a bite out half of a cheese pizza, folded over and covered in potato chips. Some people eat pizza that way, it wasn’t weird or funny, and Bucky stood by that. The night was perfect, but even perfection has a few cracks if you look hard enough. 

Someone had mistaken them for a couple that night, and Bucky was quick to correct them. He informed the older man and his wife that she was his best friend, she was taken by another lucky man. It was all platonic Bucky had said. Y/n didn’t say anything. She watched Bucky charm the older couple and gave them a friendly smile and a wave as they walked away. 

“Platonic,” she muttered quietly once it was just them again. 

Bucky looked up from his half-eaten burger and ketchup soaked fries, took in the furrow of her brow, and the frown sitting where a smile was beaming only a few moments ago, and his heart sank. 

None of that was good. 

“Yeah, Trouble.” 

Bucky’s eyes dropped to the wedding band she was still wearing without meaning to, and she quickly pulled her hand under the table. The rest of dinner was quiet, and they didn’t speak about it again. 

--

They never talked about what happened at the farm or dinner that night, but whatever bothered her the night at the restaurant hadn’t caused a setback in the healing process as Bucky had feared. It seemed forgotten. Bucky was thankful for that, and he was thankful for days like today. Y/n wanted to spend the day at home, relaxing. She informed him that today would be perfect if she could spend the day with just him. She might have said something like, “I just want to spend today curled up on the couch watching movies with you.” Not that Bucky memorized the way her voice sounded when she said that or anything. 

Three movies into their marathon and Y/n declared they needed a break. She was going to figure out something to eat for dinner, and Bucky wasn’t sure how it happened, but he found himself upstairs, staring at a ghost. The letters Steve gave him have been tucked away in a drawer of the old desk that sat in the corner of his room. They caused him more heartache than Steve intended Bucky was sure. Or maybe this was exactly what Steve wanted. This was his punishment for loving her. Bucky tapped the letter on the desk and ran a hand down his face, Bucky had hoped they would disappear, and he wouldn’t have to look at them again, but there all twelve sat. 

A heavy-handed fist pounded on the front door, startling Bucky out of his trance and his stomach dropped at the sound. He wasn’t down there with Y/n, not that she needed him to answer the door, and lord knows if she knew he dared to even think about babying her like that, she would chew him out for a week straight. Still, he didn’t like leaving her completely on her own, not yet. Bucky tossed the letter back in the drawer, and hastily closed it before trampling downstairs. 

Bucky made out a familiar voice as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “Well, you never answer your phone anymore, and I figured you were spending all your time with-” 

Her father met Bucky’s eyes, and he grinned.

“-Bucky. Well, shit, son. It’s good to see you home.” 

Bucky grinned and took the hand that was extended towards him. He hadn’t expected it to be her father at the door; he thought Sam or maybe Natasha. It made sense, though. No one has come by to check on her since he’s been home. It was about time they started to get visitors, and Y/n didn’t answer her phone much anymore, so if someone wanted to talk to her showing up like this was their only choice. Bucky knew she wasn’t doing that on purpose, she had to put some things off in order to keep going, and there wasn’t any shame in that. 

He was doing the very same thing. 

Y/n was uncomfortable, whether her dad knew Bucky wasn’t sure. Bucky knew, though. She hates small talk, so Bucky knew when Y/n said she was starting the grill, she just wanted a moment to breathe without being judged; a minute so she could prepare mentally for a guest when she didn’t want one. Bucky could keep her dad busy until she was ready for idle chit chat and undoubtedly Invasive questions. How hard could it be to keep up a conversation and look for a small fire on the porch? 

He could handle it; smoke meant they had to run. It would be fine. 

“I thought you would’ve stopped by before now.” 

Bucky passed over an amber-colored bottle from the fridge, taking a beer for himself and leaned against the counter. It probably wasn’t proper or how Steve would entertain him, but Bucky wasn’t Steve. He didn’t even know why he was thinking about that. This was still Steve’s house and his wife, no matter how much Bucky wished this life was his. 

“Well, I knew she was in good hands. She has you.” 

He smiled but shook his head. “I appreciate that. She’s probably helping me more than I’m helping her.” 

“I doubt that.” 

Bucky caved under the weight of his stare and grudgingly nodded his head in agreement (or cession depending on who you ask). He has yet to win an argument with her dad, and Bucky wasn't about to try to now. 

"We haven't had a chance to talk since you've been home. I've meaning to come by.  Y'know how much we love Steve; we always have." 

Bucky tried to keep his face impassive, his grip on the bottle in his hand tightened, and he could feel his stomach-churning. Where the hell was this going? 

“He was a good man and a good husband. Took care of Y/n, made sure she was happy and was always respectful.” 

Bucky relaxed some when he realized he was simply praising his lost friend, and he nodded, taking a swig of his beer to wash his guilt down. Yeah, that was Steve. The polished side of the coin. The hero, not the broken sidekick.The better of the two. Bucky heard the speech before; it was one truth he knew well. 

“But I always thought it was going to be you.” 

Bucky froze and by some small miracle managed to keep his face blank as the older man went on, “Even up to the day of the wedding I had this feeling one of the girls were going to come running in, flowers in their hair to tell me she ran off with you and the wedding was off.” 

Bucky huffed. “She would never do that.” 

Her dad smiled and nodded his agreement. “She wouldn’t, but you would have.”

Bucky licked his lips and dropped his gaze to the counter, not risking the chance the truth could be seen in his eyes. He couldn’t lie and say he didn’t think about it after Steve proposed. That he didn’t let it play out like some romantic drama in his head where he got to her just in time and told her the truth, the whole real, painful truth, and she loved him back all along. 

But she didn’t. She loved Steve, still did. 

It was obvious any time Steve was mentioned or when something reminded her of him. He could see it written all over her how much she still loved Steve, and Bucky couldn’t blame her. He still loved Steve too. Despite everything, Bucky loved them both. 

“Give her time to work through her grief, and I’m guessing you need to deal with your own. Losing someone you love is never easy. The time will come though when you both can move on. I’m not saying you’ll do that together or that I think you should, but there may be the chance to in the future. If you were looking for hope of some sort, well, that’s the best I can offer you.” 

Y/n had found her way back into the kitchen, no smoke in sight and their conversation ended there. It wasn’t one Bucky wanted to continue anyway. Not when the hope he was offering didn’t exist. Bucky tried to leave them alone so she could spend alone time with her dad, but she gave him the look, the one that pleaded with him to stay and tugged on his heart. So he stayed by her side until the stars were shining brightly and they were alone once again. 

Bucky had been more careful with his affection after that. He was meaningful in his touch and waited to make sure he meant each one. Not that it was that hard to do, he meant every one. When it came to Y/n, everything Bucky did had meaning, a purpose. 

Y/n had started asking him to go on a walk around sunset every night. It was getting cooler out now that autumn was right around the corner, and she liked to watch how everything around them changed -- slowly almost without notice.

Their walk tonight felt different. Things had changed between them, when Bucky didn’t know. He wasn’t sure what they had changed to, but he wasn’t going to question it. He was afraid if he did, she would realize her mistake, and all these small moments between them would stop. Halfway through their walk, Y/n had let her hands hang by her side instead of staying crossed over her chest. When they were kids, she would do that when she wanted Bucky to hold her hand, or maybe he imagined that she ever truly wanted to hold his hand. 

Bucky never could figure her out.

He never knew what she meant when she would lean in close to whisper something in his ear and pull away just as fast. When she would tease him and give him that giggle that had his heart stopping and restarting like an old engine that was about to give out. He could never tell if she felt something beyond what they already were; if she wanted him the way he wanted her. 

Her street was just up the hill, and Bucky finally gave in to the screaming in his chest because feeling her hand in his once more was all he could think about. He slowly slid his fingertips down her forearm until he reached her palm. He risked a peek at her as he laced their fingers together and caught the smile she was trying to hide by dropping her head to gaze down to her white high-tops and his black boots. 

Bucky didn’t know if Y/n wanted to hold his hand, and at this point, he wasn’t sure if he knew her as well as he thought, but he sure did love that smile.

Previous // Next

[fromthedeskofthecaptain]

Ghosts Empire Online Spoiler Special final part...

Ben, Larry and Martha.

Martha notes Fanny’s character development. They are planning to show more of her soft side in series three.

Ben wants to hold back from the Captain’s death, partly because it’s not the most interesting thing about him. He’s very aware that the tone needs to be quite carefully balanced between comedy and genuinely heartfelt emotion and doesn’t want to get too “heavy” with the Captain’s storylines, while still injecting drama and focusing on why he is as he is. Larry says they knew very early on how Cap died, but some of the characters have not been worked out fully or have changed because they realized something else has more dramatic possibilities.

Episode 1 -

Larry makes the point that the ghosts are like toddlers “with their hands tied behind their backs” in that they can do very little for themselves and Alison now has a morning routine revolving around setting them up for their days. He felt they had to do a ghost hunter episode at some point because it was obvious and a reversal of series one’s “cynicism” about the existence of ghosts from the living characters.

Cap’s fitness obsession is in there in part because Ben is really into running but Larry points out that his own run through woods in episode five was harder on him than filming the Captain’s short jog was on Ben! Ben had a stunt coordinator to help him do a tiny jump onto a crash mat when he was leaping to save Lady Button from being seen. They all found this hilarious because it was such a minor stunt and they’d all done loads of falling over in Horrible Histories.

Episode 3 -

They talked about the level of explosion they needed to have to warrant the Captain’s concern about the buried secret (once we discovered it wasn’t wholly a metaphor) without it being something that would’ve killed everyone. Larry finds it funny that Ben was so into war films as a child that he immediately said “oh, you’d need a limpet mine!” (These are attached to ships to create holes below the waterline).

Captain’s viability as a character comes from his internal conflict over being gay. He thinks the Edwardian era until the 50s was probably harder for gay men than prior to that. He doesn’t elaborate on why, but seems to say there was something about that time period in particular.

(Ed: He doesn’t say why he thinks this. I speculated on a few ideas

1. Perhaps the late Victorian surge in the power of the national press and use of the camera reduced people’s sense of privacy and enabled people to be the subject of campaigns and notoriety, e.g Oscar Wilde.

2 Perhaps he meant the 1885 Labouchere Amendment to the criminal law that made “gross indecency” short of proven anal sex a crime as well. Prior to that the law on male homosexuality was from Tudor times and required evidence of anal penetration proven to a legal standard. Any other sexual or intimate act between men had been legal (albeit not necessarily socially accepted). The amendment meant anything that could be considered foreplay or “coming on” to someone was now illegal. No definition was provided in the Act, which made it easier, not harder, to prosecute.

3. The First World War and all that surrounded it led to the particular construction that can be summed up as “patriotism requires battle-readiness, which means skills and virtues of traditional masculinity which are predicated on heterosexuality.” This is a drastic simplification, of course.

Aaaannnd back to Ben...

He says he never expected the degree to which the Captain has been adopted as significant character that embodies how so many people feel. Larry says that he thinks this is because Cap is a character who is gay, not a gay character and the majority of his story is about his functioning as a personality. His personality affects how he processes being gay and how he processes many other things too, but it isn’t that being gay IS his personality. (Ed: This is so important! As a gay woman I really struggle with characters who are written as “scene” because often that does mean that their entire personality is their sexuality, which I find reductive and alienating. It’s also exhausting when people have this self-portrayal in real life.)

Larry says he thinks the Captain would never have “allowed himself the possibility” that he’s gay because what could he have done about it in his time with his personality and attitude to risk, etc. Ben says Cap’s sexuality has never been treated as a joke in itself.

Fanny has a sexual awakening over Mike that the host described as “going Benny Hill”. Martha can’t watch it because it’s too much. They had to edit it a bit because she went over the top.

Larry says Robin being a conspiracy theorist is because he has no frame of reference for any of the things being discussed so he just believes everything that auto plays on YouTube.

They have to check about swearing and sexual references with Compliance. Ben says it’s funny what they will have problems with and what will be fine. (He seems to say it seems to lack internal logic.) Larry thinks being a quite daft show with a lot of overt silliness helps them get away with e.g. Pat saying “bullshit.”

Martha and Larry love that Simon puts a word in when he is making a noise of exertion when he’s moving things. He’s done Shawaddywaddy, Nixon, and has moved on to footballers’ names. He ad libs them all. They realized that with the burglary episode Julian would have to do everything because otherwise the plot wouldn’t work but thought it’d be ok if they had him be overtly annoyed about it and showed him to be the work shy layabout he thinks poor people are.

Initially, in their first pitch, Julian was dressed in PVC with a ball gag etc and they realized (Ed: thank god!) that they just couldn’t put that on television, so suggested what had happened in a much more likely to be allowed on TV before midnight way.

The hitchhiker Alison meets gave them pause due to its bleakness. Larry says they kept it to remind the audience that ghosts are everywhere and it is a horror comedy. He likes to keep the tone shifting and keep things unexpected. They reference how eager Fanny was to help the burglars, in that she can’t bear to see people do a task badly.

Mary and Kitty work as a team because the actors get on together, plus Kitty is so naive and Mary is such a “wildcard” that “if they only have each other to keep themselves on track” it’ll all go wrong (Larry). They joke about Cap being excited to have a moment to fight off insurgents. Ben calls it “frontline stuff!” and notes that Cap is an appalling military leader “in the wrong job.” This is partly because of leaving those two to do an important job, but generally, too. (Show some respect, Willbond).

Kitty’s song for Music Club was going to be “Saturday Night” by Wigfield, but they couldn’t get clearance. Larry also mentions not being allowed “Come on Eileen.” It’s clearly affected them all very deeply!

The End! (Until the last episode of the podcast, which I think is just about the Christmas special.) x

[jtrokujo]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐀𝐆

paring: Fumikage Tokoyami x fem!Reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: none

gerne: fluff, romance

summary: Today should be a pleasant day as planned, you go to school, hang out with friends and do silly things with friends in the dormitory. However, since she was getting her period, she had to put all of that aside and spend her day alone in her room, so that's the way it was meant to be.

—

In a bad mood, the UA student clutched the covers and waited obsessively for the pain to stop.

Like any young woman, she had her period this morning unhappily so the pain prevented her from sleeping, but she planned to go on a date with her boyfriend right after school.

When the couple in love go for a walk through the city, eat various street foods, buy new clothes, and probably also new games in which they can play together and still see the sunset in a high mountain.

It's nothing special, but that Tokoyami has prepared everything gives her a guilty conscience.

Out of shame and hatred, she wrote her boyfriend that she unfortunately has to cancel the date, the pain will certainly go away, but it is clear that it would come.

After a few minutes someone knocked on the door, in a morning voice she said that the door is open and no one other than Tokoyami came, but not alone but with his classmates like, Deku, Denki, Ochako, Momo and Jirou.

Confused, she looked at her friends and waited for someone to say something, but instead of saying something, Denki threw himself on his good friend's bed and sighed that he would sleep too and made himself comfortable.

Deku and the others gave their friend something sweet to nibble on and, as they say among friends, wished them a speedy recovery.

Tokoyami stayed with his girlfriend a little longer to make sure that she is no worse than before.

He gently put his hand on her forehead, causing her to sigh softly and finally apologize, "I'm sorry. You have so much planned for today's date and what came ... my rules, but we could do it anyway, right?" "

"As long as you're not doing well, I don't want to risk anything. Besides, we could do a film marathon today, that sounds good, doesn't it?"

She nodded in agreement and closed her eyes and last heard how the door was slammed before she set off into her dream world.

TIME SKIP

After school, the boyfriend, in contrast to his classmates, made his way to the dormitory, but made his way to town so that he could buy small treats for himself and his girlfriend.

Unaccompanied, he went through the various shelves and took the snacks he thought his girlfriend would like.

When he got to the cash register, he put the purchases on the belt and waited for his cell phone to ring.

It was none other than (Y / N), he quickly accepted and ran through the city until he stuck out in front of a game store "Where are you?" immediately asked the friend.

She sounded tired, it could probably be that she just got up. "I'll probably be there in half an hour. Besides, I'm in town, are you feeling a little better?"

When Tokoyami asked his question, he walked in and saw the tons of games for Ps4 / 5, xBox but also Nintendo.

"Well, I've already felt better, but tell me what are you doing in town, it's raining all the time. You could catch a cold." worried the young friend and saw a series on her television screen that she doesn't even know.

"(Y / N)."

"Yes?"

"You sound like a mother, you don't need to say yourself, ok? If I am on my way, I will let you know or we could talk the whole time, but I have to do something important now. See you .”

"And?" asked Mina and ate what actually belonged to her friend.

Sighing, she gave in and said, mumbling, "He said he had something 'important to do' and was coming later."

"Understand."

TIME SKIP

A few hours have passed when Tokoyami finally enters the dormitory.

Some students were in the entrance and greeted him immediately, Denki approached Tokoyami and asked him if they wanted to spend the night with a series marathon, but he had to cancel so reluctantly, but why?

Because his girlfriend is not doing very well first thing in the morning, he thought that he could spend this time playing video games with her and probably watching one or the other film before that.

Tokoyami explained to Denki why he can't today, he nodded understandably and said that dinner was ready.

"I'll be there in 5 minutes." he sighs and made his way to his girlfriend.

Immediately after he knocked on his girlfriend's door about 3 times, it was opened immediately, but not by his girlfriend.

"Hello, Tokoyami." Mina pleased me and immediately turned to (Y / N) who finally got up from her bed.

"Tokoyami." she said and ran up to him, but when she wanted to hug him he immediately held a bag between the gap and said "You can see what's in there after dinner."

Lovely.

Confused, Mina Tokoyami stared and felt uncomfortable between the atmosphere of the two, so she clapped her hands together and said with glee "Ok, let's eat then, don't you think?"

In the dining room everyone talked to everyone, while (Y / N) sat between Momo and Tsu and talked to them, Tokoyami sat between Shoto and Iida, who were extremely quiet.

Sometimes she forgets herself that she is also here in the dining room.

"Hey, (Y / N)!" came the voice from across the room.

(Y / N) immediately stopped eating and looked in the direction where it was coming from, Kirishima.

"Is something? Do you need something?" she asked him immediately, but he didn't look like he wanted anything.

"No, I don't need anything, but thanks for asking. I mainly just wanted to know if you're feeling a little better?" he giggled and scratched his neck.

"Oh, thank you, I'm much better now."

Without a question, everyone continued with what they left off.

Today it was (Y / N) washing up, Ochako actually wanted to do it, but (Y / N) assured her friend that she didn't have to worry about anything and that she could go to her room.

Still, someone stayed by her side and it was none other than Tokoyami.

Of course he knows his girlfriend and knows that it is more of a challenge to have to persuade her to do something.

After several attempts, he finally gave in and helped her rather than persuading her to let him do the chores.

So while (Y / N) is doing the dishes, Tokoyami dries the cleaned dishes.

The only thing I was listening to in the room was the running water, rubbing the sponge and dishes and also rubbing through the dry cloth and the still wet dishes.

The friend sighed bored and finally turned the tap on, she turned her gaze to her boyfriend, who, however, seemed to be very busy drying off.

After Tokoyami was finished, he turned around and saw his girlfriend sitting on a chair, but she was staring bored at her screen and obviously didn't notice that her boyfriend was staring at her.

"(Y / N), are we going?"

Immediately she switched her cell phone to mute and got up from her chair and asked him "Are we going to my or your room?"

"I prefer your room." he said, because, unlike his room, it doesn't look as dark as his girlfriend's.

Once in the room, Tokoyami (Y / N) asked to sit down on her bed and be patient so that he would come back in about 5 minutes.

However, it appeared again in 3 minutes, albeit with a huge bag, if she had noticed it before, she doesn't think so.

"What is it, Tokoyami?" she wondered, getting up from her bed.

"Lie down again and I'll show you."

(Y / N) sat down giggling, because she doesn't get this side of Tokoyami in her face every day until she finally remembered something, the little bag.

Surprised, she asked Tokoyami what was there and pointed in the direction of where the little bag was.

He looked in this direction and got up with a sigh, sitting on her bed he asked which bag she would like to start with.

Thinking about it, (Y / N) first decided on the small bag.

When Tokoyami handed it to his girlfriend, he didn't know what to do himself, should he look at her unpacking, should he rather start a conversation with her, should he turn on the television or shouldn't he do it at all and stare at the floor?

The best was very promising for him, which is why he opted for this variant and stared at the floor while his girlfriend unwrapped the small gift.

It was a bracelet that was sealed under silver and on top of that his name.

Slightly wounded and yet shy, she looked at her friend, who stuck his left arm out.

He was wearing the same bracelet - which of course was engraved with his girlfriend's name.

"Tokoyami, I don't know what to say about that, except thank you."

In a warm hug, Tokoyami felt the warmth that (Y / N) carries within him, and he felt his girlfriend's heartbeat beating more and more against his body from second to second.

Tokoyami patted his girlfriend's back nervously and unsuspectingly until he breaks the hug in a few minutes and shows the big bag in front of her nose and says "You haven't opened this yet."

After several minutes, with the couple busy talking and opening the presents, the convulsions came at an inopportune moment.

Groaning from the pain, (Y / N) narrowed her eyes and asked her friend if he would really like to get a hot water bottle.

Nodding, he was already on his way and came straight back into the room, when Tokoyami (Y / N) handed over the hot water bottle, he put his somewhat announced hand on her forehead and noticed that she might have a fever.

"(Y / N), shall I-" shortly afterwards (Y / N) Tokoyami interrupted him to be able to spend the night with her.

"Is it okay if we play video games tomorrow? I'm not doing so well right now." apologized (Y / N) for what she can't and took Tokyami's hand and squeezed it a little tighter than before.

"You don't have to apologize for that, (Y / N). We can also play together another time, because as long as you're not feeling well, I'll stay by your side."

"Tokoyami."

"Yes?"

"Since when have you been different?"

"I wonder about that too." Dark Shadow's voice came out of nowhere.

[iamdunn]

Miraculous Flash Forward Part 13: Rising Tides

A Miraculous Fan-fic

Written By 

AJ Dunn

Adrien escorted Marinette to his old bedroom at the Agreste Manor. They both were freezing as they both were sopping wet. The Helicopter had brought them back to Paris after the train accident. They were checked over at the hospital then Felix had a car take them back to the manor. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay in one of the other rooms?” Adrien asked as he closed the door behind them. 

“Alone in an empty mansion where Hawk Moth lived.” She said not wanting to look at him. “Is creepy enough, so no, I don’t want to be alone.” Adrien pulled some dry clothes out of his closet and handed them to her.

“You're not much bigger than me as a senior so these should fit you.” Adrien said, handing her the clothes. “That way I can get your clothes in the wash.” It was late and there was really nothing else to do. Marinette took the clothes to the bathroom. Adrien wanted to get into the jet stream tub to warm up but it wasn’t a good idea since neither had swim clothes or reached a point of skinny dipping yet. 

“Adrien.” She called from the bathroom

“Yeah?” He asked. He had already stripped his shirt off. 

“Since we are already wet….” She opened the bathroom door enough for him to see the tub. “Would you care to join me… just so we can warm up.” She wrapped her arm over her chest and looked away. Her face lit up with pink. Adrien smiled and took off his shoes and socks. She was already down as much. He set the temp on the tub then turned the jets on once it was full enough. He offered her a hand as she stepped into the tub in her t-shirt and capri’s. He slipped in wearing just his jeans. He pulled her clothes to him as they sat with their backs against the jets. 

“You know, this tub is so huge a person could swim in it.” Marinette laughed. 

“Kim used to every time he was allowed to sneak.” Adrien laughed. “He would come over when the guys decided to have a ‘hang out’ in my room. But the first chance he got, he would be swimming in the current.”

“Sounds like him.” Marinette chuckled. 

“Are you warmed up now?” Adrien asked.

“I’m comfortable.” She said. “You?”

“You know I love holding you, and I would never want to let go...but.” He pointed to his pants. “Jeans in a tub?” She laughed at him. 

“Why didn’t you put some shorts on?”

“I don’t exactly have any here that fit me anymore.” They both laughed. 

“I suppose I should let you get out of the tub then.” She said pulling away from him. He stood up and stepped out of the tub. He grabbed some towels from the closet next to the shower. He set up the folding clothes rack in the shower. 

“Close your eyes while I take my pants off.” She turned in the tub until her back was to him. “You know, in Asia, the bath houses, bathing publicly in nothing but a towel is common, even encouraged.” 

“Really?” She said quietly. “Don’t people get embarrassed?” 

“Why would they?” Adrien asked, wrapping a towel around his waist then stepping back into the tub holding the towel so it didn’t slip as he sat down next to her. 

“It’s just that.” Her face lit up as her eyes were still closed. 

“Go ahead, and take your wet clothes off, I will put a towel on the counter for you.” He lifted her up to the edge of the tub so she could climb out. “I promise I will be a gentleman.” 

“Uh, okay, if you think…” He turned his back to her until she returned with a towel wrapped around her. He helped her back in. She sat down next to him as he tucked her into his arms again. “Comfy now?” She asked him.

“Completely, you.” Adrien felt the warmth of his heart beat as he held her. 

“Yes, even though.” Marinette paused. “I’m a little embarrassed.” 

“Why, you're my girlfriend, and at least you're not completely naked.” he chuckled. He lifted her face up to meet his then gently kissed her lips. 

“I think…” She took a deep breath. “That all of this excitement has gone to my head.” her face flushed. “I am… I mean, I think I should get out before I fall asleep.” She climbed over him and went to the shower to hang the towel and put on the clothes he got for her. 

“There’s more towels in that cupboard.” he heard it open but kept his back to her. After she left the bathroom he got out releasing the water then grabbed a dry towel. 

He pulled out all of his clothes until he found a large pair of sweats then tried them on in the bathroom, they were tight and short but fit well enough. Marinette was already asleep on his bed so he grabbed a blanket and tried to make himself comfortable on the couch. 

“How’s that working out for you?” Plagg asked. Teasing him. 

“Shut up Plagg.” He tried to roll over but almost fell off the couch.

“Are you coming to bed soon?” He heard Marinette ask. 

“You want me to…”

“Get over here, don't be a silly kitty.” She giggled. He slid between the sheets as she scooted closer to him. She cuddled into his chest and fell asleep. 

Adrien turned the television on as he waited for the clothes to dry. Marinette was still asleep but he managed to get breakfast made while the clothes were in the wash. Yesterday had been a very exhausting day and She really needed her sleep. It had been the first time they have had to call on their powers for a life or death situation since Hawk Moth was defeated. 

“I miss the days when my frig was fully stocked with Camembert.” Plagg reminisced. “Coming home after a long day to indulge in some…”

“Enough complaining Plagg, you're going to wake Marinette.” Tikki flew over to the couch and plopped down beside him.

“Tell me you don’t miss it too Sugar Cube?” Plagg teased

“Of course I miss those days, we had so much fun.” Tikki smiled “But we’ve had eternity to enjoy those brief moments, and this is a pleasant reprieve from fighting evil.” 

“I still can’t believe you kwami’s have powered holders for so long.” Adrien mused. “Has there always been a Ladybug and Cat Noir duo?”

“Since the very beginning, since the Kwami’s have been bound to our jewels.” Tikki explained.

“Before that, we were free roaming beings.” Plagg reminded. 

Adrien’s phone began to go off. He scrambled to get it before it woke Marientte, but it was a phone call not the alarm for the dryer. 

“Felix hey what’s up.” Adrien said

“Look out the window.” Felix sounded upset. Adrien stood up and went to the window. The water had risen in the Seine until it had covered the streets and was still rising. Not as fast as it had when Siren flooded Paris, but fast enough to know it would reach his bedroom in no time. He rushed to the laundry room to find the water already up to his ankles, He pulled their clothes out and went back to the bedroom.

“Marinette, wake up.” He called as he entered the room, dumping the dry clothes onto the bed. “Get up, we don’t have time to get dressed, just transform.”

“What happens when we detransform?” She said groggily. She was still in his shorts and t-shirt. Damn she was cute. 

“Touche.” he tossed her the clothes then spun around so she could get dressed as he pulled his pants on. “The city is flooding.” 

“It can’t be an akuma or a sentimonster, Duusuu and Nooroo haven’t left the miracle box since I got them back.” Marinette said before she rushed to the window to look out. She had already changed. Adrien met her at the window. They couldn’t see the source as they looked out.

“Think we should get the team together to scout for it?” Marinette asked. 

“Let’s take a look around first, see what we are dealing with before we involve anyone else.” Adrien answered. 

“Let’s go already.” Tikki said excitedly. 

“But what about breakfast?” Plagg complained. 

Adrien and Marinette called on their transformation then leaped out the bedroom window as Adrien had done so many times as a kid. They made their rounds through the city but couldn’t find the source. They landed on the roof of the Bourgeois hotel only to find Felix waiting. 

“There’s no sign of a villain anywhere.” Cat Noir told him. 

“That’s because you’re looking in the wrong place.” Felix said, pointing into the water. “I’ve seen them several times now.” 

“Them?” Ladybug asked. 

“There’s two of them.” Felix said. “I’m not entirely sure what they are but a new broadcast went out this morning before the water began to rise.” He handed them his phone already cued up. 

“People of Paris, hand over Ladybug and Cat Noir along with all of their little friends or we will destroy Paris once and for all.” The echoing tone came from two mermaid-like creatures speaking simultaneously from underwater. Their hair floated lifelessly around their bluish bodies. A large fin in place of human legs, their fingers were webbed together with gills to the sides of their bosoms. 

“How did they film underwater like that?” Marinette asked. 

“Those are the camera’s at the aquarium.” Cat Noir announced. “Mom used to take me there all of the time.” 

“We can’t call on the others, it’s too dangerous.” Ladybug said. 

“It’s too late for that.” The voice came from behind them. It was Viperon. Who had landed not far from them. “I am here to help, but I know some others that have been waiting for a moment like this. So don’t keep them waiting Ladybug?”

“I don’t even know where they are?” Ladybug whimpered. 

“Well you can start with me.” Zoe said, stepping out from behind the bushes. She must have come with Viperon and just stayed hidden to conceal her identity from Felix. 

“If we do this, your identities may be revealed to the rest of the team.” Ladybug said.

“I understand the risks Ladybug, I always have.” Zoe held out her hand. Ladybug opened her yo-yo and pulled out the Bee miraculous. 

“Ladybug!” A voice came from the water below. It was Kim. Ladybug dropped her yo-yo and pulled it up. 

“Woo, I am ready to suit up.” Kim said before realizing he was surrounded by more than just her and Cat. “Oops.” 

“Sorry Kim, our identities can’t remain hidden if we are going to gather everyone.” She pulled out the Monkey and handed it to him. He called on his transformation. 

“Now to find the love birds.” Cat said with a laugh.

“Love Birds?” Ladybug asked. “Wait, you know already.” 

“Nino told me, a long time ago, I mean, he told the other me.” He laughed. He wasn’t ready to tell everyone who he was yet.

“Nino?” Kim said, “I know exactly where he is.”

“Go get him, and Alya too.” Ladybug said. 

“Viperion, go get Juleka and Rose. Cat, find Ivan and Mylene.” Ladybug ordered. 

“What about Pegasus?” Cat asked. Ladybug looked up at him then to Felix who was still standing there silently. 

“Vesperia, go find Max, Marc and Nathaniel.” Without hesitation she leapt off the building. Followed by Viperon and Cat Noir. King Monkey was long gone. Ladybug looked up at Felix.

“What about me?” he said looking hurt. “Don’t you trust me.” 

“Of course I do, but I need you to help me, take me to the kitchen.” he led the way to his suit. She gave him a list of ingredients. “I’m sorry, but I need you to cry.” She said as she mixed the ingredients. His mouth pulled tight into a frown. “No, silly, a happy tear.” 

“A happy tear.” He looked so serious she wondered if it were even possible to make him so happy he’d cry. 

“Why do people put candles on top of a birthday cake?” She asked him. He shook his head. “Because it’s too hard to put them on the bottom.” he smiled but didn't laugh. “Have you ever been that happy before?” She asked curiously. 

“Not since Adrien and I were children running through the halls, playing tag, and games.” He smiled as he spoke of his time with his brother, who then he thought was only his cousin. “It makes sense now, knowing we are twins and not just cousins, how close we were.” 

“Tell me for your favorite memory.” She asked him as she sat on a stool by the counter. He leaned against the sink crossing his arms over his chest. He scoffed. 

“This one time, it was time for me to go home and Adrien had it in his mind that he wasn’t going to let me. So we changed clothes and hid. So if they found us, they would try to take him instead and he would be like ‘I’m not Felix’. We had Gabriel so confused that I ended up staying the entire weekend until they finally figured out which one of us was which.” Felix’s smile was so bright, but no tears. “I grew up an only child, just like he did. Kept inside, never allowed to have a life, but unlike him, I never got to go to school.” He looked over at Marinette, his sadness moistening his eyes. 

“But you're not alone now!” Ladybug reminded him. “You have us, and you have a brother.” His smile returned. 

“He called me brother.” Felix’s eyes swelled up. Ladybug couldn’t tell if they were sad tears or happy ones. Ladybug held the bowl under his chin as his tears fell into the bowl. She continued to mix the concoction then let go of her transformation. 

“Sorry Tikki, I haven’t done this in awhile and I hope that it works.” She scooped a tiny bit into a spoon and held it up for Tikki to drink. Tikki suddenly transformed in a bright light. 

“Wow, that is more powerful than anything Master Fu ever made.” Tikki said as her aquatic form now had a luminescent radiance to it. 

“We need something to separate this into for the others.” Marinette and Felix looked around. But found nothing. “Can you wait on the roof for the others, and bring them here?” She asked him. He left. 

Cat Noir found Ivan and Mylene not far from the Hotel, they had seen Cat and Ladybug and were in a small boat making their way to the hotel. As soon as they got to the roof, they found Rose and Juleka with Viperon. Max showed up not long after with Vesperia. 

“I couldn't find Marc and Nathaniel.” Vesperia told Cat.

“Cat Noir.” Felix called from the elevator, “we're waiting for everyone in my suit.”

“You guys go, I’ll wait up here.” Cat said. 

“She told me to wait.” Felix huffed. 

“They don’t know which suite is yours.” Cat wasn’t wrong. Felix left him leading the others to Ladybug. “Wait a second Felix.” He called after. He placed a hand on his shoulders. “I wish you would have been there all along, to be part of this team, but I am glad you are here now.” Felix nodded then pushed the button closing the doors. 

Ladybug waited for the rest of the team before administering the potion. Cat finally arrived with Nino and Alya. 

“Before we begin I want to apologize that I had to forgo your secret identities.” Ladybug said. 

“It’s okay Ladybug, we trust you.” Alya said as the rest of the group agreed. 

“Good, because I have something to show you all, so please if you are already transformed, release it, because you Kwami’s are going to have to power up.” Cat Noir stepped up next to the Aquatic Ladybug. 

“Spots off.” The look of shock on several of their faces told her exactly who had suspected her identity all along. Vesperia had figured it out during an akuma mission and She had told Alya, but the rest were shocked. 

“Claws in.” The entire crowd gasped except Nino and again Luka. “Wait, Luka you knew.” 

“Wishmaker man.” was all he had to say. 

“Nino?” 

“Come one man, how can I not know my best bro was Cat Noir.” He smiled awkwardly. 

“Alright Kwami’s we have two mermaids who want revenge on Ladybug and Cat Noir for some unknown reason.” Marinette started. 

“I think I know, I just don’t know how.” Felix offered. “Adrien, did you notice the silver bands on their webbed hands? Sudden realization hit him. 

“They want vengeance for us destroying their family.” Adrien’s voice shook. “Great, now I have to apologize to my friends yet again for putting your lives in danger because my parents are evil.” 

“If you have to apologize then, so do I remember we share…” Felix froze.

“No more secrets Felix, we are your family now.” Marinette placed a hand on his shoulder.” 

“Felix and I are twin brothers, Gabriel is our father, and Amelie our mother.” Adrien said, stepping up next to him. “I am happy and proud to stand with you brother.” Marinette topped Tikki off and transformed. She pulled out a miraculous from her yoyo then handed it to Adrien. He opened his hand and saw which one it was. He looked at Ladybug then back to his brother. 

“We are going to need a lot of help on this one.” Ladybug said.

“Felix Graham De Vanily, this is the Butterfly miraculous, you will use it for the greater good and you will return it when the job is done.” He opened his hand and fixed the broach to Felix’s lapel. 

“Alright drink up Kwami’s.” Ladybug said as all of them sat around the bowl drinking from it together,The whole group had to close their eyes as the Kwami’s lit up in bright phosphorescents. The team headed for the rooftop. They called on their kwami’s to transform.

“Wait.” Cat turned back to his brother who stood there dressed in a purple suit, his slick hair exposed as opposed to the bullet style head wear of Hawk Moth.

“Purple Emperor.” Felix shrugged. “It’s the name of a purple butterfly, so I guess.” 

“It’s perfect.” Purple Tigress leaped on him squeezing him into a tight hug with Pigella joining the hug.  

“Superhero stance?” Cat Noir asked. Striking a pose as he squatted on the railing. The group joined him.

[ezrisdax-archive]

Franmaya sickfic for the bingo prompts?

for my sapphic september bingo card and also over here on ao3

~~

Franziska was awoken by the heavy thump at her door followed by a yelp and a scrambling noise that didn’t make sense to her muddled brain.

Determinedly with only the resolve a Von Karma could have she forced her bleary eyes open and made herself sit up. The room swayed as she did, making her wish to fall back into her pillows but the threat of an intruder loomed large.

Shuffling noises sounded down the hall and Franziska reached over for her phone, ready to call even Gumshoe if the situation deteriorated.

The door to her room creaked open and Franziska blinked at the sudden light, not noticing how dark her room had been until then.

“Oh! You are up!” A familiar voice said and Franziska kept blinking away the spots of light to focus until Maya Fey came into view. “Edgeworth said you were probably still sleeping, I was trying to be quiet just in case, guess I didn’t do a very good job hunh? Good thing I’m a spirit medium and not a ninja. All though…I could be a samurai I’ll bet…” Maya continued onwards, her blathering making Franziska’s head spin.

“Maya Fey.” Franziska bit out but it lacked any harshness with how raspy her voice was.

Maya winced at the noise and dug into the over large bag at her side.

“Here.” She said, pulling out a bottle of apple juice and handing it to Franziska.

When Franziska just stared at it Maya took it back and popped the lid off, handing it back.

“I am not an invalid.” Franziska bristled slightly.

“I didn’t think you were. But Edgeworth said you were feeling terrible. Guess we can’t recover from colds so fast like Nick does. All though he did say he wasn’t as good at it when he was my age.” Maya tilted her head up in thought. “Maybe we’ll get better at it then too.” She set the bag down at the door and then flopped onto the bed covers, nearly hitting Franziska’s leg in the process.

“What?” Franziska asked, taking a sip of the juice only because it was cold and soothing to her throat.

“You know, like we’ll develop a super immune system and be able to fall off bridges with only a cold.”

“I believe that is just a condition limited to Phoenix Wright.”

“He is special that way.” Maya admitted lightly, laughing.

“What are you doing here, Maya Fey?” Franziska asked after she remembered to, not because she’d been sidetracked by Maya laughing or anything ridiculous such as that.

“Oh! Well Edgeworth called our office to say you weren’t doing well, I guess spending all the time in a freezing cold temple trying to get me out wasn’t good for you after all.”

“It wasn’t even you.” Franziska muttered.

“But you thought it was me! And it’s the thought that counts!” Maya insisted. “I just wanted to return the favour so here I am, ready to help you get better! I got the key from Edgeworth, he said ‘tell Franziska not to do anything foolish’.”

Franziska scoffed. “Says the foolish fool himself.”

Maya laughed again. “He said you’d say something like that. I brought everything you need to feel better.” She stood up and walked over to her bag and began pulling things out. “Pearly made you chicken noodle soup and I brought over my Pink Princess DVDs so we can watch them together and here.” Maya pulled out a purple blanket. “My sis bought me this, it always makes me feel better.” She draped it over Franziska without another word.

It smelled vaguely like cedar and incense that Franziska suspected they burned at the temple Maya worked at, strong enough that it could get through even her clogged senses. Except it was making her sneeze.

A box of tissues was shoved in her face and Franziska took them with as much dignity she could muster.

“This isn’t necessary.” Franziska started but was waved off by Maya.

“Don’t be silly, you risked your life for me so it’s the least I can do. Besides, I hate being alone when I’m sick.”

“I am not sick.” Franziska finally denied. “It is merely…a foolish allergy.”

Maya stared at her.

Franziska stared back.

Or tried to which was hard because her eyelids felt to heavy and her head kept drooping .

“Okay…an allergy.” Maya said doubtfully. “Well, either way I’m here for you. Now where’s your TV?”

“I do not have a TV. They are for the foolish.” Franziska muttered.

“What?! You don’t have one?!” Maya groaned. “I guess I could ask Nick to bring me over his…” Maya muttered.

Whatever else she was going to say was lost as Franziska slumped back and sleep over took her again.

~~

When she woke up it was to the sound of swords clinking together, or rather how television shows assumed swords sounded.

“That is incorrect.” Franziska said groggily.

“You’re awake!”

The noise paused as Maya hovered over her, beaming down at Franziska.

“What is that foolish racket?”

“Pink Princess: Warrior of Little Olde Tokyo, episode seven, Our Swords Clash with Thunder! It introduces her sidekick, Oyster.”

“Swords do not create thunder.” Franziska said, trying to focus on what made sense which was really none of it.

“Of course they don’t.” Maya agreed. “But they do clash!”

Franziska opened her mouth for a rebuttal but her stomach grumbled. Maya scrambled off the bed she’d been lying on next to Franziska and scurried off. Franziska watched her go with confusion, wondering if perhaps her brain had just imagined this. Like a terrible painting done by one of Wright’s friends.

The paused picture on the now installed TV before her bed suggested otherwise. The pink was making her a little nauseous and she turned her head to bury into the purple blanket still covering her, a much more elegant colour.

It didn’t feel like long before Maya was back in the room, balancing a tray in her hands that she set down in Franziska’s lap. On the tray was a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a bottle of medicine accompanied by a glass of water. Franziska took the water and medicine, ignoring the Cold Killer X printed on the bottle.

She stared at the soup a little suspiciously.

“Don’t worry, Pearly made it, she’s much better at this than I am.” Maya said, noticing her staring.

Franziska started, realizing she’d been a little rude and she could see Maya twitching a little. She kept smoothing down the sleeves of her acolyte clothes and glancing between Franziska and the soup.

With a little trepidation Franziska picked up the spoon and took a bite. To her relief it didn’t taste bad though that could have been her stuffed up nose allowing her not to notice.

“See.” Maya said when she noticed Franziska not spitting it out. “Not bad right? I still haven’t really mastered that but one thing at a time. After all, I’ve got to get spirit medium-ing down first.”

“I do not believe that is a word.”

“Well are you a spirit medium?” Maya asked, her voice teasing. “Because we have our own lingo. Just ask Pearly, or I can channel my sister…”

“Please don’t.”

“Aw you only need my company, I get it.” Maya flopped onto the bed again, bouncing lightly and making soup spill over the edges of the bowl. “Oops.” She made a face. “I guess I haven’t mastered taking care of someone when sick either.”

“You are not doing a terrible job.” Franziska said idly, eating more of her soup before she lost it to Maya trying something else.

“Coming from you that means a lot, Franzy.”

“You will refer to me as Franziska Von Karma.” Franziska said and glared but was certain it lost it’s effect when she sniffled.

“Nah, that’s too long and boring.”

Franziska sputtered, her defense of the Von Karma name at the tip of her tongue.

“Besides, friends call each other nicknames.”

Franziska stopped, taken aback. “We are friends?”

“You stayed up at a temple trying to rescue me and helped Edgeworth get the trial going for Nick, I’d say that makes us friends.” Maya was fiddling with her sleeves again, her face turned away and slightly and buried in a pillow. “I thought coming over here would solidify it.”

Franziska opened her mouth and shut it with a click. “Ah.” She picked up her water and took a sip. “Very well, it would be foolish to admit otherwise I see.” She purposefully avoided looking at Maya as she said it but it was hard not to notice the glee on Maya’s face when she shot up, completely spilling what was left over in the bowl.

“Oh no, sorry Franzy!” Maya rushed to mop it up, pulling at tissues at the box. “I’ll get you a fresh one.” She took the tray and slipped out of the room without another word.

Franziska stared at the glass of water still in her hand despite the commotion.

“Friends.” She repeated, arching an eyebrow at the water.

“Did that water do something to you, are you going to question it on the stand?” Maya asked as she came back in to see Franziska still looking at the water. She set a new bowl of soup down in front of Franziska with much more care than she had previously

“Perhaps. It would certainly be better than when Phoenix Wright questioned a parrot.”

“Oh you heard about that!” Maya giggled at the memory. “Yeah we certainly seem to get some strange things happened on the stand…”

“I’ve noticed.” Franziska said drily and took the spoon once more to finish her soup as fast as she could while still portraying perfection. Which she did of course, because she was a Von Karma.

“I think it makes things more interesting. You just gotta have some fun with some of these cases.” Maya swallowed hard. “The last one was…”

Franziska watched her from the corner of her eyes, seeing Maya’s shoulders fall, and cleared her throat. “I believe we were watching…what was it again… ‘Pink Princess: Warrior of Little Olde Tokyo’.”

Maya brightened again, a much better look on her, and clapped her hands. “That’s right, you haven’t seen a full episode still! I can rewind it, don’t worry, I don’t mind watching it again. It’s really one of the best episodes. I hope they end up doing a crossover with the Steel Samurai soon, it’ll be nice to see those characters again..” Maya continued on but Franziska couldn’t concentrate much on her words.

The TV started again and Maya took her seat next to Franziska on the bed.

Franziska set her spoon down in the bowl with a clink and finished her glass of water, letting Maya reach over to set the tray on the floor despite every fiber of her being insisting that it should go to the kitchen right away. She was feeling too tired to argue it, perhaps she was a little sick after all.

“Thank you, for coming here.” Franziska said after a few moments, looking away from the TV when the colours swam in her vision too much. “It is…nice. To have friends.”

Maya looked over, grinning widely, “I’ll be here whenever you’re in town. You can even come to the village. Just don’t arrest me for murder next time.”

Franziska’s cheeks burned which she blamed on her fever and not on how Maya’s shoulder brushed against her own as Maya laughed.

“I will endeavor not to do so. Though you do seem to be caught in these cases quite a bit, Maya Fey.”

“Just Maya. And just my luck. But it’s not all bad.” Maya hadn’t moved from where she was pressing against Franziska. “I got to meet Nick and Edgeworth and Gumshoe and you.”

Franziska hummed, “You are not so bad at this, perhaps you will master taking care of someone who is…”

“Having allergies?” Maya teased.

“Yes.” Franziska said quickly and then broke off into a yawn.

“Aw you’re gonna miss the rest of the episode.” Maya was saying but Franziska couldn’t see the pout she was certain Maya was wearing, her eyes had shut without much prompting.

“Another time then, Maya Fey.”

“Just Maya!”

Franziska hummed again and let sleep take her, her head resting against the warmth of Maya shoulder.

~~

(Seven years later)

The door slammed opened making Franziska groan at the noise.

“Franzy!” Maya came in like she always did, a whirlwind of purple robes and ruckus. She stopped seeing Franziska resting on the couch and smiled softly, speaking quieter. “Well this brings back memories.”

Franziska sighed, sitting up on her propped pillows. “I am not sick, despite what Miles Edgeworth claims.”

“Uh hunh, I’ve heard that before too.” Maya came over, setting her bag down and Franziska was willing to bet there would be soup made by Pearl and Trucy in the bag.

“There had better not be any Pink Princess in that bag.” Franziska eyed it with suspicion.

“Don’t worry, this time I brought the Iron Infant: Warrior of Neo Olde Tokyo.”

“That foolish title still makes no sense.”

Maya was still snickering as she bent down to press a kiss to Franziska’s forehead.

“Maya Fey do not be so foolish yourself, you will get sick.” Franziska scolded.

“I thought you weren’t sick.” Maya shot back, ignoring Franziska’s spluttering to press another quick kiss to her cheek this time. “Besides, if I do I guess you’ll just have to take care of me.”

“If I must.” Franziska said but her tone was softened as she reached out to take Maya’s hand and squeeze it in thanks.

Maya beamed at her, a sight Franziska never tired of and then reluctantly pulled away to get set up.

She shut her eyes as Maya rambled on about the Kurain Village and Trucy’s latest magic tricks and a new defender that Phoenix had picked up. She let Maya’s voice lull her to sleep knowing Maya would still be there when she woke up.

“Hey Franzy,” Maya whispered, close enough again now that Franziska could pick up the sharp incense off her robes. “I love you.”

Von Karma’s did not mumbled so Franziska certainly didn’t as she said back, “I love you too, Maya.”

She didn’t have to open her eyes to know Maya was smiling again, as bright and happy as ever, but it did warm her to know she was the cause of it.

While she wasn’t sick and didn’t need the coddling perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if she was.

[maine-writes]

Vonvon's Time Vacation: Part III, Winter Wonderland

Every travel brochure that features a beautiful hotel in the midst of an idyllic alpine paradise always like to emphasize the majesty of the great outdoors, the serenity of being far away from the chaos of metropolis, but all without leaving behind the conveniences and modernizations of today. Imagine taking a vacation in a tropical paradise, ostensibly to live the "island way", but with high-speed internet, cable, and a nearby familiar fast-food joint or coffee shop.

But always seem to fail to mention very obvious limitations and risks.

Such as weather.

Or the ever so rare "Trapped in a the middle of nowhere with a madman" situation that only really applies to hotels in the middle of nowhere and Airbnb.

Vonvon hurriedly scurried down a twisting hallway, flanked by storage cages made of slats of wood, locked by simply latches and a padlock. Their shoes squeaked on the cold concrete floors as they clumsily ran, occasionally glancing back down toward the other end of the hall. The grey lights of the hall flickered and buzzed, some dying entirely.

"Oh, Vonvoooonnn..." hissed a low, raspy voice. "Where are youuu?"

The child ducked around a corner, their back against the wood, clasping their mouth shut with their hand as they struggled to catch their breath. In their eyes, the dim glimmer of absolute fear.

As they peeked around the corner, peering down the hall, they saw a form slither out from the edge of the far turn.

It was a googly-eyed sock puppet, a demented smile scribbled on with red marker.

"I see you Vonnie," said the puppet, "You can't hide from me. I can hear your breath. I can smell your fear."

Vonvon scrambled to get away, running deeper into the darkest bowels of the basement. But how did they end up in this situation? How did a crazed killer get into the hotel?

It was around three in the afternoon, everyone had returned to a banquet room adjacent to the ballroom, where a staff of servers worked tirelessly to deliver their meals to them. Tonight, they were served a plate of beef bourguignon on top of garlic mashed potatoes. For dessert, they had an eggy flan with a topping of sweet, sticky caramel. Interestingly, the staff were rather short, a squat team of mostly identical looking oddballs who all seemed to be a bit dim. One notable server wore an eyepatch.

Vonvon looked around at all the empty tables, realizing that their party were the only guests in that evening. A troubling revelation when vacation.

They were just about halfway through their dessert when the lights suddenly died, only the dim afternoon light from the windows illuminating the room.

"I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen." Said the tall front desk agent as she walked through the door. "It seems the storm has knocked out our electricity. We have a backup generator on standby, but until main power is back online, we will have to limit electrical use."

With a groan, Vonvon's party dragged their feet back to their rooms.

Vonvon flipped through the channels in their room's television set, all with the same program: static.

"Von, they said we need to limit electric use." Connie said, turning off the TV. "I'd rather not lose power to the lights early. Or heat."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Vonvon groaned. "Some vacation this is turning out to be."

"I'm sure they'll get the power back on soon."

Then there was a knock at the door. It was Sour Cream, peeking his head in.

"Hey, you guys seen my brother?"

Another instance of Onion wandering off to stave off the boredom. Another problem to add onto the load. To help in the search, Buck, Sadie, Jenny, and Lars joined him, and now to see if either Connie or Vonvon were up for it.

"We'll stay with Steven." Connie said, "Where is he?"

"He's in his room." Jenny replied, "I think he's a bit down."

"Ok, good luck guys."

As the group went down the hall, ready for the arduous task of searching for Onion, Connie and Vonvon gathered some blankets and pillows to take to Steven's room.

"You really think a pillow fort will cheer him up?" Vonvon inquired, a stack of pillows in hand.

"Are you kidding?" Connie laughed, "He'll love it!"

"Anything to get his mind off of it, huh?"

But as Connie raised her hand to knock, the door slowly creaked open, revealing a darkness within, illuminated by the flickering light of the TV set.

"Steven?" Connie said, finding no sign of him anywhere. "We brought pillows and blankets, thought we'd make a fort."

But the only thing in the room was a sock puppet, googly-eyes glued on, lying in front of the TV.

"Ok, this is weird." Vonvon said.

"Yeah, you stay here. I'll go find him."

Vonvon was now alone in a cold, dark room, accompanied only by a sock puppet. Nothing good can come of this.

Creeped out by the noise of the static, they turned off the TV and reached for the light switch. But when the lights flipped on, they were not greeted by a warm glow, but by sinister, blood-red light. They looked around the room in horror as they saw the mad rabblings of a crazed psychopath scribbed on the walls, revealed by the crimson glow.

No play makes a boy bored.

No play makes a boy bored.

No play makes a boy bored.

Written again and again and again and again and again and again on every surface, on the mirror, on the painting, on the mattress, and spiraling on the ceiling.

As Vonvon recoiled in horror, they looked at the TV, realizing that the sock puppet that was once there, was there no longer.

"Vonvon..." hissed a voice in the walls. "Want to play a game?"

And that's how they ended up in the basement, running for their life.

"Ok, obviously Dad is stressed out." Vonvon said to themself, "Maybe he just needs a hug."

"Vonnie..." said the sinister sock. "I plan to get under your skin..."

"No hug, no hug!"

Then they came upon a fork in the hall, one leading to darkness, the other to a doorway. They chose to risk it with the door.

As they slammed the door behind them, they turned to find themself trapped in the laundry room. On the far wall, there were large machines, baskets of linen and uniforms, and a cart of cleaning supplies. Above it were a series of windows, but too small for them to crawl through.

"Vonnieeeeee..."

Vonvon pressed their ear against the wooden door, listening as heavy footsteps drifted away. A sigh of relief escaped their lungs.

Then came a loud bang against the door, shaking its hinges, and Vonvon's sigh turned into a scream.

Then came another, and another, with each strike, the child screamed in fear.

"This door's pretty solid." panted the madman, gasping for air.

"I think it's oak." Vonvon sobbed.

"Then I guess I'll just have to huff and puff on this one then."

Vonvon could hear their pursuer take a step back, winding up for a mighty swing. They withdrew from the door as an axehead chopped through the wood, screaming in terror.

Peering in through the door was the puppet, an axe beside it.

"HERE'S COOKY!"

The child backed up toward the washing machines, pulling down tables and throwing baskets of clothes and fabrics on the floor in a vain attempt to make some sort of barrier or obstruction.

They then looked up at the windows, seeing the Garnet lookalike talking on a cellphone.

"Garnet!" Vonvon screamed, "Help me! Help me!"

But all she did, seeing the child waving their arms in distress, was wave back with a smile and return to her call.

Then Vonvon remembered that they had a cellphone.

"Right, stupid scared brain!"

They quickly went through their contacts, finding Pearl's cellphone number and called.

"Pearl's phone, Garnet speaking." responded a familiar voice.

"Garnet!" Vonvon screamed, "Get down here! Your disguises suck and Dad's gone berserk! Why'd you build a whole fountain with badly disguised statues?!"

"We're in the Caribbean." Garnet stated to Vonvon's disbelief. "We thought since you guys are on vacation, we should go on one too. Amethyst rode a shark."

Vonvon looked up through the window, watching the Garnet lookalike finish up her call before walking off.

"Tell Steven we said hi." Said Garnet, Lapis and Peridot laughing loudly in the background. "And don't forget, little kids shouldn't play in laundry rooms. There are exactly 47 ways to die in those rooms."

"Yeah, and I'm in Number 47!" Vonvon yelled into the phone, "Killed by crazed Dad!"

"Vonvon, don't be silly." Garnet said. "47 is Killed by Angry Ghost. Crazed Dad is number 4."

Then she hung up.

Out of options and out of luck, Vonvon threw their phone aside, brandishing a nearby brush as a weapon.

"Back off!" Vonvon yelled, failing to be intimidating, "I have a deadly brush!"

With one final push, the door came crashing down, splintering as it hit the concrete floor. Standing in the doorway was Vonvon's relentless pursuer; Onion, the sock puppet in hand.

"ONION!!!"

"He's such a handful sometimes, isn't he?" Jenny said. "Wandering off like that."

"Sour Cream thought he went to the maze out there and got lost." Buck added, pointing at a shivering Sour Cream wrapped in bundles of blankets, his feet soaking in a bucket of warm water. "Took hours for us to find him."

"Why didn't you come to the pool?" Steven asked, "One of the staff came by after you left and said they were going to keep it heated for us if we wanted to use it."

"Hey, I want to go to the pool." Sadie said.

"That sounds like a fun time." Lars agreed, "I think we can get bathing suits through my head if Lion's with the Gems."

Vonvon was tired. They sipped quietly at a juicebox, reflecting on the traumatic events that transpired. To think, this is what Onion was like as a child. The mild mannered young man they know in the future is the exact opposite of this strange boy.

"So Vonvon," Connie began, "What do you want to do now?"

The child thought about it, not for long though. There was one thing on their mind since the time they thought they were going to die.

"Think the kitchen can make me a burger?"

@artsycooky13

[panharmonium]

round 3 of in-progress naruto thoughts, featuring me crying tears about pretty much everybody

[spoiler policy disclaimer first, as always: i’m only still in the early stages of shippuden (we just finished the asuma arc).  i literally had zero interest in naruto growing up, so i remain unspoiled for virtually everything that happens past this point.  i would love to stay that way, so please don’t interact with this (tags included, because the notifications now show them to me automatically) with any spoilery commentary, including even general things like “oh i love this show but it gets less good after X point” or “X season is better than Y season” or any general assessments of quality/likability/etc re: future seasons.  Thank you! <3 ]

- well, folks.  i have apparently reached the point in my viewing experience where i am deeply emotionally attached to virtually all of the characters and i care when bad stuff happens to even the most minor of them, because the asuma arc really ripped my heart out and used my feelings as ping-pong balls

- that said - i have to admit, if you’re going to kill a character, that was the way to handle it.  it wasn’t glossed over or dropped like a hot potato; it had a huge arc attached to it and major development for the other characters involved and it came full circle at the end in such a quiet, complete way.  i was hoping from the very beginning that the answer to “who’s the king” was going to be “children” (all i could think about was asuma yelling at kazuma “children aren’t pawns to protect the king!” during the sora arc) and ultimately that ended up being true, and i found that so satisfying.  (painful.  but satisfying.)

- SHIKAMARU.  HERO.  i always loved him, but what an incredible arc he had.  and that episode, “team 10″ - WOW.  wow.  they really kicked it up a notch for that one - that was legitimately beautiful television, not just “good by naruto standards.”  gorgeous animation/composition/editing...this show is in fact capable of magic, when it takes its time.

- grow up, you three.  the shadow of death hangs over us all.  some deaths may be harder to accept than others, but if you can’t get past that, there can be no future!  

^^ this is legitimately my favorite line of the series.  i can’t stop thinking about it.  i love how tsunade is speaking from her own experience, and how she’s not wrong - nobody in this confrontation is wrong, really; shikamaru has his stuff more together than tsunade realizes, and tsunade is just telling the truth, and i just love how this entire line relates so closely to the thematic heart of this arc, which is the sanctity of children and the future they represent.  like...so many characters in this show have seen so much death and tragedy, but we see children/the promise of the future pulling people out of that hole and back into a hopeful place.  it’s literally tsunade’s whole story with naruto.  she’s speaking from the heart, and it’s one of those lines that you can feel resonate across the whole story.

- kakashi, once again, coming to destroy me with his level of devotion to the kids.  not even his own kids, this time.  when he shows up at the end of “team 10″ and offers to take over for asuma and go with shikamaru’s group - i lost my mind.  he’s been keeping an eye on those kids the whole time.  nobody told him about what they were doing; he has no reason to be out at the gates at that time of night - he’s been keeping tabs on them.  he knows exactly what they’re going through.  he knows how they must feel.  he wants to make sure they’re okay.  and when he sees that they’re in an appropriate frame of mind for what they’re planning (aka, not unbalanced by rage or grief or the desire for revenge), he immediately offers himself up as an adult support figure.  he inserts himself into that situation and assumes responsibility for making sure nobody gets hurt.  he puts himself into a position where he can escort them through this experience safely (in more ways than one).  he lets shikamaru take the lead and achieve closure, all while simultaneously monitoring the situation to make sure every choice the group makes is the safest, smartest thing to do.  and then in the battle, he puts himself in between the kids and certain death over and over again - he saves their lives so many times. 

the kids are so grateful to him for doing that.  they respect him so much for it.  they feel supported.  they feel looked after.  they feel validated.  three kids who just lost their adult mentor in such a sudden, violent way - for them to have another grown-up step in and temporarily assume that role, for them to feel a pair of capable, steady hands propping them up before they fall down - that is so important!

kakashi is beautiful to me because he takes every horrible thing that ever happened to him and turns it into an unwavering commitment to help other people navigate the same rocky waters.  everything he does is designed to catch people when they fall, particularly when it comes to children.  he doesn’t have to take that kind of interest in asuma’s team.  none of the other adults are monitoring them like that.  but he understands what they’re dealing with and he knows they could hurt themselves if somebody doesn’t take care of them and so he steps in and assumes that responsibility himself.  and then he does the same thing with team 8′s kids, too, in the next arc, when kurenai is out of commission.  he takes all of his own painful experiences and turns them into ways he can protect other people from stumbling into the same pits he fell into, and i’ll tell you this for damn sure - he’d rather take a deadly hit himself than allow another cohort of children to be wiped off the face of the earth before their time. 

i love that about him.  i love that he turns all of the trouble he’s seen into ways he can be a source of strength for others.  i love that he is always thinking about the kids.  that’s the whole point of this arc: children are king.  kakashi knows that just as well as asuma did, and the way he consistently throws himself in front of the children to keep them safe is my favorite thing about him.

- fucking LOVE that shikamaru turns down the feudal lord’s offer because he wants to stay in the village in case his friends need him.  i feel like this kind of choice is never portrayed as a good thing in media - it’s always shown to be better to get yourself out there, try something new, leave old things behind, take a risk, make a change, as if staying home is somehow the same thing as settling or wasting your potential.  i love how asuma lifts up shikamaru’s decision to stay rooted in his home as a worthy and admirable thing.  the will of fire, indeed.

- the EMOTIONS i felt every time kakashi was helping naruto figure out how to complete the rasengan....when kakashi tells him “i truly believe you are the only shinobi who can surpass the fourth hokage” and then while walking away yamato’s all “you sweet-talked him” and kakashi immediately sets him straight like “no.  no.  i believe he can do it.”  SOBBING.  

- “good old asuma.  he must’ve known you inside and out, huh?”  i’ll be over here crying in the club, folks

- kakashi having conversations with sasuke in his head was Too Much for me ;__;

- we watched a bit past the asuma arc and are now into the part about the gemstone lady but the only thing i have to say about this new arc so far is about jiraiya and honestly i’m going to have to gif it to do it justice.  that scene with him and naruto where naruto falls asleep on him just...struck me down where i sat.  i was actually about ready to cry for real.  my feelings couldn’t take it.  i used to not really care too much about jiraiya in the shonen jump days (and yes, there’s some stupid stuff with him that you have to just look past if you’re going to enjoy things) but i love him so much now and i am finding myself so moved by the way he is rejoining the village and (re)building his connections with the people there, and how much meaning has been brought back into his life by the opportunity to work with naruto in particular, and how like...i mean, this is just my own impression, because i haven’t seen his full backstory yet, but he strikes me as someone who’s been running away for a long time, who had very little hope for the future, someone who experienced some terrible things and gave up, just like tsunade, until he runs into naruto.  and now things have changed for him, and it warms my heart to see it.  i love watching him take naruto on training field trips, and i love the depth of care we see from him towards naruto now - a far cry from the “i don’t like kids” of early shonen jump.  i love seeing him collaborate with kakashi - tag-teaming their teaching and climbing in through the window to check on him in the hospital and teasing him about how silly he looks with a sheet over his nose.  i’ve just become so touched by his progression and by the way the establishment of these relationships with “his” kids and the village as a whole (bonds, connections, all the things that this show can’t shut up about) has almost been a...healing sort of thing for him and has changed his entire outlook on life and given him a new sense of hope/meaning.  

like.  i can’t believe i am out here having jiraiya emotions after how little i cared about him when i first met him, but...here i am.  

[dandelionflower]

Magic AU

Chapter 7

Cataclysm looked down at his three classmates; Claude, Mercury, and Allegra.

“It was a very noble thing you three did.” He began. “But you shouldn’t risk your lives like that ever again.”

“But Grademaker was about to hurt you!” Allegra shouted, throwing out her arms. “It wasn’t like we could just sit by and do nothing.”

“Besides, the Blessed wouldn’t care if anything happened. We’re just some Cursed brats to them.” Mercury muttered.

Claude burst through the two and held out a piece of paper. “Can I have your autograph?!”

“Claude, we talked about this.” Allegra hissed. “After.”

“Oh, right.” He wilted.

“No worries, I can sign that.” He pulled the pen and paper from Claude’s hand and signed the paper in a scratchy cursive, rotting a corner of the paper with a touch.

He squealed and took back the paper, holding it close to his chest. “Thank you!”

Cataclysm smiled and turned away, about to use his yo-yo to swing back to the bakery.

“Wait,” Allegra grabbed his arm, “I have a question for you first.”

He nodded.

“Why are you working with that Blessed, and letting her take all the glory? She’s the sidekick here, not you.”

Cataclysm sighed for a moment before answering with the reply he had been forming since he heard his class ranting about it upon his debut.

“Neither of us are a sidekick, we are partners. My goal in doing this isn’t glory, it is just to help save Paris and break down the barrier between Blessed and Cursed, I need Lucky Charm for that; I can’t do it alone.”

With that he turned around and threw his yo-yo towards a nearby building, giving it a tug to ensure it was secure.

He turned back to the three, who stared at him. “Thank you again for helping us, but please, don’t try to make a habit of it.”

Mercury and Allegra nodded, while Claude gave a silly salute. “You got it!”

With another sharp tug on the yo-yo’s string, Cataclysm swung off to a familiar bakery.

—

Felix ripped the ribbon off of his arm and stuffed it and his mask into his pocket.

Taking the steps two at a time, he burst into the room, gasping out apologies for taking longer than he’d expected.

“It’s fine dear,’ his mother smiled, making an odd gesture towards his left hand, “were you safe, though? After that massive brawl outside the bakery, I had worries.”

The gestures worsened and Felix looked down at his hand and saw his yo-yo, not yet in pin form.

He pressed the secret button and discreetly clipped the pin to his pocket.

“I was fine; Cataclysm and Lucky Charm dealt with it.”

“What about Cataclysm?” Marinette peeked her head from her trap door.

“I was just saying how he and Lucky Charm saved Paris from another akuma.”

“Did you see him? Does he look really cool? What’s his outfit look like?” She leapt near him, desperate for information.

“Cataclysm and Lucky Charm both had rather interesting outfits, though Cataclysm’s seemed like something out of his closet. Lucky Charm’s was more fitting for a superhero.”

“Why are you paying so much attention to Lucky Charm? Got a crush?” A smirk crawled up her face as she leaned forward.

“Why are you so desperate for information on Cataclysm? Do you have a crush?”

“I- ah, er...” She pressed her index fingers together and a healthy shade of pink began to rise her face.

“So, Marinette,” Bridgette gracefully changed the subject, “I hear that there are some new students in your class?”

Marinette grinned at her. “Yeah, Alya, who is getting pretty close to being my best friend and Adrien, who... who seems pretty nice.”

“Nice, so that’s what we’re going with...” Felix smirked.

“ANYWAY!” She glared at him. “Felix and I are gonna go upstairs and look over my designs, and not talk about this anymore.”

—

“This is pretty good, but I would recommend a little less orange.”

“‘Kay.” She made a quick note and closed her book.

“New decor?” Felix gestured to the posters dotting the walls.

“Oh, uh.” Her eyes darted to the posters and widened, before she leapt at the walls and tore every page off the wall and hid it behind her back. “You weren’t supposed to see those.”

“You know, Netta,” Felix propped his head on his hands, “there’s no shame in having a crush.”

“It’s not a crush. I just saw him a lot in my favorite fashion magazines and he turned out to be really nice and...” Her face turned red and she pressed her hands to her cheeks.

“So a baseless celebrity crush.” Felix amended, shrugging. “Also nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Well, you would know, wouldn’t you?” A gleam appeared in her eyes and Felix internally groaned.

“It was a phase, I was young.”

“You wrote Clara Nightingale poetry, and sent it to her!”

“I was interested in poetry and her ability to always rhyme was interesting to me.”

“She was so flattered, she made it a song and preformed it on live television; you cried into your pillow for three hours!” She cackled, holding her sides.

“Fine, okay, you got me!” He threw his hands in the air, falling back on the chaise. “I cried for a few hours after you left too! Now that you have a more embarrassing comparison, will you admit that you have a crush on him?”

“Nope, not until you admit that you have a crush, and you tell me who she is!”

Felix reeled back, surprised. He didn’t think he had done anything to encourage this belief at all.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean...”

“You’ve got to be kidding, you blush at random points of the day, so it’s obvious you were thinking about her. I bet you already have a folder in your phone just full of love confessions and photos of her.”

Before Felix could open his mouth and rebut her claim, his mother’s voice sang from the floor below.

“Felix, it’s time to go, can you wrap it up?”

He glared at Marinette, who was the very definition of smug.

“We will finish this conversation later.”

“When you tell me who mystery girl is?” She retorted. “Sure thing.”

Felix left without a reply.

—

He sat on his office chair, logging onto his computer.

Fully aware that his mother was otherwise occupied with Kevin, he clicked an inconspicuous-looking folder, typing in the password with a few deft key strokes.

You weren’t entirely wrong, Netta, he thought, as he uploaded the pictures from his phone onto the computer, but I would never be so careless as to leave evidence on my phone.

He quickly scanned through the number of selfies he had, smiling at the memory of each one, when he finally clicked a blank document, ready to start yet another useless confession.

It’s cathartic, he reminded himself yet again, it keeps you from saying these things out loud.

Not saying it out loud apparently wasn’t helping, though, if Marinette so easily saw the crush written across his features.

He shrugged those thoughts off and channeled different thought, one more rich with emotion.

Dear Marinette...

………

The rest

[mithranqueersmusings]

The Night Before XII

Chapter: 12/15

Rating: U

Summary: Ringo hangs around after the club closes and meets a stranger.

Tags: Smut, Slow Burn

Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr (Background McLennon)

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

The following day was spent rather unproductively, Ringo hardly moved from his bed and refused to get dressed into anything decent. Paul and John had left early, they could easily tell when Ringo wanted to left alone, but they ensured that at least one of them would be available should Ringo need anything at all. Last night hardly felt tangible, but the grogginess of Ringo's mind and the overhanging sadness made it difficult to forget. He wasn't entirely sure what he felt so bummed out about: was it merely the pain he felt to see George with another man? Or was it the sheer humiliation Ringo had experienced, having to expose his feelings to George in such an unappealing way? Perhaps it was a mixture of both, but he was determined to only let it sully this single day for tomorrow held endless possibilities and he truly believed that the date with George would still go fairly well, even with all this tension now risen to the surface.

Sometimes it was nice to have days like this, comfortably lounging around in pyjamas with no real objectives in mind. Ringo channelled out any lasting aggression he was harbouring by blasting music on his speakers, just about loud enough to stop himself from thinking. He had more than several comfort films to watch, many of which starred his favourite actor Peter Sellers, to make the time fly by without much thought. Throughout the day he conversed sparsely with John and Paul, neither of them addressing the actual events of last night but their concerned tones were enough of an allusion.

He treated himself to some pizza for dinner, settling down in front of his television and letting the hours pass. These days of nothingness were necessary, especially with the amount of excitement he'd been unwillingly plagued with this past week. Part of him debated not even bothering to get into bed, just to gradually pass into unconsciousness on his sofa, but the mature section of his mind - one which was often ignored - convinced him to tuck himself into the covers and let sleep wash over him.

Ringo gladly slept well into the afternoon, the only thing getting him out of bed was his growling stomach. Reaching for his phone he swiped away a variety of meaningless notifications then paused when he noticed a text from George. His mixed feelings were considerably less tangled than they had been previously, but there was still a hint of dread in his stomach when he thought about him.

Look outside your door.

It was sent a couple of hours ago, Ringo worried he'd missed whatever surprise had been waiting for him. He didn't appreciate the cryptic tone, nonetheless he padded over to the front of his flat and cautiously opened the door. Sitting before him was a vase sporting a diverse bouquet of flowers, Ringo wasn't even sure he could name half of them. He looked at it for a while, registering how to fit this in with his torn attitude towards George, and noticed a small card perked upon one of the leaves; he picked it up and inspected it closely.

First of many treats I have planned for tonight. I hope your hangover isn't too bad and you aren't regretting giving me another chance.

Ringo found himself smiling, he must have looked rather odd standing in nothing but his boxers and socks clutching onto this card for longer than he needed to. The thought of one of his neighbours seeing him in this precarious situation spurred him to take the vase inside and shut the door behind him, he inhaled the fresh smell deeply as he brought them into the kitchen to find an adequate placement. He couldn't deny how beautiful they looked, as much as his pessimism wanted to convince him that this was merely a disingenuous ploy. It was difficult to hold onto the resentment, Ringo found himself leaning more towards the attitude that it was merely an extremely unfortunate situation and that George had never intended on hurting him. What use was there in holding onto the past?

Drinking his morning cup of tea, Ringo stared at the flowers before he realised he should probably respond to George's text.

sorry i only just woke up the flowers are gorgeous thank you so much

You're welcome It's the least I can do really There's plenty more where that came from

flowers or surprises??

Both Just you wait

havent got much a choice have i?

I can pick up you around 7 Does that work for you?

it sure does

Ringo debated whether to send another text, he really wanted to clear the air completely but wondered whether it would be better to do it in person. The last thing he wanted was for the whole night to feel like George was having to make it up to him, rather than it being an enjoyable night for the both of them. He understood George's guilt completely, but it would no doubt make him feel rather ridiculous with the forced nature of it all. If only things could just go back to normal, was that too much to ask? He let out a sigh, drafting out a message and staring at it for a while.

i dont want this to come across as harsh or ungrateful or anything but could we leave out any conversation about last night?? i just want to have a good time and not think about that stupid stuff

Impulsively, Ringo sent it without much further thought. He knew it wasn't the most coherent or effective way of getting across his jumbled thought process but the last thing he needed was even more stress seeping into today.

Last night? What happened last night? I was at home didn't step outside for a second

you're right how silly of me must have you confused for someone else

Ringo felt relief washing over him, a grin spreading across his face as he continued to stare at the message from George. Perhaps tonight wouldn't be as stressful as he'd originally anticipated, he'd almost forgotten how at ease George was able to make him feel.

Now arrived the age old dilemma: what on Earth was he meant to wear? He probably should've asked how upscale the place was that George had picked out for them, he didn't want to risk dressing up too much and looking like a fool. Not that Ringo had a great array of formal clothes to choose from, he wasn't one to frequent snobbish establishments if he could help it. He emptied out almost his entire wardrobe, tossing clothes behind him into barely distinguishable piles like he was starring in a teen movie. It took far longer than necessary to narrow down his choices, eventually settling on a navy jumper and some dark trousers. Looking at himself in the mirror he realised there was no way this outfit reflected the amount of time he'd spent choosing it, but the last thing Ringo was about to do was spend more time agonising over something that no doubt didn't matter much at all.

His stomach started rumbling while he waited for George to arrive, he only hoped the food would be appealing. Ringo had a reputation for being a picky eater, not that he could necessarily help it with his endless list of allergies. He found himself worrying that wherever they went Ringo wouldn't be able to eat anything and it would spiral the entire date into disaster. Exactly where this paranoia came from he didn't know, he only hoped it would disappear as soon as he laid eyes on George.

When the long-awaited text finally arrived, Ringo grabbed his jacket and hurried down the stairs. If he didn't eat soon he felt like he was going to pass out, he knew that wasn't truly the case but he couldn't deny that it felt that way. George beamed at him through the glass window, Ringo reciprocated the grin without it feeling even the slightest bit forced. Everything felt normal, thank goodness.

"Don't you look dashing?" George spoke first, a playful tone in his voice.

"Why thank you." Ringo stepped out of the building "I wasn't quite sure what to wear, if I'm being honest."

George was sporting a dark green turtleneck, on top of which he wore a black chequered blazer with trousers to match. It was the most dressed up Ringo had ever seen him, and it was a pleasant sight to say the least.

"Well you look great." George reassured him "Now, I'm absolutely starving so let's get a move on."

They slid into George's car, Ringo felt a little strange to not be the one doing the driving. As they began pulling out onto the main road, Ringo felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Trying to be polite, he decided to ignore it, it was likely only Paul or John wishing him good luck on his date. Neither of them spoke much as they drove, they'd have plenty of time to talk once they got to the restaurant. George hummed to himself rather quietly, Ringo wasn't sure he was even aware he was doing it. After several minutes, George's hand gradually moved away from the steering wheel and onto Ringo's thigh; he never turned to look at him, his eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead. Experimentally he began rubbing his thumb on the fabric of Ringo's trousers, it was a sweet gesture that Ringo appreciated. Ringo gathered the courage to press it one step further, sliding his own hand underneath and interlocking their fingers together. Once again George didn't turn, but a small smile spread on his face. Ringo wasn't sure this was exactly the safest way to drive, but it helped relax his nerves a little.

Not too much time had passed before they'd arrived at their destination, a rather small building with a cosy looking interior. George turned the ignition off but neither of them made any further movements, sat firmly in their seats with their hands still clasped together. The muffled sound of the bustling city outside the car overpowered any potential awkward silence, Ringo was afraid to move lest he ruined the moment.

"You ready to go inside?" George asked, his voice far quieter than necessary, finally turning to face Ringo.

Ringo nodded, hopefully managing to hide his disappointment as George's hand slipped away. They both stepped outside of the car and made their way towards the restaurant, it was pretty packed but fortunately George had booked a table for the both of them. Anxiety began to creep into Ringo's mind as they were guided to their seats, he hadn't been on a proper date like this for so long, he felt like he'd forgotten how to make regular conversation. Yet sitting down across from George made all those worries disappear, all he needed was the smallest amount of eye contact and he felt safe once again.

"You like wine?" George asked, perusing the drinks menu.

"I can't lie, I'm not a fan." Ringo didn't want to risk sounding rude.

"How about a cocktail or something? Just don't look at the prices." George chuckled "Whatever you want, my treat."

"I'd love a Sex on the Beach, if you're offering." Ringo said rather sheepishly.

"Last time I checked Liverpool didn't have any beaches." George feigned a quizzical expression "I think I'll have one too."

The drinks didn't take too long to arrive, Ringo felt relieved to get some alcohol in his body to help him relax. Although he was determined to not get too drunk tonight, it was about time he experienced George's company sober. The atmosphere of the restaurant was nice, rather homely, far less intimidating than the grand vision Ringo had conjured during one of his bouts of paranoia.

Everything just felt right, there was nowhere else he'd rather be or anyone else he'd rather be with. The gleam in George's eyes and the faint smile always barely hidden on his lips let Ringo know that he was feeling the exact same way.

[split-n-splice]

Oop, a longer chapter. Bear with me.

[Chapter Guide | FFn | Ao3]

40. Whose Side – 3

Her foul mood was expected, but her curt greeting still stung like a viper bite.

“I-I’m sorry I’m late,” sputtered Drakken, glancing at his bitter passenger. Making up excuses was a lost cause, but the feeble explanation tumbled out of his mouth before he could think to match her callous attitude. “I slept through my alarm, a-and I got distracted, and then you didn’t answer when I called so I figured I had best come check on you, but you weren’t home—”

“Drakken,” she interrupted tersely with a voice cold and sharp as ice.

He gulped. “Yes, Shego?”

“Shut up.”

He bit his cheek to silence an objection. The van idled a moment more as he studied her dark glare fixed dead ahead, her arms folded tight across herself and the faintest hint of green glimmering from between her fingers, visibly containing how upset she was at – at him? What had he done? Besides forget to pick her up from Buckley’s again? He wracked his brains quickly, but decided figuring her out was best saved for another time.

Attempting to appease her didn’t suit the image he was going for. He’d have to work on it. Nonetheless he couldn’t stop himself from piping up. “It’s not too late to pick up some Chow.”

Shego was silent.

Drakken turned the van around and said nothing of it when she dug out a pack of smokes from her pocket to light one up. He certainly kept his eyes off her every time she brought it to her lips to take a puff. Or he tried to, anyway.

By the time he’d navigated his way back to the Cow-n-Chow, she’d relaxed enough to kick her feet up on the dash and tune the radio. That came as some relief, but he knew better than to believe the danger had passed. Drakken was ready to order her usual for her when she spoke up, requesting salad instead. Erring on the side of caution, he ordered her usual anyway, which she tucked into and finished without a word before demanding another stop for a video rental.

He anticipated being presented with a dark and ominous film, but instead she returned to the van dully announcing she could use a laugh, and flashed the cover of a detective comedy. He had mixed feelings about the whimsical man in the picture, but ultimately decided it wasn’t his movie to watch and so the only opinion he spared was a grunt.

“Anything else?” could have been asked a little more nicely, but she could have answered a little more crossly too so he counted his blessings.

“Yeah. Do you have popcorn back home or should we pick some up?”

A sound of frustration snuck out of his mouth, but at least he could nod.

She’d get her popcorn and movie, and he – he had a backlog to catch up on. If there was any urgency to complete projects though, he quickly forgot about it when Shego’s fingers curled around his arm as he made to cross the tech lab to head downstairs. Weak against her pull, he followed her lead with nary a word in defiance.

He barely stifled his protest when he was shoved down onto the couch, his shoulders feeling strangely sunburned where she’d pushed him. “Shego, I can’t—,” was all that made it out of his mouth before her cold stare shut him up. He sat stiffly in place for a minute, contemplating ways to get out of a goodie-goodie comedy he already owned a copy of. He told her where the popcorn was when asked, but otherwise kept his lips zipped tight as the buttery aroma warmed the stale air.

Shego still wore the same stony glare as she wordlessly turned down the lights, popped in the tape, and threw herself down on the far end of the couch, guarding her bowl of popcorn she didn’t seem keen on sharing.

By the light of the previews, Drakken dared to watch her from the corner of his eye – and before they were over, he’d found the gall to unzip his lips. “Do I need to build a brain tap machine to figure out what has you so…so…,” pissed off would not be a safe choice of words, he decided as Shego’s glare turned to sear through him. “Because I can and I will.” How hard could it be? Like a lie detector, but more in depth, right?

“Stay. Out. Of my brain,” she ground out. Slumping further and drawing her knees up, she added in a small grumble, “Jackass.”

He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve her ire, but he knew a brain tap machine was off the table. For now.

Drakken crossed his arms and willed his gaze to stay on the television, but it strayed once more as scenes he’d seen before played out. She couldn’t be that angry at him for being so unfashionably late, could she? Puzzled, he stared until her jaded gaze darted to him, if only for a split second.

He hardened his own frown on the television, willing his arms to unfold, bracing himself to stand on the count of three – or ten – or one hundred. He made it to the count of sixty-five when he bit the bullet. His butt was lucky to have made it an inch from the cushion when a hand snapped out, nails digging into his shoulder. He could smell the trace of fabric smoldering beneath Shego’s palm, and felt the tremble before she retracted her grip and stuffed her hands in her armpits to hide the faint green glimmer emanating from her palms.

Swallowing and setting his jaw, Drakken stared down the moody young woman who did not appear to be enjoying her movie whatsoever. “I have better things to do with my time than—,” he began tersely, but of course was interrupted by his puzzling company.

“Lipsky, you are going to watch this normal movie with me, on a normal couch, on a normal television,” she said, her voice bearing a threat of consequence if he dared defy her. “And it’s going to be – I’m going to be—,” she was swallowing hard then as if to gulp down the frog in her throat, batting her lashes to blink away – oh for Pete’s sake, were her eyes misty?

This wasn’t a tearjerker movie, but he glanced to the television anyway as some silly, borderline obscene, gag played out.

“Yes?” he carefully urged, playing the odds she might shed a little light on the situation.

Shego all but blew up on him, flipping the bowl of popcorn balanced on her knees in the process. “NORMAL!” she shouted in frustration, and in the dim light, he caught a glimpse of the green embers fizzling and oozing from her palms as she clawed the air as if she wished to wring someone’s neck. “I want to feel normal! Just for a little while. So please. Forget about anything outside of this room for the next ninety minutes. Just shut up. Shut up and watch the fucking movie with me.” Given the daggers she shot at the television, it was a wonder she didn’t pelt it with plasma.

The startling outburst had Drakken pressed to the far corner of the couch, but at least she didn’t paw at any tears. She looked as though she’d rather throw punches before she let tears roll down her cheeks, though he was sure he saw the threat looming by the rapid flutter of her eyelids. He studied her as she curled into herself again.

He scoffed and gestured to his own blue skin. “Normal? Shego, normal is something people like us aren’t likely to be getting back,” he blurted out, much colder than intended. Even if true, once the words left his mouth, he braced to be struck with a punch, or maybe a glow-laced punch, or maybe hands around his throat, or—

Shego drew a shuddering breath and continued to glare at the television as though that would be enough to let out whatever pent-up frustration he was caught in the crossfire of. “It’s not just that,” he barely heard her grumble into her knees.

“Then what?” Drakken carped. She’d said shut up. He should have listened.

Thankfully a reprimand – verbal or physical – didn’t come, though he was so braced for one he was starting to cramp up. Shego was quiet for a long moment, until finally she exhaled slowly as though to calm herself. He swore he could see it, like breath on a chilly morning or a thin wisp of smoke after taking a drag. “It’s personal,” she said decisively.

In that case, whatever business she had with his television and couch tonight was none of his. Before second thoughts could weigh him down again, Drakken stood and played deaf to her displeased grunt behind him. He glanced to the door. He did have things to do. But he also had something he’d wanted to show her. He’d even tried to tell her so earlier, but she’d been determined to make him sit and keep her company.

“Do you mind if I—”

“Yes,” she snapped.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” he griped back, barely without whining, and pinched the bridge of his nose before trying again. “I think you’ll like it. I was really looking forward to showing it to you.”

It was the truth. He’d intended to show her the rare orchid sometime this evening, ever since she’d asked about it on the ride to Buckley’s Brew. And right now, she sure looked like she could use something to lift her spirits. Though there was also a risk, given the funk she was in, that she could destroy the specimen without regard to its value or the lengths he’d gone through to construct the miniature biosphere to grow the picky plant in, let alone the seeds he’d acquired in a high-stakes gamble. With a little work under the scope, the plant he’d genetically-modified himself months ago had been brought to bloom years ahead of schedule.

Shego’s misty-eyed glare burned into him for a long moment before she gave a stubborn sniff and reached for the remote to stop the movie with a loud crackle of white-noise filling the room. “Whatever,” she said coldly. “I’m going to get dressed for bed.”

It was barely six in the evening – but Drakken refrained from bringing that up as she shouldered past him. Her burnt mattress and linen had yet to be replaced. He desperately hoped that by tomorrow, his couch wouldn’t need to be replaced too. He frowned down to the marks she’d left on his coat, blue fabric singed black where shoulder pads ought to be, and discarded the victim of his volatile hot-tempered accomplice over the back of a barstool.

He slowly counted to three – only three – before leaving his living quarters and into the tech lab. Already, Shego was nowhere in sight, but as he passed down the hall toward his office, he heard the shower running. He tried not to slow or pause or lean toward the washroom door, but he didn’t make it past in time to miss a distinct sniffle inside. She couldn’t possibly be that upset he’d failed to pick her up from Buckley’s. Personal, she’d said. Then it was none of his business, he reminded himself, squaring his shoulders and stalking off for his office once more.

She wanted to be normal, she’d stressed. What was that supposed to mean? Drakken again wracked his brains. What was her idea of normal? Was she homesick? Did she regret passing up her opportunity to rejoin her brothers? Just a few nights ago, when he’d mistakenly brought his own personal woes to her, they’d sat together in front of her television and she’d drowsily reminisced about piling up on the sofa for family movie nights, failing to console him through his acceptance that he may never see his own family again – though he could barely relate to whole idea of family movie nights as an only child. Did she miss that? Not being alone? He knew she had four brothers, at least, and a father, and presumably a mother too – in other words, some aspect of her normal was a sizable family. He was only one person, and he was not crowding henchmen into his quarters to substitute for a family. Androids and henchmen had to be a sorry substitute for family anyway.

Drakken stopped at the bottom of the staircase, sighing wretchedly and rubbing at a crick in his neck.

It was quite possible he was off the mark, but if she wouldn’t tell him what was on her mind and he couldn’t devise any mind-tapping devices to get to the bottom of it himself, he was left to speculate. Unfortunately speculating was bound to give him a headache. Leaving Shego to sort herself out was possibly for the best, he decided, but he still turned for his desk to retrieve the orchid he’d left there.

He froze in his tracks when he lifted his eyes from the stone floor to see an uninvited figure sitting sidelong in his office chair, holding the glass pod containing the plant. Unplugged from what was essentially its life-support system, the delicate little biosphere was scarcely more than a glorified flowerpot, but it was still infuriating to see the intruder turning it over so carelessly.

The wave of alarm washing over him had Drakken scanning the room, frantically questioning where he’d had that blasted intruder alert button installed. That’s right – it was at the CCTV system desk across the office, in convenient reach of any henchman on security duty. Why didn’t he have a henchman stationed there anyway? He should know better than to let his guard down with a perceived threat in the area! He grit his teeth, inwardly berating himself.

“So,” cooed the young woman behind his desk before he could storm up to her. “Who’s this for?”

Frozen, Drakken couldn’t help a nervous gulp. There was no way she could know he’d brought it up from the basement for Shego. Then again, maybe she did. He thought out loud sometimes, and this stranger had the gift of invisibility to make spying a breeze. “Shego,” he growled through his teeth, though it wasn’t so much an answer as it was the irate wish for his accomplice to be beside him to explain the woman’s presence.

Miss Kimbley arched an eyebrow and smirked. “She doesn’t go for flowers,” she informed as if offering a helpful piece of information. “Oh, but try a fish dinner!” she recommended instead, smiling wider and chuckling, though Drakken failed to see what was so funny as there was certainly nothing comical about the territory she was suggesting. Even the henchcrew was strongly advised against cracking jokes of such nature.

Cheeks warming over, Drakken fixed a grimace on his face and hoped it was enough to mask his fluster. He sputtered something indignant and incoherent before he could stop himself, and he bit his tongue with a grunt and tried to form the words right before he spoke again. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?” he demanded, crossing the room to yank the spherical biosphere from the intruder’s hands. She was Shego’s acquaintance, but he was certain Shego wouldn’t have willingly invited her in.

The woman shied back just a little bit at the bite in his tone, but then she rose to her feet, pushing the biosphere aside to stand toe to toe. Drakken decided to set it down for safety’s sake, though the thought occurred too late to cradle it in his arms and make a mad dash upstairs for Shego. Instead he glanced across the room toward the CCTV desk, wildly seeking the button to sound the alarm, and lurched back from the fingers spreading over his chest.

“I have an offer for you, Mr…?” said Miss Kimbley, but he recognized a honeycoated tone when he heard one.

“Drakken,” he hissed. He batted the hand away, taking a swift step back toward the staircase – and most importantly the alarm button across the room. “Dr. Drakken.” Hadn’t he clarified that earlier? Alias or not, maybe he shouldn’t be giving his name out to a potential Global Justice spy. Even so, if she had something to offer, she had something to gain, and it was practically reflex to inquire, “What do you want?”

Despite another step back, the intruder was invading his space once again. “Better question,” she chimed, giving the bottom of his tie a tug. He snatched her hand this time, and tried not to consider how cold her fingers felt compared to Shego’s, which he could so often feel warming him even through his gloves. She didn’t let up, clearly not taking the hint nor offence to his scowl and raised lip. “What do you want, Doctor?”

Impulse urged him to snap at her that he wanted her out of his lair. The woman was trespassing, therefore posed a threat, and he was inclined to trust Shego’s judgment that he ought to keep his distance. Which was hard to do with his back against the wall. His mouth was dry. Where was that button? Better yet, where was Shego?

“Whatever she’s offering, I can do better,” said the confident pretty little thing before him in a voice that made his stomach give a sickened flip-flop. An odd shimmer like a mirage glazed over the woman and she was gone – to the naked eye, anyway. He knew better than to believe she had left, not when he still felt the invisible touch running down his stomach and—

If he hadn’t had a reason to panic before, he certainly did at the first tug of his belt.

“Hands off, missy!” snarled Drakken, leaping to the side and stumbling over his own feet. He reached for his waist – everything was in place – and just to be sure everything was in order, he tucked his shirt in a little neater.

The ghost of Shego’s past was visible again, down on her knees, a chafed look on her face for a split second before one of deep consideration settled in its place. Her gaze strayed from him as he regained his composure, her hazel eyes darting to his filing cabinet. One of the drawers had been pulled open. Had she been rifling through his files? Without a doubt, if she was here to spy.

“You need a thief, right?” she said, taking a stab at finding his sweet spot from another angle. “Assassin? Watchdog? I’m your gal.” She stood, gesturing to herself.

She most certainly was not his gal. He didn’t have a gal. And even if he did, even if Shego – Drakken stopped that thought in its tracks and gnashed his teeth, hoping his glare was as menacing as the ones he practiced in the mirror. But by the slow bat of the intruder’s fake eyelashes, it was not.

“I’ll have to get back to you on that,” he ground out, gesturing to the stairwell to signal it was time she took her leave. If she couldn’t take the hint, then he didn’t need someone on his crew who needed it spelled out for them.

Priscilla Kimbley glanced from the stairs to him, the calculating look still set in her furrowed brow. “Look, man, I need a change of pace,” she said pointedly, taking a step closer once again, but he squared his shoulders and balled his fists and she paused. Hopefully intimidated. Hopefully thinking twice about trying underhanded persuasion a second time. “Looks to me like Shego struck gold here. I saw some of your shit in the basement. Pretty wicked stuff.” Her wry smile was back. She couldn’t still be pushing for what he thought she was, could she? She didn’t look like the henchwoman type. She wouldn’t last a week in villainy.

Drakken glanced across the room to the button again. He could press it now, and Priscilla could be gone by the time the henchmen assembled, and if Shego was still in the shower – well, whatever the case, the intruder would be long gone before anyone could hope to catch her.

“Shego is more than I can handle, thank you,” he said stiffly, stepping toward the stairwell and nodding up it. He needed this woman out of his lair, before Shego could see her and he risked having another catfight on his hands. “Goodbye, please leave.” If only it was that easy. She understood the hint. No one was that stupid.

She still took her time sauntering over to him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she said flippantly. “She’s not even giving you one-hundred percent.”

True, he wasn’t taking advantage of his accomplice’s full potential, but she did what he asked of her and that was enough. He still couldn’t stop his brow from scrunching as the intruder passed him and took the first step up. He nearly reached out to snatch her by an arm. “What do you mean?” he all but demanded.

The young woman paused to glance back. “She’s on drugs,” she answered simply, as though it were obvious.

And maybe it was obvious to anyone who knew the troubled superhuman. He’d like to think he knew her well enough. He’d smelled evidence on her before, and she’d made a friendly offer the other night and had the paraphernalia and everything. “I am aware she smokes—”

Priscilla Kimbley laughed, the single bark echoing up the stairwell, and she clamped her mouth shut as if only realizing now how well sound traveled in the lair’s stony corridors. “Nah, not that kind,” she said, toning it down to little more than a giggle. She set her hands on her hips, beaming down at Drakken, and he hated having to tilt his head to look up at the woman standing several steps above him now as she explained. “This shit puts her out cold. And I do mean cold. Total chill pills. Those megalomaniacs pulling the strings of that little superhero team of hers use it to keep her under control. I can get you some, if you wanna mess with it.” She gave a nonchalant shrug, as if offering to give him some miracle drug to control someone as dangerous and unpredictable as Shego was no big deal.

“I-I know about that too,” he bluffed. But did he really? He’d had a suspicion she’d been taking something, but it could have been anything. Truthfully he hadn’t given it much thought, but he wracked his brains quickly now.

When she’d first arrived, she’d skulked through his lair half-asleep occasionally, sometimes grumbling about withdrawals late at night amidst her unique issues – issues which were just now proving to be not as benign as he’d thought, if her crispy mattress had anything to say about it. If such a drug did exist, why in the world would she be back on it? Was she relapsing? She couldn’t be. She’d been so excited to use her full power when he’d made her the enhancing gloves – why would she self-sabotage herself to turn down the heat? Where would she have even gotten such a drug?

Drakken’s mind didn’t finish reeling through the possibilities before he blurted, “She doesn’t take them anymore—”

The intruder scoffed and reached into a pocket, producing a little orange bottle. She rattled the contents. “And you believed her?” she jeered down at him.

Drakken made a reflexive grab for the bottle but the woman held it out of reach with a wicked snicker before surrendering it without further difficulty. He couldn’t believe his eyes. It had to be just a bottle of aspirin, but the label – bearing a bar code and dosage with the instructions Take with food before bed, prescribed to simply Shego – looked legitimate enough, even if it didn’t clarify what the drug was. He trusted his accomplice leagues more than this shifty intruder, and he trusted her not to weaken herself – not to mention, if she was taking it, then she would have to be in contact with the supplier, Global Justice, and there was no way—

“I’ll let you sleep on it,” said Priscilla, interrupting his doubtful train of thought. She smiled again as she backed away up the staircase. “Roofie her if you don’t believe me. Only way you’ll get to have a little fun with her.”

He had plenty of fun with Shego – Vegas and the stolen station wagon were still fairly fresh in his mind – but as the words sank in, he concluded that spray painting graffiti and pushing cars off cliffs wasn’t the kind of fun this woman was suggesting. He opened his mouth to object, to defend himself or Shego or them both, but the intruder had vanished in the blink of an eye.

Maybe Shego hadn’t been over-exaggerating when she’d said the woman was not a friend. Maybe she’d had every reason to attack her when she’d arrived on her doorstep.

Stupefied for a second too long, he was late in diving up the stairwell, reaching out to grasp at open air, hoping to catch the invisible lady in his lair, but his hand met only empty air. “I am not drugging my partner in crime,” he hissed out, knowing she must still be near enough to hear him, and strained to listen for the slightest breath or shuffle of retreating feet.

He heard nothing.

Still clutching the pill bottle in one hand, daring not stow it in a pocket lest the intruder merely steal it back – invisiblity had to grant an innate talent for pick-pocketing – Drakken climbed the staircase a few steps more, his free hand outstretched and feeling uselessly for the invisible intruder. When he decided it was a lost cause, he let his hand fall and he snorted his frustration. An invisible woman who didn’t want to be caught would be a challenge to catch without a full sweep of the lair with infrared goggles, and he simply didn’t have enough for every henchman, nor did he have his own handy.

“I am not drugging Shego,” he repeated to himself, though as he returned to his office, pills in hand, he had to wonder how often she drugged herself. He tried to guess how many pills were in the bottle – the label specified 30 – and wanted to believe that most, if not all, were still accounted for. Where had Shego even gotten the pills? Had she brought them from Go City? She couldn’t possibly still be in contact with that rotten Global Justice – that would make her a spy, wouldn’t it? He trusted her not to be a spy. He knew it in his gut! Her brothers, on the other hand…

He shook his head but it didn’t clear up the plague of second thoughts he had now about his partner.

Drakken dropped himself down in his desk chair and pushed up his glasses to rub his weary eyes until stars burst behind his eyelids. Friday night, Shego had behaved especially strangely. He didn’t want to consider the possibility it wasn’t just the alcohol to blame – but he’d been sober enough at the time she’d stolen his cheese to make out her cursing to herself about needing to eat with something she damned with enough profanity to make a sailor blush. Looking at the bottle of pills now, the instructions take with food served as a jigsaw piece he didn’t want. The puzzle was coming together and he didn’t like the picture it formed.

How had Priscilla Kimbley gotten hold of Shego’s medication anyway? Were they working together, conspiring against him? No, of course not. Shego clearly had a beef with the woman, and she reminded him at every opportunity.

He’d very much like to believe Miss Kimbley was pulling his leg, but evidence pointed to Shego’s use of the mysterious medication. He shook the bottle around again and counted carefully – recounting at least two more times for good measure. There were a few missing. So what? That was proof of nothing. That Kimbley woman could have easily stolen a few. And if Kimbley had stolen them from Shego, then she would be missing them.

As Drakken was battling to convince himself that his companion wasn’t taking some strange chill pill provided by Global Justice, soft footsteps descending the staircase made him jump.

It was only Shego, in her googly-eyed owl pajamas and soft green slippers – not the sight one would expect in a lair of all places, but regrettably a sight for sore eyes nonetheless. Her hair was still damp, and her voice was a little on the hoarse side when she croaked, “Hey,” in greeting.

Drakken didn’t realize how fast he could move until he’d stuffed the bottle in his pocket and come to stand beside her. “Are you ready for that movie now?” he blurted, though he wasn’t eager to watch it himself, if he was being honest. Somehow it felt like an appropriate change of subject.

She sniffed, nose stuffy, and gave a weak smile. “I’unno,” she said with an effort at dry wit, “are you ready to be cute and cuddly?”

His legs felt weak and his heart thrummed meekly against his ribs. He wasn’t cuddle material nor did he strive to be cute, yet the prospect she might think so gave him an itch to try it out anyway. “I-I’m—let’s not get ahead of yourselves,” he stammered with a nervous smile.

She reached out for his arm, fingers curling delicately into his sleeve. She didn’t inadvertently burn him when she touched him this time, though by the look of concentration skewing her face, she was trying hard not to. “You wanted to show me something?”

In that moment, he tried to forget just how nice she smelled fresh out of the shower, and tried to think of how lovely the orchid did instead. And then he sharply reprimanded himself – because giving the orchid a whiff when his nerves were high would only heighten them, and he didn’t need any mood enhancers, for good or for bad, at a time like this. Neither did Shego, for that matter, but he turned back for his desk and the biosphere anyway.

“Now, it’s not for keeps,” he warned, gesturing to his desk and the flower on it. “But it looks nice, no? Y-you probably shouldn’t sniff it. It has strong effects on the brain. Amplifies – uhm – maybe when you’re in a better mood.” The blossom was largely unstudied, but by what he had gathered, the potent flower could act as ecstasy or it could plunge a person into depression, and cause any number of wild mood swings depending on the circumstances.

He went on to explain the exotic pink blossom to her, the lengths he’d gone to cultivate it, and its potential – but she looked bored the entire time his mouth was moving. Maybe that Priscilla woman was right, he considered, disheartened as he set the biosphere aside. Shego really didn’t seem all that impressed by flowers, even flowers as difficult to grow as genetically-modified orchids in climate-controlled biospheres. He made a mental note to find some she did like – and corrected himself that it was only to prove Shego’s indifference wasn’t withstanding among all flowers. No one hated flowers that much, except maybe the odd villain or two who utterly despised healthy ecosystems.

Shego pulled at his sleeve. “Okay,” she said, sounding bored to death. “You like gardening. Great. Can we go back upstairs and play pretend now?” She seemed more stable now, at least.

Drakken couldn’t help a sigh. “Do I have to pretend to be cute and cuddly?” The idea still had him uncertain. Especially the idea of cuddling – a possibility seeming realer by the moment, and with her no less – well, it made his insides do a nervous jig. There were more productive ways to spend his time, and yet he was compelled to bend to her will.

She flashed an impish smile. “You don’t have to pretend.”

“Good.”

“Because you already are, flower boy.” She turned away then with a small laugh at his grunt of indignation.

Despite what should have been an offence to his villainous ego, he followed her back up the stairs. His smile on her back faded though, and he reached almost involuntarily for his pocket and the pills in it. Pills prescribed by Global Justice.

Keeping his eyes up, he studied the back of her head, eyes inadvertently drawn to something that stood out against the sheet of black. Maybe he just hadn’t walked close enough behind her to see them before. There wasn’t much to see there on the back of her head – except, of course, a grey hair or two he hadn’t noticed until now with her hair damp and sticking flat around her shoulders.

Following Shego back to his quarters, Drakken tried not to stare too hard. She seemed too young for grey hair, but he was mindful enough to keep the thought to himself. She wasn’t older than she said she was, was she? No, of course not. He’d first met her as an awkward teenager – well, technically she still was a teenager – but it was only four years ago or so that he’d first encountered her. She’d been in rough shape, but thinking back, she’d still been very much a kid then. He hadn’t been in the best shape himself either, and he’d been in even worse shape when he’d ditched her at that lonely rest stop in the middle of nowhere.

Something about that fateful day echoed at the far reaches of his mind, just out of his grasp. Something about Subject B.

Drakken mulled it over as he made a fresh batch of popcorn while Shego sheepishly swept up the mess she’d made earlier.

It wasn’t until she was sitting on his couch, awaiting his return with the bowl, did it finally resound clearly in his head and out of his mouth. “Subject B is liable to break down in a matter of years,” he muttered incredulously to himself, staring down at the grey strands standing boldly against her unnaturally iridescent raven locks.

The thought of cellular damage crossed his mind. If her body hadn’t adapted to her alien power, the plasmic fire would have destroyed her years ago as surely as it would have anyone else’s who came in contact. Thankfully the first round of researchers had clearly been wrong about her – try as she might, Subject B hadn’t destroyed herself during the metamorphosis – but that didn’t mean they were entirely wrong, either. Without a so-called chill pill to suppress the flame, was she still at risk of hurting herself? Had Global Justice been doing her a favor by regulating her alien glow in some way?

Shego glanced back at him innocently, tearing her eyes off her movie. “What was that?” he barely heard her ask.

“Nothing,” he answered quickly, sitting down awkwardly on the far end of the couch, the bowl of popcorn set on the one cushion between them.

He tried to face the movie and eat popcorn one puff at a time from the palm of his hand while his companion snacked by the handful. He didn’t make it long before his eyes slid across to her, the thoughts still wreaking havoc in his head.

She caught him staring. “What?”

“Nothing,” he blurted, gaze snapping away briefly. “Um. Actually.” He was sitting on the pill bottle in his back pocket. He shifted, but it didn’t make his rear feel any better. Unabashedly studying the woman in her pajamas now, the question “Are you on any special medication?” escaped his trap.

Shego quirked her brow at him, suspicion fleeting on her face, but she laughed awkwardly. She took a guess, “Like…what? Birth control?”

He had to dismiss that one the best he could, awkwardly scratching at his neck. “Ah, no. That probably couldn’t hurt, but no, I mean – what I’m asking is – I’m just wondering if you’re taking anything. That’s all.” He swallowed and waited.

She dropped the wry playful act, her glare hardening on him. “No,” she denied, though he could hear the lie laced in her tone alone. “What makes you think that?” She needed to work on her deception skills.

“Nothing. Nothing, just…” Drakken blurted, realizing he was just as bad. His own pulse thundered in his ears. If Shego had put Priscilla up to giving him the pills, she’d be expecting him to come clean, wouldn’t she? And if she hadn’t, she’d have to expect him to return the stolen item. And if they were stolen, and if she was on medication, then maybe she needed them. “Well, actually, you said something the other night. And I just thought, if they help…maybe you’d want these back. I believe these are yours.” Swallowing doubt and anxiety and anything else, Drakken fished out the bottle from his back pocket and held his hand outstretched, bottle in his palm for her to take.

Shego’s eyes locked on the bottle. She reached for it but withdrew her hand just as quickly, wringing her fingers. “No, thanks. I don’t need that shit,” she spat – only to change her mind in the next instant. Before he could argue it or retract the offer to return the medication, she snatched up the bottle and jumped to her feet.

“It might be for your own good, Shego,” he called, leaping up to follow her to the kitchen. Her hands were emitting green cinders as she fought with the child-proof lid. He smelled melting plastic. She was heaving for breath. She was angry. What was she so angry about? It was a damn good thing he hadn’t let her sniff the flower.

“Fuck off!” she shouted vehemently, chucking the bottle with full force in the general vicinity of his sink. The half-melted bottle shattered, little white pills scattering. Before the pills had even stopped bouncing, she scrambled forward to collect him, cursing to herself. “Whose side are you on anyway?” she snapped back at him, voice cracking, as he approached the kitchen island.

“Yours!” Drakken blurted in reflex. “I mean – I thought – I thought you were on mine, is what I mean. And if they help you, maybe you should—”

“No,” she spat. She was trembling, throwing every pill she found into the sink under the running tap. She slammed cabinet doors to find the switch for the garbage disposal. “No, no, no,” she repeated to herself, to every pill she disposed of. He heard her counting them under her breath.

Once the distraught superhuman was sure that every tiny pill had been thoroughly destroyed and washed down the drain, she hovered over his sink, shaking her head as she ran her glowing hands beneath the steaming stream of water while the garbage disposal snarled tirelessly.

Drakken was quiet for a long moment, standing cautiously on the other side of the kitchen island though he knew he wasn’t out of the danger zone. Once her tremors had subsided somewhat and the steam had stopped billowing, he crept forward, daring to stand beside her and shut off the faucet. When he reached for her shoulder, he was just about zapped by the energy radiating unseen from her body.

Despite the shimmer of unchecked green glow glistening over her skin, Shego turned sharply toward him, her face thudding into his chest and arms constricting around him, squeezing the breath out of him in a bear hug comparable to his mother’s. The only difference was Shego was not his mother, and her body burned like a furnace against him, namely her hands digging into his back. He winced. The plasma burns eating holes in his shirt would need lotion later.

Bearing it, Drakken squeezed his eyes shut, choosing not to look so closely at her grey hairs, evidence she might very well be breaking down in some way. She was certainly breaking down on an emotional level, anyway. Cute and cuddly, he reminded himself as he gingerly held her by the shoulders, desperately hoping to channel whatever cute and cuddly part of him she’d been hoping for tonight even if it wasn’t his normal.

He knew the third degree was coming when his companion went rigid and roughly shoved him back, an accusatory glare written across her face. Drakken didn’t wait for her to demand answers before opening his big mouth to spill the beans.