#so that crisis was averted. but again: months ago)

[cultivating-wildflowers]

brought two projects to the knitting/crochet circle last night: the sweater I've been working on at church and a blanket I put down in February for some reason and have been too embarrassed to get back to.

friends.

I had nine rows left on the blanket.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hello, Congratulations on the 5k follows!!

I discovered this fandom a few months ago and have been living for your writing ever since.

I was thinking as a drabble of the taskforce gentlemen coming home at the crack of dawn from a long mission and seeing their spouse's hand, limp on the ground peeking out from the side of the couch. All the panic and worry going thru their heads, so much bubbling up, horrible scenarios. They rush over and find you sleeping on the floor. The power had gone out last night and the hardwood floor was the coolest place to be (you didn't want to open the window because you know how they worry), so you were watching stuff on your phone and drifted off. Crisis averted!

Thank you for your time 💜

—Wide-Eyed Panic

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Why were you behind the couch?] ❞

I’ll start by saying all of them would be concerned and immediately go into panic mode—why were you behind the couch? Why was your hand sticking out? Why, in God's name, were you not moving? Cue the horrible thoughts and flashes of what went on in their work lives.

John Price ➺

John entered the house with a sigh, slipping off his boots as the door was closed and deftly locked behind him. Grunting under his breath, the man rubs over his face, the lights off as he calls out with a tired grumble to his voice. 

“I’m back,” his voice echoes, the tone moving through the darkness far louder than it should have. There’s no answer. “Love…?” Pausing, John blinks slowly at the wall, ear twitching to the utter silence of the home. No water in the pipes. No buzzing of electricity. No you. Eyes rising, they dart around quickly as his finger moves out to the light switch. A small push elicits nothing, just as he thought. The power was out. 

Dread slowly creeps into John’s chest.

Hand reaching behind his back, the man’s fingers inch over the smooth metal of a pistol, grasping the weapon before he begins walking forward. He keeps silent, feet moving to where he knows the wood won't creak. 

His mind runs. 

Why was the power off? Where were you? Why didn’t you respond—were you hurt? John’s mind goes to blood and bullets, his jaw clenching tightly as the pistol comes out to rest in front of him; hands shifting the grip as he takes a soothing breath. Panicking wouldn’t help anyone, but it would be pointless to lie about how his heart hammers. 

“Fuck,” he growls, eyes going tight. 

That’s when he sees it. Blue eyes widen sharply. 

“Love!” John shouts, all other concerns about intruders meaningless to him. Your hand was sticking out from behind the couch, a dark shadow in the low light. He rushes over as you jerk, yelling in alarm as he rushes to grab you, pulling you up into his arms and pulling you away into the closet across the room.

“John!” You blink rapidly as you��re set back against the wall. 

“Shush now,” he grunts, eyes panicked. “Keep awake, let me look.” A hand moves all over your body, searching and pulling at clothes to touch the skin for any wounds. “Tell me where it hurts, then. Quickly. We have to move—”

“John, what the hell,” you push at him, moving him back. Your eyes try to adjust to being so rudely awakened at such an hour. “What are you doing?!”

You weren’t hurt. 

The Captain’s face pulls in with confusion, back against the closet door and now in more darkness than ever before. He can barely make out your face before you sigh and put your hands against his arms. 

Things begin to calm down as his hand rests at your hip, nearly tight enough to bruise. In his other is the gun just before you put your hand to it and softly peel the item away from him—putting it on the shelf that you know is to your left. 

Hands find John’s cheeks as he pants.

“John,” you say his name again. “...what happened.”

“Why were you on the ground?” He forces out firmly, voice a low grunt. “Why were the lights not—”

“The power went out for everyone, okay?” You speak slowly, rubbing your thumbs over his beard. “It was on the news. I didn’t open a window because I knew you would worry about that—the floor was cool and it was getting too hot in here.” 

Your mind tells you to explain quickly and fluently. You move forward and press your forehead into John’s as he sags with a great exhalation of breath—his arms circling you tightly until your spine might crack. 

He doesn’t speak for a long while, just holding you.

“Scared me,” he mutters, missing you deeply on the forehead, speaking into your skin. “Fuck, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

He keeps you to his chest, eyes fluttering shut and his spine hunching over you, fingers splayed over your back. You run your hands through his hair and calm the swelling of your heart.

You can feel his pulse mirroring your own.

Simon Riley ➺

When he sees your hand, he freezes. 

Simon wasn’t a stranger to the lights being off in the home—you opted for lamps and low light more often than not; this wasn’t new. He had only quirked a brow when he came home to the pitch-blackness, off from his recent deployment and eager for a warm bed to fall into. He admits he’d let himself calm down on the car ride home—your home was where he could relax and release tension until it became as unimportant as an ant on the pavement. 

But when he’d closed the door silently behind him and walked the few steps it would take to enter the living room, where he was sure you were still up either reading or watching something on your phone under a blanket, his body had stiffened immediately. 

Your hand sticking out from behind the couch. Limp. 

Lifeless.  

He’d been staring at it for only a few seconds before the memories came back—the ones of gore splattered to the walls and ceiling of an old flat back in Manchester. 

Simon’s thoughts had hit him like a bullet.

Not again.

Rushing forward like a bear, the man slips along the hardwood as his knees go down, shaking the home at the force at which he grabs at your body and flips you from your side to your back. 

You gasp awake and instinctually throw out a fist, connecting with a stone chest as you hiss and blink in panic. 

Fingers ruthlessly dig into your shoulders, wide brown eyes open, and…and afraid. 

“Simon?” You mutter softly, all fear in your heart is squished in an instant. 

The man breathes through wheezes, balaclava fabric moving from the force of his breaths. His fingers are shaking, blinking as his head jerks to look your lying form up and down swiftly. 

You hesitantly put a hand on his cheek and he flinches before nuzzling into it. 

“Don’t…” he takes a quivering breath into his lungs, and after, loosens his grip on your skin. Simon’s hands go to your waist, dragging you up and stapling you to his chest. “Don’t do that again.”

His voice is low. Vulnerable. 

You blink, hands holding him back on the floor. 

“...The power went out,” you try to explain only half of it softly, muffled by his neck. 

He only holds you harder, eyes open and blankly staring at the floor a foot away.

Johnny MacTavish ➺

Johnny hums a song under his breath, hanging his keys on the hook near the door.

“Dearie!” He calls to you loudly, itching at the side of his head and chuckling. “Don’t run too fast to me now, I’m all yours for two w—”

The light switch is moved by his finger, but no light illuminates his path to the living room. Pausing in the entrance, the man’s brows furrow tightly, speech cutting off like scissors to paper. 

“...eeks?” Johnny ends his sentence, turning back around to look at the switch in confusion. “The hell’s going on with that?” He mutters to himself, a frown growing on his face before he refocuses on his mission to find you—now with the added task of figuring out why the power was out in the house. 

“Swear,” the man grumbles, huffing while he runs a hand over his face, “if those kids down the street did something I’ll be livid. Little devils, I swear.” 

Johnny steps farther into the living room, glancing around. 

“Dearie?” He pauses, listening before calling out your name. “Where’s she off to?”

He sighs softly, wanting to hold you now that he’s home to do so—squeeze you in his arms and take in your scent again; he’d missed you immensely while he was away.

Johnny came across your hand sticking out from behind the couch by accident, moving to make his way into your bedroom thinking that you were sleeping. He sees an odd shape in the blackness and pauses, feet slowing to a stop. 

When he notices that it’s a hand—your hand, he doesn’t even realize that he’s completely gripped the side of the couch and wrenched it back until the scratch of the wood floors screams in his ears. 

You wake up to hands on your cheeks, sharp yelling, and your head being shaken up and down until you’re conscious. 

“Dearie, hey! What the fuck,” the last sentence is growled on fast lips. “What the fuck.”

Your hands slap to Johnny’s wrists, nails digging in. 

He breathes out quickly, looking into your eyes to look for dilation as the darkness forces him closer. “There we are, tell me where you’re hurting, now, yeah? Did you hit your head? Let me take a look. It’s okay, I’ll get you all fixed up, there’s no need to worry.”

“Hey!” Your hands push at his, trying to shove the brick wall away from you. “Quit it! Johnny! I’m fine! ”

The man pauses at your animated movements, blinking rapidly before his grip loosens. 

When it’s obvious that you’re perfectly fine, he moves back and groans, thumb and forefinger digging into his nose bridge. 

“Hell’s bells, Hen.” You glare, panting on the floor before you push yourself up. 

“‘Hell’s bells’, me?” Johnny’s head plops to your shoulder. “You just shook me like a fucking rabbit!” 

“Scared the shite out of me, you terror.” The man huffs. “Need to put a heart monitor on you.”

“Piss off,” you sigh, putting a hand to your chest to feel the pace of your pulse and the blood that runs furiously.

Johnny, moments later as he’s still resting on your shoulder, starts…laughing. Low at first, then gaining noise the more it goes unchecked—a deep rumble into chest-jerking amusement. You look down at him, the couch tilted and long scratches over the floor. Pausing, you blink at his shaking shadow before your lungs start quivering. The two of you bend over one another with shared, house-shaking laughter. 

“What the fuck were you doin’ behind the damn couch?” Johnny grabs you close, kissing along your neck as he picks you up, dragging you to your feet. 

“The power went out!” You giggle, chest hurting from the fast gasps of breath as more kisses are spread over your skin. “It was colder down there and I didn’t want to open one of the windows because I knew you’d throw a pouting match about it.”

“Christ, Dearie.” Lips meet your own. “I had half the mind to think you had a heart attack. Nearly gave me one.”

Kyle Garrick ➺

Kyle sighs as he rubs at his jaw, itching the skin and slipping out of his jacket. 

“I’m home, Love!” He says, his voice echoing over the flat. “Want me to start on supper or have you eaten yet?” The man smiles, taking off his cap and putting it on the coat rack, sighing softly. 

It was good to be back. 

Bending down to unlace his boots, he pulls at them until they’re loose enough to slip out of, thumping to their sides on the rug until he reaches out and fixes them. 

“What’s that, then?” He calls into the darkness, not hearing your answer as he quickly checks the time on his phone. “Fuck, it’s late,” Kyle utters to himself. 

Walking into the kitchen, he touches the light switch only to be met with nothing. Pausing, the man’s face pulls in—fingers twitching at his sides as he glances at the window and the moonlight that seeps in to glare along the floor. 

A deep frown takes hold of him, and he looks around once more before backing up.

“...Love?” Kyle wasn’t too concerned—the building wasn’t always the best, and power outages weren’t unheard of. But, damn, if the high of getting off of a deployment didn’t put him in a negative head-space when it came to a change in routine involving you. 

Why weren’t you answering him?

Walking slightly faster into the living room, his hand nearly reaches into his pocket to call your phone if you didn’t end up in any of the rooms—pulse beginning to be infected with a steady injection of adrenaline. 

Brown eyes find your hand behind the couch when they’re about to shift to the open door of your bedroom. A sharp gasp is inhaled instantaneously. 

Kyle races over, grappling to it and pressing his fingers to your neck for a pulse. You softly breathe, none the wiser as you lightly shift and sigh in your sleep; a delicate hum moving out as familiar fingers dig into you. 

It’s through his panic that a thought quickly cuts through the man’s mind. You’d mentioned this before. 

Kyle pauses, just about to loudly wake you. 

‘It gets hot when the power goes out, Kyle, I swear one of these days I’m going to just fall asleep on the floor. At least it’s cool down there.’

Well, the power was out, and, it seemed, you really had fallen asleep on the floor. Now that he thought about it, the flat was running hot—and he also knew that you knew he had gotten nervous of late when you left the windows open at night. 

“Bloody hell,” the man releases a long breath, free hand moving to grip the back of his head. A few seconds later, Kyle chuckles to himself, shaking his head with a small smile. “You are losing it, Mate. Losing it.” 

Without another word, he grips you, and with a grunt, picks you up and takes you to bed, setting you down on the pillows and making sure to leave the sheets off of you so you don’t grow uncomfortable.

A kiss is pressed to your forehead, and you hum in slumber, smiling unconsciously.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Love.” 

He leaves to go make a quick supper of cereal and milk.

[antiquepearlss]

Late Night Phone Call (WIP)

Eugene receives a phone call late at night from his cousin whom he has never had a relationship with.

Eugene knew he was an insomniac. He was well aware of his awful habit of staying up late. But, he rarely had days off as a detective. If he didn’t have work the next day, he was going to stay up as late as he pleased, sleep schedule and overall health be damned.

And, if he hadn’t been awake, he wouldn’t have received what he considered to be one of the most important phone calls of his life. Even if it was at first, an odd and unexpected, downright bizarre call.

See, at two am, Eugene Fitzherbert, the estranged member of his family, received a Messenger call from the cousin he had only had one conversation with in the past decade. That conversation being them awkwardly catching up at the latest family reunion a few months ago. (It was odd that he got along better with Rapunzel than Eugene, the two seemed to instantly become best friends.) They added eachother on Facebook soon after and since then, their conversations had simply been the occasional meme or TikTok the two shared with eachother.

Eugene felt bad, the kid had tried to make conversation with him at first, and he tried to reciprocate. It just felt too weird and awkward to return the favor. Thus, the two barely talked.

All of this to say that the call was very odd, especially considering the late hour. But Eugene had a bad feeling in his gut. Something was wrong, he needed to answer the call. Even if it was likely a bored teenager wanting to ramble or a prank call of sorts.

“Hey kiddo, what’re you doing up so late?”

A small sniffled sound rang through the silence, and Eugene could feel his hairs stand on end. He may not be close with his cousin, but he already knew he would end anyone who hurt him. He was precious and innocent, and already probably had daddy issues (it runs in the family.)

“Hey, sorry I didn’t mean to bother you. I can hang up if you want I just thought you were awake because your icon said you were active butifyoudontwanttotalkitsfinejustignoremeillhangupnow.” The last part being said in a rushed whispery way, the kid sounded like he was trying not to wake someone up, and trying not to cry, or like he had been crying.

Something was wrong, Eugene could feel it. “You’re not bothering me, I’m just watching tv. Day off tomorrow yaknow.” Eugene chuckled, tone light. The kid was clearly upset and needed someone right now, and may not have anyone considering he was reaching out to his estranged cousin.

Eugene may not be close with Varian, but he was that kid before. And he’d be damned before he acted like the only adults he had. 

He could hear a shuffle, and Varian spoke again, a little more clearly. “Whatcha watching?”

The kid wasn’t crying or thinking he was a burden, crisis averted.

“Some shitty cop show, I don’t even remember the name of it. It’s all that’s on right now.” Which was true, he had barely been paying attention and had simply been scrolling his phone for the last hour. It might have been NCIS, he wasn’t sure.

“You have cable?” Varian seemed to perk up. Eugene chuckled “Yeah, Rapunzel wanted it. I don’t like it, makes me feel old.”

“We don’t have cable at home, I wish we did, though.” The kid sounded a touch lighter, having actual conversation material now. Eugene took it.

“Trust me, you don’t. It’s a worthless expensive nightmare. You’re better off with Netflix or Hulu.”

A sad chuckle sounded “we don’t have that either, dad’s not a big fan of tv.” Yeah, that sounded like Quirin. Old timey and boring.

“Whatever I watch I usually just pirate it.” 

Eugene snorted “I’m a police officer kid, you can’t just admit to high crime like that in front of me.” He teased.

Varian let out the lightest little huff “like you don’t do it too.”

“Innocent until proven guilty!” 

The lightest, softest little giggle rang through Eugene’s speaker. Then a sniffle. 

“Are you going to come arrest me then?” His tone was teasing.

Eugene hummed a little, pretending to consider it. “If it was your first misdemeanor, then I think I’ll let you off with a warning.”

Varian let out the same sad little laugh, “bummer, I kinda wanted to see what it was like in the back of a cop car.”

Eugene knew he was joking, but the Older Cousin instincts came in. Something was wrong with Varian, he could tell that much, he needed to nip any possible life ruining thoughts in the bud. “Trust me kid, it sucks. Don’t try anything, it will follow you for the rest of your life. Stupid decisions will always haunt you.”

His tone must have been too harsh, because the light mood was instantly destroyed when Eugene could hear a wet voice respond with “oh, sorry.”

Shit. He fucked that up.

[rouzuchan]

The Crush Culture

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈(𝐬): Todoroki Yosuke x Reader(ʏᴏᴜ/ʏᴏᴜʀ) 𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: oneshot, fluff 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: gender unspecified; todoroki being a S.I.M.P.

“Fuuuck.”

The only word running through Todoroki’s mind. They were either prolonged or short under his breath. His breath was labored, spending prior moments working out in his room, the dumbbell still within his hard grasp.

His forehead coated in thin sheets of sweat as beads fell from his damp hair. He snatched the nearby towel, roughly running the cloth on his sensitive skin while attempting to calm his rising pulse. 

“Fuck” He muttered again.

The time read 7:12 PM, already behind his routine. He’d spent the day as normal, but something about recent events had his presence somewhere else. 

Throwing the towel somewhere, he grabbed his phone. Inputting his passcode before clicking straight into his messages. 

The screen’s light illuminated his sharp features, his lips cracking into a smirk as he scrolled up into the message feed dating back from last week.

Damn. You just had to prance around his mind, huh?

Who knew getting dragged into his gang’s matchmaking rendezvous would lead him to now? He still remembered standing broody whilst everyone else chatted and danced around, light strobing and flashing in his eyes making him want to escape. 

In his silent ruminations, he was late to notice another suffering individual at his side, a little too uncomfortable in their skin. You were definitely in the same boat as him. 

And the rest was history. 

Because you lived on the other side of town (and went to an actual school), you both opted to text for weeks, promising to jump at any free time you guys had.

It was better than nothing, he thought.

Amid his floating, fluffy daydreams, a notification slid down from above the screen with a ding. His chest palpated when he read who the delivered message was from.

Hey, I’m heading downtown. Can’t sleep and I wanted to take a break from home :>

He bit inside his lip. Todoroki clicked on the message, sending him down to the very bottom of your chat room. His fingers hovered and deleted message after message, word after word. The chat bubbles danced for a while until he unintentionally pressed send. 

He lurched forward with wide eyes, reading his sent message.

Sure,     I’ll go shower rn

“Fuck!-- Nice going, Yosuke.” He breathed out, pinching the bridge of his nose as he dragged it down.

Another ring came from his phone, feeling his dread quickly pushed away as his throat banged as if he could choke his heart at any moment. 

He peeked over the screen. 

Haha, okay ^^ see u [NAME sent a location]

Seeing your lighthearted message, Todoroki released a breath he didn’t know he held. Crisis averted. Would you even mind? Did you get in the same situation as him some time ago? He kinda hoped so…

Brushing the embarrassment off, he got up and made his way to his shower, hoping to clear his muddled mind. 

After dressing up nicely, Todoroki walked down the cool and uncharacteristically quiet streets downtown. 

It only occurred to Todoroki that this would be your first time hanging out in person since the party. Hard to believe, sure, but with your schedules and his intent on never breathing a word about you to his gang, that insignificant time frame of one month suddenly became precious moments he’d never trade.

Todoroki shook his head, sighing as he curved the corner, hands stuffed in his leather pockets. He shouldn’t jump to conclusions. You were technically still acquaintances… Unless sending memes and funny cat videos were a sign of your affection— it was still too soon to call any shots unless this date– hang-out went well. 

What were you planning? You mentioned something about cafe dates being a go-to, but would cafes even allow caffeine during this time? What do they sell in cafes other than caffeine? Is there anything you’d like? 

“Over here!”

Todoroki raised his head and followed the voice, straight to you. Standing underneath the streetlight, you waved toward him. The fluorescent warmth made your features shine in the treacherous sea of strangers.

You didn’t look tired, or was that just the grin on your face? Todoroki couldn’t tell. He felt like he could drop all his worries now. You were there. Mere feet away.

Fuck… he was in deep. And as his body practically gravitated towards yours, Todoroki knew he wasn’t escaping from your fingers any time soon.

But, he’s honest with himself. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

The midnight grind doesn't stop 🙌 /j but anyways... um, listen I don't know either. Words just... spat out... as always. Ugh, why can't I be this sappy on command!? (〃＞目＜) Being fr right now: That image with Todoroki working out has been eating me up, it's insane <(_ _ )> behold, the crew 😎🥂: @airbendertendou, @star2fishmeg, @straysugzhpe, @simpforchuchu, @strxwberrychocolate, @prodbyblush, @thatpoindexterpixy

[amethystina]

In chapter 5 of Who Holds the Devil, Ga On doesn't send Elijah a picture of Komi and he wakes up to several messages from her being worried. At this time, what do you think was going on in Switzerland? Because if she was stressing out about it, do you think she spoke to Yo Han or not, and if so, what would be his reaction to this?

Hope you can recover well!

She eventually spoke to Yo Han about it, yes, but it took a while before she got worried enough to do so. She's used to Ga On working late sometimes and so at first she figured her reminders would be enough. Which means she sent the majority of the messages you can read in the chapter before she even considered going to Yo Han.

And, by the time she did, it was mostly because she realised that it was so late in South Korea that Ga On might already have gone to bed, and he still hadn't contacted her. Which she felt was very unlike Ga On.

As for Yo Han's reaction, there is, unsurprisingly, quite a big difference between what he chooses to show Elijah and what he's feeling internally.

He'd be pretty flippant with Elijah, downplaying the severity of the situation, telling her that it's probably nothing to worry about. Maybe Ga On was busy with something and his phone ran out of batteries, so he didn't get her reminders? Or maybe he just forgot? Yo Han can come up with several very rational and logical explanations as to why Ga On didn't send Elijah any pictures.

Basically, Yo Han would try to calm her down by pretending it's no big deal. And tell her to at least wait until tomorrow before she starts freaking out

Internally, however?

He'd be worried, too.

Because no matter what he tells Elijah, Yo Han knows that Ga On wouldn't just forget a promise like that. Ga On cares too much about Elijah to disappoint her. So something must definitely have happened, Yo Han just doesn't know what. And while Yo Han is well aware that the explanation might be perfectly innocent, his mind would also start spinning towards worst-case scenarios — because that's how he works. He needs to be aware of the possibilities and, if need be, prepare for the worst.

And, somewhere around there, Yo Han would be frustrated that he can't track Ga On yet. He already decided that he wants to long before this, but this is one of those things that helps him decide that, yeah, he needs to give Ga On something he can track sooner rather than later so this won't happen again. Yo Han has no idea where Ga On is and it's making him antsy as hell.

The closest he can get is to text Lawyer Ko and ask if Ga On was at work that day. But even if Lawyer Ko says yes, that still leaves far too many possibilities. A lot could have happened to Ga On in the hours after he left work.

But Yo Han would tell Elijah none of this, of course — especially since the crisis is averted the very next day. Nor would Yo Han ever mention it to Ga On. It's just one of those things that stays inside Yo Han's head and influences his choices later, but is more or less invisible to everyone else. Perhaps not so surprisingly, there are a lot of those. As Ga On has pointed out: there's always a reason for the choices Yo Han makes. And, sometimes, the information he's basing that choice on was gathered weeks, months, or even years ago.

That man's brain never stops processing x'D

I hope that answers your question! :D

And thank you so much for the concern 💜 Unfortunately, I'm not feeling the best right now (neither mentally nor physically) but I know it's temporary so I'm just trying to wait it out :)

[doctorstrangereview]

0027: Strange Tales #135

Cover Date: August 1965 On-Sale Date: May 4, 1965

This month Strange Tales introduces its answer to James Bond. Sgt. Fury is recast as super-spy Nick Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. Doc is completely absent from the cover bar a tiny portrait in the corner box. I really miss those boxes. In this issue we get a nice amount of intrigue and back stabbing as Doc fully embraces his mission to find "Eternity".

Doc has gone to London to search for "Eternity". He's keeping vigilant this time as he smokes out a Mordo spy in the airport just after he's landed. After wiping the minion's memory, he travels to a castle on a foggy moor. The castle belongs to Sir Baskerville. So far there are no signs of any hounds. Doctor Strange's thought bubble identifies Sir Baskerville as a "former" disciple of Mordo until he met with an accident. The fact that he's Sir and not Lord means he's a pretty minor noble. I wonder if he has his Knight Grand Cross. It's a nice castle whatever the case.

A grey haired gentleman in a rather fine long smoking jack lets Doc in. We see the 'accident' left him with an injured hand that he keeps encased in something. Or did he lose it and this is capping the stump? We may never know, but he's still a proper English gentleman who offers Doc tea. Doc's like "Sorry dude. Got no time for that. Did you happen to hear of 'Eternity'?" "By golly, I believe I have! Let me go get that scroll for you."

Sir Baskerville with no hounds leaves Doc in front of the fireplace to contemplate his situation. Wisely, Doc thinks the situation out rather than his usual shouting out to all who can hear. Just a few stories ago, as Doc was vanishing to Shazana's and her nameless sister's realm, Doc recognized Dormie's voice. Here he thinks "if only I knew from whence Mordo's increased power has come!" which sounds to me like he hasn't a clue. The colors in this panel are delightfully moody.

We change scenes to the Dark Dimension where Dormie is steaming even more than usual. He's still worked up by someone mucking with his Mindless Ones barrier. Fortunately, his security is somewhat better than most magic users in this series. Using a round edition of the magic smoky flat panel TV, he replays the events around the barrier incident. I suppose being and absolute, supremely powerful dictator makes you a bit paranoid and you watch everything. He watches Clea steal the energy draining device and place it by the barrier. It looks like she's in Nightmare's realm instead of the Dark Dimension, but whatever. Of course, if he had truly effective security, Clea wouldn't have been able to steal the device in the first place. Dormie is pissed and does the equivalent of putting his fist through the TV and begins to carefully plot his vengeance. In a better show of continuity Clea wears the same outfit in the flashback as when she first seen stealing the device last issue.

Going back to Castle Baskerville, we find out Sir Baskerville is still in the thrall of Mordo. Whoa! Would have never suspected that! Sir Baskerville contacts Mordo mentally who dispatches Kaecilius to take care of things. Unlike previous teleportation, Mordo has to speak a spell to achieve it this time. Arriving, Kaecilius and Mordo's giant floating head yell at Sir Baskerville. He grabs a scroll and goes back to Doc. Sneaking up behind, Kaecilius/Mordo attacks. But, Doc is the tricky one this time! It was only an illusion of Doc which quickly fades. A suit of armor begins to move and Kaecilius/Mordo, attack it again and again, but it doesn't fall. Doc's trick #2! Running through a doorway, a hidden Doc clobbers Kaecilius, cutting off his contact with Mordo. There's something very satisfying about that panel.

Doc freezes Sir Baskerville and probes Kaecilius' mind, without consent, of course. Here he confirms that Mordo's secret partner in crime is Dormie. Continuity crisis averted!

While this is going on Mordo is dispatching his ninja minions. Before they can reach the castle, Doc finds out that Mordo promised to restore Sir's hand. Having some knowledge of this particular situation, Doc informs him it can't be done. Then, he actually says "You no longer interest me!" In a race against time Doc retrieves his cloak. This is what caused the armor to move and why the devastating force had no effect. He goes to the roof of the castle as the minions arrive. "You, ninja dudes, my mind to your mind my thoughts to your thoughts. Doc has gone to the netherworld. You should go there to." And the flee.

Mordo realizes something is wrong and goes to the castle himself as Doc flees. Realizing he's been outwitted, Mordo shakes his fist in the air in a classic "I'll get you next time!" moment.

I like this. Doc has a definitive victory against Mordo who clearly outclasses him in power. He achieved this through his wits. Doc is more than a magical blowhard. He's a cunning strategist. Outmanned and outgunned he can still come out on top. It's bittersweet. His mission to find "Eternity" is still a failure. The story moves the arc along at a sufficient, if not brisk pace. Pieces are set in place or have begun to move. Sir Baskerville will return in a number of years in a future story arc that is truly masterful. It will even include some familiar participants. From here to "Eternity," baby!

[mariacallous]

Had the great Maya Angelou been alive to witness Saturday’s climax of the omnishambolic dog’s breakfast of a misbegotten legislative process that took place in the U.S. House of Representatives, surely she would have said, “When a political party tells you over and over again that they have no higher priority than serving Vladimir Putin, believe them.”

Then, again, it didn’t take the genius of Ms. Angelou to get the message. At the critical moment at which they had one last chance to avert a government shutdown, when Republicans in the House were forced to abandon all of their legislative priorities but one, the one they chose to ditch was the vital U.S. aid to Ukraine. In so doing, they sent the world an unmistakable signal once again that the first and guiding loyalty of Donald Trump’s GOP is as it always has been to the Kremlin.

Other messages were sent as well by the week of cringeworthy drama that was to the floor of the House as an untrained puppy would be to the floor of its new home.

Had James Madison, Alexander Hamilton or John Jay been watching, they surely would’ve been compelled to write a new Federalist Paper, likely entitled “On Legislative Clusterfuckery.” Kevin McCarthy, the ragdoll Speaker of the House, was toyed with and tormented by a MAGA alliance that appeared to be made up from a group of particularly inept extras from the movie “Idiocracy.” Neither principles, ideals, nor any sense of responsibility made an appearance during the prolonged floor fight.

Matt Gaetz, the chief tormentor, evoked Shakespeare. But not in a good way. He was more in the sort of character described by Macbeth when he spoke of “an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” Gaetz and his misfit supporting cast, including Marjorie Taylor Greene, threatened to oust McCarthy if he did not meet their demand that he break the deal he had made months ago with President Biden to avoid the last government financial crisis. They wanted cuts to critical social programs including child care, Head Start, Meals on Wheels, law enforcement, housing and more. They wanted to cut the salaries of senior officials including Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin. And they seemed willing to throw millions of government employees—including the military, the Border Patrol, the IRS, administrators of aid programs and others—out of work, thus harming the lives of tens of millions more Americans.

But they also knew that every recent past government shutdown—and all were the handiwork of Republican House majorities—backfired on its authors. And so, just as many had given up hope and every agency of the U.S. government was making plans for a government shutdown that would have begun at midnight of Oct. 1, McCarthy agreed to put forward a so-called “clean” Continuing Resolution that would extend funding for government programs until Nov. 17 of this year. They continued funding at prior levels. They even included funding for disaster assistance and cut a pay boost the House GOP was trying to give itself despite their reckless disregard for their responsibilities.

But something had to be given to the far right. The GOP needed some concession to make it seem as though their childish games had all been worth it. What did they choose? What was the one thing they said would be the last hill they would die on, the one issue so important to them that they would turn out the lights of the U.S. government to defend their position? It was to defund Ukraine aid. It was to settle for, in the words of progressive commentator Josh Marshall, “one sloppy kiss with Vladimir Putin.”

The message that it sent to the world was unmistakable. Economist Timothy Ash tweeted, “Staggering that the GOP, the party of Reagan, has been captured by Russian fascists.”

French writer and philosopher Bernard-Henri Levy wrote that U.S. aid to Ukraine should not be politicized, saying “it is about freedom and democracy, good over evil, right over wrong. Support for Ukraine is essential for the entire free world.”

Yale history professor Timothy Snyder wrote, “Cutting off Ukraine aid makes America unreliable, weakens the cause of democracy, threatens the international legal order, encourages tyrants around the world, and hastens Chinese aggression.”

Liz Cheney, one of the last Republicans with a conscience still standing, pointedly noted that the decision by the MAGA GOP to deny Ukraine funding came on the 85th anniversary of Neville Chamberlain’s 1938 “peace in our time” speech.

It was an apt point. Just as Hitler saw Chamberlain’s weakness as the opening he was looking for, surely Vladimir Putin saw the GOP message for what it was, encouragement for his aggression and his war crimes from the Party of Trump, a clear signal that all he would have to do was wait until the next election cycle and if they won, a GOP-led U.S. would abandon Ukraine, our allies in Europe, and reward Putin’s brutality by extending his reach ever more deeply into the heart of Europe.

Democrats and a handful of more moderate Republicans promised in the wake of the deal that they would seek and expected to get a new supplemental bill that would ensure Ukraine aid continued to be funded.

Let us all hope they are successful and it passes. But the damage has been done. The Putin wing of the GOP and all those who have enabled them made it crystal clear that of all their dangerous priorities, the most important was to strengthen America’s enemies, weaken our allies, and to put democracy at risk overseas just as they are doing here at home.

Nobody is cheering the last-minute deal to keep the government open that cleared the House and then, late Saturday, the Senate. McCarthy, seen as weak before, is seen as even more spineless and at risk than he was. The reprieve that was won is only temporary. The future is uncertain. While the Biden administration and Democrats handled this as well as possible, it is clear that getting anything done in Congress will be very difficult. And while the lunatics from the GOP’s MAGA ward may have temporarily gained control of the congressional asylum, they damaged their tattered reputations even further by achieving not a single solitary thing for any of their supporters—any that is, except their cackling Russian patron whose Bond villain laughter from deep within his bunker home could be heard round the world by all who understand the menace and his Trumpist supporters represent.

[pearl484-blog]

Deleted Scene: Chloe is Ladybug?!

This scene is from Replay, depicting Blue talking to Nox after Nox comes to him despondent. Originally, it was going to be a set up to an explanation of the glamour in-story, however, it has been replaced by a shorter version. We worked hard on it though, so here is the original for your enjoyment

“What happened? What’s going on?” Blue asked. Had something happened? Had someone died? 

“I can’t believe it,” Nox despaired. “Chloe’s Ladybug.” Blue bit back a scream. This was what Nox had woken him for?

“Oh, really?” Blue asked. “Chloe is Ladybug?” If this was some kind of joke, it had horrible timing. Although he had to admit, the acting tips he was giving to Nox seemed to really be paying off. Blue was almost convinced that Nox was upset.

And then,  Nox looked at Blue sadly and nodded, “Alya confirmed it. She found her suit in her locker.” 

Blue snorted. Wow, his counterpart was committed to this. “Really?” Blue asked. “She had her magical suit in her locker?”

Nox nodded sadly and then cried, “And then, Chloe got Alya got expelled! How could I have fallen in love with Chloe?”

Oh God. Blue realized. This wasn’t a joke. 

“Okay,” Blue said, sighing as he realized he was going have to break the very obvious truth to his counterpart. “Will you humor me a second?” Nox nodded. 

Blue decided to go with an easy one. “What color is Ladybug’s hair?”

“It’s dark as night,” Nox answered, a bit poetically, but Blue would accept it. 

“And what color is Chloe’s hair?” Blue asked.

“Blonde,” Nox answered, rolling his eyes at such a ridiculous question. Blue waited for his other self to realize his mistake, but instead Nox continued by gushing, “It’s so clever of Chloe to change her hair while she’s in costume. No one will realize it’s her.”

Nox sighed. Okay, he had walked into that one. He’d been the one to tell Nox that some heroes dyed their hair, so maybe he just extended that to Chloe. Nox decided to try again. 

“Okay, well how about this? You know how Chloe is, spoiled, bratty, and a bit demanding? And that’s just around us, you’ve seen her around other people. She’s like a mean girl straight out of a high school show. Do you really think that Ladybug would act like that?”

 Nox gasped, and Blue applauded himself on the crisis averted, before Nox said, “I knew she was faking the mean girl act. It’s genius.” Blue felt the smile fall from his face as Nox continued, “Wow. I almost believed it myself, and we’ve been friends forever. She’s an amazing actor.” 

Blue was stunned at Nox’s amazing thickheadedness and had to think for a moment. What on Earth could possibly be undeniable, indisputable proof that Ladybug and Chloe were not the same person. Then, in a flash of inspiration, he had it. 

“Didn’t Ladybug save Chloe from Stoneheart less than a month ago?”

Nox paused for a minute, and Blue watched the gears in his counterpart’s head turn, and then. 

“I can’t believe it,” Nox moaned. “Chloe is Ladybug!” Blue watched incredulously as Nox went through the same spiel about Alya finding it out that he had done less than 5 minutes ago. 

At this point, Blue wasn’t really sure what he could do. Clearly Nox was convinced that Chloe was Ladybug, despite all the evidence saying otherwise, but it also seemed like maybe he was having memory problems, or brainwashing?

Cautiously, Blue had Archie carefully start exploring Nox’s head for any sore spots, and Blue kept a careful ear out for any winces or complaints. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Nox had a concussion, but Blue figured it couldn’t hurt to know. 

But before Blue could finish, the Adriens’ phone started playing a demand from Lady Wifi. Apparently, being suspended caused people to get upset. Who’d have thunk?  

Without a word, Nox brushed Archie off and transformed, racing off to face Lady Wifi. And although Blue tried to stay awake to keep an eye on his possibly concussed counterpart, in the end, his attempts were for naught and he was dragged back into the realm of sleep. ~*~

Thankfully, Chat did manage to defeat Lady Wifi on his own, and much to the superhero’s delight, he’d also managed to get to lay in Ladybug’s lap and snuggle her, after he nearly died of hypothermia. He’d been so excited about the feeling of safety and concern that Ladybug had for him. It made Argos try to remember when the last time he’d felt that Ladybug had been for himself. He wasn’t sure when it was, honestly, but it couldn’t have been too long ago. 

Even more surprising though, had been Plagg’s complaining about Chat Noir passing up the opportunity to look at Ladybug that day. Plagg had complained over and over that they could’ve solved all of Adrien’s problems with just one peek, but Nox seemed resolute that he should not do that, albeit he didn’t seem to quite understand why he’d felt such a strong need to just leave her be.

The entire fiasco seemed so bizarre to Blue. Ladybug had trusted him enough to detransform in front of him a number of times. Everytime, he’d never been so much as tempted to open his eyes. Perhaps it was just how often it had happened, but the idea that Ladybug had been standing a few feet in front of him de-transformed wasn’t a big deal to Blue anymore.  

Honestly, though, the thing that mattered most to Blue is that he’d finally gotten the notion that Ladybug was not Chloe out of his head. Apparently, what had really been helpful was seeing the two of them together. Not just reminding Nox of when the two were together, but an actual moment for him to look at them side by side to re-evaluate. God, he had been such an idiot.

Of course, when he complained about Nox had been, Nox had been thoroughly confused, and Plagg had just laughed it off as people being so oblivious sometimes. And so Blue sat and stewed. Now, Blue knew he had been naive in the past, but he refused to believe that he’d been that bad. Plus, Nox had been acting very weird. 

So, of course, during his next appointment with Master Fu, he asked if they could check Nox as well. 

Master Fu raised an eyebrow, and in a carefully measured voice, asked, “And why do you think we should check your other self?”

And so, Blue explained everything, detailing how strangely Nox had been acting and his apparent amnesia near the end. 

Unconcerned, Fu simply said, “I wouldn’t worry about that. As a wielder of the Miraculous, you, Chat Noir, and Ladybug all have a special magical protection designed to prevent others from seeing through your disguises. It’s not foolproof,” Fu said sternly, as if in warning. “But it is a nice bit of protection.” Master Fu stroked his beard in contemplation. 

“It is unusual to see anyone affected so strongly by a glamour though, especially a wielder. Perhaps the city itself has made everyone a bit less immune,” he mused. “It will certainly make finding Hawk Moth harder.”

Blue sighed. Wasn’t that the truth? If this protection extended to all Miraculous wielders then he’d be dealing with a city that might even be able to watch Hawk Moth transform right in front of them, and not notice.  ~*~ Later:

Plagg laughs and says that you could dress up a mannikin in a ladybug suit and throw a red wig on it, and everyone would be convinced that it was her.

Blue says that Plagg is exaggerating. Plagg smugly asks “Wanna bet?” Blue laughs and says that it can’t possibly be that hard to get a manikin and a red wig. In the end, the manikin did fool the class, although it didn’t fool Alya after it was painted green. As a matter of fact, an inflatable Ladybug, gnome dressed like a ladybug, and a hand puppet all fooled the class. The lawn flamingo dressed like ladybug needed a little convincing, and the Ladybug cake didn’t fly for a minute, but throughout the next two weeks, both Blue and Plagg had a heck of a time coming up with new ways to test the glamour, somehow missing the dirty looks given to him by one Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

[lover-of-mine]

Anna!! Just wanted to come here to, one, say hi, and two, tell you I'm so sorry about your computer. Even if it's kinda working already, it was still something that upset you, so hopefully you're feeling better and it doesn't happen again in the nearest (or furthest, really) future.

Thank you for all the sets you always do. Whether it's the countdown, or another kind, it's always good to see you on the dashboard. 🩵🩵🩵

Hi darling 🩷 I did get it to work now, but the thing was way more frustrating because this is the sixth time (I think it's the sixth it might've been more but there was a period there where multiple things stopped working in quick succession that I just count as one time lol) that it stopped working in like, a year and half, and I have a bachelor in comp sci so I use my computer a lot (it stopped working the first time when I was working on my thesis and I legit cried for an hour straight lol) and every time it gives up on me it gets more frustrating, specially because the thing that stopped working now was the power source and I got it not six months ago because the old one caught on fire, so to have the same issues again made me a bit irrationally upset about it, because a new one would take up to 2 weeks to get here, but my dad managed to fix it and it got it to work so that crisis was averted, just not before I lost it a little bit tho.

But thank you, I really like making the sets, and it makes me really happy that you like seeing them 🩷🩷🩷

[cdyssey]

Barbara and Melissa - microprompt: you scared me

Well, I said a 500 word maximum, but then I kept going gdi HSIOHSIOOA. l’m going to get better at this, I swear.

CW: Minor Pregnancy Complications

AO3 Link

—

“You scared me,” Melissa says as she gently drapes the damp rag against Barbara’s clammy forehead.

They’re in the nurse’s office, the lights comfortably dimmed, and Barbara is stretched out on the slightly raised cot, holding the heavily rounded curve of her belly. She’s over eight months pregnant to the date and feels every microsecond of it—swollen and tired and so sick all the damn time.

It hadn’t been like this with Taylor, whom she had carried as easily as a summer’s breeze a little over six years ago now.

But her baby—Gina, they want to eventually call her—has been terribly hard on her body, from the first trimester of constant morning sickness to now, weeks and horrible weeks down the line, when she can barely bend down to pick up a stray crayon. This is what she’d been trying to do anyway before her surroundings had started to blur around the edges, darkness encroaching upon her vision like a fade to black at the end of a movie.

“Go get Mrs. Schemmenti,” she’d just been able to gasp as she managed to lower herself to the ground, and one of her children—(she isn’t sure who)—capably did.

And then—within what only felt like seconds to her, though it was surely much longer than that—there was Melissa, calm, reassuring, and so totally in control, kneeling next to her head and consoling the crying and frightened kindergarteners swarming all around them. Shhh. Mrs. Howard’ll be okay. Don’t worry, kiddos. The nurse is comin’.

And when Barbara herself could not speak, her tongue leaden inside her mouth, tears trickled from the corners of her eyes, terror radiating through her entire nervous system. 

But Melissa, exceedingly soft, haloed by the harsh fluorescent overheads above her, only tenderly thumbed them away.

“That goes for you too, Barb,” she’d said, grinning crookedly, as though they were just having another one of their early morning chats. There was nothing of fear in her eyes. There was only love. “You don’t have to worry. I’m here now.”

It had been more than a promise.

It had been a Melissa Schemmenti guarantee.

Fifteen minutes after the fact, though—as they wait for Gerald to arrive to take her to the hospital for a check-up—here the same woman is, finally admitting to having been scared despite all the incredible composure she had shown just moments before. Barbara, who had been staring at a random stain on the ceiling—deeply uncomfortable with being fussed over—slowly tilts her head to the left, where Melissa is standing over her.

Hovering.

Her own personal savior.

“You heard the nurse,” Barbara says hoarsely, her mouth cavernous and unbearably dry. “She just thinks my blood pressure may have bottomed out."

She bites her lower lip at this.

In her defense, it had sounded much better in her head.

"God," Melissa snorts darkly, now smoothing the threadbare blanket that had been loosely thrown across her legs, now shifting her weight from boot-to-boot. "Y'say that like it’s supposed to be a consolation..."

It seems that with the immediate crisis being over, the younger teacher's usual restlessness has returned. She fidgets. She looks at Barbara. She just as quickly glances away. But she can never seem to help herself in the end, her darkly lashed eyes always returning to the perfect roundness of Barbara's belly with an inscrutable expression.

Barbara averts her own gaze then.

She knows that pregnancy is a difficult subject for Melissa.

"My dear husband will be happy," she sighs bitterly, finding her ceiling stain again. (She idly wonders why it looks a little too much like crusted blood.) "They'll likely put me on bedrest after this."

As excited as she is to meet the newest member of her family, she dreads the isolation of the next month—sitting at home with nothing to do all day except watch TV, being unable to stay on her feet for very long, counting down the interminable minutes on the grandfather clock in the living room, feeling like a stranger in her own body...

She'll miss her kids—devastated that she won't get to read to them and play with them and work with them on their shapes and numbers for at least three months, if not longer.

She won't know what to do with herself in the absence of Melissa.

Even though they've only known each other for five years now, it's felt like an entire lifetime and then some.

"Your work wife'll be happy too," Melissa chortles, placing a palm over her knuckles. Barbara inadvertently shivers when their wedding rings clink—one ornate and carefully chosen, one randomly bought from that sketchy pawn shop off 7th Street.

"You're gonna go, have the most kickass baby ever, and rest your tired body for a while," she continues, now running her thumb across the side of Barbara's hand. "And then, when you're ready... you'll come back to me, and I'll have your chair in the break room all ready for ya and everything."

Barbara swallows thickly, moved by this image, so perfectly touched. Home is at her little house with Gerald and their soon-to-be two beautiful daughters—sure, yes, absolutely. But somewhere, in the last couple of years, home has also become a certain round table in the teacher's lounge, where there is room enough for only two.

"Promise?" She hates how desperate that she sounds, clinging to this barest morsel of normality like it's a lifeline.

But Melissa doesn't judge; Melissa has never judged her; she's a saint like that; her recurring joke is that she's God's favorite sinner.

"I guarantee it," she smirks, playful and perpetually teasing, though she is nothing but solemnity, all tenderness, when she lightly squeezes Barbara's hand.

[go-follow-vibingouthere]

Kaimelia Fic Update/Sneak Peek

For anyone that cares...

I'm still writing the post 18x20 Kaimelia fic I posted about 2 months ago lol. Had a bit of an identity crisis after graduating college + the hyper fixation was becoming less... hyper, so I haven't actually worked on it since late June until this week. RN I've got ~3.5k words that are actually useable and good and another ~13k (I know 🙃) of... Over stuff lol (some of it's useable, some of it's redundant, etc.). I won't post it until it's done; I hate disappointing people and wouldn't wanna get anyone's hopes up just to never finish it. I am fucking DETERMINED to get this out before the new season starts.

However... Because I'm a glutton for attention and I know the fandom is in a drought rn... I wanna give y'all a sneak peek of the first 500 words or so. Without further ado:

Kai had never kissed anybody in the rain before… It was nice. Like a scene from a movie. Kai could imagine some grandiose love song playing in the background of this moment, the music swelling when Amelia’s lips met their own. Picture-perfect…

It had been a long day. A long few weeks, really. Whatever anxiety Kai had experienced during that dinner party, surrounded by Amelia’s intimidating web of a family, had only increased after their semi-break up on the swings; and, with it, came wave after wave of self-loathing, anger, and despair. They couldn’t eat, they couldn’t work, they couldn’t sleep, they couldn’t function.

Not even the paper being published—years and years of work and effort finally being recognized—was enough to lift their spirits. Every potentially happy thought about it—every stray thought they’d had since the last time they were in Seattle—just led back to her. Their text to her upon hearing the news (“thinking of you”) wasn’t a lie: if anything, it was an understatement.

The irony plagued them. They had once boasted to Amelia that they needed very little sleep to function and look where that had landed them: impulse buying a plane ticket to Seattle after another restless 24 hours, running through the airport to make it on time, all 6’ 1” of them jammed into a middle seat on a rickety Spirit Airlines flight, their hastily packed carry-on containing nothing but two shirts, pajama bottoms, underwear, and a toothbrush. All without a shred of hope to cling to that she’d even want to see them, let alone take them back.

But she did… at least, tentatively.

She was kissing them, in the rain, and Kai felt like they could finally breathe again. The risk of drowning at sea was averted: her presence alone pushed their exhausted, waterlogged mind back to shore. The monumental pain of their actions was gone. The weight and stress that had sat in their shoulders and upper back had finally dissipated. Relief flooded over them and they were left to ponder happier ideas… like which movies had the best rain kiss scenes.

(They managed The Notebook, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Spider-Man, A Cinderella Story, and that one episode of Friends before Amelia pulled away for breath, her forehead slumped against theirs.)

The rain was getting worse by the second; having started as barely a sprinkle, it was now quickly becoming a considerable downpour. They could feel their hair getting heavier, sticking to their forehead in odd spots, matted after Amelia’s handiwork.

Her hands eventually came down to rest on their shoulders. They stayed breathing each other’s breath, eyes closed and hands still, for a long time, quiet despite the environmental rage surrounding them…

They were tempted to kiss her again, being that close for so long. And they nearly did. Hesitantly brushing their nose alongside hers, receiving no comments or requests to stop, they brought their hand up to her cheek, ready to join their lips again and—

“Amelia!” someone called out from the hospital exit, their voice carrying over the dense rain.

The bubble popped.

Hope you enjoyed :) I hope to have it out in full beginning/mid-September.

[molotovmetro]

Day 2: (Toaster, Baker AU, Humor)

Italics is Chris's inner monologue

Chris Redfield x gn reader

Words: 632

Warnings: none that I can think of, let me know if I need to add something

Flame Grilled

Chris Redfield never quite imagined himself to be in the position he is today.

A few months ago S.T.A.R.S. was disbanded by Police Chief Irons in favour if a true swat team. The man didn't care about the people who would lose their jobs, the only thing that mattered to him is how profitable it was.

Wesker kind of disappeared, no one has heard of him since that last day at work. He was never an open person anyway. Jill managed to get a job at a local locksmith, which isnt surprising with her skills, they don't call her the master of unlocking for nothing. Barry and his family moved to Canada, Brad is still looking for a job as far as he knows, as are Joseph and Forest, the rookie Rebecca Chambers went back to school, and he was honestly not close enough to the others to know what they're up to these days. Still, they made a lot of good memories with the team.

He considers himself lucky that his sister was looking for help in her bakery at the right moment, although he suspects she just felt bad for him. It isn't exactly his dream job, but it pays the bills, so he can't complain.

Plus, sometimes the costumers are really cute. Like right now for example. Alright, stay professional, Chis.

The man gives his best costumer service smile, "Hi, how can I help you?"

They smile back, "Hi, two toasted croissants, please."

Toasted. He freezes. Do they even have a toaster? Who wants toasted croissants?

He's trying not to make it painfully obvious that he's completely lost, looking around slowly with slightly widened eyes as he's grabbing the croissants.

Ah! There in the corner! Okay. Toaster located and crisis averted.

Time for problem two.

How the hell is he going to fit these in there?!

The brunette standing in front of a toaster with a pastry in each hand was quite frankly a hilarious sight.

"Is everything alright..?" The cute costumer asked.

Chris jumped, "Yeah! Well... not really..." he turns to them, "Do you mind if I squash these a bit?"

Very eloquent there, Chris.

They laugh, where did Claire find this guy? "Not at all, go ahead."

The man smiles and proceeds to ungracefully stuff the croissants in the toaster.

Problem three. How should he program the timer?

Alright, Chris. We can wing this. Just go for about two minutes and go from there.

He walks back to the counter and leans an elbow on it, feeling pretty proud of himself –but mainly relieved– that he didn't have to call Claire. "You come here a lot?"

"Does that line ever work for you?"

Taken aback a little, he takes a step backwards. "That- that wasn't a line!"

"Uhuh. Yeah, sometimes. Enough that Claire considers me a regular." They smile.

Oof. At least they're not mad.

He opens his mouth to respond, but gets interrupted by a loud beeping.

Fuck. That's the fire alarm!

We whips around to see flames coming from the toaster.

"Wow, flame grilled. What service!" The costumer jokes.

Chris pays their comment no mind, busying himself with pulling the cord and wetting a towel to throw on it, which luckily seems to put it out.

That's coming out of my paycheck.

He walks back to the counter again and puts two croissants in a paper bag and hands it to the poor person whose lunch got ruined.

"Here, on the house. Sorry about that... Although, maybe I can take you out for dinner later to make up for it?" He says with a sheepish smile.

"Sounds good, what time to you get off? Though, we should probably stay away from flammable appliances." They winked.

"In two hours. And yeah, you're probably right."

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 3)

(part 1) (part 2) 

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.  

word count: 3k

chapter warnings: mention of past sexual harassment, very mature karaoke (lol), mention of pornography

Day 63 and you still hadn’t talked about it.  He’d actually gotten to know you a lot better over the past two months, even almost confessing his feelings for you with that stupid half-asleep storybook thing he’d done way back when, but you still hadn’t talked about the night you saw him looking in the rearview mirror.

Tonight actually reminded him of that night; this time was a premiere, for a movie you hadn’t actually been in but apparently you were supposed to go anyways?  He didn’t get it but he figured he didn’t need to.  As long as you came back alone this time, he’d be happy.

Of course, when he saw you step out to the car to leave for the venue, he was confident that would be impossible— not that you ever looked bad on a red carpet or anything, but wow… this was different.

“It’s not too slutty, is it?” you asked him nervously, spinning around to show him the back.  Don’t look at her ass don’t look at her ass don’t look at her ass—   

“Just slutty enough,” he responded with a gloved thumbs up.

“Perfect,” you smiled, and he opened the door for you to get in the back.  He took a moment to catch his breath before circling around to the driver’s side.

You actually chatted with him on the way, which was a new thing you two had started doing when he drove you.  He looked forward to your talks a lot— especially the ones where you ranted about whatever was on your mind.  You would usually apologize for rambling but he liked it; and, you were cute when you got really worked up about something, even if he thought it was kind of trivial.

As he pulled up to the red carpet, with cameras flashing and the indistinguishable yelling of reporters and fans, you shot him a look as if you didn’t want to go.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah,” you shook your head incredulously, “I just… I wish you would’ve come and seen it.”

He recalled a few weeks back when you offered him a ticket to the premiere showing, but he’d insisted on just sticking to what he knew and letting your assistant have the spare ticket.  “I’ll catch it on Netflix,” he dismissed.

“No, I mean, I wish you were coming with me,” you explained.

Was it hot in here, all of a sudden?  Because his cheeks felt warm.  “Uh, you don’t want me in there.  I always fall asleep in theaters anyways.  Just go have fun and I’ll catch you after.”

“Okay,” you nodded with an adorable little smile.

So he waited, wondering if he should’ve taken you up on it all those weeks ago, but decided he probably made the right call.  He would just embarrass you in a place like that, more than likely, and you had enough to deal with already.  He felt more useful waiting in the wings than being in the spotlight, to use a fittingly-timed theater metaphor.

It was a few hours of him killing time in the car, but he got to relax a little more since the event already had pretty good security on its own.  You’d recommended a book called Flowers for Algernon to him, even lending him your copy for the time being, and so he leaned his seat back and picked up where he’d left off from this morning.  Of course, if he had known that you’d be gone long enough for him to finish, and that the ending was going to make him cry, he probably wouldn’t have read it.  WIth his luck, it was inevitable that he’d be all but sobbing when you texted him to pull the car around.

Wiping his tears and hoping his eyes wouldn’t be too red, he tossed the book into the glovebox and started the engine.  You waved cheerily when you saw him from the entrance, and he attempted to navigate through all the other cars pulling up so he could reach you.  Thankfully, you didn’t have a new friend with you this time— or an old friend.  Jealousy crisis averted, for now.

“How was it?” he asked with a smile as you opened the door and slipped in, unable to hide how happy he was to see you.

“The premiere itself was a lot of fun, I got to see some people I hadn’t seen in ages; the movie, though?  Sort of pretentious,” you admitted as you shut the door and he got the car moving again.  “And way too long!  I could watch movies all day, but that doesn’t mean I want to watch a movie all day!”

“Fair enough,” he laughed.

“What did you do?” you asked innocently.

“I finished your book,” he frowned, trying not to think about it so he wouldn’t get emotional again.  

“Ah, I can tell you’re still a little hurt about it,” you smiled mischievously.  “Should’ve warned you about the ending.”

“No, no,” he disagreed, “it’s not a bad ending just because it’s a sad one… it was a good book.”

You’d already been smiling, but your smile undeniably changed as he watched it in the rearview mirror.  Something softer, something more sensitive.  He liked this one better.  “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Just in time to interrupt the moment, you saw something on the passing street outside that caught your attention.

“Ooh, karaoke!” you piped up, pressing your face against the inside of the window excitedly.  “Pull over!”

He chuckled at how easily distracted you were, but did as you’d asked.  He barely found time to slow down to a stop before you were opening the door and running out, flashing your ID to get inside.

He groaned as he realized how completely unsafe it was for you to be in a bar… especially now, when you were at your most recognizable and literally still wearing what you’d had on at the premiere.  Thankfully, he managed to pull the car around and park in the closest spot he could find, jogging to join you inside the bar and hoping you hadn’t already made too much of a scene.  His hopes were dashed the moment he pushed through the door, however.

“Is she perverted like me?  Would she go down on you in a theater?” you sang along with the grungy backing track of Alanis Morrisette’s You Oughta Know; your lips were curled into a faux snarl as you stood on stage with your heels in one hand and the microphone in the other.

Bucky’s head fell into his hands, looking around to see hundreds of bar patrons, nearly all of them with their phones out filming you.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Bucky mumbled to himself, hoping you would somehow hear it and take his advice.  Instead, you pantomimed sucking a dick with a cute little wink and everyone cheered.  “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“And I’m here, to remind you,” you continued, jumping around wildly; you looked like you were having the time of your life, honestly.  If he wasn’t so worried about you, he would’ve let himself smile seeing you so happy.

During the bridge, you stole someone’s water off their table and poured a bit on your head, slicking your hair back and shivering from the cold.  There was something about the water dripping down your face, starting to soak your clothes and make your skin glisten...

Bucky glanced around to make sure no one was looking at him before subtly adjusting his jeans.

He watched you sing the entire song, making most of the notes and definitely capturing the anger of the original song— if clearly having a lot more fun with it than most would.  The entire bar cheered when you finished, and you took a moment to take some pictures with people and meet a few fans, which he thought was sweet even if his bodyguard instincts forced him to interrupt after a moment.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he guided you away gently.

“Goodnight!” you waved goodbye to someone who was already buried in her phone and posting the photo you’d taken with her.

“Have a good time?” he asked sarcastically as the two of you began to walk out together.

“Would’ve been better if you hadn’t been glaring at me the whole time,” you smirked.

“I wasn’t glaring, I was just… watching.  You have a good voice, you know.”

You seemed surprised by the compliment.  “Oh.  Thanks.”

“And your stage presence is certainly… energetic,” he grinned.  “I bet your little charade is already trending.”

“I checked, and it is,” you giggled, showing him your phone for a moment where Twitter was open and you were the #7 topic in the United States and climbing.  “And the part where I poured that water on myself is pretty gif-able, don’t you think?”

He raised a brow as he held the back door of the bar open as you slipped back on your heels and walked past him.  “Is that why you did it?  For the reaction?”

“I did it cause it was fun,” you corrected.  “You wouldn’t know anything about that.  And the water thing was just practical, I was getting hot in this dress.”

That didn’t seem to be a problem anymore with the way you shivered in the night air as he walked you through the parking lot.  “Want my jacket?” he offered.

“No,” you frowned, but you eyed the leather with a hungry stare.  He chuckled and took it off, draping it over your shoulders anyways.  “How far is the car?” 

“Uh, a block?  Not much parking this time of night,” he explained.

“Ugh, these heels,” you groaned, “they hurt so bad.  I don’t know if I can make it.”  You began to slip them off but he stopped you.

“You can’t go barefoot out here, god knows what’s on the ground,” he shuddered; what if there was broken glass or something?

“Well, I can’t wear these,” you frowned, “and I probably shouldn’t be walking on asphalt in red bottoms anyway…”

He probably should’ve warned you before he scooped you up into his arms, but it was sort of instinct and he kinda forgot to say anything first.  You squealed a little but then went lax in his grip.

“You’re gonna carry me the whole way?” you asked incredulously.

“It’s only a block,” he shrugged, adjusting you in his arms a bit before starting the walk. 

It got quiet after that, the cool night air rustling the trees and blowing through his hair— frankly, he was a little chilly without his jacket, but it looked better on you anyhow.  The drive home was quiet, too, or at least quieter than usual, but it didn’t feel awkward, necessarily.  It didn’t feel like a lull in the conversation; it felt more like the conversation had just changed from verbal to non-verbal.  You both looked around at the city lights surrounding you on the drive, silent because there was nothing that needed to be said.  It wasn’t nervous, or tense, or anxiety-inducing like most of his interactions with you (or with anyone) could be.

It felt like time spent with an old friend.  He hadn’t known you long enough for that to be accurate, but he was happy to think of you as a new friend.  He just hoped you thought the same.

Arriving at the house, he dropped you off at the front and watched you make a mad dash for the stairs and presumably your bedroom, smiling to himself as he parked the car and came in to follow you.  He saw his jacket tossed onto the couch and your expensive shoes discarded right by the door.  Going upstairs and peeking into your room, he saw your limp form flopped onto the bed, your back exposed from the low cut of the dress.

“You’d better not get comfortable, you’ll kill me if I let you fall asleep with all that makeup on,” he frowned, leaning against the doorway.

"I couldn't fall asleep yet, anyways.  I'm wired."

“Any plans to burn off all that energy?” he pressed.

You groaned a little as you sat up, starting to unclasp all the jewelry on your wrists, around your neck, and on your ears.  “It’ll take me a while to get out of all of this— but not as long as it took me to get into it,” you laughed.  “Then I’m thinking TV and beers.”

“Beers?” he questioned, emphasizing the plural.  “You plannin’ to get toasted right before you go to sleep?”

“No, it’s plural because there’s one beer for me and one beer for you,” you explained with the slightest air of condescension, but he couldn’t really think of it as rude since it was an invitation.

“I don’t want to intrude on your chill evening,” he refuted.

“No, really, you’re not intruding!” you insisted, standing up and setting the jewelry on a nightstand before approaching him and turning to face away from him.  “Will you unzip me please?”

He stammered a little.  “I don’t… see a zipper,” he admitted with a weak voice.

“It’s on the side here, see?” you lifted your arm a bit, and pointed to it.  

Reaching out to touch your zipper was reminiscent of that old boardgame Operation: he needed to touch the zipper and only the zipper, cause if he bumped into anything else nearby, he got the feeling he’d get zapped.

His breath caught a bit as he watched more and more of your skin become exposed, the zipper ending up so low that he could just barely see the top of something lacy around your hips— and he had to stop there because anything more could induce cardiac arrest.  

“Thanks!” you piped up happily, slipping away to your closet to do the rest in private.  “Will you get the beers while I take my makeup off?” you requested through the shut door.

“Sure,’ he replied, turning to leave but realizing he should ask first: “Shiner or Pabst?” 

“Don’t patronize me,” you grumbled, and he laughed because it was a stupid question.  Trodding downstairs, he grabbed the Shiners from the fridge, stopping to check his phone only to see that it had started to automatically send him headlines pertaining to you.

‘Touch of Blood’ star gives impromptu karaoke performance at Queens dive bar!

He laughed at the picture of you onstage, even though he thought it was kind of reductive to describe you by a movie you’d been in so long ago when you had so much great new stuff coming out.  Jumping back up the stairs, beers in hand, he found you makeup-free (aside from some leftover mascara and eyeliner that hadn’t really made it all the way off) and in a robe, laying on the bed as you pointed the remote at your TV.  He thought you looked almost more beautiful like this than you did on the red carpet; of course, objectively, everybody looks better when they’ve been painted to the point of perfection, but he liked the domesticity of this.  When you were casual and relaxed like this, he could almost, almost pretend you were his girlfriend or something.  And not, you know, a global superstar and his employer.

“Beer me,” you requested as he sat down next to you, handing you a bottle and trying to ignore the thorough view of your legs he was getting in that robe.

“Anything good on?” he prompted as he watched you scroll through the channels on the guide.

“Uh, not particularly,” you frowned.  

“They’re showing a game,” he pointed out as you passed the sports channels.

“I’d rather watch this pay-per-view porn,” you rolled your eyes.

He cleared his throat but said nothing because he was confident there was no good response to that.

“Hey, I’m in this!” you beamed, changing the channel quickly.  He nearly had a heart attack until he realized you weren’t scrolling through the porn channels anymore.

He recognized the film instantly as the one of yours that he’d seen the most, for one very embarrassing and slightly sinister reason; looking down to the corner, he saw the HBO logo and realized it wasn’t going to be edited.  His palms got a little clammy but he tried not to worry about it too much.

“Oh, this girl was super nice,” you remembered as you pointed to a character on-screen.  “She had a bigger role but most of it got edited out.”

“That must be a bummer,” he imagined.

“Eh, it happens,” you shrugged.  “Beats getting fired, or recast in the sequel.”

“Have you ever been fired during filming?” he pressed, morbidly curious.

“Once,” you nodded.  “We were only a few days into it so they had no trouble finding somebody new and redoing my scenes.  Just think: I could’ve been a Bond girl if I’d slept with that producer.”

“You— what?!” he squawked.  “You got fired because you wouldn’t have sex with a film exec?”

“I got fired because of ‘creative differences,’” you explained with exaggerated air quotes, “and, unrelatedly, those creative differences surfaced the morning after I refused to get down and dirty with the EP.”

“Jesus,” he shook his head, “that’s… I hope you told someone.”

“Yeah, anonymously.  Somebody will care someday, but not yet.  He’s still too profitable, and not enough people have come forward.”

He glanced over at you, admiring your profile as you kept your eyes on the TV and took a sip of your beer.  When you turned your head and looked back at him, he realized he’d been staring a bit too long.

“What?” you asked, quirking your brow a bit. 

“What?” he repeated.

“You’re staring at me,” you frowned.

“Sorry, I was just… sorry,” he shook his head and looked back ahead.  What he found there wasn’t much less embarrassing, though: he knew all too well that this was the scene right before THE scene.  The scene he’d watched over and over until his arousal overpowered his shame.  The scene that he’d used to try to satisfy his crush on you, but it only made it worse.  The scene that had burrowed into his mind and deepened his obsession even as he fought it with everything he had…

You know, that scene.  And he was about to watch it with you.  

Bucky was completely, entirely, and supremely fucked.

[quickspinner]

“I trust you.” Viperbug 🐍🐞💙

Edit: Part 2 is now posted

Greetings from the fuuuuuutuuuuuuure...

Yeah, okay, so remember way back in uh....September, when the NY special aired, and I was so mad about it I decided to take Lukanette fluff prompts to ease my soul? Well, there were two prompts that never got answered because it turned out I had a bit too much salt to keep a lid on it altogether, and my dear friends who requested those prompts were okay with me going off the rails a bit...and then things happened and here we are months and months later. But finally! Here is part 1 of 2, and I've posted it on AO3 separately from the original Here for You so that those who were just coming for the positivity and don't want the salt can skip it.

Chat salt, Adrien salt, mainly ML writer salt to be honest but it gets taken out on Chat so screen accordingly.

The premise here is that Uncanny Valley could not/did not take the ring back to Chat, and the consequences of that decision. We'll be keeping, of course, the original Lukanette (or more accurately for this part, the Viperbug) love-and-support intent, because that's just how we roll on this blog.

Live With It Part 1

Luka was frowning as he played, staring at the lights on top of one of the cranes that had been brought out to deal with the rubble still littering the streets of Paris. He was worried.

Luka was not naturally a worrier. He mostly let things happen as they happened, preferring to face the aftermath once he knew what he was dealing with rather than to obsess over possibilities.

With the state of things lately, though, it was getting hard not to worry. All of Paris was worried, in fact, suddenly feeling vulnerable in a way that they hadn’t truly felt since Ladybug gave her speech defying Hawkmoth all those months ago, and released her ladybugs for the first time.

There had been no ladybugs this time. No Ladybug, no ladybugs, and all Paris was frightened, the whole city resonating with bone-deep dread. It didn’t matter that Ladybug had clearly pursued Hawkmoth to New York, that she had averted a crisis there halfway across the world. What mattered was that Paris had been left undefended and unprotected, without even a warning, and its people wanted to know why—and how they could be sure it wouldn’t happen again. The city was tense, silent, and frightened.

Even Luka felt it, that fear, despite his implicit trust in Ladybug. He knew that if she had left Paris, it was for something important, and it was unlike her to not have a backup plan or a backup to a backup plan, so...Luka was worried. He was sure something had gone wrong, he just didn’t know what, or how he could possibly help.

It frustrated him, being unable to do anything about the problems occupying his mind. Even if he could, though, he wasn’t sure his assistance would be welcome, and that stung even more. A few months ago things would have been different, but now...he was a liability, thanks to Miracle Queen.

He struck the strings in his frustration, and the chord rang out, vibrating over the water, still perfect despite the discord within him.

Luka sighed again.

The thud of superhero feet landing on the deck of the Liberty jolted him out of his funk, and the sound had never been more welcome.

“Ladybug,” Luka gasped, leaping up from his chair and dropping his guitar in it to cross the deck. He took her by the shoulders before he could stop himself. “I am so glad to see you. Are you all right? Of course you’re all right, sorry, it’s just we were all so worried when you didn’t show for the Sentimonster attack, and then that fight in New York looked vicious and I knew you had to be okay, but...I’m just really, really glad to see you.” He closed his mouth quickly before any more uncharacteristic babble could spill out.

“I’m all right, Luka,” Ladybug said, one hand curling around his forearm. Something in her voice scared him, and without thinking about it he cupped her cheek and tilted her face up into the light.

“Are you really?” he asked softly, and then asked the question that had been bothering him ever since he watched the fight in New York. “Ladybug, where’s Chat Noir?”

She stared at him for a moment, and then tears welled in her blue eyes and spilled over the edges of her mask.

“I’m not all right at all,” she cried, throwing herself against his chest and sobbing into his hoodie. “Chat—Chat’s gone.”

Luka sucked in a breath, arms curling instinctively around her, but Ladybug was pulling back to shake her head. “No, no, not like that, I’m sorry. The person, the b-boy who was Chat Noir, he’s all right as far as I know, but…” She looked around, and then back up to Luka, a frightened expression on her face. She rose up on her toes to speak next to his ear and whispered, “He gave me his Miraculous back.”

“No,” Luka breathed, and wrapped her up close in his arms. “Oh my God,” he whispered, rubbing her back as he held her. It occurred to him that he was being awfully forward and touchy with her, but he’d been so worried, not knowing what was going on, and tangled in knots about Marinette as well, who’d come back from her New York trip even more uncertain and depressed than when she’d left. Ladybug buried her face in his chest again and shook with silent tears, so he figured she didn’t mind.

No wonder. She probably really needed a hug as badly as he did right now, if not more. His hand continued to move across her back mechanically as he tried to take in the implications of what she’d told him.

Ladybug had no backup. Fighting by herself would be massively more dangerous and require a total change in tactics. She now had possession of both the black cat and the ladybug miraculous. Hawkmoth had only to capture her, and he would win. All her temporary heroes had been exposed, including himself. And all of Paris was clamoring to know why they hadn’t been protected in this last attack, why Ladybug had left them defenseless with no warning, and where was Chat Noir?

“You’ve had it rough, huh,” Luka murmured, squeezing her tight. “You always do, but I mean. More than usual.” She made a pitiful little noise of assent, barely audible from where she had her face smushed against him.

Luka took a deep breath and sighed it out slowly. “We can stay like this as long as you need to,” he told her. “When you’re ready, then you can tell me your plan.” She tensed slightly, and he added, “And if you don’t have one, we’ll make one.”

“I do,” she said without lifting her face, gripping his hoodie tight. “But we can’t talk about it here.” She took a deep breath. “I need Viperion. I know...I know that it’s dangerous, but I don’t know who else I can go to right now…”

“If you say it’s necessary then I trust you,” Luka said simply, putting as much conviction in his voice as he could. Ladybug straightened, and looked up into his face. He smiled, reaching up to wipe a tear off her mask with his thumb. Ladybug took a shuddering breath, and then unclipped her yoyo, reaching into it to retrieve the box. She met his gaze, and put it in his hands.

“Luka Couffaine,” she said, her voice shaky but strong. “Here is the miraculous of the snake. You will use it for the greater good.” She paused and swallowed. “When it’s no longer needed, you will return the miraculous to me. Do you accept this responsibility?”

“I do,” he said softly, opening the box. When the flash faded, he smiled at Sass. “Hey, buddy. Long time no see.”

“Luka,” Sass said simply, his expression grave. Luka reached out and stroked his hooded head.

“It’s going to be okay,” Luka told the kwami. “We’re going to make it right.”

Sass flashed a brief, small smile, one fang popping out.

Luka slipped the bracelet on, and then let Ladybug take hold of him and swing him off the boat and up onto a nearby roof where he could transform.

When the light faded, he found Ladybug looking at him, eyebrows raised.

“That’s...different,” Ladybug said, and Luka looked down at himself. It certainly felt different.

His suit was black. No, not black, he realized as he lifted his arm and the light hit it. Very dark green, indistinguishable from black in the shadows. He reached up and touched his face and head. The suit now sported a green-black cowl hood that appeared to be attached to the center top of his mask, covering his hair. Ladybug popped open her yoyo and handed it to him so he could look at his image on the screen. Lenses in his mask gave his eyes a yellow cast in addition to the usual green-gold color of his pupils. The bright yellow fangs on his mask extended farther down his face. It felt like there was more armor in his suit, too, as he moved. Still sleek, but more protected. He looked...dangerous. All the colors of his suit were darker, except for the bright yellow accents flashing here and there.

“Is this just Sass being dramatic?” Viperion wondered aloud.

“Maybe,” Ladybug said thoughtfully, circling him. “Maybe not. You look really different...maybe this is Sass trying to disguise you as much as he can. Make it look like you’re not the same Viperion Hawkmoth unmasked. I don’t think it would be hard to convince people you were someone else, done up like this.”

“I think you’re right,” Viperion said, concentrating on some...sense or feeling, an odd vibration almost that was tingling the back of his mind. “But I also think...it’s a warning…”

“A warning?” Ladybug repeated, tilting her head slightly.

Viperion nodded, and gave her a grim smile. “I think Sass is pissed .” He raised his arms slightly, looking at the bright yellow and green diamonds running along the outside of his sleeves. “They’re on your hood, too,” Ladybug told him. “Running all the way down your back to your—” she stopped, and blushed.

“It’s definitely a warning,” Viperion muttered, and then grinned. “Mess with the bug, and expect to pay.” He winked at Ladybug, and she covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.

“I don’t think Sass is the only dramatic one,” she teased, and Viperion just shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, enough admiring my wardrobe upgrade,” he chuckled. “Let’s get going.”

He followed Ladybug across the rooftops, until she stopped on the roof of Montparnasse. She gave him a slightly apologetic glance. “The Eiffel Tower is more picturesque, but too obvious,” she said.

Viperion shrugged. “I’m not here for the view. Tell me how I can help.”

“Okay...so…” Ladybug began to pace, twisting her hands. “I think...I think I better tell you the whole story, so that you’re...prepared.”

“I’m listening,” Viperion said, folding his arms and leaning back against the roof ledge.

She told him everything—some with words, and some he could read in what she left unsaid. How she’d needed to leave Paris, and she’d left Chat to protect the city, and made sure he had the means to contact her if there was trouble. How, without telling her, Chat had left Paris and gone to New York—followed her to New York? He wasn’t clear on that part, whether Chat had gone knowing Ladybug would be there or if he just happened to go there himself for some reason. Viperion honestly wasn’t sure which possibility pissed him off more.

Then the disaster of a fight with the supervillain akuma (and hell wasn’t that phrase a nightmare by itself), her argument with Chat, the accident, getting berated by New York’s superheroes. Worst of all, Chat’s sudden attack of useless, frustratingly selfish conscience. How Ladybug had almost quit herself because she’d been so crushed by Chat’s actions, but had been called back because she simply couldn’t abandon her responsibility, especially when it was a rogue miraculous putting New York in danger. His fingers dug tight into his bicep as Ladybug berated herself for having been so harsh on her partner, but he clenched his teeth, determined to say nothing to the end.

By the time she wound up the story of how she’d teamed up with two young superhero apprentices to take down an entire city full of insane fully-grown, powered-up superheroes and a miraculous-enhanced akuma, he kind of wanted to punch something. Of course he’d seen part of that on the news, but it was different thinking about it with her standing there in front of him, so young and small and tired, and knowing all she’d been through leading up to it.

Maybe not even all of it. Ladybug was only part of who she was, after all. Who knew what else she had to deal with that had nothing to do with the mask.

“Chat could still change his mind,” Viperion said, as she began to pace and mumble to herself. His heart wasn’t in the words, but he felt like he should point it out. “I know you don’t know who he is, but he could find you fairly easily. Presumably his kwami would be able to confirm his identity. If you even want him back,” he couldn’t help adding, a slight edge creeping into his tone despite his best efforts..

“He’s my partner, of course I want him back,” she muttered as she paced. “I can’t do this alone, I don’t want to!”

“You’re not alone,” Viperion said reflexively, but went on quickly when her head snapped up to look at him. “It’s Chat’s call, then. Does he still have the thing you gave him when you left for New York?”

Ladybug’s eyes widened. “He does, actually,” she gasped. “The alert I gave him to call me if Paris needed me. He still has it! Unless he...unless he threw it away.” She shook her head. “I’m sure he wouldn’t. He could contact me with that if he wanted to meet up!”

“Okay,” Viperion tapped one finger on his arm. “Has he?”

Ladybug deflated. “No…”

“Too bad,” Viperion muttered. “I’d like to have a few words with him.”

Ladybug looked at him and seemed to register his expression for the first time. “You’re mad.”

Viperion felt his face soften just a little. “Not at you, Ladybug. You did everything you could. Nothing that happened was your fault.”

“But—if I hadn’t—”

Viperion threw his arms out, finally letting some of his frustration burst out. “Why wouldn’t you be angry that he betrayed your trust, left the citizens you entrusted to him undefended so that he could—I don’t even know what he was trying to do, honestly, but regardless, he broke your agreement and you had a right to be angry at him. If he didn’t want you to be angry, he should have made different choices. He did kill someone. Nearly killed you, in fact.” He gestured at her, and she seemed to shrink into herself. “And then instead of taking responsibilities for his mistakes in any kind of meaningful way, he does this tragic, noble sacrifice that amounted to abandoning you without backup, knowing there was an undefeated akuma-charged supervillain running around, to face the consequences of his actions alone, without even acting to take responsibility for the monster that wrecked Paris on his watch—and he did all that knowing that Hawkmoth was still in New York!” He paused, taking a breath to rein in his temper, and then another. When he was calm, he shrugged slightly. “Yeah, I’m mad. More than mad, honestly. But I care more about helping you than kicking Chat’s ass, even if I could find him.” He gestured his own emotions aside. “Regardless of how I feel about it, It’s Chat’s call whether he wants to come back, since he’s the only one with means to get in touch with you. That’s not something we can control or count on. So. What do you want to do, and how can I help?”

Ladybug stared at him for a minute, blinking rapidly as she tried to process what he’d said. Then, shaking her head in a clear I’ll deal with that later gesture, she came back to the moment. “I need to arrange a press conference with Mayor Bourgeois to reassure the citizens of Paris that they’re still being protected.” Her hands came together, clenched, and twisted as she spoke. “I...don’t know how it’s going to go. I don’t want to give Hawkmoth more information. The last thing I need is for him to know that Chat gave his ring back, that if he catches me, he gets the entire miracle box.” She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I need you to be there. I should be able to make the speech in less than five minutes, at least the important part. If it...doesn’t go well, if I let something slip, or the people don’t like what I have to say...I want the chance to do it over. This is too important, Viperion. I can’t just wing it and hope that I don’t mess up.”

“I understand,” Viperion nodded. “We’ll need a signal.”

“We can do that,” Ladybug agreed. “But if you think things aren’t going well, then do what you need to do. I trust you.”

Viperion put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “I know that trust probably doesn’t come easy for you right now. I promise I won’t let you down.”

Ladybug looked down, and then covered his hand on her shoulder with her own. “It’s always been easy, trusting you. Thank you.”

He hoped the new mask would cover the heat rising from his neck to his face.

He knew from the way her lips quirked that it didn’t.

“The new look suits you,” she said, unclipping her yoyo from her waist. “I’ll let you know when I get things set up. Try to transform and check your communicator as often as you can. I want to get this taken care of as soon as possible.”

Viperion blinked. “You’re not—you want me to keep it?” he said, lifting his wrist where the bangle still rested.

“For now,” Ladybug shrugged, and for the instant before her blue eyes flicked away from him, they were sad and worried. “I’ve got to do what I need to do to survive and protect the city. That means the rules are changing. I just...haven’t figured out how yet. But this feels right.” Her gaze returned to him and she smiled. “Like I said, I trust you.” She winked. “You might want to think about a different name, though. To go with the new look.” She pointed at him. “Not Black Mamba, understand?”

“No respect for the classics,” Viperion complained, folding his arms.

“Your love for that movie is unhealthy,” Ladybug sighed, and Viperion raised his eyebrows slightly.

“I’m surprised you even know that about me.”

“I know a lot of things about you,” she smiled, giving him a wink. “You’re not the only observant one.”

“Have you been stalking me, Ladybug?” Viperion teased, and Ladybug snorted.

“Like I have that kind of time.” She took out her yoyo. “I’ve got to go. Be safe, okay? If you have any second thoughts, call me.”

“I understand,” Viperion nodded. Ladybug gave him a lift down off the skyscraper, and then he ran home on his own, his thoughts full of everything she had told him.

Still, he realized as he landed lightly back on the deck of the Liberty, as angry as he was...he felt better. At least now he knew. At least now he could do something.

At least now he could be there for her.

Clearly somebody needed to be.

[sweetlyocs]

Wait, your leaving us?

Zhouxia has a mini meltdown when she’s told two of her members are going back home, without them

“-nd essentially that’s the plan for when we’re there”

Zhouxia walked into the living room as there was a discussion over future plans, plans she didn’t remember. As she came to sit in front on Xiaojun as he was relaxing on the ground she tried to recall any and all past coversations, she had been reminded that she needed to be more present when they were having discussion but it wasn’t her fault they normally happened over dinner when eating was her main priority.

“It’s been so long since we were in China it feels like a lifetime ago”

“CHINA? Since when were we going to China!”

Yells of Kun radiated from a separate room reminding her that she has an inside voice and she needed to learn to use it sometime, and a hand came swiping at the side of her head followed by a hushed I need my ears you know . Lucas and Sicheng stopped their separate movements before both communicating with each other,

“Xia... ge and I are going back to China remember? We had a meeting last week with everyone and the plan for comeback and how it’s going to work”

Zhouxia couldn’t remember, she didn’t sleep well the night before the meeting, she didn’t remember that meeting, she definitely would remember two of her members leaving

“You... why are you leaving. Does this mean we aren’t a group anymore, why are they making you go back to China, it’s not fair. You’re both popular why, why are you leaving”

Zhouxia was building into hysterics as she formed a new situation where she was losing two of her best friends, no no no not again, I don’t want to lose them too, no no no 

Realising that she hadn’t recalled their meeting fully and seeing her throw herself in to such a state had Sicheng’s body running cold, immediately dropping the clothes he was folding and catapulting towards his little sister. Pulling her out of Xioajun’s grip he cradled her head against his chest as he gripped her tightly,

“No baby no no,  we aren’t leaving leaving, we have to go for some schedules that’s all”

“But ge ge said you were leaving, I don’t want you to leave. You can’t”

Letting out a soft chuckle, Lucas came down next to the two on the floor rubbing her head, 

“Xia look at me silly, we aren’t going anywhere - I mean sure we have to go to China but we’ll only be gone a couple of months. It’s like when you, me and Ten ge left for SuperM remember? We had to go to the states but we came home” 

Sniffling, she nodded, looking at how her members had surrounded her a wave of embarrasment came crashing down, hiding her face into Sicheng’s arm and whining relayed just how she was feeling. She felt the vibrations of his body as he tried to stiffle a laugh, 

“Not funny..”

Came out her mumbled voice, sitting back and closing her eyes a few taps on her hand had her nodding her head she was fine, she was just overreacting

“We wouldn’t actually leave, we just have to go to work, Lucas is going to film running man remember? With your Yuqi unnie”

“Exactly, and we’ve already got it planned, we can call you when we have breaks so you can help me annoy her”

Letting out a laugh she recalled the last season when she would get random video calls from her member,

“I think I spoke to unnie about the new season, she was hoping you wouldn’t be back”

An offended scoff left his lips, slowly the two turned back to their previous tasks as it was clear that they had averted a bigger crisis, calling Xiaojun back to his previous sitting position she leant further back into his chest.

“You know we’ll never leave you, we’re a family, always”  

[odd-birds-and-booksellers]

“Alex…” Jo interrupts, her hand slowly curing round his, the one resting on her bump. He can feel his lips trembling as the tears he’d fought so hard to keep at bay begin to fall. 

"I put glow in the dark stars up.” He whispered. "So she can't be dead."

On one of the rare occasions, Alex and Jo’s days off don’t coincide, Alex finds himself wishing for a six-hour surgery, hell he’d rather be removing splinters than deciding between lemon sherbet and soft daffodil. To say he was excited about the impending arrival of their second child would be an understatement but completing the ridiculously long list Jo had left him to do this morning before rushing off with Robin felt more like torture.

He understood though, with only two months to go everything seemed to pile up on them, the quiet calm they had mistaken for panic when Robin was on the way paled in comparison when they were trying to juggle two full time demanding careers, a new puppy, a new baby and a toddler whose main goal in life seemed to be giving his parents a heart attack with the many hiding places he could find.

And this is how Alex found himself staring into the abyss of a million Amazon boxes that Jo had somehow managed to sneak by him, with various shades of yellow paint cans dotted around.

He understood Jo’s desire to make everything perfect, she’d been that way since she’d stepped out of the loft bathroom over two years ago, her hands shaking as she lifted the test towards him clearly displaying two lines. He swears they both had good intentions when Robin was born, he wouldn’t be spoiled, there wouldn't be gifts that make up for missing birthdays or missing bedtimes, they’d be honest about mommy and daddy having to work hard for everything they have and yet they couldn’t seem to stop themselves, because the luxury of giving their son and now their daughter everything they’d never had brought more happiness to Jo and Alex then maybe their children would ever understand. There could never be a single second their children doubted how loved and wanted they truly were, so it didn’t matter if their daughter would be in with them for the first few months, her room had to be finished before she arrived.

Their daughter...he smiles at the mere thought of her, their daughter, who likes to kick when their reading Robins bedtime stories, or plays the guitar on Jo’s rib cage until Alex sings along softly with her in the early hours of the morning, their daughter who’d refused to make herself seen for the first two scans.

It’s only when Alex finishes the last coat of soft daffodil that he hears the faint ringing of his phone above the radio. Shuffling down the ladder he wipes the back of his hand on his shirt as he hears the familiar ringtone sound again making Alex frown as he manages to navigate his way through the maze of boxes he's built around himself.

There’s a slight twitch in his chest as he begins down the stairs hearing his phone fall quiet only to start up again seconds later. He finds it still plugged in by the coffee machine where he’d left it, glancing at the screen to see he had twelve missed calls and three voicemails.

There's a definite twitch in his chest now as he clicks play on Jo's first voicemail, his lips twitching up at the sound of Robin's singing. They sounded like they were still in the car as Jo listed off a few more things she needed him to do.

"Hey, sorry I know you said not to go overboard but there are two more deliveries coming today so make sure to listen out for them and oh oh...if you get a chance to go grocery shopping we need...well we need pretty much everything but get me those cupcakes with the oranges on them and oh erm..." She paused after taking a slightly heavy breath. "I do not feel great today, maybe I can get someone to take over my surgeries. Oh and don’t forget to get the box of baby clothes down from the attic will you...okay... I love you, Alex, I’ll call you later."

He frowned quickly, bypassing the message Meredith had left, assuming it was whatever love triangle tragedy she had that day. He finds Jo's second message. There was no greeting to this one, only Jo's panicked voice.

"Why aren’t you answering the phone Alex? What’s the point of having one if you don’t ever answer it?”

His phone beeped again, signalling another message had been left, this time from Meredith again.

"Alex, where the hell are you? You need to be here now. I don't know if Jo is trying not to worry you but Carina is having her admitted so get over here before I leave work and drag you here myself.”

He felt his heart begin to drop in his chest as he hit replay, trying to piece together what was happening. Before he even knew it his feet were carrying him towards the front door, keys in hand as he rushed out. His entire mind had narrowed in on one simple need: to get to Jo.

He couldn't think of much else as he drove, he doesn’t even remember his route to the hospital he just remembers being at home and then bursting through the doors of Grey Sloan. He was severely out of breath by the time he caught sight of Meredith outside the maternity ward talking quietly with Bailey.

The best thing about Meredith, and what made her excel as a doctor, was that she was damn good in a crisis. So she knew the minute their eyes met that Alex just needed Jo. As soon as he’s within reach she wraps an arm around his shoulder—which felt way too much like condolences for Alex's liking and leads him through the doors where Carina was already waiting. This had to be a mistake. Jo was fine last night. Their daughter was fine last night. He’d felt her kicking as they’d talked. They’d talked about his mom's upcoming visit, and maybe going to see Amber and her family for Christmas or inviting them here.

"—I know. It's awful." Carina mutters her eyes on Jo's chart. The intern beside her nodded in agreement.

"I hope Dr Karev shows up before the ultrasound. She shouldn't have to deal with that alone." The intern responds.

“He’s here,” Carina whispers as she looks up, hearing Alex and Meredith footsteps as she tucks the chart under her arm. “If you can go set up the ultrasound while I talk to him.”

"Of course."

Alex gulps at the sorrow on Carina’s face as she steps closer, it's all too much for him as he averts his gaze down to the floor, his eyes catching on the silver band around his finger, splattered with yellow paint from earlier.

"What's going on?" Alex asks, hearing his voice crack as Meredith drops her hand from his back.

"Alex, you need to take a breath and pull yourself together because right now Jo needs you.”

He doesn't respond to Mer, doesn't even look at her as he raises his gaze back towards Carina, “What’s going on?” He repeats, his voice lower this time.

"Jo's in premature labour. She mentioned a couple of hours ago that she had some pretty bad Braxton Hicks, but then she timed them and they were too close together and too regular. So she paged me, and when I checked her cervix had already begun to open-”

Alex found himself nodding along but Carina’s words soon faded to quiet buzz in his ears. His fingers are already twitching to hold Jo. This couldn’t be happening, not to them. Not now.

"Okay." He whispers his voice dangerously low as he blinks back tears, desperately trying to pull himself together when everything in him was burning. Please don’t do this, please don’t take her from us, please don’t do this to her . He can feel his nails digging into the palm of his hand, the only way he's sure he’s still alive is the dull pain he feels as he takes a deep breath gathering himself slowly. Suddenly his doctor brain kicks in as he begins to ask what they are doing to fix this, listing everything he knew like he wasn’t surrounded by some of the best doctors he knew.

Carina nods, her words still buzzing in Alex’s head as she explains the past couple of hours, Jo’s contractions stopped an hour ago, her cervix hasn't opened any further.

“We’re just waiting to do an ultrasound...it really needs to be done right away.”

“Right...what's the problem then?”

“She’s refusing Alex, won't let anyone near her.”

Alex shakes his head, that's not true. Jo wouldn’t...she would never do anything that could harm their baby. She wouldn’t refuse medical care. He watches as Meredith shoots another look to Carina who sighs, tilting her head in a way that has Alex’s heart dropping into his stomach. “I tried earlier with the stethoscope to find the heartbeat...and was unsuccessful.”

"Alex, do you understand? We couldn't find a heartbeat. Dr DeLuca tried and I did too. Even Jo tried...now she’s refusing the ultrasound, she won’t let anyone touch her."

The childish reaction was quick and automatic. "Maybe you didn’t try hard enough, you didn’t do it right, okay? You know you should check properly.”

Carina took a deep breath. "Alex, I'm sorry. I’m going to do an ultrasound, of course, but…I don't know. It's usually easy to hear it with a stethoscope at twenty-eight weeks. Intrauterine deaths happen and there's not much—"

He felt like he couldn't breathe. His hand was clutching at his chest trying to feel the air filling his lungs but he couldn’t feel a thing as everything went fuzzy again. "Stop. Just shut up. You don’t know Jo. You don’t know our…"

"I'm so, so, s o sorry, Alex," Mer whispered. "I know how much you wanted her."

He felt his eyes burning. "I still want her. And you're wrong because I just felt her kick last night. She was kicking when I sang—she always does that. She does. So she can't be dead."

He chokes on his words. “She’s not...dead.”

There’s a quiet discussion mainly between Carina and Meredith who seems to be answering for Alex as they both guide him towards a door at the end of the corridor:

He has to stand outside the door for a full minute as he tries to get a hold of himself. He doesn’t want his face to show how truly scared he is at this moment.

When he does finally gather himself enough to step into the room he notices how the curtains were pulled, blocking almost all of the sunlight from the otherwise dark room. Jo was curled up onto her side, her entire body tucked protectively around Robin's sleeping frame. She hadn't even lifted her head or made a move to turn when the door shut behind Alex, and that terrified him so deeply that he couldn't even move. It had all suddenly gotten very real.

He walked slowly around the bed so he could see her face, he needed to meet her eyes or he’d never believe any of this was true. But as he rounded the bed he was met with her blank stare, blinking slowly as she took in his form.

"Robin needs to go home. I don't want him to have to see any more of this." She said quietly. She made no move to speak about what was going on. She was emotionless and it terrified him. Suddenly flashbacks of the first time he’d ever seen her look so shut down came to mind. When she’d first met her biological mother. When she’d shut down and left him out in the cold. He wasn’t sure he could survive it back then, he’d needed her so much but now he was certain he’d never survive without her.

Alex turned his focus to his son, who was asleep with his face scrunched up against Jo’s chest, his chubby hands resting on the swell of her stomach.

"I can get Mer to take him home with her." He told Jo quietly, he couldn't find any other words to say, it seemed neither could she.

Jo just nods in response but makes no effort to move. Alex could tell by her hand curling tighter around Robin's back that she wasn’t quite ready to let him go yet.

He’s not sure how much time passes next, as he takes a seat carefully on the edge of the bed. Reaching out gingerly to run his hands softly across Jo's cheek. And it’s in that moment when their eyes meet, his thumb tracing the already dried tear tracks down her face that they break. She lifts her right arm gathering a handful of his shirt tightly pulling him closer, pressing her cheek against his chest so she could hear his steady heartbeat. She doesn't say anything and for a second she’s silent before the sob she must’ve been holding back erupts from her and Alex can feel the tears begin to soak through his T-shirt. He feels powerless, all he can do is keep a steady arm wrapped around his wife holding her tightly to him. That was what hurt him the most about this. He couldn't do anything to take her pain away. He couldn’t fix this.

“Jo…Jo Carina is waiting to do an ultrasound…we need…we need to be sure.” Alex sighs trying to keep his tears at bay as she continues to shake in his arms. “Why won’t you let her help?”

"I didn't want anyone else." She finally admits, loosening her grip enough that he can see her face, her lips trembling as she speaks. The sight alone sends another sharp stab through Alex’s heart. "I didn't want anyone. I wanted you. I wanted—I wanted you to make it better."

Alex nods, wishing with everything in him that he could make any of this better. He lets out a shaky breath as Jo settles back down so her head was resting on his chest, her face pressing into his collarbone. He knows it is selfish, he knows it might kill them both but he can’t help reaching out over Robin's little body and pressing his hand to her stomach. He waits a moment…before pressing again, still waiting to feel the usual response. He hears Jo's breath hitch as she too waits for the little nudge of their daughter's feet, he knows she’s usually responded by now but he waits, he just keeps waiting. He thinks sort of him will always be waiting for that little kick…he thinks this moment might be frozen in time. Not us. This happens to people, but not us. Maybe it wasn’t fair to think like that, after all, every day he sees the worst card parents could ever be handed in life and yet he says the same lines about support groups and doing everything he could and not once did he think he’d ever need to hear those words.

He doesn’t know how long he keeps his hand there just waiting. "I just finished painting the nursery. I went with soft daffodils but if you prefer lemon sherbet we can change it…we can pick whatever colour you want, and I know I said we didn’t need a new crib but if you want that fancy one we’ll-“

“Alex…” Jo interrupts, her hand slowly curling around his own on her bump. He can feel his own lips trembling as the tears he’d fought so hard to keep at bay begin to fall.

"I put glow in the dark stars up.” He whispered. "So she can't be dead."

There’s no logic to what he said. There’s no truth to his reasoning but he believes it. Jo winces at his words or more likely one word in particular. He feels her drag his hand down to where Robin's tiny hands rest, a little reminder of what they still have.

Alex moves closer to them, pulling Robin gently onto his chest, sliding over and opening his arms for Jo. Letting her sink into him. She rests against him like she no longer has the strength to hold herself up.

“I'm sorry. I thought it was nothing more than Braxton Hicks. Can you believe that? I’m a freaking doctor and I couldn’t tell the difference between Braxton hicks and labour. I should have known better. I did this. This is my fault—"

Alex cuts her off, shushing her. "It's not your fault," he assures her. Life was unfair. He knew that. But this pain Jo didn’t deserve. Not his children. Not Robin. Not their new little girl with the stars on her ceiling. Not his family. They hadn't built this together for it to be broken.

"Please don't cry," she pleaded, her voice wavering. "Please don't, it terrifies me. I'm already so scared, Alex. I'm so scared."

Alex just nods, swallowing deeply as he pulls her tighter against his side. It was true that everything had changed once he'd had children. He no longer understood how he had lived without them. And he was realizing that everything he gained could be taken just as easily. He knew that, if this baby really were gone, there would be nothing he could do to ever fix the pain that would settle in Jo's heart or his own for that matter.

He feels Robin begin to stir against him and he forces a smile on his face and kisses his head, smiling genuinely when the little one lifts his arms, reaching out for his father in an instant.

"Daddy” He cheered, his little fists gripping Alex’s T-shirt as he shifted him higher up his chest. He settles his palm on the back of his head and kisses his head again.

"Robin, how would you feel about playing with Ellis, Bailey and Zola tonight?" He asks him carefully.

Robin is as stubborn as his mother. "Scout?" He suggests instead.

"Yeah okay, we can see if Uncle Link will take you. You can play with Scout and then mommy and daddy will see you when you wake up." He knows Robin has no real clue on what’s happening around him but he knew Jo had been right. He didn't need to be here.

Robin lifts his head and peers down at Jo. He seemed to be thinking hard about the proposition before shaking his head fiercely.

"No."

No was his new favourite word and Alex was already sick of hearing it. He strokes his hair back as he meets eyes with Jo. Her tears are still falling steadily. Her hands spread out over her stomach and he knew she was waiting to feel something still.

"No, I want mommy," Robin insists. His little face mustering up what Alex assumed was a scowl as he reached over to wrap his hand around one of Jo's curls hanging loose in front of her face. Alex didn’t have it in him to battle Robin today, it’s not like he wanted to let go of Jo either.

They were out of time to decide what to do about Robin because Carina was already wheeling in the ultrasound. Jo tensed beside him, her hand gripping his tightly as he rose from his place on the bed lifting Robin with him.

"I can't. Please." She whispers and if possible his heart cracked even more.

She was hanging on by a thin thread, but she was hanging onto him. They could survive this…they could survive it together. He lifts Robin higher up his chest, gently cradling Robin's head to his shoulder as the little one's legs wrapped around him.

Alex stared at the swell of Jo’s stomach, the same stomach he'd kissed just last night and singing old country songs much to Jo's amusement. There was no way…there was no way she was…he’d just finished her room…the paint was still wet. Her name is written in stars above her crib. She can’t be.

Alex didn't even realize he was crying until Carina flashes him a sympathetic smile. Robin lifts his head as he squirms in his fathers’ tight grip, peering up at him with a frown. Reaching out to touch his cheeks with his small hands.

"Daddy sad?” He whispers curiously. Alex was torn because there’s no way of explaining this to their toddler and he doesn't want to scare him. Instead, he settles for pressing him back against his chest, his little face squeezed against his neck because while he didn’t want him to watch he also couldn’t bear to let him go.

He watches as Carina helps Jo to sit up. It was too much to watch, the way her whole body shakes as her cries shook through her. He reached for her hand, laying limp by her side, his hand covering hers as he threaded their fingers together. She squeezes his hand back, gripping onto him like he was the only thing stopping her from coming undone. Her hand in his gave him a spark of hope that maybe no matter what happened next they’d make it together, as long they just kept holding on.

He almost dropped Robin in paralyzing relief when the familiar whooshing of the heartbeat filled the room. He lets out a cry of relief as he shakes his head. Alex presses his face back into Robin's hair and squeezes Jo's hand tightly, his heart still pounding away.

"Why wasn't she moving?" Jo asks, her voice hoarse. "I tried everything and she wouldn't move. And why couldn't you find it before?"

"Babies don't move much if at all during labour," Carina explained. "And I don't know. I listened for such a long time.” Once again Alex’s mind blocks out the surrounding noise until it’s a quiet buzz. Instead, he focuses on the image of their baby girl on the screen, the feel of Robin's hot breath against his neck and Jo's hand still clutching his tightly. His family. He’s had these images ever since they’d decided to try for a second…maybe even longer, before Robin, before he and Jo had even got married he’d had this whole dream…Jo, their kids and the house they’d live in and the life they’d live. “But you'll have to be on strict bed rest for the rest of this pregnancy, and even then there's no way to know how long you can prolong labour. If we can keep her from being born for at least a month she’ll be in a much better position."

He comes back down to reality when he feels Jo tug at his hand, she’s looking up at him expectantly. “There’s our girl,” He whispers, leaning closer, pressing a quiet kiss to her hair, not even glancing at Carina as she backs out of the room to give them a moment.

"What if I have to give birth soon?" She mumbled into his shirt. "What if we lose her anyway?"

He shook his head firmly. "We won't.”

He kisses her forehead and glances down at Robin before turning back to Jo. She was looking at him with that look. The one that communicated very clearly that she trusted him with everything in her.

Alex set his hands on her stomach and let out another relieved breath.

"God." He said quietly. She set her hand over his and caressed the back of his hand with her thumb.

Jo's expression twists with guilt. "I’m so sorry...this is all my fault. I've been overworking myself. I always think I can do so much more than I can and our girl is suffering because of it. Maybe I'm not fit to be a mother."

Alex shook his head. "If you're not fit to be a mother, Jo, no one is. Hell, you know what an unfit parent looks like and you are not one."

She opens her mouth to say something else, but abruptly she stops, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. Her expression goes from shock to joy in no time at all as she grabs his hands gently and moves them back to her stomach, pressing down lightly. Alex feels a familiar, returning nudge, gentle and soft, but definitely there. He laughs giddily and locks eyes with Jo, pleased when she laughs in return. He moves around the bed, leaning over Jo so he could press a kiss to the spot he'd last felt the nudge. He keeps his cheek pressed against her soft skin for a moment, whispering a quiet ‘I love you.’ before looking back at Jo’s teary gaze.

"Robin, come here. Come feel your sister." He tells the toddler. Alex tugs him up into his lap and helps guide his hand to the spot he'd just kissed. He applies slight pressure and laughs at the joyous giggle Robin gives when he feels the baby move underneath his hand.

"That's your little sister."

Robin looked up at her father and smiled but the tiny movements didn’t keep his attention for long as he began to climb out of Alex’s grip, into Jo's welcoming arms.

“It’s gonna be okay Jo. We’re gonna be okay.”

Jo looks up at him. Tears still trailing down her face but the sparkle missing from her gaze earlier was slowly making its way back.

He smiles gently, reaching out to cup her face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs softly over the wet trails her tears left. "Everything’s gonna be okay.” He promised. "You'll see."

And she did. A little over two months later their baby girl made her entrance into the world, a little less dramatic than her brother as she’d been monitored so closely, that it was no surprise when she decided to join everyone. With her brown eyes sparkling with the same warmth as her mother’s and a full head of hair she was every little bit perfect as Alex had imagined. A little taste of heaven.

“Hey, baby…welcome home.” Alex grinned as he pulled open the door to the nursery, ushering in Robin who proudly displayed the teddy he’d chosen for his baby sister as Jo slowly made her way inside. She’d been too afraid to step inside since the incident, she claimed it would jinx it.

“Oh wow…” She hummed happily looking down at the bundle in her arms, who as predicted was still asleep and had no understanding of the magnitude of the moment happening around her. “Aren’t you a lucky girl P?”

“Mommy… I see…you sit.” Robin yelps, pulling Jo from the bottom of her cardigan towards the new rocking chair set up in the corner. Jo is all too happy to take a seat, allowing Robin to catch sight of his baby sister.

“It’s perfect Alex…Thank you.” Jo mumbles after a minute, catching Alex’s eye who had taken the moment to settle against the door frame and just watch his family.

He smiles softly, before pushing up off the frame heading towards the window. “You haven’t seen the best bit.” He pulls the blinds down slowly, letting darkness take over the room leaving only the glowing stars for light.

Robin gasped as he looked around in wonder but Jo's eyes remained trained on Alex. “I love you.” She whispers.

“I love you.” Alex grins, kneeling down beside the chair as he runs his hand across their daughter's head. “I love you all…now look up.”

Tilting her head, Jo looked up at the ceiling and gasped. The stars trailed up the wall and right above the crib, they clustered together, spelling out their dear daughter's name.

Peyton.

-

Yes. This is a day late. But it's also very on-brand for me so.

This one-shot is part of the What Could've Been universe so if you haven't read them I would thoroughly recommend reading them, you find them all under my master post on Tumblr.

Also, I made all the medical crap up, so don't come for me with corrections...I don't care.