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aspenmissing · 1 month ago

Note

Hey, love your work! Sorry for anon but I’m shy lol. Could I request the arcane guys/girls (in particular Silco and Viktor), and how they respond to a S/O that simply refuses to stop working? As in, needs to be tied down/forced to take a break, because they refuse to take a break for themselves.

Finals projects had me working every waking moment of every day for the past 2 weeks, no social life, no breaks lol. Kept thinking “wow a lot of the arcane characters would find this completely unacceptable lmao” 🫠

Thanks for posting so much fun stuff, and happy writing!

ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇꜱ ᴡʜᴏ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴛᴏᴘ (ᴍᴀʟᴇ ᴠᴇʀ.)

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴄʟᴀɢɢᴏʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 5892 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʙᴜʀɴᴏᴜᴛ, ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴀɪɴᴛɪɴɢ (ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ), ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏɴᴇꜱᴇʟꜰ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜɪ ʜɪ ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ!! ɴᴏ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪꜱᴇ, ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ! ᴀɴᴅ ɪ 100% ᴀɢʀᴇᴇ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇʟᴀx! ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴘʟɪᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴜᴘ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ, ꜱᴘʟɪᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴʟʏ. ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴡɪꜱʜ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ʟᴜᴄᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰɪɴᴀʟꜱ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ (ɪꜰ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ꜰɪɴɪꜱʜᴇᴅ), ʙᴜᴛ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴀʏ, ꜱᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴜᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ!!! <3 <3

ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ꜱɪᴅᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇ, ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴘʀᴏʙᴀʙʟʏ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴜʀɴ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴏᴜᴛ. ʙᴜᴛ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴅᴏ, ɪᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ʜᴇʟᴘ! ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀᴍᴀᴢɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴅᴏ ʙʏ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟʏ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ (ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ ʟᴏɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪꜱʜ) ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜰʀᴇꜱʜ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʀᴀɪɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴛʀᴜʟʏ ᴀᴄʜɪᴇᴠᴇ ʙʏ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ꜱᴏ! ꜱᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ, ɪ ᴡɪꜱʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴜᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ! <3 <3

JAYCE

Y/N’s fingers danced over the delicate circuitry, eyes sharp behind smudged goggles, barely blinking as sparks flew from the intricate hextech device sprawled across the workbench. The dim light of the lab flickered in sync with the relentless hum of arcane energy coursing through the project, illuminating beads of sweat on Y/N’s furrowed brow.

Around them, tools and half-finished sketches littered the table, a chaotic testament to countless sleepless nights. But Y/N paid them no mind — all focus was locked on the fragile device that could change everything.

“Y/N, you need to stop,” Jayce said softly, stepping closer, his voice threaded with concern. He watched the subtle tremble in their hands and the dark circles deepening under their eyes. “You’ve been at this for hours. You look like you haven’t eaten since morning.”

“I’m fine,” Y/N replied without looking up, voice tight with stubborn pride. “This has to work. If I stop now, it’ll lose its charge. We don’t have the luxury of waiting.”

Jayce sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He’d seen this before — the way Y/N threw themselves into their work like it was the only thing keeping the world from crumbling. But he knew better. He’d seen how exhaustion blurred their vision, how it chipped away at their health and their spark.

“You’re going to burn out if you don’t take a break,” Jayce insisted, stepping closer still. His fingers reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from Y/N’s damp forehead. “Please, just for a little while.”

Y/N swatted his hand away, eyes fierce and determined. “I can’t stop now. There’s too much at stake. If I rest, even for a moment, everything we’ve built here falls apart.”

Jayce’s jaw tightened. He knew their drive was born of hope — hope to save, to build a better Zaun, to protect the people they cared for. But hope without rest was a flame burning too close to the wick.

“Alright,” he said, voice low but firm, “if you won’t rest willingly, then I’m going to have to help you.”

Before Y/N could protest, Jayce reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a length of sturdy ribbon — soft silk, but strong enough to hold firm. In a matter of moments, Y/N’s hands were gently but securely tied to the armrests of their chair. The ribbon wasn’t tight enough to hurt, but firm enough to prevent them from reaching the workbench.

“Jayce!” Y/N blinked, cheeks flushed with surprise and a touch of embarrassment. “This is ridiculous!”

Jayce smiled softly, thumb brushing over their knuckles in a tender, grounding touch. “Ridiculous or not, you’re going to sit here and rest. No more work tonight. I promise.”

Y/N struggled playfully against the ribbon, lips twitching into a reluctant smile despite themselves. There was no anger in their eyes — only a quiet surrender born from exhaustion and trust.

Jayce moved to a nearby shelf and pulled down a thick, worn blanket. He draped it over Y/N’s shoulders and tucked it gently beneath their chin. “You’ve saved enough people today. Now let me save you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, eyes softening. A flicker of something tender — gratitude, maybe even love — passed between them.

“I don’t like being powerless,” Y/N whispered, voice barely audible.

Jayce leaned in closer, his breath warm against their ear. “You’re not powerless. You just need to recharge. Even the brightest inventions need downtime to shine.”

The hum of arcane energy dimmed, replaced by the quiet rhythm of steady breaths and the soft rustle of the blanket. Slowly, Y/N’s muscles relaxed against the chair, finally allowing themselves to rest. Tethered, yes — but safe. Loved. And for the first time that night, still.

Jayce stayed by their side, brushing stray hairs from their forehead and murmuring soft reassurances until the weight of exhaustion pulled Y/N into peaceful sleep. And in that quiet moment, Jayce promised himself he’d protect this fierce, brilliant soul — even if it meant tying them down to keep them safe.

VIKTOR

The dim glow of Piltover’s evening light filtered weakly through the laboratory’s grimy windows, casting long, stretching shadows over scattered tools and humming machines. The air was thick with the scent of oil, metal, and burnt wires—a familiar smell that Y/N had come to associate with late nights of invention and near-obsession.

Y/N sat hunched over the workbench, their brow furrowed, eyes sharp and unyielding as they delicately adjusted the intricate mechanism before them. Their fingers moved with relentless precision, but every so often, a slight tremor betrayed the exhaustion they refused to acknowledge. Their breathing was shallow, shallow enough that if someone else had been watching, they might have called it holding their breath.

Viktor limped into the room, the steady tap-tap of his cane breaking the quiet hum of machinery. His gaze softened as it landed on Y/N—so utterly absorbed, so focused, but undeniably worn down. There was a thin sheen of sweat on their forehead, and the shadows beneath their eyes were deeper than they’d admit.

“Y/N,” Viktor’s voice was soft, a quiet plea as he stepped closer, careful not to startle them. But beneath the gentleness, there was an unyielding edge — an iron determination born of concern. “You need to stop.”

Without sparing him a glance, Y/N shook their head slowly, lips pressed in a tight line. “Not yet, Viktor. Just a little longer. I’m almost done.” Their voice was steady but faintly strained.

Viktor’s sigh was low, his shoulders sagging slightly as he leaned on his cane. It pained him to see them like this — driven, brilliant, but teetering dangerously close to breaking. “You’re pushing yourself too hard,” he said carefully, reaching out to rest a hand on their shoulder. The touch was gentle but firm, a reminder that they weren’t alone. “You need rest. You’re not a machine.”

A flicker of frustration passed over Y/N’s face, eyes flickering with a mix of defiance and weariness. They swallowed hard, jaw clenched. “If I don’t finish this now,” they whispered, voice cracking just a little, “the whole project could fail. You know how important this is.”

Viktor’s gaze softened, filled with a tenderness that only deepened the more he watched them suffer in silence. “And if you collapse from exhaustion, what then?” His hand squeezed their shoulder lightly, grounding. “You’re brilliant, Y/N. But even the brightest minds need a pause. You need to breathe.”

Y/N finally looked up, meeting his eyes — tired, stubborn, and utterly human. “I can’t stop, Viktor. Not when there’s so much left to do.” Their voice was a fragile mix of hope and desperation.

For a moment, Viktor said nothing. Then his expression softened even more, a quiet resolve settling over him. “Then I’ll make you.” His tone left no room for argument.

Before Y/N could respond, Viktor carefully closed the distance, taking their hands gently in his own. His cane tapped lightly against the floor as he used one hand to steady himself, the other to guide them away from the workbench, away from the dangerous pull of the unfinished invention.

“You’re coming with me,” he said softly, the warmth in his voice wrapping around them like a protective cloak.

Y/N opened their mouth to protest, but the heaviness of fatigue was catching up, and Viktor’s steady presence was impossible to resist. Their shoulders sagged as they allowed themselves to be led away from the bright chaos of their work.

Viktor settled them down on a worn leather couch nestled in the corner of the lab, away from the buzzing machinery and the sharp scent of solder. He brushed a stray lock of hair from their damp forehead and murmured, “Rest.”

His fingers traced gentle patterns on their temple, calming the restless energy that had bound Y/N for hours. “I won’t let you work yourself to ruin.”

Y/N let out a long breath and finally relaxed into his arms, their body melting against his. The tight tension in their shoulders began to unwind, the sharp edge of their exhaustion softening with every heartbeat.

“I suppose even geniuses need a break,” Y/N whispered, voice barely audible.

Viktor smiled, the sound of his cane tapping softly on the floor beneath them. “Especially geniuses,” he replied, voice low and full of promise. “And I’m not losing you.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to their temple, anchoring them to the moment, to the quiet peace Viktor was determined to give them—if only for a little while.

JAYVIK

The workshop light was still on.

Jayce sighed when he saw it spilling out under the door, casting a sliver of gold across the darkened hallway. The rest of the apartment was still and quiet, save for the hum of the old radiator and the occasional creak of wooden floorboards settling. It was nearly two in the morning.

He’d already gone to bed once, curled protectively around Viktor, who had dozed off with a book resting open on his chest. The blanket had risen and fallen with the slow cadence of his breath, and Jayce had thought for a moment that maybe, maybe you'd join them soon.

But the space beside them had remained cold, undisturbed.

Jayce had waited. He always did. And he always knew when to stop waiting.

He ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair and padded barefoot down the hall, pausing in front of the door. His knuckles rapped gently against it.

“Y/N… come to bed.” No answer.

Just the soft whirr of a tool, the occasional scrape of metal, and the faint scribble of a pen moving across paper. That blend of industry and brilliance had a signature rhythm, one he could recognize even half-asleep.

He opened the door.

There you were. Exactly as he expected—elbows braced on the workbench, hair slightly mussed from running your hands through it a hundred times, eyes wide and shimmering with focus. The lamplight illuminated the smudges on your face, the faint grease stains on your shirt, and the soft bags under your eyes.

A half-finished prototype sat in front of you, wires still twitching with residual heat. It was surrounded by a fortress of scattered blueprints, toolkits, bolts, and discarded mugs long gone cold.

Jayce crossed his arms. “You’ve been at this since dinner.”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, barely glancing up. “I just want to finish this calibration. It’s almost there, I can feel it.”

“You said that three hours ago.”

“And I meant it then, too.”

He exhaled through his nose, stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind him with a soft click. The dimness of the hallway vanished behind him, replaced by the warm, quiet chaos of your workspace.

“Sweetheart…” he said again, softer now, more worn. His eyes trailed over your slumped posture, the tension in your shoulders, the way your hand trembled slightly when you reached for another tool. “You look like you’re running on fumes.”

Still scribbling. Still mumbling calculations to yourself. Still working. And still completely, utterly, and heartbreakingly unaware of how exhausted you looked.

That was it.

Jayce stalked forward with sudden purpose, brushing aside a rolling stool with a squeak. You gave him a warning look, eyes narrowing.

“Don’t you dare,” you said, pointing a tiny screwdriver at him like a dagger. “Jayce, no, don’t you dare—”

But it was far too late.

With practiced ease, Jayce bent down and scooped you up around the waist, lifting you clean off your stool. You let out a startled yelp as he tossed you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing at all.

“Jayce!” you shouted, fists thumping against his back. “Put me down right now, or so help me—”

“Nope,” he said, utterly unfazed. “You’ve been sentenced to mandatory bed rest by your incredibly patient and extremely worried boyfriends. No appeals, no parole.”

“You caveman! I will invent something that shocks you in your sleep!”

He chuckled, carrying you easily down the hallway like a squirming sack of very angry potatoes. “You’d have to sleep first. Which, last I checked, you don’t.”

“Put me down!”

“Later. Once you’ve been sufficiently cuddled.” You were still wriggling like a defiant cat when a dry, amused voice floated out from the bedroom.

“Finally,” Viktor said, voice warm but weary. “I was going to come get them myself, but stairs and canes make for poor dramatic rescues.”

Jayce nudged the door open with his foot. “Don’t worry. I got this part covered.”

Viktor sat propped up in bed, surrounded by a small mountain of pillows. His book was now closed on the nightstand, his cane resting within reach. A faint, knowing smile played at his lips as he patted the empty space beside him.

“Bring them here.”

Jayce dropped you onto the mattress with zero ceremony. You gave one last squirm, preparing to bolt—but Viktor reached out with graceful precision, catching your wrist and guiding you down beside him.

You landed with a soft oof, breath catching in your throat as Viktor’s arms looped around your shoulders, tugging you close with surprising strength.

“You’re both ganging up on me,” you grumbled, pouting even as your body began to relax into the sheets. “This is a coup.”

“Undeniably,” Viktor murmured, already brushing a lock of hair from your face. “But a compassionate one.”

Jayce climbed in behind you, large hands settling firmly around your waist, anchoring you between them. “We’re not mad, Y/N. Just worried.”

“You’ve been working nonstop,” Viktor added, voice quieter now, like the soft rustle of silk. “You never pause. Not even to eat properly.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to us,” Jayce said, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “You already give so much. You’re allowed to stop. To rest. To just be.”

You let out a long, unsteady breath—like a tension spring slowly unwinding. Viktor’s hand threaded with yours, grounding and tender. Jayce’s warmth at your back was steady, like a hearth fire, always there, always burning for you.

“You can pick up the soldering iron again tomorrow,” Viktor murmured. “But tonight… just be here. With us.”

And with the weight of them—Jayce curled behind you, Viktor warm and patient in front—you finally felt your body surrender. Your muscles ached in the best way. Your eyelids drooped despite yourself.

“…I still have one more adjustment to—” Jayce groaned. Viktor pinched your side.

“Sleep,” they said in unison. And wrapped in the warmth of the people who loved you most, you finally did.

VANDER

The warm light from your desk lamp cast long, flickering shadows across the cluttered walls of your workshop. The steady hum of Zaun’s undercity buzzed faintly through the floorboards beneath your feet — the distant hiss of pipes, the occasional clatter of boots against metal. But all of it faded behind the rhythmic scratch of your pencil across old parchment, the hiss of a half-heated soldering iron cooling in its stand.

Blueprints were spread out in a messy array, curling at the edges from use and age. Gears, wires, copper coils, and loose screws littered the table like confetti after a long festival. You’d been working for… how long now? Hours, definitely. Maybe since breakfast. Or was it before that? You couldn’t remember if you’d eaten today.

But the ticking in your brain refused to stop.

Just a little more, you told yourself again. It was a mantra now. Just finish this one repair, maybe sketch out that hinge design for Huck. Then I’ll rest. I swear.

You blinked slowly, head bobbing forward before snapping up again. Your fingers twitched around the pencil in your grasp, stubbornly trying to keep scribbling despite the fatigue dragging on your shoulders like iron chains. Your back ached. Your neck was stiff. You were barely upright.

A soft creak came from the hallway.

Vi peered in through the cracked workshop door first, her small hands gripping the edge of the frame, brow furrowed in that determined little way she always wore when she thought something wasn’t right.

“She’s falling asleep,” she whispered, voice barely audible.

Behind her, Claggor leaned in, peeking over her shoulder. “Should we wake her up?” he asked, worry colouring his usually easy tone.

“She never listens,” Mylo grumbled, flopping his arms across his chest in dramatic fashion. “Last time I tried, she handed me a wrench and said, ‘Make yourself useful.’” He pitched his voice higher in a poor imitation of yours and earned a snort from Vi. “I did, by the way. I tightened, like, three bolts.”

“She’s gonna fall over,” Powder whispered, her eyes huge, clutching her threadbare stuffed bunny to her chest. She took a cautious step into the room, her gaze bouncing from the scattered tools to the way your shoulders drooped dangerously forward. “What if she hits her head?”

Vi stood straighter, her decision made. “We’re telling Vander.”

You didn’t hear the pounding of small feet against the stairwell or the worried whispers tumbling over each other as the kids explained what they’d seen. You didn’t hear the door creak open a second time, this time with purpose, or the heavy, sure footsteps that followed.

What you did hear — cutting through the hazy exhaustion clouding your mind like a blade through smoke — was that voice.

“Alright, love.” Low. Steady. Firm enough to make your body react before your brain could catch up. “That’s enough.”

You jolted awake with a sharp inhale, eyes flying open as you straightened too fast in your chair. Your pencil clattered to the floor.

“M’fine,” you croaked out before even looking up. “Just resting my eyes…”

“You said that yesterday.”

The voice came closer — gravel and warmth wrapped in familiarity. You blinked sluggishly as Vander stepped into your peripheral vision. He crouched beside you, his brows drawn with quiet concern, his broad hand already reaching to pluck the tools from your loose fingers.

“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” he said, gently but not without weight. “Again.”

“I’m just—” you started, but his expression shifted. He raised that brow — the one he only used when he was pulling rank. Not as the boss of the Last Drop. Not even as the Hound of the Underground. No, this was personal. This was the you promised me you’d rest and I’ve had enough kind of brow.

“The kids came to me,” he said, voice softening. “Vi said you’re about to pass out right here. Powder’s scared you’ll fall asleep with a soldering iron in your hand. Again.”

The fight in you fizzled like a spent fuse. Your chest sank. You hadn’t realized how tightly your muscles were wound until shame made them unclench.

“I just have things to finish—”

“You always do.”

His tone wasn’t scolding. If anything, it was heartbreakingly understanding. That unbearable tenderness he reserved for moments like this — moments when he saw through you too easily.

“But if you burn yourself out,” he murmured, reaching up to brush a stray piece of hair from your face, “there won’t be anyone left to finish them. We need you here, Y/N. They need you. Whole. Alive. Rested.”

Your eyes stung. It was silly — you weren’t that tired, were you? Or maybe you were. Maybe it had been days since you let yourself stop moving. Maybe the adrenaline that had kept you upright was finally starting to fade.

“I didn’t mean to scare them…” you whispered, throat tight.

“I know.” He stood slowly, his hands moving with care as he offered you one of them. “You’d never hurt them. But you’ve got to stop hurting yourself trying to protect us all. You don’t have to carry everything alone.”

“I’m not—” you began again, then stopped. He didn’t look convinced. You weren’t convinced, either.

He gave a faint smile and wiggled his fingers. “Come on. I ran a bath. Hot water, bubbles, the whole shebang. Told the kids you’d read ’em a story afterward once you’re settled. I’m not above emotional blackmail.”

Despite yourself, you let out a sleepy laugh. “That’s cruel.”

“I prefer ‘effective.’” He pulled you up gently, his arms wrapping around your waist as you leaned into him. “Besides, you’ve got five pairs of eyes watching to make sure you follow through.”

Sure enough, when he guided you toward the doorway, four heads ducked away from the doorframe with terribly timed subtlety. A chorus of soft footsteps thundered back down the hall.

“I guess I’m outnumbered,” you murmured, burying your face in Vander’s chest as his hand rubbed soothing circles into your lower back.

“You always are.” He chuckled, his voice rumbling against your ear. “But lucky for you… I’ve got strong arms.”

As he led you toward the small washroom, the scent of lavender and warm steam met you before you even stepped inside. The water shimmered in the claw-foot tub, the edge of your favorite towel folded neatly on a chair nearby.

He kissed your forehead before letting go. “Take your time. I’ll wrangle the monsters.”

“And my tools?” you teased, half-hearted.

“Locked the door already.”

“You what—”

“Y/N.” He leaned back in, kissed your temple again. “Let me take care of you. Just this once.”

You nodded, too tired to argue. “Okay. Just this once.”

But in your heart, as the door shut behind him and you sank into the bath with a content sigh, you knew the truth.

He always took care of you.

You just finally let him.

SILCO

The office was dimly lit, shadows pooling in the corners like secrets no one dared speak aloud. The only light came from the green shimmer of bubbling vials lined along the back wall and the weakening flicker of your desk lamp, its bulb on the verge of dying, much like the fraying thread of your own stamina.

Your back ached with the stiffness of hours spent hunched forward, the kind of ache that went ignored when adrenaline did the thinking. Your eyes stung from focusing too long on the small, sharp details — hand-written reports, tactical maps marked in red ink, the ticking internals of a smoke bomb prototype you’d taken apart and rebuilt twice over.

The chair creaked under your weight as you leaned in again, fingers smudged with soot and oil, mind a storm that wouldn’t calm. Zaun didn’t rest. So neither could you.

“You’ve eaten?”

The voice came like smoke, low and smooth and deceptively soft, curling through the room from the doorway behind you. It was a voice that never announced itself too loudly — Silco’s version of mercy.

You didn’t look up. “I had something earlier.” It was a lie. And you both knew it.

His footsteps echoed against the metal floor, steady and deliberate. He didn’t rush — he never did — but his presence pressed in like a tide.

“That’s not what I asked,” he said. There was weight in that voice now.

“I’m fine, Silco,” you replied quickly, too quickly, eyes locked on the paper you’d just smudged. “Just a bit more to do, and I’ll—”

“—Drop.”

The word sliced through your sentence like a razor. His interruption was quiet, but carried the same power as a pistol cocked behind your head. Your hand stilled. The tension in the room thickened, heavy as oil smoke.

“You’ll collapse,” he said, voice calm but tight with something dangerous, “because that’s where you’re heading. Again.”

You finally looked up. Slowly.

He stood at the edge of your desk, his eye a blazing copper beneath the mop of black hair that always fell just slightly out of place. The scars that split his face looked deeper in this light. He wasn’t angry — not exactly.

No. Worse than that. He was worried.

“You’re pushing too hard.”

“I have to,” you said, louder than intended. You hated the desperation in your tone, but it was true. “You said yourself — we’re low on resources. The East Quarter’s getting more volatile. And Sevika’s report from Piltover needs—”

“Is already on my desk,” he growled. “I’ve read it. Dealt with it. That is no longer your burden.”

You clenched your jaw, your fists curling as you stood up. “It is my burden. This entire city is. You think I can just shut it all off? Walk away while people starve and fight and die?”

“No one’s asking you to walk away,” he said, his voice calm but frosted with warning. “I’m telling you to stop before you break.”

“I can’t.” The words left you in a rush, as raw as an open wound. “If I stop, everything falls apart. It always does.”

Something in him changed. You saw it. A flicker of something unspoken pass through that one visible eye. The kind of shift that only happened when someone you loved said something that terrified you.

In three strides, he was in front of you. He grabbed your notebook — the one you always carried, the one filled with months of planning and damage control — and slammed it shut with a finality that made you flinch.

“You’re falling apart,” he said. “Can’t you see that?” You recoiled, words caught in your throat. “I watch you skip meals. You work through injuries like they’re inconveniences. You sleep, what? Three hours a night if you’re lucky?” He stepped closer, lowering his voice into something razor-sharp. “You think Zaun needs your corpse to lead it?”

You stood up straighter, stubborn. Always stubborn. “I’m not fragile, Silco. You of all people should know that.”

His hand moved before you could step back — not harsh, not angry. He cupped your face, thumb brushing the hollow beneath your eye where exhaustion had carved its mark.

“You’re not fragile,” he echoed softly, “but you are human. And I will not stand by while you grind yourself into dust for a city that would burn you just as quickly as it praised you.”

Your throat tightened. Something warm stung at the back of your eyes.

“I don’t know how to stop,” you whispered. A pause. A beat of silence between you, heavy as lead.

“Then I’ll make you.”

He pulled you in — arms tight, commanding, like a wall that rose up around you. You gasped, struggling at first, your palms pressed flat against his chest. He didn’t yield. Not even an inch.

“Let go,” you said, but there was no bite to it.

“No.” His voice vibrated against your cheek. “Fight me all you want. You’re still taking the night off. You’ll rest. You’ll eat. And if I have to drug you like one of Sevika’s rowdiest thugs, so help me—”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would,” he growled. “Because I love you. And I won’t lose you to your own damn stubbornness.”

Your strength — what little you had left — finally broke. Your arms fell. Your weight leaned into him. “I’m trying,” you murmured. “I’m trying to hold it all together.”

“I know,” he breathed, softer now, his hand cradling the back of your head. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

Silence fell over the office like snowfall — soft, solemn, still.

“…Fine,” you whispered.

“Say it like you mean it.”

You exhaled, your cheek pressed against the lapel of his coat. He smelled like ink and smoke and the faintest trace of Shimmer — dangerous and familiar.

“I’ll stop,” you said, quieter. “Just for tonight.”

His arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Good.” Another beat.

“…Will you stay with me?” you asked, voice cracking like brittle glass.

His lips pressed to your temple, reverent. “Always.”

And for the first time in weeks — in months — your hands finally stopped moving. Your shoulders dropped. Your breathing slowed. And in Silco’s arms, you finally let yourself rest.

Not because the work was done. But because you finally believed someone else could carry it, too.

CLAGGOR

The static hum of welding filled the dim, makeshift workshop buried two levels beneath Zaun’s surface, where pipes rattled above and the neon glow from the street level didn’t reach. Sparks leapt from your workbench like rebellious stars, catching in the folds of your sleeves, reflecting in the curve of your safety goggles. Each flare was born from the heated kiss of metal on metal—controlled, precise, relentless. Just like you.

Your shoulders were stiff, neck angled painfully over a spread of blueprints, half-sketched schematics, and wiring diagrams. The glow stone lamp above you flickered intermittently, and still, you didn’t pause. Your hands moved with mechanical certainty, steady despite the ache in your wrists and the tremble of exhaustion creeping up your arms.

The truth was— You hadn’t left that chair in hours. Possibly since yesterday morning.

Not to drink. Not to eat. Certainly not to sleep.

At the door to the workshop, Claggor stood silently. He didn’t knock. He didn’t call your name again just yet. His arms crossed over his broad chest as he leaned against the doorframe, watching you through the low haze of smoke and the golden arcs of light blooming from your tools.

The air was thick. Not just with solder and oil and scorched metal—but with something more human. More personal. The kind of worry that coils low in the stomach and doesn't leave, no matter how many times you tell yourself they're just "working late."

He had seen you like this before. Too many times. Driven. Obsessive. Stubborn.

Too much like him, once.

“You’re still at it, huh?” Claggor’s voice was quiet, rough like sandpaper softened by concern.

You didn’t turn around. Didn’t look up. Didn’t even twitch.

You were in it now—completely consumed.

“Just a bit more,” you muttered, though it didn’t sound like it was meant for him. It was something you’d been saying all day. All week. Over and over again, like a promise to yourself you knew you wouldn’t keep.

Claggor sighed. A long, patient, loved-you-too-long-to-be-surprised kind of sigh. He pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the room. One boot after another echoed against the floor, soft but certain.

Your jacket was still thrown over the stool behind you. A cold, untouched mug of tea sat on the edge of the bench, forgotten amid bolts, crystal cores, and scribbled notes in your frantic handwriting. Claggor spotted at least three missed meals—half a protein bar, a bowl of soup crusted over, and an unopened packet of those candy drops you liked to chew while thinking.

He came to a stop just behind you, taking in the slight tremble of your fingers as they gripped the welding torch. Your shoulders had tensed, your back hunched slightly forward. You probably didn’t even realize how much you were shaking.

“Y/N,” he said gently, that dusk-warm tone he reserved only for you. “It’s two in the morning.”

“I know,” you said without missing a beat, the words clipped and efficient. “I’m almost done with the stabilizer core. Ekko needs it for the hoverboard upgrade.”

“He said if you had time,” Claggor countered. “Not if it breaks you.”

You waved a hand without looking, brushing him off like static. “I’m fine.”

But your hand shook. More than it had before. You tried to clamp it still, to flex your fingers like it would pass—but the strain of pushing past your limits was catching up to you, and fast. When you reached to adjust the capacitor coil, your knuckles scraped against the jagged edge of the bench and you flinched hard, sucking in a breath between your teeth.

Claggor was beside you in a heartbeat.

His big, calloused hands wrapped gently around your wrist before you could pull away. “That’s it,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “That’s enough.”

You tugged your arm back, stubborn. “I said I’m—”

“Don’t,” Claggor interrupted, not unkindly. He didn’t shout. He never did. But his voice was a brick wall. “Don’t say you’re fine when you’re shaking like that.”

You turned toward him slowly, goggles still over your eyes, breathing shallow. He reached up and carefully slid them off, revealing the dull ache behind your gaze. Your eyes were red-rimmed, your expression stretched too thin.

“You’re burning yourself out,” he said, softer now. “You haven’t eaten anything real in two days unless I handed it to you. You sleep like someone’s going to steal the time from you. This thing you’re building? It won’t work if you’re too tired to see straight.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words tangled in your throat.

“I know you want to help,” Claggor went on, eyes searching yours. “I know Ekko needs the tech. I know you think you’re the only one who can get it right. But I’m telling you the truth, okay?”

He knelt in front of you then, carefully, like he always did when he needed you to really hear him. One knee against the cold floor, his hands resting gently on your thighs—not to hold you down, but to anchor you.

“I want you. Not your work. Not what you build. Not what you give everyone else. You.”

You swallowed thickly, throat suddenly dry.

“I can’t lose you to your own damn stubbornness,” he whispered, the last part falling between you like a plea.

His hand reached up, brushing a smudge of grease from your cheek with his thumb. You leaned into the touch without realizing it. Your body was betraying you now—letting go in pieces. And Claggor saw it all.

“Just come to bed,” he whispered, eyes still locked on yours. “Please. Just for a little while.”

You hesitated.

It felt like if you stopped now, the momentum would collapse. The drive, the rhythm, the adrenaline—it would all dissolve, and you’d be left with nothing but the weight of how tired you truly were.

“Claggor…”

“I’ve got you,” he whispered again, voice like a promise.

And he meant it.

He eased you out of your seat, slowly, cautiously, like you might break if he moved too fast. Your legs wobbled, knees weak from disuse. Your arms wrapped instinctively around his waist, and he caught you, strong and steady.

He kissed your temple, long and grounding. And when your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt—clinging more than holding—he wrapped his arms around you tighter.

Then, with a grunt of quiet effort, he scooped you up.

You protested, weakly.

“I can walk,” you mumbled.

“Uh-huh,” he said, already carrying you out of the workshop. “And I believe you. Just not right now.”

He took you through the narrow corridor connecting the workspace to your shared quarters. The hallway light buzzed overhead as he carried you past it, your cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

Inside the room, he set you down gently onto the mattress. The sheets were still warm—he must’ve tried to wait up for you again. He pulled the blanket up around you and slid in beside you without a word.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, one hand finding yours beneath the covers.

“You’re allowed to rest,” he whispered into your hair. “You don’t have to earn it.”

You didn’t answer. But your body melted against his like it had been waiting for permission.

And this time, when your eyes finally drifted shut, you didn’t dream of blueprints. You dreamed of warm hands, and steady hearts, and the quiet truth of being loved—just as you were.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #reader insert #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce x y/n #viktor x y/n #viktor x you #vander x reader #viktor x reader #jayce x reader x viktor #silco x reader #jayvik x reader #claggor x reader #claggor x you #Au!Claggor #arcane angst

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flowery-laser-blasts · 1 year ago

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The girls brought their boys to the Oh Boyz reunion concert.

"Ron, grab that USB before Drakken can install it into his doomsday device" "On it KP!" Ron tries to get to the work desk and trips slamming face first onto the surface causing office supplies to fall all over the place. Drakken runs over and grabs one of the two scattered -almost identical looking- USBs and plugs it into the device "HA! I'll take that, thank you! And now, behold the power of--" "HEY IS THAT 'I WANT IT MY WAY'?!" "Errr... No, it's not what you think--"

Shego and Kim pause their battle, watching the two men go from bickering to singing in no time. Turns out this doomsday device can double as a mega surround sound stereo speaker instalation set.

Ron starts talking about how they saved the Oh Boyz once and that Rufus is their new manager.

Kim thinks and offers a deal "If you hand us the USB, you two can come with us to the Oh Boyz reunion concert." "DEAL!" Shego almost hurts her neck when she snaps her head in Drakken's direction "WHAT?! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!" Drakken picks up the USB from the ground and hands it to Kim, he waves the two teens off.

The moment they leave the lair, Shego grabs Drakken by the collar. "Do you have any idea how annoyingly tedious it was for me to get that stupid USB for you?!" "Up-pupup Shego, I did in fact make a backup this morning" "You wha-?" Drakken opens the desk drawer to reveal hundreds upon hundreds of identical looking micro SD chips. "Now if you can help me find out which one of these chips contain-- Shego?" Shego slams the lab door closed behind her.

"Shego? What a coincidence!" Junior lays down on the sunchair next to her. "Junior? What are you doing here in Middleton of all places? Don't you have your own, I don't know, indoor house spa?" "Ah yes, but my lovely girlfriend Bonnie has cheerleader practice right now and I thought, why not broaden my horizon -like they say- and try out the spas of the common folk. You look upset, what's on your mind?"

Shego regretfully tells Junior about what happened this morning and Junior, in his excitement, almost instantaneously heads over to school.

Junior begs Kim and Ron to please bring him and Bonnie along with them to the Oh Boyz concert. "BUT WE WERE GOING TO THE CARIBBEAN ISLANDS FOR THE WEEKEND JUNIOR! YOU'RE SO RICH, YOU CAN EASILY BUY THE OH BOYZ FOR A PRIVATE CONCERT!" "But my darling! I want to experience the real pop idol experience! I need to know what it is to be amongst the fans, so I can understand what it feels like to them. That way I'll become a more understanding teen pop idol sensation! It's like, what you call it; homework, yes?" "Ugh... FINE! Alright Kim, you take care of everything, we'll take care of transport. I am NOT going to go there by cab. "

And thus all six of them ended up at the concert.

The boys: absolutely starstruck (Drakken eventually gave up on finding the chip.)

The girls:

- Bonnie doesn't like being amongst 'common folk', sure she would've loved this a few months ago, but now that she's dating one of the richest guys in the world. This has become dull.

- Kim pulled some strings with Rufus, asking for a favor to make this night unforgettable for the guys.

- Shego is confused as to why the Oh Boyz songs sound oh so familiar to some other boyband she used to hear on the radio when she was in college.

#kim possible #dr drakken #drakken #shego #drdrakken #kimpossible #dr. drakken #ronstoppable #ron stoppable #señior senior junior #señior senior jr #senior senior junior #bonnie rockwaller #hego #oh boyz #kim possible oh boyz #the oh boyz #ohboyz #oh boyz!

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agaselectronicmaterials · 4 months ago

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Manufacturing Microfluidic Devices: Materials, Processes, and Challenges

Explore the materials, fabrication techniques, and challenges of manufacturing microfluidic devices. Learn how PDMS, glass, thermoplastics, and silicon shape Lab-on-Chip technology. Discover the latest advancements in microfluidics for diagnostics, drug delivery, and chemical analysis. Contact us for expert solutions.

#microfluidic device manufacturing #Lab-on-Chip fabrication #injection moulded microfluidics #photolithography microfluidics #soft lithography process #microfluidic material selection #biomedical microfluidics #microfluidic sealing techniques #UK microfluidic industry #high-resolution microfluidics #polymer-based microfluidics #A-Gas Electronic Materials

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taleeater · 1 year ago

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Fragile Part 2

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’ and ‘princess’)

Warnings: guns, blood, injury, panic attack, not proof read

Part 1

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The next time you open your eyes, you see a white paneled ceiling. For a horrifying moment, you believe you are back in the lab, and bolt up in bed. An icepack that was resting on your bruised shoulder comically gets flung across the room.

Frantically looking around, you see the inside of a hospital room. But your panic only subsides marginally. You know you are not safe here. You throw off your bed sheets and swing your legs over the side of the bed. But you almost fall off the edge when you suddenly feel the suffocating weight of exhaustion on your limbs. You had been running for your life all night.

You look down and see that you’ve been changed into a hospital gown with a pair of thin papery shorts, and a bracelet on your wrist that reads a name. “Jane Doe”. You rip it off and discard it. A large bandage was stuck to your knee where you had scraped it, and thick gauze were wrapped around your feet. You noted that your arm where the purple mutant had pinched you was heavily sore. You shivered with the familiarity of it. Like the soreness after receiving an injection.

You wondered marginally how much time had passed, and glancing out the open window you saw the sun was getting close to peaking over the horizon. By your guess, you’d barely been out more than 2 hours. You needed to leave. Now. You reach for the IV in your arm, but before you can rip it out, a large thump at the window startles you.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

There in the window sat the large form of one of the turtle mutants. The one with the blue bandana, Leo- your hazy memory recalls. So they were the ones who had brought you here.

“I can’t stay here, I need to go.” You rip out the IV anyways, making the mutant flinch sympathetically. A small trickle of blood traveled down your arm. He gets down from his perch on the windowsill and comes to stand in front of you. He moves to put his hands on your shoulders but hesitates when you flinch away from the touch.

“It’s okay now, they can’t find you. Donnie took out the tracking chip. There are police guards stationed outside-“

“That’s worse!” You didn’t mean to shout, but your anxiety was peaking again.

Leo looked at you with concern.

“They’re going to know to look for me here. The hospital is not safe. The police are not safe. I have to get out of here right now.” You tried to stand up but your legs felt like jelly and you stumbled. A large strong arm caught you around your waist and held you up.

“Now hold on just a minute, what do you mean?” He asked you seriously, lifting you up and setting you back on the bed.

“It’s the Foot. They’re in the police force. They’re tapped into the hospital security cameras. It’s only a matter of time before they find me! Dr Stockman always told me there was no place in this city I could hide from him. He-!” Suddenly a beeping in the room cut you off. You looked around for the source, and Leo quickly pulled a small cracked iPhone from his pocket.

He apologized to you, asking for a moment, and immediately answered the phone. He held the device up to his head as he looked at you sympathetically. But his expression turned serious.

“What?” He responded to the fast report coming in from the speaker. You could barely make out any words. That is, until you heard the last sentence.

“The Foot are inside the building!!!”

Leo’s and your eyes met in shocked panic. You suddenly hear a shout and a grunt from out in the hallway, the sound of the police on duty being subdued.

“We need to go.” Leo said to you, and without wasting anymore time he tucked away his phone and scooped you up just as the door slammed open.

You looped your arms around his neck and held on as he ran for the windowsill. You just barely caught a glance at the figures in black invading the room, pulling out guns and shooting at Leo’s retreating figure as he leapt out the open window. Bullets bounced off his shell.

The chilly air rushed you all at once and stung your bare skin. Then a loud clang and you were jostled as Leo grabbed onto the metal fire escape of the adjacent building.

“Come on fearless, we gotta go!” Shouted Raph from above.

Leo held you with one arm around your waist. “I’m going to need you to hold onto me really tight. Do you think you can do that for me?” He asked you firmly.

You nodded at him, and adjusted your hold tighter around his neck.

“Good. Let’s get you out of here.” He slowly released his hold around your waist, careful you wouldn’t fall, and quickly began scaling the fire escape up the side of the building. Once he got to the roof, he set you down among the other 3 mutants.

The Foot had retreated outside the hospital and some were piling into cars while others began entering the building, taking the stairs up to your location.

“They just won’t quit!” Shouted Donnie from where he was watching over the edge of the building.

“Whatarewegonnadowhatarewegonnado- ouch!” Raph smacked Mikey from where he was guarding the roof door.

“That’s enough Mikey!”

Leo stepped up. “We’re bringing them back to the lair.”

“What?!” The other three shouted in unison.

“We need to get a better grasp of what’s going on. There’s a lot we don’t know. And until we can figure out why Stockman is so desperate to get them back, and find them safe passage out of the city, we keep them safe. At home.” Leo said pointing his finger with finality.

Mikey whooped with excitement. “We’re having a human over!!!”

Donnie smiled.

“I don’t like this fearless.” Gruffed Raph.

“It’ll only be for a little while. They can stay in my room.” Leo assured Raph.

“Aw no fair! I want them to stay in my room!” Mikey complained.

Suddenly loud banging could be heard from the roof access door making him shriek comically. He braced the door and shouted. “They’re here!!”

“Time to move out.” Raph wasted no time and scooped you up like you weighed nothing, making you yelp in surprise. He ran for the edge of the building, you grabbed around his neck and braced yourself, and he leapt off the edge of the building. You buried your face against his chest so you didn’t look down.

Raph snorted. “You holding on tight enough, princess?”

“Me next! Me next!” Begged Mikey as he landed beside you on the next rooftop.

The four of them leaped from rooftop to rooftop, keeping away from the main roads where the Foot in cars tried to follow. The sun was almost up. Eventually you came upon a back alleyway that the mutant turtles quickly descended into, Leo using his katana to loosen and knock away the sewer cover. You were deeply confused until suddenly Raph jumped into the hole and you were assaulted by the sour rotting smell of the New York City sewers. Raph held you while he slid down a sewer pipe, followed by whoops and cheers of the other three. A tell tale clatter of the metal lid being closed behind them.

For what seemed to be a few miles of sliding through pipes and jumping over large water basins and train tracks, they arrived at a wall. You thought they were stopping for a break, until Donnie stepped forward and pulled on a pipe that triggered the wall to open up into a large open room. You looked around in awe as Raph carried you in. There were street signs and neon lights and spray painted art all over the walls. You walked by a small kitchen and a living room with a couch that Mikey promptly flopped into. You saw Donnie trail his way muttering into a dark den full of blue computer screens. But Leo was leading the way towards a shadowed area in the back and you got nervous.

Raph squeezed where he was holding your thigh in reassurance, his expression stoic.

You arrived at a doorway covered by a piece of fabric with Japanese kanji scrawled across it in black ink.

“This is my room. It’s the most clean, so you can stay in here for now.” Leo said walking in and pulling back covers of the pristinely made bed.

Raph followed in and gently sat you down on the edge of the bed, and stepped back to stand against the wall with arms folded.

As soon as you sat on the bed, you truly felt the exhaustion weigh heavily on your body. You felt pain radiate down your legs into your bandaged feet. Tensed shoulders from the stress and bruises. And your eyes felt strained and sore from being on high alert for so long. So much had happened and the gravity of the day came crashing down on you.

The pain and tiredness must’ve been clear on your face, because Leo gave you an empathetic look.

“I’ll grab Donnie to patch up your arm before you go to sleep.” He stood up to leave but you stopped him.

“Where are you going to sleep?” You asked quietly.

Leo smiled kindly. “The couch. That is, if Mikey hasn’t already fallen asleep on it. I’ll be right back.”

Then it was just you and Raph.

It was silent as you looked at each other. Then the thought that had nagged at you earlier that night came back to you.

“How did you all escape?”

“Who?” Raph looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Dr Stockman. How did you get away?”

Now Raph just looked confused.

“Stockman was the one who ran away, not us.”

Suddenly Donnie entered the room with a med kit and Leo followed with a glass of water and an ice pack.

“Hey brainiac, check their head. They’re asking weird questions.”

That seemed to peak Leo’s attention.

“What kind of questions?”

“They asked ‘how we escaped Stockman’.”

Donnie flicked on the bedside table lamp and kneeled in front of you. He pulled out a little light from his pocket and checked your eyes.

“Well I don’t see any signs of a concussion. What did you mean by that exactly?” Donnie asked you, opening the med kit and taking out a packaged alcohol wipe and began to clean the blood off of your arm where the IV had been. You’d forgotten about that. You looked confused as well.

“Dr Stockman mutated the others in the lab, like Bebop and Rocksteady. I didn’t know there were other mutants outside. When did you escape?”

Donnie, Leo, and Raph all stopped and exchanged a look that you couldn’t read. This conversation was drawing on what little energy you had left.

“We weren’t mutated by Stockman. We’ve been like this for about 25 years now.” Donnie answered you.

Your eyes lit up.

“Then… how did you….?”

“That’s a conversation for another time.” Leo interjected.

Raph left the room, and you heard the sound of a smack outside the door followed by Mikey’s whispered “Ow!”

Donnie finished up dressing your arm while Leo supervised. You were starting to sway in place, eyelids heavy as you blinked to stay awake.

“I’ll change your bandages later. Sleep well.” Donnie said with a kind smile before taking the med kit and leaving the room.

“If you need anything, just call for me. I’ll be just outside, okay?” Leo said.

He came up to you as you laid down heavily in his bed, falling asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow. But you were still awake enough to feel the cold press of the ice pack being placed on your bruised shoulder and the blanket being pulled up to your chin.

And then you slept.

A small meeting was called in the living room.

“What are we gonna tell dad?!?!” Mikey squawked and Raph and Donnie shushed him.

“I’m sure he’ll understand! They have no place else to go!”

Leo walked up behind them and joined.

“Donnie’s right. And we’ll text April later. Maybe she can bring them some clothes to wear.”

“Why don’t they just go stay with her?” Raph argued.

“We can’t put April in danger like that, she gets enough heat as it is. We can’t be sure the Foot won’t be tailing her now to find out where we’re keeping them!” Leo persuaded. Things were starting to get a little heated.

Raph confronted him. “And what about us? You heard them! We don’t know what Stockman did to them. They could be dangerous.” Raph and Leo got up in each other’s space. Mikey and Donnie jumped in to try and defuse the situation before a fight broke out.

“Woah woah hey! I think we’re all just a little tired, alright? Let’s all get some sleep.”

“Yeah! I’ll make pancakes! With extra syrup! Then we can talk things out with dudette in the morning. Sounds good?” Mikey bounced enthusiastically.

It was clear on everyone’s face they were all tired from being out until sunrise. So without further arguments, they all left for their own rooms for some much needed rest. Leo grabbing a blanket and promptly passing out on the couch.

Part 3

@itsberrydreemurstuff

@honeysuckleboy

@thecreat0r64

@eli-chris

#tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt 2014 x reader #tmnt 2016 x reader #tmnt imagines #tmnt fanfic #bayverse leonardo #Bayverse Leonardo x reader #bayverse donnie #bayverse donatello x reader #bayverse michelangelo #bayverse raphael #bayverse raph x reader

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nereidof40k · 5 months ago

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I had to write this. Might expand later as always, but I like it.

Corvus Reacts

There’s a rustle of feathers behind Lion, and when he turns around , there’s his brother Corvus. More feathery than before, but obviously Corvus.

Lion claps a hand on his shoulder. “Good to see you, brother.” A sentiment echoed by Roboute seconds later, even if it doesn’t quite erase the frown of concern.

“Did I interrupt something?” Corvus croaks.

“I think you need to see this.” Roboute gestures to the techmarine to show the first vid again.

Corvus feels his hearts break at the sight of the young woman among Night Lords. Her face is all the proof he needs. Not to mention the way she appears out of nowhere. She looks so much like him. Why didn’t he know he had a daughter? Frak, where has she been? Did whoever raised her treat her well? He wishes he could have been there to tuck her in at night, teach her things, tell her stories. He might have frakked it up, but he would have loved the chance to try.

“How?” His voice sounds as cracked as his hearts.

“Cawl’s creation.” Roboute answers mournfully. “I took her away from him, but then she disappeared.”

The way Sevatar on the screen puts his hands all over his daughter’s body, Roboute doesn’t have to elaborate. How dare that bastard? Why isn’t she hitting him? Why is she acting like she’d let him do things to her?

As Corvus is starting to spiral into anger and self recrimination, the terminal they’re watching dings, and a message pops up. With his name on it. He opens it before he can stop himself. Roboute and Lion looking over his shoulders.

The three Primarchs read with increasing horror the partial schematics for a truly horrifying chip. The glowing green lines say it all. Necron tech.

The part that comes after feels like a lightning claw to the gut.

“Cawl put one of these in your daughter’s head. We took it out.”

Corvus hates and loves the attached pict. It is a pict of his daughter, looking healthy and happy. Close enough to see that she has a gap between her front teeth, dimples when she smiles, and a sparkle in her eyes he never had.

But the corroded device she is holding up is horrifying. Matches the schematics perfectly.

And then there’s the muscular arm wrapped around her middle. As pale as her, with black clawlike nails. Sevatar’s chin rests on the top of her head. His daughter is sitting on Sevatar’s lap. Wearing his sigil on a necklace.

With a cry of anger born of anguish that would make Khorne smile, Corvus whirls around, Cawl suddenly surrounded by warp ravens, pecking and clawing, drawing blood.

While Cawl’s assistants are trying to save him from the relentless assault, a tall metal skeleton in a cloak strolls into the lab.

Trazyn, delighted at the opportunity for a raid, wastes no time in locating his goal. There, in a tank, floats a perfect clone of Ferrus Manus. His pet Primarch will be so happy, he’s sure. Primarchs do need company for their health.

Within seconds the entire tank is missing, and no sign of Trazyn.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40k oc #primarch children #oc: alyena of mars #jago sevatarion #primarch #roboute gulliman #lion el'jonson #corvus corax 40k #belisarius cawl #gotta love blood ravens helping #she is the closest they have to a primarch #ferrus manus #clonegrim #< mentioned #sevatar

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anonymousangstmonster · 1 year ago

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Prompt #27

The Fentons had two children, Jazz who was one and a half, and Nate who was six months at the time. They were planning on adding a third child to the group, ‘planning’ as in ‘this is the twelfth attempt and I’m sick of them dying every time’.

They had theoretically constructed the genetics for a human-ghost hybrid, and were hoping to raise it as their son along with their other two kids. They had modeled the human genes off of their son Nathaniel, black hair, blue eyes, freckles. The difficult part was getting it to mix with the ectoplasm without dying in the incubator or coming out malformed or tearing itself to shreds on week one.

They were at take twenty six and it looked pretty promising so far, no imploding, no three extra eyes, no melting, and it was already two months into gestation!

A nerve-wracking seven months later the little supposedly-half-ghost baby boy came out of the artificial womb crying his tiny little lungs out. And he already had a name, ‘Daniel’ or ‘Danny’ for short.

The legal process of getting Danny a birth certificate and at the same time being legal property of FentonWorks as an experiment was a mess.

The Fentons loved their strange new son with all their hearts, but always kept in mind that he was an experiment, a specimen, a creature made for scientific purposes. They chipped him, planning on doing more when he got older, such as adding a failsafe to make him fall asleep in emergencies, and a brand to make sure others new who he belonged to. Though they had to wait until he was at least fourteen to do all that, ‘something something ethics something something we will come after you for human experimentation if you don’t wait something something’.

When Danny turned two the parents cut him open to see how his insides were faring(asleep and without breaking any bones of course), and again when he was six.

He got to go to school and make friends, even though the Fentons knew he would never go to college or get a job.

Nate grew up with a lab rat for a little brother, and he could never ask for more. Though as he grew to love ectobiology and Jazz grew more towards human psychology, it was looking like Nate would be the one to take over FentonWorks someday. So that’s what Jack and Maddie kept telling him, “When you take over, you’ll be in charge of what to do with Danny.”

When Danny turned ten and Nate eleven, Danny was having another vivisection(heavily drugged and this time they were going to cut out his ribs to see his heart and lungs) and Nate got to watch! Apparently his brother had a strong core, something that only ghosts with a particularly traumatizing death had, strange. The parents spoke to Nate again, “One day when you’re older, you’ll be doing this, all on your own.”

The day after Danny turned fourteen was the day his parents could forget about ethics and do whatever they wanted to permanently alter his body, and that’s what they did. It was basically a vivisection day but so much more.

Danny was kept awake and aware the entire time, and Nate helped with a lot, passing tools to his parents, drawing with a sterile marker where the incision lines were going to be, placing the rubber gag in his brothers mouth to prevent him from hurting himself.

They put a hot brand on his right shoulder blade that read:

PROPERTY OF FENTONWORKS #01|0352|026

They inked into the left of his skull and one of his right ribs ‘PROPERTY OF FENTONWORKS’. They implanted a small device right next to his heart connected to a remote that only Jack, Maddie or Nate could activate, which would inject a solution into his bloodstream that would paralyze or kill him for emergencies.

Jazz could very faintly hear her adopted brothers screams from the kitchen.

Another four years later and it’s Nate who’s leading the operation, with his parents assisting. His gloves covered in his brothers ecto-blood, speaking his observations into the recording device in his dad’s hand.

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tenderwatches · 4 months ago

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summary: Jayce begins to reconcile with privilege and all the things he's never questioned

After a full week of working with Viktor, Jayce finally begins to accept that this is not a fantasy he’s conjured in his madness and grief. Against all odds, he and his partner are here, putting their heads together on a project once more.

It’s almost too much for him to bear; partly because the angry tension between them seems about to snap at any moment, but also because he’s now close enough to witness Viktor’s decline.

His health has always been a fragile thing. Even when they were much younger, Viktor’s breath came short too easily, pressure on his bad leg forced him to pause too often, and exhaustion shadowed his eyes on too many days. As they’d spent the years developing their work, it had worsened. They shared memories of steep decline; Viktor’s face growing thinner, paler, and there were times when pain ransacked his partner’s sense of autonomy.

It had been hard, infinitely harder for Viktor surely, but Viktor was his closest friend. He had saved Jayce’s life. Being helpless to make his days easier had been torment. Jayce helped how he knew at the time, building him a replacement cane for the one that was shattered the night they cracked Hextech, then developing it into a crutch once that no longer served to support him. Afterwards, there were the doctors, specialists, surgery—countless combustions of arguments, healing, bedridden days, hope, and everything in between.

Viktor’s slow decline, watching time steal pieces of him away—is a new class of staggering pain. Jayce has only ever known the kind of death he’d faced with his father—a sudden heart attack in the forge—nothing to be done. Sudden, finite. For a long time, that was the only kind of death Jayce could bring himself to accept.

With Viktor returned to him, however, his decline is on full display. It’s like the Undercity took him and returned nothing but a wraith. Viktor is thinner than he’s ever seen, colourless but for the transfixing gleam of his amber gaze. He can hardly move from station to station in their lab without obvious discomfort and can’t stand beyond the measure of a few minutes without a gentle tremble starting in the muscles of his crutch arm.

Jayce’s hands long to soothe. He needs to reach out and settle a gentle palm at the centre of his partner’s back, just below the edge of his brace, where he might catch the warmth of his body again. The desire strikes like he needs to prove to himself that Viktor is still here with the living.

An urgency roils in his chest and makes him want to abandon the stabilisation blueprints down into the chaos of his workstation. Makes him want to rip open the drawer where his secret project is locked away and dive back into it, building on the foundations of the work Viktor had been doing before… everything. He has to make this right.

Viktor calls it a ‘Hexcore.’

The thing his partner had built was an adaptive rune matrix, a device that could evolve according to the user’s needs.

It was revolutionary; and he’d gotten it destroyed.

Ever since, Jayce has been striving for penance; he took a leaf from Viktor’s book and saved the research that had been deemed too dangerous to continue. He’s found something here, a gap, a missing piece, a revelation just waiting to be laid open. He only has to put the pieces together—but this project, born alone in Viktor’s most desperate hours, yearns for the touch of their collaboration as much as Jayce does.

If Jayce allows himself to imagine, just for a moment, sharing this progress with Viktor, he sees Viktor pleased, smiling. But if the explosion of their first real conversation last week is any indication, this is a fallacy. Broaching the topic again should be done with caution. Though their way has always been a bit reckless—if you’re going to change the world, don’t ask for permission—he fears the revelation wouldn’t survive Viktor’s outrage if it’s seen as a bargaining chip for their previous warmth and affection.

Those better times now lie in a grave too deep to be exhumed, and Jayce knows this chance is the one thing he can’t bear to risk. He can’t get it wrong.

Jayce replays the frantic press of Viktor in his arms in the midst of their terrible argument, reliving the sensation of the bones of his body, heat of his skin. It drives him to distraction and disgrace; he’s standing here now, just a scant distance from the man himself, and this is what is going through his mind.

Viktor is up and moving, his gait is a slow thing, leaning so heavily on his crutch that his slender shoulders tremble with the effort. His back curves to the side to allow him to take pressure off his leg, and he rests just the metal toe cap of his brace on the ground to minimise the pressure on his knee.

Even in such obvious decline, he’s beautiful.

It feels voyeuristic; Jayce can’t help but see the lines of his body as lovely, notice the way his tailored vest accentuates the mesmerising dip of his waist. Jayce longs to step forward and place hands there, let Viktor lean back into his chest, and feel the weight of him lingering like he had days ago.

What would it be like if Viktor would let him?

Would he tip his head back to rest on Jayce’s collar bone? Would he run fingers up Jayce’s forearms as if to telegraph that this is where Jayce’s hands belong?

His imaginings blur with the memories of what it was like to hold him, even so briefly and in conflict, before Viktor had ordered him away. He is just recalling the scent of Viktor’s hair (machine oil, chalk dust, and the clean notes of his shampoo) when a voice shatters his peace. Thomas has come up beside him. The young man has spent the last several days adapting to the new presence in the lab. He’d skittered around them in a cocktail of mild fascination and nerves, but seems to have finally acclimated.

“He really is something.” Thomas’s eyes settle on Viktor, who moves across the room towards his workstation, settling down to peer at a synthetic hex crystal and take agitated notes. Jayce blinks, feeling oddly caught out to realise he had, in fact, been staring like a starving man at his partner’s back while imagining his body pressed close like a lover’s. He clears his throat and hopes to every god he isn’t flushing like a teenager.

“Hard to believe he’s from the Undercity,” the boy continues as Viktor purses his lips and scratches his pen through what Jayce assumes is an equation that isn’t cooperating. He’s about to hum his agreement to the boy and continue trying and failing to do his own work when Thomas’s comment hits him.

Jayce knows the context of Viktor’s initial rise to Piltover. He understands that he came from the sunless Entresol levels of the Undercity, knows that he had no formal education and everything he has worked for came through years of self-determination and discipline. When he considers Viktor’s success in becoming, frankly, one of the greatest scientists Jayce has ever had the pleasure to know, it’s this formidable journey he thinks of.

But Thomas doesn’t know all that; he doesn’t understand the specific context of Viktor’s personal story. Like others in Piltover, when he says ‘from the Undercity’, the comment means something different. Jayce thinks back to their heated exchange from Viktor’s first night back.

“I have never—cared—where you’re from!”

“Exactly. You never look at it. How could I expect you to care? … . You’d never choose to look at it.”

At the time, he thought the blazing accusation was unfair. Viktor’s background has never been a concern for him—it’s never made him feel that Viktor might be less capable. He’s always thought of that as a good thing, but suddenly, he’s curious.

“What do you mean by that?” The question is genuine, but Thomas is eager to please and easy to fluster. A simple, middle-class Piltover scholar, much like Jayce himself had been a few years back. He’s a slight thing, sandy-haired, unassuming, and dappled with an abundance of freckles. He’s smart, dedicated, and has earned his position on the staff here, but folds into a tangle of his own perceived shortcomings when pressed.

“Oh, nothing really. He’s just… really smart,” the boy ventures, biting his lip a bit as he worries through the choice of his next words. “And… it must be nice, I guess… that he has this opportunity to work with you.”

The comment detonates in Jayce’s chest like a destabilised hex crystal. The way that statement is a slight against Viktor’s place as his partner begins to seep through. What’s more shocking, however, is that it’s the kind of casually, maybe even kindly meant statement that has been made to him dozens of times before. He wonders now, with swelling contrition, how many times have people said these things to him. Hell, how many times have they been said directly to Viktor?

“Viktor is a fine scientist, Thomas, and my partner at Hextech.” He spins his chair to the side, pinning Thomas with a look so serious that the young scientist blinks back at him in mild alarm. “This isn’t about him having the ‘opportunity’ to work with me—yes, he’s from the Undercity, but that only means we were lucky to find him.” The boy swallows thickly, and Jayce thinks he may be close to scaring the poor kid to death. “You’re part of Hextech now, too, so I hope you are giving one of the visionaries that brought it to life your full respect.” He works on setting his expression in what he hopes is an encouraging smile, though the boy still looks like he’s being told Jayce would like to light him on fire. Jayce can’t make himself offer more comfort than that, though, and he turns back to his station as his assistant scuffles away with a quiet ‘Yes, sir.’

His pulse is thudding in his temples, and he leans forward to press his thumbs there, thinking hard. How many remarks like that have come and gone? How many times has Jayce himself heard and never questioned these things? And Viktor, gods, Viktor has been there the whole time, watching him stroll past the every patronising remark without a word in return.

He feels foolish and short-sighted. It didn’t just start with Viktor, did it? There was something deeper than that here, but he’d spent so long asserting that Viktor was his partner, his equal—he’d forgotten that simply saying it didn’t make it so.

Jayce just hadn’t seen it. Or maybe it was more accurate to say he hadn’t looked for it.

It is a humiliating thing to reflect on. In truth, he’s avoided looking at these things because these people liked him, were kind, well-meaning, and sympathetic. It was easy to take them at face value while they shook his hand, invited him to their parties, and lauded his success.

Now, he wants to reach inside himself, pinpoint where this pathology of indifference begins, and mend it. But how do you heal a wound that doesn’t hurt?

𐡸.:𐫱:.𐡷

Summertime, 968 AN

On the first Progress Day that Jayce could truly recall, it was raining. He was maybe nine or ten in his memories of it, though perhaps he was younger. The summer air had been humid that morning, heavy with the warm moisture of a summer squall that had rolled in from the sea beyond the Sun Gates, across the glittering towers of the City of Progress in a lazy series of small showers.

The weather hardly deterred celebrations; the streets remained a hive of activity. Vendors still hawked their wares, and frantic apprentices to the academy scrambled quickly towards whatever merchant clan auditions they were hoping to distinguish themselves in. The rain was a minor inconvenience to the hum of potential in the air. Shopkeepers unrolled awnings to keep off the worst of it. Jayce watched in fascination as the drops of rain pattered against the spider web of glittering copper and waxed linen that created an arch of shelter for them.

He had a hand in his father’s broad palm. Calloused fingers held tight around his own. Ezra Talis was a craftsman through and through, from his broad shoulders to his kind, leonine face. His eyes were the same shade of honeyed gold as Jayce’s, though his complexion tended a bit lighter than either Jayce’s or his mother’s warm tawny skin, a nod to his Freljordan heritage.

His father was always kind but assertive, clear-eyed, and stubborn; he never seemed to run out of lessons for his son, and Jayce loved nothing so much as learning. Jayce thought he might be the best man in the world.

He turned his face towards his father as he heard the clink of coins exchanging. He watched Ezra’s polite chatter with the vendor as he lifted his free hand up to receive the warm pastry his father had purchased for him. It was wrapped in crinkling paper printed with red and gold cogs that reminded him of House Talis colours, the same as his father wore on his belt buckle, the gold buttons of his jacket, and the pin in his tie.

He took a bite of the pastry, enjoying the way the flaky crust gave way to a rich filling with the caramel sweetness of dates and honey. His eyes darted back up to the awning over them as his father tugged him to the side, careful to keep his son close to him as he and the shopkeeper continued their idle talk.

Jayce began to consider the construction that must be used to make the copper skeleton of the awning and how its pulley system must connect to allow it to extend. He loved to pass time this way, constructing and deconstructing the workings of the world.

He was just beginning to get the picture of how the joints had to be arranged when a flurry of motion across the square drew his eye. A gaggle of dirty children wove through the crowd with a practiced sort of ease. It reminded him of watching gulls on the docks dive into the eddies to scoop up fish.

They prowled with subtle purpose, scanning the crowd, and Jayce understood enough of the world to imagine they must be looking for people caught unaware, for a loose purse or a watch chain not secure enough to draw notice when they plucked at it.

He tucked into the side of his father’s leg a bit more, surveying them and bringing his pastry close to his chin as if the children might suddenly lunge across the square for it. He had seen them before, of course, the poor children who trickled up from the Undercity, but mostly they kept their actions contained to the Bridge of Progress or the lower quarters of the city. Up this high, you rarely caught more than a single dirty face or two.

No one in Piltover appreciated begging or loitering. He had heard the men in his father’s workshop say, ‘A living is earned by the sweat of your brow or the sharpness of your mind.’

‘Charity is a gift one earns from society by making oneself useful,’ his mother intoned to the ladies she chatted with while she haggled for supplies for the forge.

If these children weren’t here to beg, then they were most certainly here to steal. He knew there was a name for these children, one he had heard from the others in his primary lessons.

Sump snipes. Urchins from the Undercity. He had only ever used the word once and was met with the derision of his mother, who called it an unkind term. The workers in his family’s forge used it often enough, though, he had noticed—along with various more colourful terms. Almost all of them lived much closer to the cliffs than his own family, their houses hugging the edge of the fissures that led down to the lower promenade where the true Undercity began. He assumed they must see folks from there more often than he did, and seemed very quick to use those unkind terms for them.

His father and mother would counsel him to have empathy and gratitude, that these children were innocents who had so much less than him. The workers at his family forge would shed disappointed words, all whilst insinuating that the children’s parents must have scorned opportunities to work good, honest jobs. The conflicting talk painted a strange mental image of the children, something between a cautionary tale and the crime serials that ran in the papers, full of careless, dastardly rogues. But the bleak reality underwhelmed him; the children were thin and ragged around the edges in a way that set them apart. But there was nothing else that seemed remarkable about them.

He noticed the tall, bony boy who appeared to be leading them was missing three fingers on his left hand. The smallest, almost his own height, maybe a peer to him in age, listed a bit to the side when he walked, and when he turned, there was an empty socket where his right eye should have been. He didn’t wear anything to cover it.

The yawning absence made Jayce’s chest tighten uncomfortably, like his body was telling him to turn away, but he held fast, fascinated. He stared, even though he knew his mother would call him rude for it. He had never seen people who looked like they did up close before. Like the awning from before, he found himself considering how a finger was built out. He’d studied the inner workings of his own mother’s prosthetics, two fingers made of the finest silver his father could commission. Jayce had even been allowed to watch part of the construction. It was delicate work, like a jeweller would do, using elegant tools that seemed too fragile to be useful, but created the most beautiful patterns.

He wondered what a set might look like for three fingers, how flesh and metal might work best to open and close, to give the boy his grip back. He only realised he had been caught staring when the oldest boy let out a sharp whistle to call the others along with him. Jayce blinked, embarrassed at his own lack of tact. He wished, absurdly, that he could explain to the boy he wasn’t trying to be rude, but dreaming of ways he could help him, how he could then do more things than pinch purses. Maybe he could hold a hammer and learn to metalwork, like Jayce was.

What if they might wear the apprenta uniforms of the Academy, like he hoped to one day? Rather than urchins on the fringes of the day’s celebrations, they might be his classmates instead, with a brighter future than whatever their present must be. In his imaginings, they were all friends, brought together by how he’d helped them, like his father did for others; the oldest boy would throw an arm around his shoulders (they’re the same height now) and grin in camaraderie.

But then, another figure appeared in his memories, radiating with promise and power.

He remembered the glow of blue light, the slender, hooded figure emerging from a wall of blinding snow as he begged for help, the swirl of glowing runes in the air, the beautiful expanse of stars that he and his mother had hung in, away from cold, pain, and fear.

This delivery was what he wanted to give the boys—the kind of impossible hope that only magic could bring. He wanted to be able to reach out and save them. Save everyone.

Jayce took a final bite of his pastry, closed his eyes, and dreamed. Not of praise or achievement, but of countless small miracles and blue lights dancing in his hands, giving breath and life to all who needed it. In his dreams, magic wasn’t just power wielded by the few—it was a bridge between everything that was, and everything that could be.

𓊈 first chapter | previous chapter 𓊉 𓊈 next chapter on AO3 𓊉

AN: i missed two tumblr updates bc i got bit by a stranger cat and my life was thrown into turmoil sorry lol (we are all ok) also i realised that i said the chapter name of the last one wrong, it's 'Defiance', not 'Design', that one is still coming up!! this one is Ch. 6, 'Dreams of Progress', and this post is STILL late (should have been yesterday) but we have updated on AO3 today!!!

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arpmemething2 · 1 year ago

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Agent Carter quotes

Send one for my muse’s response. Feel free to change pronouns as needed.

"She's a cute broad. When she's not punching me in the face. Who is she?"

"I think you're a man out for his own gain no matter who you're charging."

"How refreshing to meet someone who appreciates the finer things."

"Then we may get hurt, there'll be a spray of bullets."

"Does anyone else feel a chill going up their knickers?"

"I used to strap a chair to my ass and take long walks around the neighborhood, too."

"Your line of work requires support. People who care about your well-being, who'll be there to stitch up your wounds."

"He can be thoughtless. Inconsiderate. Vain. Childish. Unreliable. Arrogant."

"Because unless I have your reports, your coffee, or your lunch, I am invisible."

"It's so hard getting straight answers out of people nowadays. Whatever happened to a nice cup of tea and a civilized interrogation?"

"Promise you'll get the son of a bitch who did this. Say it!"

"You were trying to do something good, and I believe you accomplished it."

"Well, that was a bit premature."

"What? I hate small spaces. What if the chain snaps and I fall to my death?"

"I was angry. That doesn't mean I want you to die."

"You have one chip to trade on, fear, and fear is the one tool that little girls who grow up handcuffed to their beds learn. I however am not afraid of you."

"I'd rather be the cowboy."

"To you, I’m a stray kitten left on your doorstep to be protected. The secretary turned damsel in distress. The girl on the pedestal, transformed into some daft whore."

"And I suppose the confession portrays me as what? A patsy? A doe-eyed idiot succumbed to the charms of America’s mustachioed Casanova?"

"The necklace is equipped with a tracking device so that I can monitor your location at all times. And if you attempt to move the beacon or break even one link in the chain, you will be injected with a neurotoxin which will kill you in 35 excruciatingly painful seconds."

"I wonder if I might request a sick day."

"I'm not here to make you talk. I'm here to make you sing."

"I imagine strange women traipsing through the property isn't a completely unusual occurrence."

"If I allow people to get close to me, I'm putting them in danger."

"How would you feel if we smashed that mirror with this table?"

"Darling, you have no idea."

"Never speak again."

"Get the drop on them?" You've been in custody all of an hour, and you're Jimmy Cagney."

"Am I being fired?"

"Keep your eyes open."

"I like it. I don't think the audience is ready yet."

"You weren't really going to shoot me, were you?"

"Stop wahooing and help!"

"I know my value."

"All of my inventions are in your lab."

"Darling, you have no idea."

"But they're ready for a movie based on a comic book. Sounds like a dreadful idea."

"For all I know, you did steal your inventions."

"Comfortable back there?"

"Just another day at the office."

"I figured you'd never have a problem finding a man."

"My land lady gave me an idea."

"What kind of thing is that? The alphabet? I can teach you. Let's start with words beginning with "A"

"And one more thing... tip generously."

"Now, I go to work."

"Technically, we don't even know if it works. But, let's face it. I invented it. So, it works."

"You were happy out here, and then I came and mucked up your whole life."

"Maybe I was just fooling myself."

"Then why is your mustache so sad?"

"I'm just considering all the angles. It seems you have a lot of them."

"I, however, am not afraid of you."

"I could do with a hobby."

"In polite society, one telephones ahead before trespassing."

"I understand you're not happy with your meal."

"So, I've got two foreign agents with no voice boxes fighting over a milk truck full of experimental implosives."

"I'm so sorry. Truly."

"I have a terrible idea!"

"You're new to espionage, aren't you?"

"We're still attached to a table."

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twistedtimeline · 9 months ago

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Twisted Timeline AU

This Alternate Universe starts off the same as canon. Ford and Fiddleford became friends in college. The former calls the latter to come work with him on the portal. The memory gun is built and Fiddleford uses it on himself a bit. Fiddleford does get pulled into the portal when they test it. The poor engineer is deeply disturbed by what he saw in the portal. They end up having that fall out and Fiddleford leaves Ford to his devices. Of course Stan comes to see his brother. The fight goes like canon until Stanley pushes Ford. Fiddleford had come back and saw what was going to happen. Adrenaline filled, he managed to push Ford out of the way into safety while getting himself sucked into the portal a second time. Yet this time he went through completely. The portal was destroyed when this happened. This further causes a rift between Ford and Stan. Stan felt guilty and tried everything to make up for it. It doesn't do anything to fix the rift though Ford can't handle being alone this time. The cabin is gradually turned into the mystery shack that we know. Since Stanley faked his death, they share an identity. The guilt Ford felt because Fiddleford saved him from the portal began to eat away at him. The regret that he never listened to his friend and lab partner. He copes with this by becoming obsessed with anomalies. He of course doesn't attempt to bring back Fiddleford as he feared causing the end of the world according to his old lab partner. Ford wants to know everything. He accidentally started a cult that also becomes obsessed with knowledge and anomalies. The society of the all seeing eye. Ford's sanity and mind deteriorates. He and Stanley are both called Old Man Pines by the time thirty years has gone by. They are used to Stan and Ford by then. Assuming Stan is Old Man Pines good days and Ford is his bad days. They brush Ford off as a crazy old coot with conspiracy theories. Going into Fiddlefords side of things. The poor guy was also hunted down by Bill. The dream demon hated him so he wanted Fiddleford to likely torment him to his heart's content. The poor guy survives by stealing scraps of technology and making versions of the shame bot, gobblewonker and the pterodactyl for self defense against Bill and the henchmaniacs. He survived all that time in different dimensions, shockingly getting through it all without major injuries. Bill still bothered Ford in his dreams. Leaving notes to encourage him to work on the portal but it doesn't work as he doesn't have leverage. Until thirty years later. When Mabel and Dipper come and begin to mess with them. Ford protects them from Bill. What causes Ford to build the portal? Fiddleford got caught by Angie. Bill's friend. She's not a dream demon nor was she evil. Fiddleford was the first human she had seen. She shows Bill the human she found. Unfortunately for the dream demon, Angie had become fond of Fiddleford and treats him like a living doll. Dressing him up and feeding him. Taking care of him. Unfortunately Bill now had the leverage he needed against Ford. He tells Ford that his friend was now in danger if he didn't fix the portal. Poor guy was a bargaining chip. Out of guilt, Ford agrees. When he does finally gets out operational again, Fiddleford is sent into the portal with two unexpected passengers though only one makes it through. Bill tried to get through by holding onto Fiddlefords arm. The force caused the poor engineer to lose a limb in such a painful manner. Though this also meant that a little piece of each other was left in the other. Fiddleford makes it through the portal in pain and in need of medical help. They hadn't noticed the strange cloud that followed after Fiddleford. Fiddleford is angry, not because of what happened all those years ago but because Ford opened the portal now. Almost letting Bill escape into their reality. This raises more questions for the young pine twins.

Headcanons I used were made by my friend and Angie is her OC as well not mine @melodythebunny

These are drawn by her as well.

#gravity falls #fiddleford mcgucket #stanford pines #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #gravity falls au #Twisted Timeline AU

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nexxen24 · 1 month ago

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One Last Job---Chapter Ten

A link to Chapter Nine https://www.tumblr.com/nexxen24/784551118238826496/one-last-job-chapter-nine?source=share

AN: This chapter does get a bit dark in the Alex part, it's one that explores grief and fighting ones demons to overcome it...but I also believe...it's one of my favorite things I've ever written. The whole thing is...but especially the Alex bit and the last like 100 words. Please enjoy.

Dedicated as well to @frankiethegreat @neska223 and @magnoliamoogle for all the love and support since it's been posted...thank you SO much. This is for all of you.

10: Cross/Walker

Alex Cross

New York, OXE Group, Unknown Date

My first impression of Valentina was that she felt like a new Anton, a better looking one sure, but still a version of him and someone obsessed with things they couldn’t understand. I had woken up on the ride to OXE, still tied up in the back of a car but able to look around and see exactly where she was taking me. The facility was impressive, consisting of an entire office building right in the middle of New York and I spent my time being dragged ogling all the other stuff in the building. She seemed to be obsessed with superheroes since the floor we were on was full of labs filled with test subjects as Val worked to create the next best thing.

They didn’t know a lot about my powers so I wasn’t cuffed with anything that could dampen them, just stuck and sure I could teleport but not far and I wanted to see what she had to offer. I didn’t fully believe that John had intended to drag me all the way to New York and then ditch but I wanted to see if Val had more to the story and maybe she was looking for another hero…I could be one…it sounded intriguing. So I kept my promise and was good the entire time a scientist instructed me to change into a set of scrubs so I was clean and then they proceeded to escort me into a nice looking room with a bed and two chairs, even a bookshelf off to one side. It was a far cry from a concrete cell and the scientist mentioned that Val would be there soon before he left me to own devices, even assuring me that a meal would be on its way.

“So much for a prisoner,” I muttered and grabbed one of the chocolate chip cookies that had been left out for me, shocked it was still warm.

I didn’t want to get sucked into the nice…umm prison…but Anton never made cookies and I had spent a whole ordeal remembering why I hated that man so much. Maybe some tyrannical CEO’s weren’t so bad and Val was one of them, she was just a businesswoman and I was a client. Maybe she’d even let me be with John and the thought was making my head hurt. I didn’t know if I hated him or missed him desperately and the more I thought about it, the more it morphed into the second one. It took me this long to realise that he was fifteen feet away right now and he wasn’t dead, wasn’t even in pain, he was fine. We really were unconnected and it felt wrong, like a part of me was missing.

“Alex?”

I turned and sure enough there was Valentina in all her pantsuit glory and smiling at me as I shoved the rest of the cookie down my throat and held out my hand. “Sorry…yes, hello.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said and shook the hand before immediately putting sanitizer on it as I raised a brow. “Please…take a seat.”

“Is John okay?” I asked and eyed the frown she gave me.

“Oh…he’s fine, just not here.”

“Okay…will he be here?” I asked and she sighed as I took my seat, leaning back in the very comfy chair.

“No…not for a while.”

“Alright,” I muttered and went to grab a second cookie but she stopped me.

“Look…Alex…we need to talk.”

“Okay…I can’t…” I trailed off as I pointed to the cookie and shrunk a bit under her death glare before putting my hands up and moving back a bit, making sure not to even look at the plate again. “Noted…”

“Thank you,” Val hissed out and I rolled my eyes as she handed me a folder.

“What’s this?”

“Well…this could be you,” she said and I pulled it open to find a bunch of files all talking about something called a Sentry project and the quest for the next hero. “I know you have powers already but I really want to know more about them and how many you have in common with our vision.”

I flipped the page and she had listed off all the wanted abilities for Sentry, telekinesis and flight among them along with a classic, super strength. No where on there was mind reading or control or a personal favourite…weird connection to darkness that is unexplained.

“Uh…I have none…of these,” I muttered and closed the file since the last few pages were all costume designs and logo mockups, even a whole focus group done on the best shade of blonde.

“Oh…that’s interesting.”

“Why do you have all of this?” I asked and gestured to more than just the file…but all of it.

“We want to create a new superhero…for the world. Have you heard of the Avengers?”

“I have. They saved this damn city so many times I’m surprised people still live here,” I muttered and she chuckled. “They also fixed the world a few years ago, I wasn’t blipped or whatever so I got to see how bad it got.”

“Ah yes…they did do that but then they disappeared. Steve Rogers gave up the shield and sure Sam Wilson has it now but he’s not the same and not to mention the death of Tony Stark was a real low point,” she said and I couldn’t help but agree. “We need heroes like the Avengers and since they’re not coming, the world needs you.”

“Me?”

“With some adjustments,” she added and my eyes narrowed. “We did our tests and we believe that only specific abilities resonate well with the regular crowd, they like a specific hero.”

“Like?”

“Super strength, flight, indomitable resistance and this cunning charm…which sadly can’t be taught. But I mean…you have some,” she muttered and I frowned as Val studied me, hair in particular.

“So…and I gotta ask…Do you like me so much because of my powers…even though you want to change them…or because my hair is the right shade of blonde for your focus group?”

“Well…”

I scoffed and crossed my arms, no longer that interested in hearing what all she had to say about this new job as her perfect Sentry aka the government's new play thing. They already tried that, government sanctioned heroes and their failure was my current partner who I wanted to see more than anything and definitely more than another crackshot CEO with crazy ideas about powers.

“You can’t change them,” I muttered and she raised a brow. “My powers are from a serum created by Anton, they exist and they can’t go away.”

“Yes but…only a few of them,” she said and my eyes widened.

“What do you mean?”

Val dug a hand into the bag at her side and pulled out a second folder before handing it over and I looked through it, seeing that it was about me and had to do with the blood the scientist took when I got here. I found it a bit odd, but I didn’t say anything, I didn’t fight it and assumed it was for health reasons and not DNA testing like the file suggested. There was a part that got very interesting and I narrowed my eyes at the file she had printed about my family, wondering why it didn’t list Steven Cross as my paternal relative. Clara was there, clear as day and I had to assume they had her DNA from when she was in the hospital, dying because of Anton but it didn’t make sense that Steven had none. No old blood tests or hospital visits, surgeries or anything…he was an unknown or…

“Steven’s not my father,” I deadpanned and Val nodded. “Who is?”

“The man you killed.”

“No…”

“From what we have gathered….your father is Anton Volkov.”

There it was…the bomb drop.

I had read about the bombs they had dropped in World War 2 a long time ago, mostly out of curiosity and to learn more about the world since education was lacking in the Dark Force compound. One of the things it said was how the radiation lingered, especially in Japan and people fell dead months after the initial drop. They were being killed from the inside from radiation poisoning and dealing with the after effects of one tragedy long after its conclusion.

I had no clue why Hiroshima came to mind when she said that Anton was my father, but it felt like he’d poisoned me, that this was me dying of radiation poisoning but in turn it was guilt. He didn’t fight me in his mind, didn’t try to kill me because he knew I’d eventually find out the truth and this moment would do the trick. I felt like death, felt like I was a husk and Val spent a long moment just staring at me as my brain tried in desperation to make this moment better…but it couldn’t…I was lost.

“I can give you time,” Val muttered and stood, walking out of the room and leaving me to sit there and stare, like the walls were gonna close in and swallow me whole.

I snatched up the file and saw they had theories as to why Anton could be my dad and it all boiled down to my shadow powers, ones that were his, he just lied for close to twenty years. Turns out…you can’t recreate those, only mind powers and the ones I had hated the most and were always changing were like that because of him. The memories of him praising me for being so good at using them, at manipulating shadows and blending in felt like daggers. He wasn’t praising that damn serum…he was praising someone with the same powers as him…he was praising his own child…

I felt an unbelievable amount of anger come over me…so much that I stood and felt the smoke seep in, get even darker than it had and I wanted it to take over, to destroy me, to make me so unrecognizable I wouldn’t be able to see him. Anton and I didn’t look alike, my hair was blonde and I had to assume he dyed his, my mom’s was red and a deep one at that. Her genes didn’t stand a chance against Anton, since I was a mutant like him, weird and different and strange because of him when I could’ve been normal, I could’ve lived a normal fucking life if it wasn’t for him.

At one point I might’ve felt guilt that he was dead, even anger but now…All I felt was sadness…that I didn’t have a bigger part. Anton dying of arguably natural causes felt like the biggest punch in the gut and I made it my goal to do something I swore I would stop…I didn’t need that memory, I didn’t need what he showed me in his mind, the memories he regretted and the moment with my parents…I didn’t need any of it and I had all the power in the world to get rid of it.

“Goodbye Anton,” I muttered and decided at that moment to go deeper…if Anton was a part of my DNA he didn’t also need to be a part of my memories.

I knew what it meant…erasing Anton would mean erasing John…I wouldn’t remember how we met or that moment in his mind, every memory we had because of Anton would be gone. Letting go of my pain meant letting go of him and I hated that I was even considering it but pain is a fickle thing…it digs in deep and doesn’t let go, claws clenched around tender flesh and teeth dug deep into already open wounds. It claws and bites and mangles, leaving you breathless and forever changed with wounds that won’t heal and scars that won’t leave. People make pain better, they close those wounds and losing John…I was losing my ability to heal, to make things better and would be a husk, an empty person with no purpose but to not feel at all.

I held out my other arm, the left already full of stolen regrets and focused on the memories that contained him, the memories that made him a permanent fixture in my mind and sobbed when the first that came to mind involved John. I thought of the look on his face when he got shot with that mine, the look he gave when I stood over him, smirking and knowing that this partnership was going to go far. John claimed he fell for me in that mansion in Munich when I unlocked a whole new ability to save him but I had fallen before that…not too much before though.

“A Magnum! The Magnum! The one he stole.”

“The damn Magnum.”

The look on his face was enough to make me consider begging for him to admit his feelings, to kiss me deep at that bar and never look back. He laughed at that stupid magnum joke like it was the funniest thing in the entire world, it wasn’t, he laughed because it was said by me. It wasn’t just his laugh that did it…it was the way he listened and kept listening until the whole story was done, no interruptions or annoyed remarks, just pure attention. John was a guy obsessed, watching the girl he liked ramble on and I knew in his head he loved it, he kept making remarks about how cute it was when I rambled and I couldn’t keep the blush off my face by the time I got to the reveal. And now…now that wasn’t enough.

“John….I love you…”

I reached out, feeling deeper and was so close to erasing the first one, the meet cute, when it all stopped. My eyes widened when I felt the arms wrap around my chest, digging through the smoke and I could smell the familiar scent of sweat and a sandalwood deodorant he was obsessed with. I could feel his heart beat rapidly beneath his chest, faster than mine and the calluses of overworked fingers as his hands linked behind my back and he dug his blonde head of hair deep into the crook of my shoulder like the spot was carved out just for him. The gesture made me stop, made me freeze and when he saw that I wasn’t going to do it, John pulled back and our eyes locked before our lips followed shortly after.

That kiss was different…it carried yearning and a want to stay that way till the building crumbled with age and the world was returned to the dust it was born from but we wouldn’t care…we were there and we had each other and nothing else in this world had ever meant as much as that moment in time.

“Don’t,” he whispered and I wondered if Val told him about Anton.

“I won’t,” I assured and locked my arms around his middle.

This was who I needed, I needed him, I needed him to make things better and he needed me. John whispered that I was free, that Valentina didn’t need a Sentry, or at least not one that was me and I could head to his place and learn to live beyond the confines of any more cages. But I didn’t need the world to be free, I didn’t even need a mind with Anton-less memories and a clear head, I just needed him.

And he was what I had.

John Walker

New York, OXE Group, March 2025

I kept my mouth shut as Valentina led us through OXE, an organization that I had heard of but yet to have the pleasure of seeing and it gave major SHIELD vibes. Not only was it some pseudo government bullshit organization stuffed below an office building but there was an astounding number of armed agents walking around as well. I avoided eye contact with most of them as Val instructed the guy holding me to cuff me to the chair and then tie me to it with some duct tape. I thought the gesture was a bit much, I wasn’t about to run with that much firepower in the hallway but I didn’t protest and she looked overly pleased with that decision.

“So…John Walker.”

“Yep.”

“Are you aware of what you are being accused of?”

“Remind me,” I shot back and she sighed.

“You are being accused of aiding and abetting a known fugitive and assisting the said fugitive in entering the United States after being given direct orders to…prosecute,” she said and I scoffed, loud for emphasis as Val frowned.

“Sure yeah…does the CIA know what you meant by prosecute?”

“No, but I am CIA.”

“Yeah…okay…I’m sure the US government loves this place…oh wait…OXE is a shadow organization, it doesn’t exist and all those rumours floating around about shady testing and missing test subjects…is that on their radar?”

“It doesn’t need to be,” she shot back and I scoffed a second, loving how angry it made her.

“Look…I didn’t kill Alex because your file was wrong.”

“And because Anton Volkov shot a proximity mine into your head.”

“No…I decided to leave her be the second I sat next to her. I didn’t need that mine to be convinced, I just needed her.”

“Oh go write it in a wedding vow,” she shot back and I frowned. “I don’t care if you fell in love or had a change of heart…or realised the entire world sucks without her in it…I gave you a job.”

“Yeah…and I didn’t follow it.”

“You’re not worried I’ll do something to her?”

“You can try,” I shot back and Val raised a brow. “She might not be the killer you think she is but Alex has powers and not ones you should mess with.”

“Like the file?”

“More. She got us out of danger more times than not.”

“Hmmm…maybe I can use that,” Val muttered and pulled out a small tablet as my heart sank. “Stay here…I’ll go talk to Alex, see if she’s as nice and normal as you suggest and then maybe we can make a deal.”

I was about to protest but Val was gone before I could and I sighed, hoping she wouldn’t do anything rash to make Alex angry. If they didn’t cuff her then her powers could act up like they did around Roland and Val might not make it out of that room if she didn’t play her cards right. I had to hope that Alex wouldn’t do something that rash but Val could be a bit much and I frankly wouldn’t blame her. I also didn’t blame her if she hated me, if she hated what I did to get her here, even if I didn’t mean a word but…why trust me? These people were me at one point, government drones looking to help the greater good by stepping on the lesser, I was looking in a mirror. The chair they tied me to swiveled so I turned to look out the window of Val’s office, to see more of OXE and all they had going on, all the people wandering by. Most of them were armed, she had an entire army at her disposal it seemed and I hated to admit that it was impressive, especially for a woman who apparently also led the CIA.

“Too much time on your hands, Val,” I muttered and sighed, spinning back around as the said woman reappeared, a frazzled look on her face.

“So…”

“Is everything alright?”

“Alex won’t be doing my program, she refused to even consider it. But…I also have to assume that what I told her would be news to you as well.”

I eyed Val as she undid the restraints keeping me to the chair, cuffs included and handed over a sheet of paper, a DNA test that was done on Alex. Everything looked pretty normal, it stated she was a mutant which was pretty obvious but the less obvious bit was her parentage…well…one piece at least.

“Anton,” I muttered and Val nodded. “No…that maniac was her real dad.”

“A one night stand,” Val informed and I sat back in mild shock, wondering how Alex was taking this and assumed it wasn’t good. “Look…John…Take the job as US Agent, do a couple things for me and I’ll let you both go.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she assured and I stood, Val not making a single move to stop me.

“So…I can grab her and take her home.”

“Maybe mention becoming a part of OXE as well on your way…but yes, you can take her.”

“How many missions?”

“As many as I want,” she said and I sighed, not liking this and knowing that I’d be in her debt, agreeing to this was putting myself in Val’s hands which didn’t sound like the best idea.

But I also needed to get Alex out of here, to get her somewhere safe, to let her ride in one of those yellow taxis and buy a stupid corny shirt and just…Live. She deserved more than anyone and if I needed to accept this job from Val, work for OXE and live life as a shady government then I would because at least I was doing it for her.

“Alright,” I agreed and held out my hand as Val shook it.

“Good…Now, come with me. Right now.”

***

Val led me up one floor to a small room at the back of the building that was pumping out Alex’s trademark black smoke in buckets, coating the hallway with the stuff and I knew that had to mean bad news. She didn’t take the Anton news lightly it looked like and Val gave me a nod before I pulled open the door, my eyes widening at the sheer quantity of smoke she had managed to produce and I had to fumble my way through to find her. Alex was standing in the corner, partially hunched over with her right arm outstretched and I immediately knew what she was planning. The mark on her left arm looked as though it was pulsing and a piece of it was crawling along her shoulder, headed towards that right arm and ready to erase her memories of Anton. But those memories contained me and in her anger she was going to erase me.

I knew this was a last ditch effort to make it all go away, she didn’t mean it, the tears on her face when I got in front of her were evident enough of that but I also knew what it meant to feel desperate. That act of wanting to do anything to be anywhere but right there, even if that right there was your own skin. She had forgotten her own advice, that need to hold onto memories but I could at least hold onto her and I stepped forward, wrapping Alex in a hug which caused her to stop. The smoke dissipated in seconds, leaving only her and I kept her close to me until she calmed down, heart pounding and I wished I could’ve been there sooner, been there right as that smoke started to get too thick and the darkness came calling. But all I could do was be there now and I gave her a tender kiss once I had pulled back before leaning my forehead against hers and wiping a few tears away.

“Don’t,” I breathed out and she nodded, keeping close to me.

“I won’t,” she assured and the room got ever brighter as I sighed in relief that her memories would stay intact, that I would stay intact.

“Sorry for the bombshell,” Val said and Alex turned to her, wiping at her eyes before shaking her head.

“No…it’s okay. I needed to hear it,” she said and Val nodded before stepping forward and holding out a hand that Alex shook, despite everything.

“Walker has convinced me to let you go on the basis that he will be working for me, doing missions and tasks for OXE. I would like to extend that to you, not for Sentry…but as you.”

“Why?”

“I know what it’s like to finally be free, it can be hard to find yourself and I want to help. We can provide support, training and even schooling if you discover another passion.”

“For no underlying condition?”

“Only…one,” she muttered and I sighed as Alex did the same. “Well…two. One, you won’t tell anyone about the Sentry project or what you saw of it and two…You agree to any mission I hand to you, no matter where or what, no matter who is involved.”

“Or else?” Alex asked and I hated the grin on Val’s face.

“You won’t need to see the ‘or else’ because there never will be one…alright?”

“All this and a signing bonus.”

“Of what?”

“600,000,” Alex deadpanned and I choked on air as Val eyed her. “Apartments here are expensive, think of it as collateral.”

“Fine…All that and 600,000.”

“Pleasure doing business with you,” she said and held out her hand a second time as Val shook it, a bit more annoyance in the gesture than last time.

“Yes…pleasure. Your money will be transferred to an account I’ll set up Walker, I’ll send over a mission when one rolls in but don’t expect it for a while. Might as well add a break onto the demands.”

“Thank you, Valentina.”

“Sure…whatever, don’t fuck it up!” she called and walked out of the room as one of her guards came in to escort us out of the building and to a car that would drive us to my apartment in Brooklyn.

Sure it was small, only a one bedroom but it would suffice for the moment and with time and Val’s generous bonus…we could build a home.

***

Time was an interesting concept and I assumed that it would heal most wounds but you also had to let it and so far…Alex wasn’t letting it heal her. I could see why she was angry, there was a part of her that hated Anton, a part of her that I could feel was grieving him but the anger was winning over everything else. She needed time to actually be upset, losing parents, regardless, isn’t easy and it was starting to put a strain on what we were trying to build. She was always…on edge and snapping at me and that morning, when I was just trying to make her coffee and I didn’t remember how much cream she wanted, everything came to light.

“Is it one spoon?” I asked and heard the groan from all the way in the kitchen.

“Yeah…one is fine,” she muttered and I nodded, doing that and bringing it in to find Alex just sitting on the couch, staring at the TV but it was off.

“So…doing anything?” I asked and handed her the coffee.

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

“No,” she muttered and tried to walk off but I stopped her. “What?”

“Talk to me,” I said and Alex sighed, taking her seat back as I sat across from me.

“About?”

“This…us…life. I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“I’ve been here…”

“No you haven’t,” I shot back and she glared at me. “You’ve been here as a body, but not as a person.”

“What do you want then?” she asked and I sighed, knowing she was going to counteract my next statement, claim I was crazy or even over the line but it needed to be said, she needed to hear it.

“I want you to admit that you want to grieve Anton,” I shot back and her eyes narrowed.

Our connection that we had never returned, she’s never been able to read my mind since the proximity mine was unblocked but the small tattoo on my wrist stayed, a reminder of times gone by. I caught Alex looking at it more often than not and could tell that she was cursing, she wanted to hear my thoughts, to know what I was thinking and not have to do the guesswork that everyone else was forced to contend with. She wanted to know what I wanted to say before I got the chance, jump ahead and prepare herself and originally, reading my mind could do that. How do you argue when you already know what the person is mad about? But now…now it was pure chance, she never knew what was going to come out of my mouth and I could tell it was starting to drive her insane.

“What?”

“You’re angry with him, I’m aware…but you’re too angry to grieve the fact you also lost him.”

“I don’t care that he’s dead.”

“Really…even knowing what you know now?”

“If you think Anton changes because he was my dad…because I spent twenty years with my father without knowing it and he was an ass, he made my life miserable, he didn’t act like a dad. I’m not gonna say he didn’t deserve it because of the DNA we share.”

“I know, he did. But there’s a connection…or there was.”

“It’s not like you and Mike…I didn’t love him before he died…learning something new didn’t ruin it, it was always ruined.”

“Okay…how about another approach…are you mad that he knew he was your father and still did all that…that you thought you had a chance at a new one…but he’s not, he’s not related.”

“Wow…really punch me in the gut,” she muttered and stood but I grabbed her hand.

“I’m not trying to. I’m trying to keep you from being me,” I muttered and she raised a brow. “I spent so long being angry, cutting people off and believing the whole world was against me and nothing would ever change that and now…now I don’t have to because I have you. Don’t spiral, Alex…it doesn’t do any good.”

“I know…I’m just…”

“You can be upset if you want, I’m not gonna judge you.”

“He…ruined it…Steven was supposed to be my new family, I was supposed to turn to him, call him every christmas and maybe even visit and now…he feels like a fraud. I just…I wish…”

I saw it before it happened, the look in her eyes that everything was about to come crashing down and stood so she could wrap me in a hug and she did, keeping her head pressed against my chest as I felt her body begin to shake, sobs following shortly after. I lowered us back down to the couch and we stayed stuck next to each other for close to four hours, thinking of how to make this moment better…how to get past this…how to feel something other than terribly upset.

“We need to get out of here,” Alex muttered and got off me as I gave her a nod, wanting to leave the apartment since we’d been crammed in it for close to a month.

“I agree, come on, let’s go for a walk.”

“To a park,” she whispered and I chuckled, grabbing the converse she practically forced me to buy.

“Yeah…to a park,” I agreed and she smiled, putting on her own before we headed out, into the chilled New York air and made our way towards one of my favourite spots.

On the way we passed through a smaller neighbourhood and I kept my hand tight in hers, an assurance that I was still there and we were okay, life was good when she began to pull on it, dragging me away.

“Alex?”

“Come here!” she said and got her hand free before running over to a small store on the corner that I swear I had passed a hundred times and never found it that exciting.

“What?”

“Come on!” she said and I sighed, jogging to catch up as Alex stood in front of the window and smiled wide at a mannequin that was front and centre.

“God…of course,” I muttered and she smiled at me.

“Can I get it?”

“I don’t care,” I said and she grinned, running inside and right over to a rack of the one and only, I heart NY t-shirts.

“Oh my god…they have so many.”

“I told you they’re everywhere.”

“I love this, it shows how much you love the city.”

“Yeah…but you live here…so…”

“Yeah…and I love it. It’s where you are,” she mocked and pushed my shoulder before running off to try on the shirt as I blushed.

I never thought that I’d be here after Olivia, showing around someone new and watching as they brought new life to a city that I had fallen out of love with. But she was right…New York now held her…and I love it for that. It was going to become a home, a place to feel safe and loved and hold onto the fact that sometimes…you’re not quite as isolated as you’ve always feared. I hadn’t been back to the liquor store a block away since we’ve been back, I haven’t found a need.

And when Alex walked out, thrilled with her purchase, even buying a small little yellow taxi so we could create a table full of trinkets in our home, there were two shirts in her bag instead of one.

#john walker #mcu fanfiction #thunderbolts*#fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #john walker fanfic #john walker fanfiction #alex cross #shadow #one last job fanfic #i heart NY #feels get real #fighting demons with love

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gothicthundraog · 2 months ago

Text

RANDOM TALES OF DRAKGO Chapters 11-20

Chapter 11 Dumpling

"Is it sad that I'm kind of getting used to this stuff?" asked Shego casually.

She ate the last eggroll if one could call it that as she and Drakken sat in his office.

"I told you to grab something on the way back from getting the neuro-compliance chip from Bortel's lab," said Drakken as he ate his noodles. "Since given the array of choices you chose not to...this is it."

"Yeah, about that whole swiping thing... Did you just decide to give up on making your own stuff?" asked Shego with an eye-roll.

"Mind control devices aren't easy," said Drakken. "And if you were under a mind control chip, wouldn't you want it to be a top-notch one versus something that hasn't been tested yet?"

"First. This hasn't been tested yet," replied Shego, nodding her head over to the box in the corner. "Second. That's what henchmen are for."

"Interesting," said Drakken as he slowly ate his noodles in contemplation. "That would be technically in their job description, correct?"

"Obviously. I mean, you're working for an Evil Mad Scientist, what do you expect?" shrugged Shego. She made a move for the dumplings.

"So... Hey, those are mine. If you wanted dumplings, you should have got your own," snapped Drakken. He snatched the box as Shego glared at him.

"Come on, I would have had to wait another fifteen minutes for more," complained Shego. She clicked her chopsticks at him. "Gimme."

"No," said Drakken. Her hands glowed. "I will not be intimidated by your threats... Hey!"

His chopstick burst into green flame.

"There's like, twelve. You can spare six," said Shego. "I gave you the last egg roll, didn't I?"

"No, you didn't. You ate mine," said Drakken. She clicked her chopsticks again and he sighed. "Fine... Here you go...Dumpling."

"Why...thank you. You made the right choice," smirked Shego, taking a few from the box. Her expression changed to confusion. "Did you just call me...'dumpling'?"

"Did I?" asked Drakken with a shrug as he went to finish eating his noodles with his fingers.

"I'll let it slide," replied Shego holding up her dumplings. "But if you start calling me Honey or Sweetheart...I'll blast you to the nearest jail cell and save Kimmy some time."

"Hmm...what about Babe?" he asked for the sheer purpose of annoying her. She put down her dumplings and glared. "I'm joking, I would never."

"That's what I thought," stated Shego. She finished her dumplings and looked at the box in the corner. "So after we make sure this thing works...we start finding a way to duplicate it and then boom, instant obedience?"

"That's the plan," said Drakken. He looked at the box and stopped chewing. "Ethically, should you tell the henchman before you test it on them?"

"I don't think it matters," yawned Shego as she stood up. "After running around for your little whims...I'm beat. Besides, I have to get up early to make sure you don't get sidetracked in finding out how to test it."

"I do not need a babysitter," glared Drakken.

"Don't you?" asked Shego. He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure Kimmy will be busting in here any day now since we got that device. Did you make sure the cameras are all on this time?"

"Yes, I made sure...will you stop nagging me?" barked Drakken. Shego stood and sighed. Drakken scowled. "I'll double-check them."

"I mean, don't I do enough around here?" asked Shego. Drakken smirked. "What?"

"You know if we had just cloned..." Shego glared and Drakken laughed. "Only joking, I know. No cloning. Not like it worked out anyway."

"'Night Dr. D," said Shego with an eye-roll. She patted his shoulder and walked out of the room.

"'Night...Dumpling." He smirked as he saw her freeze. She did nothing and continued walking with a slight backhanded wave.

Drakken watched as Shego vanished in the dark and sighed. Despite all her sass and sarcasm, he was glad she was back. Even though cloning Shego would in fact make their lives much easier, the system was too flawed and it was the main part of the contract she was avid about. He pondered if a former boss of hers had tried it once before.

Still, she'd acted as if he'd asked her to clean the lair and cook or something. He'd only asked her to do what an assistant or henchman would do... He sighed and leaned back in his chair. His mind began racing as usual, and he smirked. He'd gotten away with calling her dumpling with no problem. Perhaps there was something there after all? He shook his head. This little crush of his was getting in the way and making him more susceptible to her snarky comments.

If he could get rid of those feelings, her comments wouldn't distract him so much. The alternative was...she could be a little nicer... Maybe a bit more encouraging... Helpful, even. His eyes shot to the box, and he grinned. It was easier to change someone else than yourself, wasn't it?

XXXX

Chapter 12 Lost in Thought

Drakken groaned as he rubbed his head, the tingling feeling of his whole body aching keeping him alert and numb at the same time. He looked up at his beautiful and very angry assistant. He really couldn't blame her. Her face was contorted in a way that would make the strongest man alive beg for mercy. Her hand grabbed him by his coat front and yanked him up to face her. He could pull away or fight back, but what was the use.

He slammed his eyes shut and mentally yelled at himself. She was about to destroy him. What had he been thinking, honestly? Using a mind-control device test on her to make her nicer to him...all because he had a crush on her. What was wrong with him? He'd roll his eyes right now, but she'd probably just kill him without warning, thinking it was geared towards her rage. Why didn't he think about this? Had he really thought she'd not remember being under mind control? It wasn't like he'd done anything. He would never do anything odious. No. But he supposed making her cook, clean, and be sweet to him against her will was definitely an issue... He looked at her angry eyes. Definitely.

"Shego, I'm very sorry..." He was cut off. Her eyes narrowed at him and there was something else behind them. "I never..."

"This is why I don't do long term," she growled and shoved him away from her, glow extinguished. She looked on edge. Her body language was off. "Do you even know...uhg. No. No. I'm out."

"Shego, I was just testing..." He stopped as her hand ignited. "I'm sorry, and it will never happen again."

"You're right, it won't," said Shego as she turned on her heel and left.

"Shego?" asked Drakken weakly, but he heard her slamming her apartment door.

Drakken slumped against the wall, his body still aching from her plasma blasts, but his head hurt for a whole other reason. He wasn't very good at empathy sometimes, so he tried his best to look at it through her eyes. He'd simply used her to test a new invention.

Without her consent.

Scientists did that all the time.

To strangers. She was his assistant and essential henchwoman.

You are her boss.

He may have overstepped boundaries.

No shit.

He heard Shego returning and got up slowly, preparing for more words and violence, but he froze as he saw her large bag over her shoulder and her hand holding papers.

"I'll send for my things," said Shego. She held up the papers. "Section 12, Item 6. No experimentation is to be done on a person without direct consent. If you try and say that testing and experiments are two different things, so help you..."

"Wait. Shego! I'm sorry, it won't happen again." He darted as a blast flew at him. "Can't we talk about this? It was a silly little mistake, and nothing happened..."

"Good luck taking over the world, Dr. Drakken," replied Shego. Drakken darted towards the door and blocked her.

"Wait. Wait. I'll give you a raise, more money, better vacation pay. Just...can we talk?" said Drakken. He felt a surge of panic. His mind was a mess of thoughts and chaos as she looked at him. Her eyes were different somehow.

"I don't work with creeps," said Shego, and with a swipe, he was tossed into the wall.

Shego walked behind her new boss, Big Daddy Brotherson. He liked games, smelled of bratwurst, and it was an easy month-long contract. All she had to do was nab a few things for him and keep his new henchmen in line while he found someone more permanent. She was glad this was a quick job; she had gotten too comfortable with Drakken. That had been the mistake—trusting someone. She'd started to let her guard down, and look at what happened.

They were walking through Brotherson's 'Collection Room' where he kept all his high priced thefts and swindles. He was talking to one of his henchmen when she noticed a glowing green crystal.

"Is this a carbon-sealed ultraviolet gemstone?" asked Shego. She looked at it in shock. "Are you working on a light-bending laser?"

"What? That? I don't know. I acquired it because it gives nice light in here," said Brotherson. "Come Shego, I have a list of things for you to gather."

"Do you know what you could do with that?" asked Shego, her mind falling back to one of Drakken's personal scrapped designs. "Those are so rare, you could sell it and make a killing."

"I have no need for that, but thank you for your comment," said Brotherson with an agitated look.

"I know someone who would..." She trailed off and glared. She was not thinking about him today.

"You talk a lot more than I thought you did," said Brotherson. Shego fought the urge to snap at him and resumed her silence. "As I was saying, my team has made a list of needed things for trade and Henchco has been looking for new inventions."

"You make the inventions for Henchco?" Shego was impressed.

"Oh, no my dear Shego," scoffed Brotherson, "I hire people to do that."

"So, you don't sell or trade, or invent. What is it you do?" asked Shego a raised brow. He looked annoyed.

"I employ. Like I employ you to get the things I need and not ask questions. I thought ninjas were silent," said Brotherson. Shego slammed her mouth shut and bitterly followed her new temporary boss.

Three weeks in and Shego was counting down the days until she could be done with the contract. The pay was good, the suite she stayed in was probably one of the nicest she'd ever stayed in, the missions were quick and painless, and best of all—she had her free time back. She was no longer babysitting someone to make sure plans were completed, no longer listening to whining... She got paid a lump sum versus week to week, she didn't clean anything, she didn't... She didn't...do anything. She slumped in her seat and looked out over the beach from her balcony. She could go down to the casino, that might be fun...

If she was back at Drakken's lair she would be stuck sitting in her chair and monitoring some hair-brained scheme she herself knew was going to fail, trying to convince Drakken to give up and listen to her suggestion... Or better yet, listen to a great plan and stop listening to the flaws because it was interesting...or eating horrible Chinese food... She shook her head and grabbed her purse. Casino it was.

She tossed her purse down on her bed and headed to the kitchen angrily whilst hanging up on the delivery man she had called for food. She looked over her contract again in the light, blatantly stating that while under employment she was not allowed to be seen on any property of Brotherson's. She felt like she was under some sort of house arrest.

It wasn't like it wasn't standard.

She grumbled; it was the usual. Most mercenary jobs had to be discreet, because no villain wanted any ties to who might work for them.

Drakken didn't care.

She shook her head.

He also put me under mind-control. Creep alert.

She opened her freezer and was glad she at least had ice cream.

"You got too comfortable," said Shego to herself as she pulled out the ice cream. "This is why, month contract tops."

Shego began pacing her room. She could go somewhere else and take one of the many cars provided to her. She could go shopping... Maybe a new outfit for dancing. She rolled her eyes. She wasn't in the mood for dancing right now, nor was she in the mood for shopping. She was bored. Her mind played the past few weeks over. Brotherson liked games. He liked meat. He liked people to stay silent unless instructed to speak. She had no problem with that, she could talk to other people. It wasn't like they were teammates. She was a hired hand, her opinion didn't matter.

He could at least listen, some of those things Drakken would pay big money for.

She thought of the glowing green stone. He would have probably asked her to swipe it if he knew it was there. What was the light-bending laser for? A doomsday thing...? She should ask him... No! She was mad at the idiot.

"He put you under mind control," she stated aloud as she took a bite of her wine float. She glared at it. "He made you look for a dodo bird."

She stabbed at the float angrily and sat at the bar of her hotel room. She needed to focus. She'd worked for creeps before, she just needed to shake it off.

He didn't try anything.

That was beside the point. She poured more wine in her float.

He only did what you suggested.

She was not a henchman, she was his assistant—big difference. She sat in silence and pondered what she should do. She had less than two weeks left and then she could find another contract, it wasn't hard to do. Though she'd have to list her contacts again as she had changed them to prevent Drakken from reaching her. She pondered if she should have at least heard him out, but she shook her head and heard a knock at her door; Chinese food had arrived.

"One order of spicy lo mein, two dumplings, and rice?" asked the delivery person, handing her the bag. She gave him the money and wordlessly closed the door. She wasn't in the mood.

She sat down and opened up her food in silence. She should have put on music or something, but she didn't. She let her mind wander to her next move, a little annoyed by how slow her mind was working on it. There were plenty of options to choose from, but it was a matter of getting her name back out there. Sure she hadn't worked for Drakken too long and it would be easy, but the fact was she couldn't choose where to go next. Only a few months ago it would click without question.

"This is exactly why I have to keep moving," sighed Shego to herself. She dumped out the dumplings and stared at them. The look turned into a glare. "I ordered two?"

She tossed out her float and the dumplings. She wasn't hungry anymore. It wasn't late, she could still go to a club and go dancing... The last time she'd gone was when she and Drakken had been looking for a metal... It was Friday night, which meant Ladies Night.

Drakken's probably at karaoke.

Shego felt a hint of rage at herself. What did she care where he was? The green stone came back to her mind and she smirked. She would love to waltz into the lair and quote him an obscene amount for it, and then not give it to him. She looked at the trashcan and smirked to herself.

"What is with you and that stone," snapped Brotherson as Shego inquired about selling it. He sighed and looked at his watch. "I have a meeting with someone of interest shortly. I need you to act as my voice."

"Excuse me?" asked Shego, looking confused.

"You don't seem to have trouble talking, just say only what I tell you," said Brotherson. Shego sighed but stood still as a grubby looking man came in.

Shego stood as stoically as she could as the man prattled on about needing a loan or something. She didn't care. Her mind was on that stupid stone and finding a way to stick it to Drakken. This man talked forever anyway. She zoned in on the man talking. He wanted to make a robot assistant or something.

Sex bot.

Shego smirked a little to herself. This man didn't seem like he needed an assistant, he was vague about his job? Did he work for Brotherson? He needed it for household things?

Oh yeah, sex bot for sure.

The fact the man was here asking Brotherson for finances for it resulted in it taking all her strength not to make a snide comment. Brotherson waved his hand and she leaned towards him.

"Ask him how he plans to repay me," said Brotherson. Shego wanted to say he wasn't, but sighed.

"How do you plan on paying him back?" asked Shego. She bit her lip as the guy eyed her up and down, and nervously looked at Brotherson.

"I will after I make my assistant. I know others will be in need of one, and it won't take long to get others to pay twice as much for custom ones," said the man. He glanced over at Shego and back to Brotherson, who made another gesture.

"Ask him what function it will serve," said Brotherson. Shego rolled her eyes so hard it actually hurt.

"Okay," Shego looked at the man. He looked uncomfortable and she smirked. "He wants to know what functions apart from being a sex toy will it serve?"

"I... I..." The man looked bright red and looked at his feet. Brotherson glared, but Shego smirked all the more.

Drakken doodled away on his papers. He had no idea what he was drawing at the moment. He had loads of sketches of an idea for a new cloning device, or modifying it to create a series of synthetic humanoids or robots... He wasn't sure. He could maybe make a decent assistant if he programmed them right this time... Who was he kidding. He spun in his chair. He had tried calling Shego, but she'd blocked his number or was screening his calls maybe. Perhaps she had actually gotten a new phone. He didn't know. Despite all her snarky comments, digs, sass, eye-rolls, and plasma threats...she did keep him focused.

I don't need a babysitter!

He internally yelled at himself, but as he looked around his lab still in disarray...maybe he did. He sighed and rested his head on his desk. He missed her. He lightly hit his head against the table trying to figure out what to do next.

"This might be why you have trouble focusing... Brain damage." Drakken nearly fell out of his seat as he looked at Shego's normal chair. There she sat, idly flipping through a magazine. "But by all means, don't let me interrupt your process. Don't tell me you're stuck on the color again?"

"Shego?" asked Drakken. He was confused as she drank her soda and turned another page. "When? What? I thought..."

"I got bored," she said, shrugging as she flipped a page.

"But..." Drakken looked around as if waiting for her to blast him. He cleared his throat. "So...you're back?"

"I want a new contract," said Shego, closing her magazine and crossing her arms.

"Okay," said Drakken. He wasn't about to miss an opportunity. "Office?"

"Office," said Shego as she got up and waited for him. "I'm still angry by the way."

"Naturally," said Drakken as they walked, but he felt a smile tugging at his lips.

XXXXXXX

Chapter 13 Ink and Paper

"I am not a henchman, get that straight. I was your assistant!" snapped Shego. "If you wanted henchmen, then I can get you a deal on some more, but I was not a henchman. Since your little mind control stint, I want a title increase."

"Side-kick," said Drakken. Shego glared as he continued. "It's a step up and you can have more say in the schemes."

"Partner..." said Shego with a smirk.

"You know, other villains wouldn't be so accommodating," said Drakken as he tapped his pen, his eyes locked with Shego's.

"If another villain had put me under mind control, he wouldn't have gotten a chance to rewrite a contract," replied Shego, arms crossed and smirking. The look faltered as she saw something ghost over Drakken's face.

"You enjoy working with me, don't you?" She could see the smug grin forming. "Why else would you be willing to rewrite the contract then. You said it yourself, others wouldn't get this chance."

"No, it's the fact that despite your huge misstep, you're not a creep...and you're not lazy like other villains... Though I could debate that sometimes," said Shego. She rolled her eyes at his smirk. "Fine, side-kick. But I want it in the contract I can take side missions at my leisure when you're in your head too long."

"Fine," said Drakken, writing it down.

"I can veto a plan that I know is crap," said Shego. Drakken put down his pen and glared. "Three a month," she continued.

"A year," said Drakken. Shego raised a brow, and he scowled. "One a month."

"Fine. Finances?" asked Shego. Drakken was tapping out something on the desk as she watched him mentally count. She took a breath. "As side-kick—"

"Thirty percent," said Drakken. Shego opened her mouth and Drakken slid over a piece of paper with a number on it. "It is only to be used for joint evil schemes, Shego."

"Hmm," she looked at the number and then to him, "If this is thirty percent I think I should get a raise."

"Are you serious?" asked Drakken. Shego crossed her arms, and he frowned. "Fine. Ten percent increase and that's it."

"Taking over the world ratio?" asked Shego. Drakken sighed. "Forty-sixty?"

"Uh, no," said Drakken with wide eyes. "Twenty-eighty."

"After all the work I will put in, I'd only get twenty percent of the spoil? No. Try again," said Shego. He growled and nearly broke his pen. "I have all night."

"Thirty-seventy."

"Thirty-five-sixty-five. I get Iceland and New Zealand," said Shego. Drakken huffed.

"Iceland."

"Both."

"Forty-sixty and Greenland," said Drakken.

"Forty-five-fifty-five, Iceland," said Shego.

"Forty-sixty... Iceland... Second-in-command. Final offer," said Drakken.

"Deal," smirked Shego as Drakken wrote it down. That worked even better then she thought it would.

"Glad we worked that out," sighed Drakken as he finished writing the contract and slid it over to her. "Well?"

"Side-Kick, raise, equity, world take over clause, no cloning, no mind control...secondary consent on all projects and plans?" asked Shego. She looked at him and he made a sour face at the desk. She smiled a bit. "One veto a month. Iceland. Six months...pen?"

"Here," said Drakken. He looked as Shego wrote something down in the amendment section. "Now what?"

"Changed it, that's all. There you go, all signed," said Shego. He glared at her. "Just read it. It's in your favor."

"I seriously doubt that," said Drakken as he looked at the amendment. He stiffened. "Open-ended?"

"I told you before, I choose who I work for. Besides, it would be my luck that the six months end and then you take over the world. You're stuck with me unless one of us breaks the contract. Sign it," said Shego and handed him the pen. He raised his brow as he signed it, then grinned.

"You like working with me," he muttered in a sing-song voice.

"The mock window's opening early today, good to know," said Shego as she shook her head.

XXXXXXX

Chapter 14 Food

Drakken loved cooking. Apart from evil and taking over the world, it was his favorite pastime. Baking especially, but he never found the time. That was a lie. It was just depressing cooking for himself. Making a single steak and potatoes, or pasta for one with fresh pasta, even making a single cupcake... It wasn't very good for the ego. Sometimes though, it was what he needed. He seared the steak and made sure the oven was on and ready. He saw Shego out of the corner of his eye and looked at his side-kick. Normally she kept to her apartment at this hour or was out and about. She opened the freezer and glanced towards Drakken. He looked back down at his steak.

"What are you making?" asked Shego, looking at him curiously. He smirked to himself.

"Steak with rosemary butter, seasoned sweet potato medley, fresh peas, and if the oven doesn't fail me...pineapple upside-down cupcakes," said Drakken casually. He glanced at Shego as her hand retracted from the freezer handle and her brow rose.

"Really?" asked Shego. She thought a moment, but before she could ask—

"Care to join me?" asked Drakken. He saw her brow quirk and her expression flicker. "For dinner, in a completely professional and contract abiding way." She snorted.

"Wow, one would think we attended a sexual harassment seminar," said Shego as she sat down. "Anyway, it beats frozen dinners and taking a jet ski to get questionable Chinese food again."

"How do you like your steak?" asked Drakken, simply glad to have someone else to cook for.

Shego casually strolled into the kitchen as she smelt food again. This time, something sweet caught her senses. Drakken had been particularly stressing about whatever it was he wanted her to steal, but she said it would have to wait till after the holiday; that she had plans. She had plans; it was New Year's after all. But she could sneak a quick snack before heading to the Villain's Inn for drinks and dancing. It was early anyway, and even taking one of her newly-made travel hoverboards, courtesy of her boss...or a small joyride in the hover car, she'd still get there in no time. She watched as Drakken put frosting on a cupcake, blue of course. She rolled her eyes. They smelt as good as they looked.

"What you got there?" asked Shego. Drakken must have known she was there because he didn't jump or startle and finished frosting the cupcake.

"Dog food," said Drakken. Shego furrowed her brows. "Obviously it's cupcakes, Shego."

"Geesh, I was just asking," said Shego. She walked closer. "Any special occasion?"

"Well, we have more henchmen now, and I think it will give them a boost of morale if once in a while..." he indicated to the few dozens of cupcakes he made. "Just trying something new. It's very competitive out there and I want to make sure they can't be swayed."

"With cupcakes?" asked Shego, rolling her eyes.

"Do you want a cupcake, Shego?" asked Drakken, holding one up to her.

"Yes," said Shego as she grabbed it. "This doesn't mean that if I was a henchman, I wouldn't want more money instead."

"More money doesn't give you delicious cupcakes and snacks for work," said Drakken. Shego rolled her eyes."I am aware they could buy them, but it's not the same."

"There's going to be game nights and stuff, isn't there?" asked Shego as she ate her cupcake.

"I have so many plans," said Drakken. He looked giddy. "But this is for the night crew... Ah there you are."

Shego snatched another cupcake as the night henchmen came in. Really they were glorified maids, cleaning the place, which was nice, and making sure everything was in its place. She'd actually been surprised that Drakken had hired them, simply because she said the floors were way too dirty. He'd made a crack about her cleaning them then, and she'd made a crack in one of his chairs with a plasma blast. She was liking this new dynamic they had going.

As she watched him talk to the new night henchmen about future plans for parties, bowling, and more, she felt herself shift uncomfortably. Apart from karaoke...this was it. This was his social life. Full extent. It bothered her, though she didn't know why. It dawned on her that maybe he'd just never had the push to be social outside of his comfort zone. She wondered when the last time was that he'd even had a little night time fun with someone. She smirked.

"Drakken, are you almost done?" asked Shego as he finished instructing the new henchmen.

"Well, yes," said Drakken. He looked confused. "Why?"

"Get changed, we have plans," said Shego confidently. Drakken looked almost terrified.

"I don't think we do," said Drakken, "unless you're forgoing your plans and we can work on..."

"No, you are coming with me," said Shego, taking a bite of her cupcake.

"I am not," said Drakken. He looked concerned for his safety. "There is too much to do and..."

"I'll be in the hover car," said Shego. He opened his mouth to argue and she shut it down. "Grab a cupcake for the ride."

"Shego I don't want..."

"Grab me a cupcake," yelled Shego. And she was out the door.

XXXXXXX

Chapter 15 New Years

"Really Shego, for someone who says I procrastinate..." snapped Drakken as they walked into the Villain's Inn—a hot spot for social villains.

"Chill out, Dr. D, it's New Year's," said Shego, indicating towards the festive bar scene. "I didn't force you to come. If you had really wanted to be left with your new...whatever it is, you would have stayed."

"Yes, well it didn't feel that way when you made a scene in front of the new henchmen," said Drakken, rolling his eyes.

"That wasn't a scene," said Shego. Her hands flared. "When these are involved, it's a scene."

"Normally a crime scene," he retorted, and she smirked.

"Majority," she agreed, and they made their way to the bar area. "Please. No Peppermint Patties or Shirley Temples."

"I'm the one driving us back to the lair," said Drakken as he sat down.

"I'm thinking if we play our cards right, we might not need to go back to the lair," Shego grinned deviously.

"I'm not getting a hotel room," said Drakken. "It's New Year's, the prices will be ridiculous."

"No... I meant," Shego indicated to the sea of people around them, "New Year's is a great time to find other singles. Because everyone wants someone to kiss at midnight. I'll be your wing woman."

"No thank you Shego. I'd rather not form a relationship in the bar scene," said Drakken with an eye-roll. Shego could tell he was uncomfortable with the idea.

"Not a relationship Dr. Old School. New Year's, along with Valentine's Day and St. Patrick's Day is the hook-up season. It's easy. You point to a woman you like and we'll see where the cards fall," said Shego. Looking around, she saw a blonde with a few single girlfriends who had glanced over towards them. "What about her?"

"I'll have a Mint Soda," said Drakken. Shego groaned. "I'm not interested, Shego. If you continue to harass me, I will embarrass you."

"You're going to embarrass me?" asked Shego. She rolled her eyes. "What else would be new?"

"Go trolling, I will be here when you're ready to leave," said Drakken. She watched as he pulled a notepad out of his pocket.

"Really? Come on. It's one night of fun, just pick someone and I'll help," said Shego. Drakken ignored her and began scribbling in the notebook. Shego sighed. "Never-mind."

Shego spent most of the next few hours dancing with various guys and a few women. She'd gotten a majority of her drinks free, and it was getting closer to midnight when she finally drifted over to the bar where Drakken sat. True to his statement, he hadn't moved, but instead he'd made his way through his notebook and many glasses of various non-alcoholic drinks. Shego sat at the stool next to him and spun to slide his notebook away.

"Do you mind," snapped Drakken. He slid it back towards him.

"You're so pathetic you know. I'm offering to help you get a girl and you're not even interested." She saw him tense up. "Wait. Maybe I got it wrong. Are we at the wrong type of bar?"

"What?" he looked confused and then he glared. "No we're not at the wrong type of bar. I'm just not interested in this one-night stand mentality of today's generation and I'm perfectly content by myself. If I wanted a woman, I could get one."

"You mean build one?" asked Shego. The Bebes came back to her mind.

"Oh, because that worked out well last time," said Drakken with sarcasm. He rolled his eyes. "I don't need any help... Why? Do you?"

"Excuse me?" sputtered Shego as she grabbed her drink. She felt warmth on her face.

"Well, I see you here on your own, so," Drakken indicated to the sea of people. "Being picky or no bites?"

"I'll have you know, I can get any guy in here," snapped Shego. Though she knew that wasn't true, she felt attacked.

"Yeah, well, so could I," said Drakken. He paused. "I meant women... Actually, you know what? I take that back. I could get both."

"Pfft, okay. You know what-." Shego began to rant, her temper rising.

"Hey, wanna dance?" asked a man behind Shego. She looked at him and then back to Drakken, who was already writing in his notebook.

"Sure," said Shego. She felt the anger drip from her lips with her last statement. "Have fun with yourself."

"I will," snapped Drakken. She watched him suddenly realize his statement before glaring.

Shego looked at the handsome guy she had been dancing with. Noodles for brains, but you can't have both sometimes. The countdown would begin shortly and she at least had someone to kiss, unlike some people. She looked over to where Drakken sat doodling as the bartender slid him another drink. He was currently talking to the bartender and the waitress about whatever he was working on. Just her luck, even without alcohol he couldn't shut his mouth. Did he ever? She shook her head. It would probably be a stupid plan anyway. Though, this was a villain hangout and would be a great place to steal some ideas or get information. She looked at the guy she danced with.

"Who do you work for?" she asked. His build indicated he had to be a henchman at least.

"Right now I'm in-between hench jobs. Though I start a new one next week. Otherwise I am an underwear model," he smirked. Shego grinned.

"Really, anywhere I might have seen you?" asked Shego with a smirk.

"Nothing too big," he replied, then smirked. "I mean ads, the rest is."

"Oh," said Shego. She snorted, "So who do you start working for?"

"A, Dr. Drakken, seems like a good gig," said the guy. Shego stopped dancing and the guy looked confused. "What?"

"You start henchwork with Dr. Drakken?" asked Shego. This was not going well anymore. She could not make-out with a guy she would see again. "You know, I'm going to go."

"What? Why?" asked the guy. He looked confused for a second before shrugging and dancing with another girl.

Shego headed back through the dance floor. The last thing she needed was to be a gossip topic with the henchmen. Because Drakken would hear about it too, and that would just be...she didn't know. Weird. She heard the countdown start and rolled her eyes. Figured, she could have just stayed in or gone out on her own. She glared. This was Drakken's fault. She was going to blame him for her not having a New Year's kiss.

She froze and thought about the repercussions. She could kiss Drakken, it was just New Year's. She weighed the odds as she got to the bar area. The rational side of her head said it was not a good idea but the other side that still had liquor in it begged to differ. She looked up at the bar and froze as the countdown ended. She froze because Drakken was kissing the waitress he'd been talking to, briefly and just for a second, but still. The bartender and Drakken laughed as the waitress did a fake swoon.

"Gina, I called dibs," said the bartender—Kacey wasn't it?—as the waitress and Drakken laughed.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know," said Drakken, moving and indicating to the waitress, only for the bartender to kiss him.

"Holy shit," said Shego standing in shock as confetti flew around the room. "He can get both."

XXXXXXX

Chapter 16 Sticky

Shego filed her nails lazily as she watched Drakken spin in circles in his new chair. She glared. She knew that thing would be a distraction. She watched him slump dramatically over the desk and groan, clearly wanting attention from her. She rolled her eyes. She'd allotted him time to get over his Destructo Bots' destruction and no longer having Freeman around. She rolled her eyes. Honestly she'd been waiting for them to skip off into the sunset with the scientist. Her watch flashed, and she put her file down. His mourning allotment was up.

"Are you done pining over your boyfriend now?" asked Shego with crossed arms as she walked over to Drakken slumped over his desk.

"Excuse me?" asked Drakken. The pathetic look on his face faded to confusion.

"Freeman?" said Shego with an eye-roll.

"He was... Excuse me for longing for more intellectual conversations," snapped Drakken as he pouted.

"I know I do," responded Shego. He scowled at her.

"Oh, haha, very clever Shego," said Drakken as he crossed his arms and looked around the lair. "Shego, have you seen my Erector?"

"Excuse me?" asked Shego, nearly falling as she went to sit back down. "Your what?"

"My Erector, I told you I was making a shrink ray and an erector ray. I had half of it finished," said Drakken.

"Rename it," said Shego. Drakken looked confused. "I'm serious, rename it now. I am not having you run all over the place calling something the Erector, especially in my presence."

"...I suppose you're correct," said Drakken with a sigh as he got up and started looking around. "It's small, silver... I used your lipstick case."

"You used my what?" asked Shego. She glared. "Which one."

"The nearly empty one," said Drakken, still looking. "It was silver, gold, and black...the black lipstick."

"My Chanel Vintage?" asked Shego, her eyes wide. "Do you know how much that is?"

"It was almost gone," said Drakken, waving his hand dismissively as he looked under the desk.

"Almost... It was almost gone," said Shego. She was furious. "I can only get that in Paris. They only make a handful."

"I got you a new one, calm down," said Drakken with an eye-roll. He opened his drawer and tossed her a lipstick.

"Are you serious?" asked Shego with a glare. "This cheap thing you got from the drug store no doubt."

"It was in a checkout line," said Drakken. He sighed. "What's the difference."

"The difference? I have a date this Friday, and this stuff is like tar," groaned Shego. "Like actual tar."

"Wear a different color," shrugged Drakken. "Help me find my Ere— ...Enlarger."

"It's so sticky and... Enlarger? Try again, genius," said Shego as she put the lipstick on. "My lips are actually sticking together. My Chanel was like butter...and... Oh god is this flavored. Black licorice?"

"It was that or cola," said Drakken. He tapped his chin. "Enhancer?"

"You spent a thousand on a crappy office chair that is just a distraction, but you spent what...three dollars on this crap?" asked Shego. She was fuming. "Enhancer? Are you making a shrink and growth ray or an erectile dysfunction device?"

"I think you're overreacting to a lipstick Shego, and you're taking it out on my missing invention," said Drakken as he sighed and crawled on the floor looking for it. "Why did I make it so small?"

"Irony I suppose... Why did you use my lipstick... Look at this crap," said Shego, practically shoving the lipstick into Drakken's face and pointing to her own lip. "You're a genius, right? Make a better product."

"Do I look like I make...actually that's not a bad way to get more funds... But first...Giganta-Ray?" said Drakken as he swatted Shego's hand away.

"Now you're just being silly," said Shego. She crossed her arms and glared as Drakken searched. "We're going to Paris and getting my lipstick...before Friday."

"I'm silly? You want us to fly all the way to Paris for a lipstick," said Drakken, standing up and sighing, "because it's...sticky?"

"Yes, what if I want to kiss my date? It's sticky..." Shego froze as Drakken kissed her for a split second and stood back away and held a grimace.

"Okay, so it's sticky... I still don't think that warrants a Paris trip," said Drakken with another sigh as he went back to looking for his device. "If you can't find a better one at the store tomorrow, then you can take the hover car. Hmm, the last time I saw it was when Possible busted through our wall... Where was it..."

"What the fuck..." muttered Shego under her breath as Drakken wandered out of the room, black still on his lips.

XXXXX

Chapter 17 Sheets Happen

"I can't believe you punched me," said Drakken, looking in the mirror at his even darker eye. "I said we can go to Paris."

"I'm not going in there," said Shego. She was bitter, and her arms were crossed as she sat in a van with Drakken.

"What? But...and you're here...and...seriously?" asked Drakken, looking at her with wide eyes.

"I only came to watch you fail," said Shego. Drakken stared at her, and she sighed. "I'll guide you with the thermal cameras, but that's it."

"But...what if I get caught?" said Drakken. Shego shrugged, and his brow furrowed. "Shego, what am I supposed to do, sneak around in a sheet and pretend to be a ghost to try and find it?"

"You do what you think is best," said Shego, patting his arm before shoving him out the van door. "Have fun!"

"I pay you too much," muttered Drakken under his breath.

"Run that by me again?" came Shego's voice in his earpiece.

"I said...you have such a soft touch," said Drakken. He rolled his eyes at himself and hurried to the front door of their target.

"Yeah...okay that was worse," said Shego. He knew she had rolled her eyes. "There's no one home, so just hurry it up. I'm sure there's an alarm code, so don't... You opened the door, didn't you."

"Well...yes," said Drakken. He looked around. "I don't think there is one."

"It's Possible..." said Shego with a sigh. "Look on the wall."

"There's a pad... They didn't set it," said Drakken. He smirked. "Simple, trusting Possible. Idiot."

"Bit rude," said Shego. "I mean, it's not her job..."

"I was referring to the other Possible," scoffed Drakken. He rolled his eyes and made his way to the stairs. "You're certain she's not on a mission."

"Negative, Dr. D, " said Shego. He could hear filing. "She's babysitting someone's brat. Seems like the only way to distract her, really."

"Noted," said Drakken. As he made his way up the stairs, he froze. "Shego, I don't feel right looking around a teenage girl's room."

"You want the device or not?" asked Shego. "Oh no.."

"Oh no? What's 'oh no'?" asked Drakken. He heard a car as Shego continued. "That's oh no."

"Pumpkin is in the patch, I repeat, Pumpkin..." Shego said loudly.

"Thanks Shego, I got it." Drakken looked around frantically, and as he decided the hall closet was his best option for hiding, he heard Kim come in.

"Yeah, Ron, so they came home early." Kim was on the phone. She paused. "Dad forgot to set the alarm again. How many notes does Mom have to leave him... I'm probably just going to do some homework and call it a night... You can always come over Ron."

"What's going on with Kimmy and the sidekick?" came Shego's voice. Drakken glared. "I mean good for him, but way to settle, right Dr. D.?"

"Shh," he said under his breath.

"Yeah, I... Sorry, I thought I heard something," came Kim's voice as she walked up the stairs. "You know I should probably sort out my bags. I think I have some old broken mission stuff in the one... I said you can come over... Yes... Bring your bag too... No Ron, I won't do it for you... You can't have Rufus help you with algebra, did last month mean anything?"

"Mole-rat still got brains then," said Shego. Drakken bit his lip.

"Okay, see you then." Kim was off the phone. Drakken could hear her finish going up the stairs. He began trying to figure out his next step as he stood in the linen closet.

"Dr. D?" said Shego. Drakken tossed his hands up in the air. He couldn't respond, why was she... "Don't make that gesture at me. I can see you, remember... Well, thermal-wise. She's in her room, you could sneak out if you're silent enough...never-mind, side-kick alert."

Drakken wanted to hit his head against the wall, but that wouldn't work out in his favor. He heard the downstairs door open again and the sound of Ron yelling up to Kim that he was there, and then the sound of Kim heading downstairs. Drakken felt relieved as she heard their muffled voices. He opened the closet cautiously and bit his lip as he could see them just beyond the stairs.

"Fine, one movie and then we're sorting the bags," said Kim with a laugh. Ron held up a movie with a wide grin. "You make the popcorn, I'll grab two throws."

"Booyah!" yelled Ron as he vanished towards the kitchen.

Drakken panicked and looked around. Of course he was in the very closet she needed. In a moment of genius and panic, he grabbed one of the sheets and yanked it over himself, laying on the floor and hoping to look like some of the other discarded laundry on the ground. He heard the door open, and a small stream of light dimly entered. He nearly yelled as Kim stepped on his hand. He clamped his eyes and mouth shut as she grabbed blankets and then with a click the door closed. He shook his hand and sat up. It was definitely a bruising kind of day. He went to stand up but he heard the door again and dropped.

"KP, I'm grabbing another one, Rufus spilled soda on the one on the couch." Drakken felt a slightly damp blanket fall on him and a light click on. Ron was muttering to himself. "I hope it was soda."

The door closed again and Drakken sat up and threw the throw blanket across from him and grabbed at the laundry and wiped his face with it. The idea of— He froze and stared at what he'd wiped his face with. Men's boxers. He gagged, physically gagged and threw them, grabbing the clean sheets from above to both muffle himself and try to wipe away the horror of the last few seconds. He needed a bath of sanitizer when he got back to the lair.

"Are you okay in there?" came Shego's voice. He glared, and made a gesture for the thermal camera. "Rude."

Drakken took the clean white sheet he'd had and clicked off the light, sneaking out of the closet and dashing up the stairs as quietly as he could. He heard something drop downstairs, but he sprinted into the room and didn't look back. He needed to find Kim's bag and see if it was in there. It was hardly the first time the teen hero had accidentally taken something by mistake. He heard a commotion and feet on the stairs. He dove under the bed as he heard Ron look around.

"Ron? What are you doing?" came Kim's voice.

"KP, I thought I saw... I... Nothing," said Ron, and Drakken heard him retreat, hesitantly by the sound.

"Nice, pfft," came Shego's voice in his ear. He glared. "So how's under the bed?"

"Not as bad as the laundry," he whispered and slid out from under the bed.

"So how's looking for your Erector... I mean Enhancer... Wait, was it Enlarger?" asked Shego. She sounded jovial.

"Stop being so smug, I need to find that bag," whispered Drakken as he began looking around, opting for the closet.

"The bag? Her bag of mission stuff? That bag? The bag that she keeps everything in?" asked Shego. He heard her filing again. "Kim Possible's bag?"

"Yes," said Drakken. Was Shego trying to quote something?

"The one she's sorting with Stoppable after the movie?" asked Shego with a sigh. "That one's downstairs."

"Feeling smug, are we?" asked Drakken as he glared.

"Oh yeah," said Shego.

Drakken snuck out of the room, sheet firmly placed around him as he did so. It was easy to drop to the ground and be a lump of blankets, then stroll casually around the Possible house. He slowly crept down the back stairs, only to hit his knee on a door-frame with a loud smack and then fall head-first to the ground.

"FRICK," snapped Drakken, clutching his knee.

"What was... Who's there?" came Kim's voice with a panicked yelp from Ron.

"No one!" yelled Drakken, and he slid into a nearby room with his sheet.

"You're an idiot," came Shego's voice in his ear.

Drakken heard Kim and Ron as they begin frantically searching around the house. He took the opportunity to slide behind the pillows of the master bed and blend in with the white sheets. When the door burst open, he remained silent and didn't move. He could hear them opening the closet, looking under the bed, and behind curtains. He was grateful he hadn't hid in those places. Then it was silent.

"Kim, I think your house is haunted," said Ron. Kim groaned. "I saw a white figure dash upstairs and now this."

"My house is not haunted, least of all by one that swears and snarks back to questions," said Kim. "The voice sounded familiar."

"Drakken. It sounded like Drakken. He has a distinct voice," said Ron confidently. "Kind of like Bender from Futurama, just saying. Ghosts mimic people you know, Kim...or is that demons... Kim! What if..."

"Enough Ron," said Kim. "Let's check the attic."

"That's how all paranormal horror movies end, they always check the basement or the attic," said Ron in distress.

"Good idea, you check the basement, I'll check the attic," said Kim. She left the room.

"Why don't I just stop talking," groaned Ron, and he left.

Drakken waited and then slid out from behind the pillows and onto the floor as stealthily as he could. He fiddled with the sheets and made holes to wear it, making sure to hold it up as he walked. As he heard the basement door and the steps in the attic, he slinked down the stairs and into the living room. He was just going to run, just leave...but the bags were right there. He looked around him and then began rifling through Kim's bag. It held gadgets galore, but he just needed...

"Yes!" yelled Drakken as he held up the lipstick.

"Kim!" Ron yelled, or rather screamed as Drakken glanced up to see him in the doorway.

Drakken ran. He sprinted, lipstick in hand as he scurried through the door, not caring that the sheet was lost in the closing door behind him as he ran to the waiting van and dove in. Shego was already driving as he did so. He managed to close the door in mid-turn and they were gone.

"Ron, what is it?" asked Kim. She came running down the stairs as Ron stood in the open doorway looking at a sheet. "What's that."

"A ghost stole your lipstick and then...vanished," said Ron, his eyes wide and shocked.

"Ron... I don't..." Kim looked at the sheet again, and the fact that not a car was anywhere to be heard or seen. "No more horror movies."

"Agreed," said Ron. He gulped.

"I got it, Shego! Now with a few more adjustments... Oh no," said Drakken as they got back to the lair and he looked at the lipstick case.

"It's lipstick, isn't it?" asked Shego with a smirk. She looked him up and down. "How's your knee and hand?"

"Yes, it's lipstick and...Shego?" asked Drakken as Shego held up a lipstick tube casually. "Is that my device?"

"I found it under the seat," said Shego with a devious smirk. "But thanks for the lipstick."

"Shego!" yelled Drakken angrily. "So all that was for, what?"

"For taking my stuff without asking," said Shego. Her smirk grew. "We're still going to Paris."

"Uhg..." he glared and sighed. "Fine."

XXXXX

Chapter 18 Payback

"This is a complete waste of my evil genius talent!" snapped Drakken as he mixed chemicals. "Do you know what I could be doing right now? Working on my Shrink Ray 2.0!"

"2.0? It hasn't even been finished yet, you can't redo what hasn't been done," scoffed Shego as she sat on his desk while he worked. "You're the one who made a big deal about not going to Paris because you were tired."

"You could have gone without me," snapped Drakken as tinkered with the Bunsen burner.

"Just finish making my new lipstick," said Shego. It was silent, and then, "Why did you take a shower in sanitizer?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it!" snapped Drakken. He glared. "You're lucky I'm making this for you after the stunt you pulled."

"Don't touch my stuff," said Shego casually. He stared at her. "What?"

"It was a nearly empty lipstick; I hardly think that warrants the mental scarring I endured. Let alone all the bruises." He indicated to his eye, hand, and knee. "I don't make a big deal about you taking my stuff."

"I don't..." she trailed off and seemed to be mentally counting down. Drakken waited. "You may have a point."

"Thought so," said Drakken. "I want an apology."

"...Okay." Shego rolled her eyes and looked at the clock. "Listen, hurry this up would you, I have to leave in an hour."

"Shego, you overreacted and I want an apology," said Drakken, his arms crossed, "or I'm not finishing."

"Excuse me?" snapped Shego. Her eyes narrowed. Drakken sighed and sat back down.

"Fine, don't apologize," muttered Drakken. As Shego headed out of the room an idea struck him, and an evil smirk crossed his face.

Drakken relaxed in his chair, a large bowl of popcorn in his lap as he watched a movie. He had decided to ditch karaoke that night, as he was tired from the previous night and making makeup. Though if it worked out, they could turn a nice small profit for their evil plans to take over the world. Mind control eye-shadow? Drakken smirked to himself, then shrugged... Shampoo? He filed it into the later plans in his head.

He heard the lair door slam loudly, and the sound of the henchmen in the downstairs kitchen scatter. Drakken felt a rush of sheer euphoria hit him, before the sudden panic that he was in his pajamas and armed with only popcorn. He should have thought this through. He shook off his nerves as the door flew open with a green blast. He had the sudden urge to dash behind his chair for cover, but his smugness made him turn his chair around to face her. Shego stood in a leggy black dress and neon green heels, one of which was broken. Her normally thick waves were a wiry disaster and she was covered in something shiny like water or oil. Her eye was twitching, her lips a smudged black mess, and when she spoke only the side of her lip moved.

"Drakken!" she yelled, as loud as she could. "What the hell?"

"Did you have a nice date?" asked Drakken, taking a bite of popcorn.

"Did I... Are you serious... What did you do?" asked Shego, pointing to her lips.

"I see the date must have gone well, what with your 'shocking' look." Drakken bit another piece of popcorn as henchmen gathered in the doorway.

"You think it's funny?!" she asked. The fact her lips barely moved was humorous to Drakken, but he shrugged. "I did have a nice time for once. Thanks for asking. Until this! He went to kiss me and we were electrocuted...stop laughing!"

"That's all?" asked Drakken. The henchmen sat with popcorn of their own in the doorway.

"This! This!" she held up the lipstick tube, covered in black tar. "Last I saw my date he was covered in this tar oil and running down main street."

"Poor tar-covered gorilla." Drakken shook his head and fought the laugh at the scene in his head. "It washes off, he'll be fine."

"I don't care if he's fine, what the hell is this?" asked Shego, pointing to her face. "It won't stop shocking me every time I move my lips."

"Is that why you're practicing ventriloquism? I thought they were tarred together," said Drakken. He felt a little concerned now. "Have you tried wiping it off?"

"Are you..." she indicated to the mess on her face. "What do you think!?"

"Maybe you're a messy kisser, I don't know," said Drakken. He dodged a purse swinging at him. "Hey! Aw, my popcorn."

"Your popcorn—ow!" She jolted as she moved her lips, small sparks surging. "Make this stop, now!"

"Have you tried a makeup wipe, the oil...why are you covered in oil?" asked Drakken with a raised brow. She held up an empty bottle of makeup oil, "Oh. You travel with that?"

"Drakken..." she growled. He sighed and smirked.

"You see Shego, now your actions earlier would have been warranted by this," said Drakken casually as he stood. "If I had taken your lipstick and done this, then that little ruse of yours would have been good payback."

"What twisted logic is this," said Shego. "Is this because I didn't apologize? This is...this is..."

"Insane, psychotic, mad?" smirked Drakken as he handed her another lipstick. "It should have worn off on its own, but this should deactivate the ingredients."

"Yes, all those things," her face was expressionless, and then she smirked. "Can you make more? In a different color?"

"Can I make...well yes," said Drakken with a raised brow as Shego looked at the clear lipstick he'd given her.

"I have an idea. Possible has a date next weekend and it would be a real shame if her lip gloss gets replaced," smirked Shego deviously, her eyes narrowing. She looked at the clear lipstick and pulled out what remained of her contaminated black one. "Do me a favor next time you decide to be devious."

"What's that?" asked Drakken as he sat back down in his seat and Shego put something on her lips.

"Don't try it on me," glared Shego. And with that, electricity surged through him as she kissed him angrily. "'Night, Dr. D."

"Ow," Drakken twitched in pain on the floor as Shego applied the clear lipstick to her lips and walked to her room. "'Night."

XXXXXX

Chapter 19 Confusion

"So we just...ignore the knowledge of aliens then?" asked Shego as she sat in Drakken's lab chair. "I mean, Area 51, your little flight you won't talk to me about that left me with a giant poodle sitting on me, and then the whole Hawaii thing..."

"Hmm?" asked Drakken. He was spacing out, sitting in Shego's usual chair. "Wait, you're shocked?"

"Well, a little, yeah," said Shego as she sat up. "You're not? By the way, what happened in the flying saucer?"

"I'm not talking about it," said Drakken as he began pacing the lab. "The holiday seasons are approaching soon, and by New Year's this year, the world will be mine."

"So...on a scale of Possible's boxers on the face, to probing...what happened?" asked Shego.

"I'm not... Right around being sat on by a giant dog," said Drakken, shaking his hand to indicate a middle ground. "I have an idea. I'm going to need a rocket, or to build one."

"So we've given up on earth and what, is this a new galactic quest?" asked Shego. "Again though, no comments on aliens. There was a giant shark-man thing... No comments? Really?"

"Shego, I don't ask questions. I mean, you're green," said Drakken with a shrug.

"You're blue," said Shego. "How is this... Do you think I'm an alien?"

"You don't like to talk about your past, so I just assumed," Drakken muttered to himself.

"I am not an alien. At all. This...this is... You're blue!" said Shego. She crossed her arms after gesturing to herself and then to them both.

"I wasn't always blue," said Drakken. "This was a latent side effect of my experiment."

"What exactly were you doing?" asked Shego. She had actually assumed Drakken was just blue.

"It's an interesting story actually. It was a Tuesday..." Shego waved her hands.

"I'm not in the mood. You thought I was an alien?" asked Shego. She sighed. "Okay... Rocket ship?"

"It's an interesting story," Drakken grumbled under his breath, but then he grinned. "Yes I am calling it operation Drak-Force One."

"You were watching Star Trek again, weren't you?" asked Shego. She stood up. "What does it do?"

"With the combined knowledge from those alien ships, we should be able to construct it no problem. We should have multiple escape pods, just in case with run into trouble... And we need a date that Possible will be too busy..." Drakken ranted through his pacing.

"Fine, whatever," said Shego. She looked at his sketches. "Really, just no comments on aliens? Because are there different ones, are there planets full of advanced life? Do they know about us?"

"Us as people or us as a species?" asked Drakken, breaking from his rant.

"If an alien shows up, knowing who we are personally...we should not trust them, because they have more knowledge on us than we have on them," said Shego. Her eyes widened. "We should figure out a way to access files on this."

"It's called the internet Shego, you should spend a little time on it," sighed Drakken. "But how do we power the source of my ship? Rocket fuel? Battery? Solar energy?"

"If aliens exist, what else exists," said Shego, looking around the room. "Do ghosts?"

"There's actually theories about that." Drakken rubbed his chin. "One of my favorites is a dimensional layering of time. Meaning they're not ghosts, they're still there, but we're here. So we'd be haunting them and vice versa."

"So, wait. We're here, but they're here... But time is in the way?" asked Shego. "So in that theory you could be haunted by a grandparent, but they don't know you're their grandchild because you don't exist yet? Okay, you know, I'm going to bed."

"Okay," said Drakken. He reclaimed his seat and began working on his new project. Shego came back into the room. "Yes?"

"Where did you hear this theory?" asked Shego. Drakken shrugged.

"College...boredom," responded Drakken.

"Okay, I learned normal stuff in college," said Shego. "Why?"

"I thought my dorm was haunted," Drakken glared. "Damn Possible."

"There's a whole sub-story there isn't there?" asked Shego. Drakken's glare intensified.

"You have no idea," said Drakken. It was silent. "Did you want me to tell you?"

"Listen, this last few weeks, and aliens... Ghosts... I'm going to get some sleep," said Shego. "Vacation can't come soon enough."

"It's a really interesting story," mumbled Drakken with a sigh as he began doodling. "But no one ever asks."

XXXXX

Chapter 20 Moments

Shego sighed in relief as she arrived at her resort hotel. She really needed this. Her neck cracked as she moved to the check-in counter. Her luggage was light as usual, as she fully intended to spend the next week care-free and in her swim wear and maybe a wrap or two. The front-end staff person was a friendly woman who when Shego gave her name and confirmation number, grinned wider.

"There was an upgrade placed for you. Our Solitude Special, is that right?" asked the woman. "Are you here with someone special?"

"No, just me, and upgrade? How much is it?" asked Shego. The room for the week was already pushing her budget.

"No additional," said the woman and Shego shrugged and took her room key.

It didn't take long to reach her room—a spacious secluded room with its own balcony over the water that included a gorgeous hot tub. Shego threw her bag to the ground and looked at the room, a little smug to have it for no extra charge. It held a massive California king bed, a fully packed mini bar and fridge, a lavish living room style lounge with a fireplace, and a bathroom she would love back at the lair. She fell on her bed, feeling the aches of her bones settle as she drifted off to instant sleep.

Shego sighed in relief as she leaned in her lawn chair. This was what she needed. It was hard to believe she had officially been working with Drakken for a little over a year now. It was her longest consistent gig since Team Go. She frowned at the thought, but not because she was worried about getting too comfortable anymore. That was unlikely by the amount of times they'd had to relocate, and the series of failures she'd gotten used to in regards to Drakken. She was starting to doubt his quest for world take-over ever succeeding... But he was persistent, she'd give him that. She looked at the time on her phone and looked up at the sky.

Drakken's new scheme would be commencing soon, but she wasn't too worried. If worse came to worse, he had an escape pod and food. Not that she would have worried if there weren't escape pods. She shook her head and stretched in the sun. She tried to clear her head and think of nothing, just letting the sun and sound of the waves take her away from her everyday life. It was blank for only a few moments when her mind began being plagued by other thoughts. What was she gaining in the partnership, apart from failure? What were her brothers doing? What were her future plans? Shego sat up. She was going to need a few drinks. These were not the thoughts she wanted. She wanted blank thoughts, anything but those thoughts.

"Hey, have any holiday specials?" she asked the resort server.

"The usual, but we have our Frozen Hot Cocoa and Mint Bailey," said the man. Shego stared. "It's like a Peppermint Pattie but...a little more smooth."

"I'll take it, actually load me up. I'm on vacation." Shego sat back again as the man left. Just as she was drifting to sleep her phone went off. She groaned.

Of course Drakken was in trouble, what else was new. She'd been gone for less than a handful of hours, had a small nap, and boom. He was starving and freezing to death in the North Pole. She honestly had to wonder how the man had survived before she started working with him. She had so many questions, but the wave of panic wasn't allowing them to flow. It honestly would be her luck that the blue idiot would be dead by the time she found him. She snowboarded down the alps, looking for anything Drakken-like to catch her eye.

Then there was Possible. Naturally!

"This is weird," said Shego as Drakken walked around singing.

"Yes, it is," said Ann, sipping her cocoa. "Shego, right?"

"That's correct, you're..." Shego was cut off.

"Ann, it's nice to meet you. I mean I know your one of my daughter's arch nemeses...which sounds weird," said Ann. Her expression was moving between one of concern and one of cheer. "What's it like being a villainess?"

"Ohm, it's nice I guess," Shego shrugged. "You do your own thing... There's a lot of down time."

"Cookies, ladies?" asked Drakken as he held out a tray.

"Thank you," said Ann loudly. Shego raised a brow as Ann shot a look over to James.

"Of course," said Drakken. He cringed a little at Shego. "Sorry about the vacation, we'll leave first thing."

"Uhmm hmm," said Shego with an eye-roll as she took a cookie, but her eyes fell back to Ann as Drakken left. "What was that?"

"Hmm," Ann smirked and rolled her eyes. "Fuel for future disagreements."

"Interesting," Shego nodded for her to continue and crossed her leg as she shifted to face her. "Do tell."

"Well, I sort of told James that Dr. Drakken hit on me once. Kimmy assured me he didn't, but it helps me wins loads of arguments. He can't stand to be out-shined sometimes," Anne said nervously. Shego grinned.

"Oh, really? What if I can get you better fuel?" asked Shego. She shrugged. "In the spirit of the holiday and all?"

"I'm listening," said Ann after shaking her head no at first.

"Dr. D?" said Shego, causing him to jump. Especially when he saw the devious grin on her face. "Want to have a little fun?"

"Shego, I am serious. In the spirit of Snowman Hank, I will not do villainy for the holiday season," said Drakken defiantly.

"It's not villainous, it's more deviously manipulative," said Shego. "Besides, I think you'll like it."

"What?" asked Drakken. He was curious due to the look on her face.

"Apparently Kim's mom uses you to get back at your most-hated person," said Shego, nudging him.

"How does she know Dementor?" asked Drakken. It was shocking, but by the current state of the room, not unlikely.

"The other one," said Shego. She rolled her eyes. "Really?"

"James Possible?" said Drakken. Yeah that made more sense.

"Apparently she suggests that you have a thing for her and mocks him for it," said Shego. "To win arguments. I must say, I'm kind of liking her."

"Really?" asked Drakken. He smirked. "Well then, allow me to add something to that fire."

"That's more like the Christmas I imagined," said Shego as they sat on the plane back to their lair.

"It was worth it," said Drakken, ice on his lip. "Knowing it will bother Possible for years, I'm okay with a fat lip for a few days."

"The flirting was very good, apparently you have the ability to do so" smirked Shego. She raised a brow. "The kiss on the cheek was a nice touch."

"Nice thinking with the parsley mistletoe," smirked Drakken, leaning back in his seat. "I'm sorry I bothered you on your vacation."

"It's fine... Wait, this isn't the flight to the lair," said Shego, looking over to see a familiar tropical island. "I told you it was fine."

"No, it's not. I really do appreciate all you do, you deserve a vacation," said Drakken, his eyes closed. "I took the longer flight, this is a stop."

"Thanks," said Shego. For a moment she debated on asking him to join her on vacation, but she shook her head. "I'll be back for New Year's."

"Looking forward to it," he muttered as he started to drift off to sleep.

"Merry Christmas, Dr. D.," smiled Shego, leaning back as the island grew closer.

TO BE CONTINUED

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#drakke #shego #drakgo #kim possible #rtd #fanart #fanfiction #random tales of drakgo #gothicthundra

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