#she teased this on the pod awhile ago 

[petrovna-zamo]

Katya is a guest on Very Delta!

[marauderundercover]

Day 4: Ghosts

Dick Grayson was having a completely normal day. He’d teased his little brother about his new (well, newly introduced, they’d apparently been dating for awhile) girlfriend, helped his other brother with a cold case that he’d been working on for awhile, and ate three bowls of cereal. Completely normal. Or, it was until he decided to see why the alarms were going off in the west section of the manor. People rarely went there, so he flips on the security cameras, guessing that it was just a false alarm. Boy was he wrong. His jaw drops as things start floating around the room. Books, cookies, cheese, pens, all sorts of random things start floating. But the weirdest thing was the way the cookies and cheese would disappear with tiny bite marks, as if someone, or <i>something<i> was eating them. 

“Nope. Nope, oh heck no.” He murmurs, jumping out of his chair and running towards the dining room in the hope of finding some of his family. He’d grab those he could and get them out of the house, then call the others. But staying at the manor when it was obviously overrun with ghosts? Not an option. He sighs in relief when he sees Damian’s girlfriend, Marinette, and Damian laughing in the dining room. 

“Dick, are you okay? You look pale.” Marinette says worriedly. He shakes his head and grabs both kids, tugging them after him as he rushes out of the manor. 

“Grayson! Stop this at once. What is the meaning of this?” Damian scowls, but Dick doesn’t slow down. 

“Ghosts! In the manor. Saw them on the security tapes.” Dick says, huffing in frustration when Damian jerks his wrist away and stops moving. “Little D-”

“No, Grayson. Are you seriously trying to evacuate the manor because you think you saw ghosts on the security cameras?” Damian asks, clearly frustrated. Dick frowns. 

“Well it sounds bad when you say it.” He says. He looks to Marinette for help, confused as to why her face is bright red. “Sunshine?” 

“Okay so don’t freak out.” She says. Dick nods, and she sighs. “So you know how I’m the Guardian of the Miraculous?” She asks. 

“Yeah, and you have all of the Kwami with you, like, all the time.” Dick says. Marinette winces. 

“Right. Er, do you remember when I told you that magic and technology don’t really get along?” She asks. Dick frowns, his eyebrows furrowed together until it clicks. Huh. 

“You mean the ghosts on the security cameras-”

“Were actually the Kwamis. Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve tried to tell them to stay in my room, but they like all the space here.” She says, smiling apologetically. Dick just smiles, relief flooding his system. It’s not that he was scared of the ghosts, but….ghosts are an unknown. And you never know when a ghost is going to turn into a vengeful spirit instead of a peaceful one. And he was not about to risk his family. 

“I have an excellent idea.” Damian says suddenly, and Dick’s surprised to see the mischievous smirk on his little brother’s face. 

“Is someone going to be hurt?” Dick asks, and Damian scoffs. 

“Of course not. I do have plans that don’t involve injury, Grayson.” He says, nose in the air. Marinette snorts. 

“Sure you do, mon oiseau, sure you do.” Marinette says, grinning at Damian. Dick just smirks at the red creeping onto his brother’s face. 

“Did you want to assist, habibti, or would you rather let Drake get away with using the last extra caffeine coffee pod?” Damian asks, a knowing look on his face. Marinette gasps before nodding. 

“That coffee stealer is going down!” She cheers before the two head back into the manor, discussing their plan the entire way. Dick blinks, and just shakes his head. He knew when to count his losses and this was definitely one of those times. 

***

Marinette grins at the illusion she’d made using Trixx’ help. Damian had originally wanted the Kwamis to just keep doing what they were doing, but she was pretty sure Trixx had a sixth sense when it came to mischief and tricks. They’d come flying in almost immediately and all but insisted to be part of the plan. It was perfect. Not too mean, but definitely a fitting punishment for taking the last coffee pod. She suppresses giggles as Tim walks in and does a double take at the illusion. 

“Er, hi. Do I...do I know you?” Tim asks with a frown. Marinette snorts as Trixx makes the ghostly woman tilt her head and then start towards him. Her head falling off and into her hands. The piercing shriek from Tim makes Marinette laugh wildly, the illusion falling almost immediately. 

“Tt, Drake, that was weak.” Damian scoffs, leaning out of his hiding spot. 

“What the hell was that?” Tim asks, looking much more awake than he did five minutes ago. Marinette stands from her hiding spot and smirks. 

“That, my dear friend, is called karma ala Kwami.” She says with a wide grin. 

“For what?” Tim asks. 

“Taking the last coffee pod.” She says, and Tim sighs. 

“I will never get between you and your coffee again.” He promises. Marinette drops Trixx’ transformation so that she can give them a high five. 

“Mission accomplished.” She says with a smirk. Trixx just grins, winking at Tim. There was never a dull moment around here.

Tag list: @maribat-october-rarepairs @stainedglassm @kittenmywaythrulife @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess

[firesign23]

Humble prompt request! Off the back of the sad!sex in Yonder, and their avoiding the chance of pregnancy, perhaps a time when children are a possibility...? Not necessarily smutty, but could be! Or just a conversation about it. Hope your kiddo feels better soon

Okay, I wasn’t sure if you wanted this specifically set in yonder-verse (which is…complicated to write this prompt due to a later scene, and no Brienne is not pregnant), BUUUUUUT this could be read as a yonder sequel or not, reader’s choice, and can also be followed up by this prompt fill awhile back. 

Below the cut for length, not content. This sprawled, and yet could have easily been twice the length if I wasn’t reminding myself this was a prompt fill and I didn’t need to turn it into a 70K Dissertation On Parenting. Not that I’ve written one of those before. Oh, and warnings for excessively modern views of pregnancy. It’s my party and I’ll do what I want to.

Ask, Amuse or Assault Me

Brienne is still looking at the letter when Jaime arrives back at their apartments, shedding his armour with practiced efficiency before crossing the room; she leans back when he is behind her, smiling softly as he presses a kiss to her forehead. 

“How is my ser wife this evening?” he asks, as he always does; it is indulgent and sweet and she thinks perhaps she should resent it, prickle at all the implications people could read into it if they witnessed it. But they have fought too hard to get here, lost too much to feel anything but happiness; she closes her eyes and hums, feels a small smile at the corners of her mouth. It is there more often than not, these days.

“A letter from my father,” she says. “He says if my lion does not get me with child in the next six moons, I should throw him over in favour of a wolf. He feels I ought to have my pick of them.”

Jaime laughs, rounds her shoulder to lean against the desk and looks at her with a cocked head and a positively feline expression on his face.

“It is good to know my good-father is so confident the problem lies with me, and not our careful avoidance.”

She grimaces. “Yes, well, I’m hardly going to write him of that, now am I? He’s feeling his years, I think, and worried about Tarth once he is gone.”

“Ah.”

“It’s not–” Brienne huffs and pushes the paper away, slipping her hand onto Jaime’s thigh. “He’s right, of course. And perhaps he ought to have rewed himself, years ago, but as it is I am the only heir. If I die without a child of my own, it will go to a distant cousin. One who is in no way fit to rule the isle.”

Jaime reaches out to brush a strand of hair from her face. She ought to cut it again, or commit to growing it longer though that’s unwise if she is required to fight, but she does neither. 

“And yet, the moon tea,” he says, and there is such a tender carefulness in it that she drops her gaze to focus on the laces of his shirt.

“I was never meant to be the heir, as you know. I’m barely suited to it–” she feels him go to argue, though she is still studying his laces. “Don’t assure me that I will do it well, because I know it. My position here assures me of that, if nothing else. But I’m not inclined to politics, or making those decisions. Spending hours in my father’s solar discussing taxes seems akin to torture. To accept my duty, then pass it onto someone who has no more choice in the matter than I did…”

Her fingers stroke Jaime’s thigh, the fabric of his trousers and the coil of muscle beneath steadying her. It is her duty, she knows it, but to set everything else aside… 

“Do you want a child?”

The words startle her, and she looks up once more. He is watching her with the softness he saves for moments that are just between them. 

“It is hardly as if I have a choice,” she says. 

Jaime shrugs. “We have been making that choice. It’s imperfect, though there are ways around that as well, but… It’s an unpleasant business, dangerous. Better to name Pod your heir and ignore the mutters of bloodlines if it is not what you wish. Do you want a child?”

There is a queer flutter in her chest as she contemplates the question. Pod and Sansa and Arya and dear, brave Lyanna Mormont. The little ones that toddle around Winterfell these days, the ones barely off apron strings who find their way to the practice yards and swords nearly as large as they are. Memories of her own mother, faint but precious. Catelyn Stark’s fierce love for her children, ready to do anything to save the ones she could. It is a world that was cut off for her years ago, replaced by a septa’s assurance her husband would do his duty in the dark and her children would never truly be hers, cared for by others and raised for duty. 

“Do you?” she asks, not yet certain how to reply; she only remembers too late that he had children, had lost them in horrible ways and never been able to claim them even before then.

“It is a risk,” he says. “Every time. The bearing of them, but also… who they are, what they become. A risk to love someone so delicate.”

“Would you undo it?”

He is quiet for a moment and she thinks she should not have asked, but then he shakes his head. “No. I might wish for different circumstances, but… Did I ever tell you that Myrcella knew? Just before she–before she–” his lips twist. “She said that she was glad it was me.”

Brienne stands, moves between her husband’s legs and strokes his cheek. His hand reaches up to grip her wrist, his thumb gliding over her skin.  

“Another child would not change that, for better or worse,” he says. “I would not have you choose this for pity.”

“It’s not–I do,” she blurts out. “Perhaps more than I realised. And perhaps I am not suited to it any better than I am to be Evenstar, not by nature–”

“Nonsense. You’ve dragged me into a halfway decent man.”

“Jaime, you know–”

“Brienne, I am teasing you,” he says; his arms have fallen to her hips and he tugs her close enough he must look up at her. “But I can think of no-one better. You love so deeply, and you are patient and kind and brave. If you want this, your lion is only too happy to prove his virility to your father.”

Brienne begins to laugh. “You’re a ridiculous man, and I’d appreciate my father never be part of your virility. But… I want this, I do, but I don’t know how…” She gestures behind her, where there is a stack of training reports. “It is a year, at least, where I cannot do my duties. How do I set that aside, Jaime? There is always so much to be done, and no guarantee how long I have.”

He doesn’t dismiss her concerns, strokes her back as he thinks. 

“Then it is simply a matter of strategy,” he says. “There will be much you can still do, if you are well. It might be worth speaking to the maester. You have trained good men, you can give them more responsibilities. And there will be things you cannot do, of course there will be, and I’m sorry for that. It needn’t be today, regardless.”

Brienne feels his hand slip beneath the hem of her shirt, fingers skirting up her spine in a familiar rhythm. His lips find her neck, pressing a series of a soft kisses against it, stoking a fire that is rarely far away. 

“Not today?” she asks, a little breathlessly. 

He grins, lion and wolf and man. “No,” he says. “But it would hardly do to let our training slack.”

[nd43taags]

You’re All I Want for Candlenights

Happy Candlenights @bibarrybluejeans!  I was your secret santa in the TAZ exchange!  I hope you enjoy this blupjeans fluff I wrote!

Rated T for mild sexual humor and discussions of genitals and dysphoria, but it’s mostly just holiday themed fluff to the core.

When they had started the process, Barry hadn’t given much thought to when her body would be ready.  No matter how long it would be, it would be too long.  Every moment that Lup was in her spectral form as they waited for her body to regrow was a moment he didn’t get to hold her, so it was a moment wasted.  But there was nothing to be done for it except to wait, and as the time passed Barry did the math.  

And if his calculations were correct (and frankly, they always were), Lup would have her new body just in time for Candlenights.

“Oooh it’s the best gift I could give myself,” she teased, floating dreamily next to Barry’s workbench and looking at the math herself.  “A new body for Candlenights, prime for smooching.”

“And other things,” Barry laughed, extending his hand to her.

“Naughty naughty,” she chuckled.  She put her hand near his.  They couldn’t touch, not in the way that they wanted to, but they could feel each other, the warmth and the heat of their energy and love.  It was keeping them going.  It always had.

Continue reading below the cut or on AO3!

“I meant all the fun Candlenights stuff!” Barry said defensively, rolling his eyes. “Like eating good food, and snuggling by the fire, and holding hands during the lighting of the lanterns…”

“And fucking,” Lup said bluntly, and Barry could see her spectral grin as his face went red.  Gods he wanted to kiss her, but he settled for passing his hand into hers, feeling the crackle of energy across his skin.  Feeling the warmth of her presence.

“I’m just saying that you’re going to be able to get the full Candlenights experience this year,” Barry continued. “We’ve both got a few we need to make up for.  We could plan something special with the family if you wanted.  Something that does not involve sex.”

A crackle of energy ran over Lup.  “Like a party?”

“If you want,” Barry said.  “It can double as a homecoming party.”

At that Lup put her ephemeral hand to Barry’s face, and he flinched slightly at the spark of magical energy, but he still smiled.  And Lup could swear she could feel her non-existent heart skip a beat when she saw that.  After all these years, they were going to be together again.  They were finally coming home.

“Well we’ll have to do some careful preparations if we’re having a party,” Lup said.  “Wouldn’t want to have a shabby first Candlenights in my new body.”

“Whatever you want babe,” Barry hummed, bringing his left hand up to cup where her hand would be against his face.  A sparkle of silver caught Lup’s eye as her magic danced off the two wedding rings Barry was wearing: hers and his.

Careful preparations had been the staple of their relationship.

There had been careful preparations for the mission itself.  Barry’s careful preparation to approach Lup with his feelings for her.  Lup’s preparation to open up to Barry about her life once she realized she felt the same.  The preparation for their performance at the Conservatory that sealed their feelings for each other.  Their careful preparation for the ritual responsible for their current situation.  And their best laid plans to return themselves to each other.

She smiled, thinking back to another Candlenights almost 30 years ago.  A Candlenights approached with careful preparation just like everything else they did.

Except their marriage, which happened at the same time.  That was a little more spontaneous.

“It’s going to require a lot of positive energy to keep us grounded,” Barry explained, “We’re going to want to anchor ourselves into the people and feelings we love and care for so we aren’t swept away by the raw power of the transformation.”

“Well, that’s you B,” Lup said, kissing his cheek with a smile.

It was their 82nd cycle, and Barry and Lup were in bed discussing their future together.  It was not the way most couples went about their family planning.  There was no talk of homes or kids or white picket fences.  Barry and Lup were discussing something a little more eternal than that.  

And a lot more dangerous.

“Babe that’s sweet but I’m serious,” Barry said, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek in return.

“I’m kiiiinda serious too?” Lup replied.  “I love you, and I think I could keep myself from going whack just from the strength of our love alone.  You’re that fucking adorable.”

She rolled onto her back, looking up at the ceiling of their (now) shared cabin, and feeling a warmth in her heart she couldn’t get enough of.  Barry rolled over to rest his head on her bare stomach, and her hands went to his hair, carding through it gently.

“It’s not enough to love me, though I’m super flattered,” Barry explained.  “In order for this to work you’ve got to love life.  All of it.  You’ve gotta be so wholy attached to life that you cling to it against all odds.”  He sighed and turned his head to nuzzle into her stomach with his nose.  “I don’t doubt you love me Lup, but I don’t want to take any risks.  I just think it would be safer if we had other memories to work with, just in case something goes wrong.”

“Alright then I’ll make a special memory with Taako,” Lup said.  “You’ll need one too.”

“I’ve already talked to Magnus about it,” Barry sighed.  “He’s planning on taking me backpacking, then we’re gonna stargaze on top of the mountain and camp out.  Hopefully it’s a good day, but knowing Magnus he’ll make it memorable.”

“I know we’ve been preparing for this all year,” Lup said softly, working a tangled curl of hair around her finger.  “But it’s coming so fast.  We’ve only got a few weeks left before…”

“Yeah.”

They were silent for a moment, staring into the darkness of their room.  Both their hearts beat heavy in their chests as they thought about the future.  Then suddenly Barry sat up.  He turned to her, face panicked in the darkness.

“We should get married.”

“Babe what?” Lup laughed, sitting up.

“We should get married before… Before we do this,” Barry stammered as he turned away from her.  “If something happens I want to know we were married.  Just in case one of us…”

Lup curled around Barry’s back, pressing herself against him as her arms encircled his waist.

“Oh B,” she said, kissing his neck.  “We’ve been together for decades.”

“Which is why I didn’t think about it,” Barry explained.  “I know it’s basically a symbolic gesture at this point, but...”

“It’s fine babe, I get it,” Lup said, kissing his ear.  “Of course I’ll marry you Barry.”

A beat, and then they both started to laugh.

“Sorry Lu, I should have, like, proposed or something, not just shouted it out,” Barry said, flopping down onto the bed.  She lay down next to him, curling into his chest.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, “I’m scared too.”

He didn’t respond, but Barry’s hands went to the small of her back and pulled her closer to him, until the line of their bodies was as thin as it could be.  They fell asleep like that, wrapped into each other’s arms in a way that mirrored how their souls felt.  

Entwined.

There were a lot of things to consider when planning their Candlenights party.  There was food and music and decorations, but there were also preparations unique to them.  

There was a lot that went into growing a body from scratch.  

Barry was carefully watching the progress Lup’s body made as it grew inside the tank, checking to ensure it was on schedule and that everything about it was perfect.

Of course Barry already thought that Lup was perfect.

On the other hand, Lup didn’t like to spend very long with her new, growing body.  She rarely went into the lab to look at it, but Barry understood why.  It had been awhile since she had been in a body, and her body in particular had some unexpected baggage that came with it.  The magic was good but it wasn’t perfect.

They hadn’t realized it would regrow her body from the way it was before her transition.

“You look good,” Barry said, taking off his gloves as he left the lab.  “You’re almost the right height and weight, and you’ve got all your fingers and toes.  Your hair is getting really long, but we can get you a haircut after you’ve reanimated.  You’ll be ready just in time.”

“I still have a dick though,” Lup huffed.

“Yeah there is a penis,” Barry admitted, “But once you’re in your body we can do the transmutation spells you need to get you to where you want to be.”

“Wish we could do it before I have to go in there,” Lup sighed.  “Nooot looking forward to making that stop into Dysphoria Grand Central, even if it’s only for a few minutes.”

Barry sat down on the workbench and patted the space next to him.  Lup hovered closer to the bench with a frown, knowing Barry knew all too well that she couldn’t actually sit.

“I would if we could but you know how fickle that old pod is.  There’s no way it would handle an outside spell like that,” Barry soothed, and he looked so apologetic as he did so that Lup softened her gaze.  “I promise you won’t spend a second longer than you need to like that.  We’ll prep the spells so you can change right as you get out, and I’ll make sure all the mirrors are covered so you don’t have to see yourself if you don’t want to.”

“I just,” she hesitated, unsure how to continue.  “I didn’t want you to have to see that version of my body.  I’d already transitioned when we met and...  I haven’t even seen it in so long, I almost forgot.”

“Lup I already knew you had used transmutation magic on your body before we met,” Barry shrugged.  “If you don’t feel comfortable you have every right to make changes, but I’d love you with or without those changes.  I’ll always love you.”

A moment of silence, and Barry felt her brush against him, sending a shiver up his spine.

“... I look good though?” she said softly.

“Babe you look so good,” Barry said with a smile.  “Everything else came back exactly as it was before.  You’ve even got that mole on your inner thigh that I liked to kiss.  The one that’s really high up?”

Before realizing what he said, Lup cracked a wicked smile.  “Barold, were you creeping on my body?” Lup laughed.

“It was for science I swear!” he laughed.  “That pod hasn’t grown anything but Barry bodies for ten years, when your primary sex characteristics started forming I had to make sure you weren’t a magical hybrid of the two of us.”

“Ah, nope,” Lup sighed, “Just me.”

“And a lovely you it is,” Barry crooned, pantomiming a kiss on her cheek.  It made his lips tingle.

Davenport had agreed to do the ceremony, but the day of their wedding Barry realized they had forgotten something important.

“Do you want to keep your family name?” he asked Lup.

“I can’t use my family name Bar,” Lup said.  “That’s what happens to elves who leave their clan.  You lose your name.  Wouldn’t want to anyway.  And last I checked you don’t use yours either, unless I’m honestly supposed to believe you had your name changed to ‘Bluejeans’.”

“Yeah no, my family name is Hallwinter but like… They’re all dead?” Barry realized, “And I was thinking… why do we have to take names of the families who didn’t really like us all that much anyway?  They’ve been dead for almost a hundred years.  Maybe their names should... die with them.”

“Then are we just not going to have a family name?” Lup asked, taking his hand.  “I mean just Lup is rad as fuck, got a rock star vibe out of that, but plain Barry is kinda eh…”

“Actually I was thinking,” Barry said, squeezing her hand, “When we become liches, our full names will have power on their own.  We’ll need to keep them a secret.  So maybe we just… pick our own?  Just for us?”

“And Davenport,” Lup reminded him.  “He’ll probably want to know them for the purpose of officiating.”

“Okay Davenport can know it,” Barry chuckled, “I don’t think he’ll use our names against us, and I feel like we can trust him to take us down if we get too powerful.  He’s pretty crafty.”

“Well I’m pretty sure if Captain Dadnport wanted us dead he’d want to use our full names anyway,” Lup giggled.  “So that’s it then?  We just… make one up?”

“Why not?” Barry admitted with a grin.  “We’re starting something new.  Let’s make it really new, not tied to anyone else.”

“Okay B,” Lup said, “What should we choose then?”

“Yeah, what kind of name would best represent us?” Barry mused.

Lup laughed.  “How about Lup and Barry Awesomesauce?”

“Horrible,” chuckled Barry.

She poked him in the ribs with a grin.  “Speak for yourself, Bluejeans,” she teased.

“Fair enough,” Barry laughed.  “How about... something in Elvish?”

Lup shrugged.  “I’m open to suggestions.”

“How about…” he blushed and smiled widely.  “Melinyes?”

A soft smile spread across Lup’s face.  “Honey that just means I love you,” she laughed.

“Yeah, but every time I say your name it will be like…” he squeezed her hand even tighter.  “Lup, I love you.  And only I will get to say it to you, for the rest of our lives.”

“And Davenport,” Lup said again.

“Davenport gets to say it once this afternoon, and then never again,” Barry laughed.

“Mmmm…  Barry Melinyes,” Lup mused.  “Lup Melinyes… it’s not bad.  I like it, but I wouldn’t scribble it in the margins of my notes with hearts around it.  It just lacks the punch that Bluejeans has.”

“We can put Bluejeans on the paperwork,” Barry teased, kissing her cheek.  “Is that good then?  Melinyes?”

“I think so,” she whispered, kissing him on the lips.

The preparations for the party were going as smoothly as they could with half of the planners being unable to interact with the material plane in any meaningful way.  Lup spent a lot of time hovering around and asking for things, while Barry spent his time doing them.  He hung decorations around their home, and bought food to prepare for the party.

There was a small hang up though.

“I’m not going to be able to help you with cooking until I get my new body,” Lup sighed, floating over the sacks of groceries Barry had brought home.  “I can, like, give instructions?  But you’re going to have to do most of it yourself.  I’m worried if I touch any of the food it will spoil.”

“Yeah that’s that necromantic energy,” Barry moaned.  “It’s okay, I can always call Taako in if I need extra help, but I think we’ll manage.”  He gestured to the groceries on the table.  “I got everything you asked for, so what will we be making?”

“I’m thinking latkes and sufganiyot,” Lup said, “Our aunt always used to make those for Candlenights.”

“Oh boy I get to fry things,” Barry laughed weakly, “That’s fine, as long as you lower your expectations for quality.  I tend to burn everything.”

“It’ll be great,” Lup assured him, “You’ll do great.  And anyway I haven’t eaten anything in ten years, so they’ll taste good to me no matter what.  What did your family make for Candlenights?”

“Eh, mostly sweetbreads and roasted meats,” Barry shrugged, “We weren’t big on the traditions.  What about that thing you and Taako used to make on the Starblaster for Candlenights?”

“The pudding?” Lup laughed, “B we just would throw that together out of whatever fruit and spices we could get that year, it wasn’t anything special.”

“It was special because we all would share it together,” Barry said with a shrug.  “It wasn’t always good, but it was our tradition.  I think everyone would love to have it again.”

“Okay, but this year it actually needs to taste good.  Not like that year all we had was dragonfruit and garlic.”  Lup smiled.  “It’s gonna be so good to be able to taste things again.  It’s been so long I’ve actually forgotten what being hungry feels like.”

“Well we want to have all of your favorite foods for Candlenights, so that you can get all the best experiences,” Barry explained, looking through the bags.  “I got a couple bags of junk food, just in case you wanted something cheesy or salty or greasy or whatever.”

“You’re too good for me Bar,” Lup hummed, looking at the bag of chips Barry was setting out.  “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“What else do you want to do when you get back in your body?” Barry asked.

“Well wear something that isn’t red for once,” Lup laughed, gesturing at her spectral red robes.  “If I had known I would be spending ten years in this outfit I would have worn something different.”

“You look as beautiful as you did that day,” Barry said, and while Lup couldn’t blush it certainly felt like she was.  “I can’t wait to hold you again.”

“Just a little longer,” Lup teased.  “Oh, we’re not doing gifts, right?  Kinda hard to go shopping like this.”

“I figured the only thing you’d want is this,” Barry said, gesturing to the second ring on his finger.  “And the only thing I want is you, so…”

“I can’t believe you were able to keep those both safe, with all the body switching you were doing,” Lup said.

“Well I had to, didn’t I?” Barry said.  “They were the only thing that made me certain you were still out there.”

“I’m just saying I’m impressed,” Lup said, extending a spectral hand to Barry, which he raised his own hand to touch.  “That whole time I was trapped, I knew the only reason I was still alive was because your ring was safe.  And I hoped every day it was safe because it was still with you.  I love you.”

“I love you more than anything babe,” Barry said with a smile.  “I overcame death for you.”

“Mmm, me too,” Lup hummed.  “A thousand times over.”

“Do you two have rings you’re exchanging?” Davenport asked.

“Yeah I… I got them right here,” Barry said, fumbling in his pocket.

“Thanks for doing this Cap,” Lup said, “And for agreeing to keep our chosen names a secret.”

“You two are going to go through with that ritual whether or not I approve,” Davenport said, “The least I could do is make sure you have another safety net.”  He took one of each of their hands into his own.  “You’ve thought it all out?  Every contingency?”

“We have,” Barry answered.  “We’ve run all the numbers.”

“What will your phylacteries be?” Davenport asked.

“These.”

Barry pulled his other hand from his pocket and held out the two silver rings they were going to exchange.  Davenport looked them over with a careful eye.

“Pretty bold to tie your soul to something you wear on your own body,” Davenport replied.

“No we…” Lup intercut, “We won’t be wearing ours.  Barry will be tied to my ring, and I’ll be tied to Barry’s.”

“So we’ll always be together,” Barry explained.  “And we can protect each other.”

“Alright.”  Davenport squeezed their hands.  “Promise me that if one of you is planning on going somewhere dangerous, that you’ll leave your ring with your partner.”

“Of course,” Barry replied.

“For sure,” Lup agreed.

“We doing this?”  Taako asked from behind them, and Lup smiled as she turned to her brother.  They needed a witness, and there was no one more suited than Taako.  They could trust him with their name.  She could trust him with anything.

“Hold onto your hat bro, I think we’re about to start.”

“Yeah,” Barry nodded.  “We’re ready.”

“Okay then,” Davenport sighed, and cleared his throat.  “Barry, do you take Lup to be your partner in life and in death?”

“I do,” Barry said with a smile.

“And Lup, do you take Barry to be your partner in life and in death?”

“I do,” Lup said, grinning.

With one final squeeze, Davenport released both of their hands.  “Then with the power vested in me, I name you Barry and Lup Melinyes, husband and wife.”

They slid the rings onto each others hands, and kissed quickly.  Taako sniffed, and Lup smiled as they turned to see Taako holding back tears.

“Fucking… going to ruin my smokey eye,” Taako moaned, giving his sister a wink.  “I hope you’re happy.”

“Thanks for the sacrifice, Koko,” Lup laughed.

“Be good to each other,” Davenport said quietly.

“We will,” Lup replied.

“When will you be doing the transformation?” Davenport asked.

“Next week,” Barry answered.  “We’ve got everything we need prepared now, we just wanted to have it close to the end of the year in case…”

“In case something goes wrong,” Davenport finished.  “I understand.  Quite a Candlenights gift you’re giving each other.”

Barry laughed shyly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“If it was anyone else I’d be terrified for you,” Davenport said.  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still scared for you both, but…. you two… I think you two can make it work.”

Lup’s new body reached maturation the first morning of Candlenights.

The process itself was fast and quiet.  Lup emerged from the pod and Barry quickly handed over the components she would need for her transmutation spells.  Once that was done they embraced, holding each other for the first time in what felt like an eternity.  Then they were kissing, and laughing, and kissing again, and Lup found herself crying and smiling and feeling overwhelmed as her heart in her chest beat once again.  And Barry too, unable to tear his hands, his lips away from her, wanted to touch every inch of her, to feel all he had missed in those long ten years.

And then they were running to the bedroom to make up for lost time.

Of course they couldn’t stay there all day, as much as they wanted to.  There were other things that needed doing.  Barry helped Lup cut and shave her hair until it was the way she preferred it.  Lup helped Barry with the remaining cooking that needed to be done, dusting his sufganiyot with sugar and preparing the IPRE pudding.  Still they took every opportunity to kiss and touch and hold each other.  They were never further than a few feet apart, fingers often entwined as they worked on their various tasks.

It felt like coming home.  

That evening, Lup lit the candles on their decorations with a flick of her wand, and beamed as everyone at their party gasped with joy as both the candles and her dress sparkled in a rainbow of magical lights.  In the candlelight, her newly returned ring that housed the root of Barry’s soul glittered on her finger, and she smiled as she felt it’s cool metal on her skin.

There was so much about being alive she had missed.

But that night, as Magnus drunkenly sang a traditional Candlenights ballad, as Merle awkwardly flirted with the Candlenights bush, as Taako teased Barry for his overcooked (but still delicious) sufganiyot, as Lucretia told Angus stories about the Candlenights puddings the twins would make for them, as Davenport beamed up at them both from his place by the fire, she realized how lucky she was to have another Candlenights with them at all.

“Guys I…” she paused, and cleared her throat.  “Sorry, not used to having vocal chords.”  The crowd laughed, and she smiled.  “I just wanted to say… thank you everyone for coming to celebrate with us.”

“Welcome home Lup!” Merle cried, and Magnus cheered “Yeah, welcome back!” in response.  Everyone started to laugh and clap and cheer, and Lup’s heart soared to be with her family again.

“And…  And I wanted to thank Barry especially,” Lup said, taking his hand, “For helping me out and… for keeping my memory alive even when he didn’t know who I was.  You’re the reason we’re all together again babe.  I love you.”

“Gross!” Taako shouted.

“Shut the fuck up Taako I’m trying to be heartfelt!” Lup snapped back playfully, and everyone laughed once again.  With a toast, they all cheered once more under the sparkling lights.  Then they returned to their party activities, singing and dancing and laughing and eating and enjoying each other’s company in peace.  Barry leaned over and kissed Lup on the cheek, then whispered quietly into her ear so only she could hear him.

“Happy Candlenights, Lup Melinyes.”

Lup felt a tingle of magic down her spine as Barry said her true name, and she smiled.

“Happy Candlenights Barry Melinyes.”

[ambivalentangst]

Lance and the Generals

Alright so listen liSten Linda I know the generals have probably seen Lance's face but what if they didn't bc helmets and for the sake of writing plot. Basically I just wanted to write Lance bonding and having a good time with these babes who I'm 10/10 gay for. + a little Lancelot for the sake of angst and miscommunication. This was supposed to go up tomorrow, but screw it, I'm finished now. I'm also aware it's been stated Lance and Lotor don't get along but as we haven't seen them interact yet, imma keep doing my thing regardless. Crack ships are fun that way. I did have a part two vaguely planned out with a reveal, if anyone's interested. Either way, I like aliens, lesbians, and grey morality so here we go! - All Lance had to say was it was a good thing his helmet didn’t really come off in battle, because when he walked into the salon and saw four very pretty and very dangerous woman he’d encountered time and time again he had a mini heart attack, along with a white haired beauty he’d never seen before. Lance looked at them for a moment longer, then looked at himself. According to everyone he’d asked, this was the best spa around, and Lance really could do with a good massage. Defending the universe was stressful. Besides, it wasn’t like they’d be able to recognize him. He could even gather some intel! So, flashing a flirtatious smile at the alien manning the front desk, he laid down what common currency the team managed to scrounge up and sidled up to the five gathered. “Do you lovely ladies mind if I join you?” he asked, trying to control the pounding of his heart. He was startled, but not entirely put out by the entirely masculine and cool voice that responded. “I don’t see why not,” the white haired one purred, and Lance grinned. He could be down for that, and settled himself very purposely next to the first one that had spoken. He figured it was probably another general, and was more than happy to get to know them. Almost instantly he had the spritely, bubbly one all over him, winding her fingers through his hair as a face mask was painted on him by the staff. “Wow! Acza, come look! His hair is so soft!” Lance’s smile widened a little, suddenly reminded of his older sisters fawning over him. Cucumbers, or at least what appeared to be the space equivalent were put over his eyes, blocking his view. Quiet footsteps wandered over, a sound of surprise following as Lance felt another hand thread through his head of brown. “It is,” a smooth voice, also female, responded. Probably the one Keith had met in the Weblum. There was also a meow, to which Lance assumed the blind one had joined in on the action. “Great, isn’t it, Narti?” It felt very nice, and Lance couldn’t help enjoying the praise. It felt nice to be the center of attention for a little. “I wanna touch!” Came a gruffer voice, and Lance jolted as his hair was ruffled very aggressively. Ah, the buff one. “Easy there, Zethrid. We don’t want anybody scalped. He does look fragile” The masculine voice again, and Lance turned his head where he thought it was coming from. “Don’t worry, baby. I can play rough if you want me too,” he drawled with a smirk. Giggles, and the hands on his head went away to be replaced with a lighter, more clinical touch as he heard water running and things being worked into the hair everyone had been enjoying a few moments ago. Lance was expecting to be tolerated, but not to have his advances returned. So, he nearly choked on the lemonade like drink that had been put in his hand, as well as the straw that had been guided to his lips when the beauty responded. “Are you sure you want me to hold you to that offer?” Lance hummed thoughtfully, while ‘oohs’ and some disgusted scoffing filled the air. “I can think of an awful lot of things I’d want you to hold me too,” he responded in a sultry purr. A whistle then who Lance thought Zethrid did, and the bubbly one laughed again. “Ooh, I like him! Your-” The man cleared his throat, and she quickly fixed her words. “Sir, he’s a good fit. Pretty too. Oh Acza, don’t look at me like that. You know very well I’m a lesbian.” Another whistle from Zethrid, who Lance could properly see as the space cucumbers were taken off his eyes and his mask was washed away by another attendant. The blue skinned woman was blushing, and Lance connected the dots with a smile. “Ezor,” the woman hissed abashedly, and now it was Lance’s turn to laugh as someone began rubbing oils into his feet and hands. “Really, you guys are dating? That’s great! I have a sister back home with a girlfriend.” For a moment, his expression faltered, thinking of home. “I haven’t seen them in awhile,” he admitted. The man arched a perfectly plucked brow, placing a hand on his. “And why is that?” Lance smiled, but it held a bit of sadness now. “I, uh, left home with a girl and some friends.” Technically, true. “It was spur of the moment. I didn’t really realize I wouldn’t be able to go back until it was too late. But I’m gonna get there eventually!” he promised, looking up to face the man with a grin. “There’s just some things I have to do first.” His eyes searched around the room, reminding himself that he was among enemies. Still, they didn’t seem like it in the moment. Ezor was laughing, kissing Acza on the nose while the other woman blushed and looked like she was trying not to spontaneously combust. Zethrid was talking with Narti about what color their nails should be. He was still focused on them when he felt a hand on his cheek, thumb swiping over it. “I’m sorry, what are these things on your cheeks? I have never seen them before.” Lance laughed playfully, not exactly pulling away from the touch. It was refreshing at the very least. “They’re just freckles. You’ve really never seen them?” The man shook his head, head cocking to the side. He looked intrigued. “Never. Do they hurt? And are all your people so very becoming?” Lance made a sound that sounded like a squeak, a blush creeping up his cheeks and coating the tips of his ears. “Um, no. I was born with them. And maybe? I’m not really sure what aliens consider attractive.” The man grinned, tipping his chin up. “I find you attractive,” he teased. Lance suddenly had overwhelming amounts of sympathy for Acza. “Wow. Thanks? Woah, I should probably get this towel off my head. It’s, um, yeah! Gotta get it.” He ignored the amused chuckle from the man, untwisting it from atop his head. As he rubbed it back and forth on his head to finish drying it before casting it aside, his previously straightened hair sat in soft curls atop his head. Lance thought nothing of it, but he heard a little gasp and suddenly Ezor was right back in his face. “Oh my god! It curls!” Just like before, he was swarmed with the girls--generals, he reminded himself. They patted and prodded at his hair, even the beautiful man joining in. The longer he spent with them through massages and all sorts of other pampering, the harder it was to reconcile the image of the group who were so close knit and cared for each other so much with the same people who hunted them relentlessly. He felt Zethrid’s ears (so fluffy!) and Narti’s tail. Hell, he had matching nail colors with Acxa in the end. The man was reserved, but he listened as Lance talked (vaguely of course, he wasn’t an idiot) about all the insecurities he had, as well as his hopeless crush on Keith and his position as a paladin. He listened, offering advice while the girls sympathized and told funny stories to cheer him up when the mood got too down. By the town Lance left the spa his skin was glowing and he felt better than he had in ages. It made him sick to know that if they weren’t on the wrong side of the war they could’ve been friends. As he made his way back to the pod it occurred to him that he’d never gotten the man’s name. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if the man was Lotor, but giggled to himself just thinking of it. The head of an evil empire spanning the majority of the universe wasn’t just going to be sitting in a spa, what an absurd thought.

[shininglightfireflies]

I Don’t Know Her

I can’t remember what I ate last night, but I do remember things from long ago. I remember a best friend in Pre-K, with hair pulled into curly pigtails and pale brown palms that gripped my hand as she jumped up and down. I remember a wide grin and pink skirt, as she dragged me towards the Big Tree during recess to play The Ground is Lava (But The Roots Are Crocodiles You Can Step On For Five Seconds Before They Snap). I remember a high laugh that filled the empty classroom after school as we waited for our teacher mom and PTA mom, respectively, to finish whatever boring adult things they were doing.

I remember fourth grade, when we were in separate classes. I remember turning to make a joke and finding empty air, and promising myself I’d tell the joke to her later, even though I’d have to explain it so it wouldn’t be as funny. I remember hearing about Ashley and Brittany and names I could not match to faces. I was not the jealous type, but I feared I was being left behind. “Don’t be silly.” She’d smiled, the goofy one she did to make me relax. “We’ll always be best friends. We’re Two Peas in a Pod, remember?” I beamed, thinking back to the band we’d tried to start in second grade for a week until our new obsession was skateboarding. We always became interested in the same things at the same time, then. 

She’d put on lip gloss that day, making her lips shiny and glittery, and I remember feeling something, maybe admiration. I was foolish back then.

I was not hopeless without her, of course. I made friends, Betsy and Magaly and perhaps Kevin, though having a boy for a friend was tease-worthy when we were young, so I was unsure. I discovered Spider-Man while she joined Chorus, and it was perhaps the first time we had something that was not in common. We hung out still, when there was no one else to talk to, in the afternoon when the school was still bustling with adults but empty of children.

Things had changed by our last year of elementary school, where awkward pauses were common and she was glued to her brand new phone--I was not allowed one till high school. She had become grown up, in my eyes, with cool clothes and styled hair and friends who texted constantly. I still sung Twinkle Twinkle in the shower and did my homework the second I got home. It was the beginning of my inferiority complex, I think, when she stopped being my friend and became someone on a pedestal that I looked at with awe and perhaps fear. In the back of my mind I knew we were two cogs that had become out of sync, and maybe gave up on the friendship too easily.

In middle school we were in the same class, but she was busy making friends with the girls with dark lips and I was busy making friends with the kids who argued over books. It was almost like our past had ceased existing--we did not talk, barely glanced at each other, though she was the only one I knew from my old school. Things were confusing that year, and I took my mind off her.

She was quiet in class and loud in lunch, which had always been a thing. Like most bright lipped girls in middle school, everyone knew at least her name, and their opinions on her conflicted. When I was asked, I shrugged, and said, “I don’t know her, so I don’t really care.” I don’t know why I lied, it wouldn’t have affected anything. Maybe a small part of me was resentful, remembering the broken promise she’d made to me years ago. Which was stupid, people change and sometimes it’s better to not force things, but I will not lie and say I did not miss her.

By freshman year I had discovered that sexualities are a thing, and it was like my eyes were finally open. I playfully flirted with my friends, as long as they were comfortable with it, and respectfully did not look at her in the halls. 

“Who was your first crush, Viv?” Michelle asked one day as we sat in the darkest corner of the library. I giggled and talked about Fourth-Grade-Kevin, though it was not exactly the truth. She smiled and shyly spoke of a girl named Robin who had frizzy hair and freckles. I slipped my hand in hers, and then Michelle’s lips were on mine, and it was nice. It was really nice, and for once I was not thinking of Bast.

Second year of high school, Bast sang a solo. Her family was there, her mother waving at me happily. I awkwardly waved back, and caught her little brother’s eye. I grinned, and he blushed, and I laughed. I’d hoped he hadn’t forgotten about me, and apparently I was still his crush. 

When I heard Bast, I was struck by how emotional she sounded--and I’m not a cheesy person, but in my mind when I think of angels I think of her, in that moment, wearing a gold dress to match her eye shadow. “She sounds professional.” My mother whispered, proud for a girl who used to be like a second daughter to her, and something caught in my throat. Dammit, I thought I was over this.

Now that I had a phone, I made my own social media accounts and followed my friends. Somehow I found Bast’s Instagram, which was public. I rivaled with myself for awhile until finally giving in and scrolling through the photos. They all had Bast in them, with people I vaguely remembered seeing around school. It made me sad, seeing this whole life that had nothing to do with me anymore, until I realized she was smiling in every picture. Most of them were genuine, I could tell. After that, something inside me settled. If she was still happy, even without me, than I did not regret dropping off of her radar. 

Than the next day she gave a presentation on gender roles and how harmful they are and I was falling, I was gone and no one could save me from the inevitable crash. How stupid of me to think this would ever go away.

She was never single for long. She went through, it seemed, every boy in our grade. I heard mutters, snarky whispers, words like ‘slut’ and ‘whore’. It wasn’t their business, I wanted to say. I watched from afar, and I did nothing. 

She would put her everything into her relationship, gushing about her boyfriend, spending every second with him, kissing in public. It would be cute if it didn’t make my stomach twist. The boy would be gone next month, and she would allow herself a week to be heartbroken before moving on. I never knew how she did it, or why. Sometimes I wanted to shake her and tell her she didn’t need someone else to be happy, she wasn’t defined by her boyfriend, she had to take a breather--but of course I did not.

She was considered mature, to my friends. “Bast knows how to french kiss, y’know, with your tongue!” Kelly whispered, blatantly staring her way. Bast didn’t notice, talking to someone with a smirk that could be mistaken for a scowl.

“I heard she was making out with Danny in the second floor bathroom.” Michelle said with a disgusted grimace, raising her milk carton.

“Danny? They got back together?” Kelly turned back around.

“Was it the boys or girls bathroom?” Christie looked up from the homework she was frantically finishing.

Michelle shrugged.

I pushed soggy macaroni and cheese across my tray and forced myself not to look. She was not a part of my life anymore, but she still touched the edges.

Bast loved drama, she’d always loved drama. Back then, she would always drape her body against mine, complaining about how horrible Emily is, what she did this time and why it was way out of line. She’s gotten in a major blowout with all of her closest friends, though strangely had never with me. Maybe because we knew each other so long that she was the one that taught me how to tie shoelaces, maybe because she knew I cried at the sound of yelling.

And then I heard news of her getting in a fight, and yes she’s always been one to shout when she’s upset, but she’s never been physical. So I worried, but I worried to myself, as the school practically buzzed, because nothing brings a community together like gossip. Fights weren’t a new concept, but they were usually boys defending their fragile masculinity, so cat fights were always more popular. I didn’t care about why she fought, I just kept my ears trained until I heard she’s fine, she’s fine, she’s fine, and I could breathe again. 

“What is this, a TV show?” Michelle grumbled, playing with my hair. We were close friends that kissed sometimes, and I was happy with the arrangement, but I had the feeling she was not. I didn’t bring it up, though, because I wasn’t sure I could give her what she wanted. I sighed and shook my head, feigning exasperation, though I couldn’t have cared less. As long as Bast was fine.

Sometimes I broke my rule. Sometimes I peeked, looking out of the corner of my eye and nothing more. Watched her push a strand of black hair from her face--she’d let her hair loose this week, straightening it so it reached her legs. Her lipstick was plum that day, which looked amazing with her dark skin. No eyeliner, perhaps she’d run out of time.

My eyes were drawn to the scars on her left cheek, like a cracked mirror. Car accident, in eighth grade. By than our paths had already split, so I could not hug her tight like I’d wanted. It made her look like a brave protagonist, going on a quest to save her village from a beast. Perhaps she was even a Chosen One. I didn’t know how she felt about her scars, whether they were cool or ugly or interesting. She didn’t cover them, but she didn’t speak of them, at least not to me. I allowed myself a few seconds to look, until I became uncomfortable with myself and politely glanced away.

Than we were assigned a project together, which isn’t that just every fanfiction I’d ever read in my life? I groaned and let my head drop in my hands, while Michelle patted me on the back. “Yeah, I don’t like her either, but hey, it’s only two weeks.” I did not snap at her, because she did not know. 

Than Bast was pulling a chair up to my desk, flashing me a smile. It wasn’t real, I could tell--no matter how much she had changed, her smiles stayed the same, and I’d long ago catalogued them. I tried not to let it hurt me, and we conversed like two classmates that had never talked before, so all in all it wasn’t that awkward. But I felt jittery, being so close to something so untouchable, and I thought dumb thoughts, like what if she’s just completely forgotten me? But I knew that wasn’t right, because no matter how dull and unimportant I might be to her now, I did not imagine the affection she’d had for me.

We made small talk, and I must imagine the tension, because she was in complete control of the situation, relaxed in her seat and making eye contact. I must’ve been a mess, sweating and stuttering. But then I noticed the nervous tick she’d always had, pulling at her sleeve, and maybe we weren’t on such unequal footing after all. I finally worked up the courage to make a joke, which startles a laugh out of her, and...it was honestly unhealthy how elated I felt because of that sound, that same old sound that had stayed the same but hadn’t been directed at me in years. 

I love her, I thought absently, and barely reacted to the thought. After all, I’d been thinking it in the back of my mind for years, though I’d once thought it was platonic. A lifetime is a long time to have a crush on someone, but I did not regret it, because there are worst people to love. I had a feeling I would always care for that wonderful girl, because if space had not done it’s job by then it never would, but this didn’t bother me. I doubted I would ever act on these feelings, since my chances were abysmal, but simply seeing her happy was good enough for me.

And then I brushed my hair back into a messy bun and her eyes tracked my movements, and I thought, oh. I carefully did not blush, and did not allow myself to hope, but something about it made me blurt, “How’s your brother?” Immediately I clamped my mouth shut, but Bast’s eyes were wide with surprise, and the damage was done. 

Then she was beaming so bright I lost my breathe, and that smile was definitely real, soft in a strange way. “He’s great. Always asks about you, but in a roundabout way that’s super obvious. How’s Mrs. Rodriguez?”

“Still only listens to Frank Sinatra, but Dad has stopped being jealous of him and instead vowed to take singing lessons.” It felt like we were on the edge of a cliff, and one small nudge would tip us over, but I couldn’t be sure if what was beneath us was good or not. Still, there was nothing behind me, so I breathed in and took the plunge. “Hey, remember that game we used to play during recess?”