#because this is obviously a spin (heh) on 'bad touch'

[basilpaste]

Love Sick

(Hey! There are themes of romantic coercion in this this drabble! Stay safe!)

… You've asked Sif to date you in six loops now. Six times, knowing nothing mattered — that in the end you'd just go back and he'd never remember, you asked him to be yours. And… he said yes. Every time. They said yes. You went through six loops with Siffrin as your partner.

Is it comforting? To know that they return your feelings?

The first time you were overjoyed! The others were still… nice. Weren't they? It was nice! To see them look at you that way! In the bashful, giddy sort of way you look at them. It was fun to watch Bonbon win their bet with m'dame Odile, to see Mira's shock. Holding Siffrin's hand never stopped being something that made your heart swell.

Six times is… a lot, though. You've been doing this whole thing a lot, to be fair! It was just different with this! And maybe it's not actually different, but it feels different.

Because… it's not fair to them, is it? That you get to do this over and over again? That you get to learn all these details they'd never share with you if you weren't looping? You love them. That's what you tell yourself. Would someone who loves somebody do this to them? Use them like a model? Tweaking the details until it's perfect? You say all the right words in the right order, make them feel loved, hold them close.

But do you love them still?

"Um… Isa?" He speaks, drawing you from your thoughts. "You wanted to ask me something?"

You did. You do. You want to ask him to be yours. Again and again and again. To feel loved by someone so dear to you. Always.

Change. How awful is that?

You're a monster. How could you ever do this to someone? Force them to be with you so many times? How could you! Sif doesn't have a choice! You've entirely taken it away from him! Stitched his mouth and tugged at the strings until they said exactly what you wanted them to. He has no option but to say yes to you!

This only happened...

because

you

MADE

IT.

You open your mouth to say something — anything.

You choke on your tongue. You can't breathe. He's staring at you, he looks so worried. You forced them to feel like this. In a world already so devoid of change you gave him a new option and turned it into the default!

You don't — you can't—

…

You are kneeling in front of the Favor Tree. Your throat burns from the taste of sugar.

[lucy-ghoul]

I just realized what's wrong with the Targaryen wigs in HotD: they don't look like Targaryen hair, they look like they were stolen from the Malfoys. They all share one (1) or at best two wigs in toto and it makes them look like freaking Lucius Malfoy clones

[ga-yuu]

Ikemen Genjiden ~ Ibuki 1st Birthday Story ~ “A Lewd Play”

(As expected, Kyoto is a beautiful city! Although its different from Kamakura.)

I was visiting Kyoto alongside with Yoritomo-sama and Kagetoki-san, for some business related matters....

After introducing me to some high officials and greeting them, they were kind enough to let me enjoy my free time this way.

Kid 1: “Are you sure?”

Kid 2: “Yes. I am.”

(Ah, these kids. Looks interesting.)

Few children ran past me while I was walking. While watching them with a smile....

???: “Hey, do you not want to hide?”

Yuno: “Hm?”

Suddenly I heard a voice and I turned around.

Kid: “You have to hide or a demon will catch you.”

(....! How beautiful.)

(Maybe his face....no, his eyes are more captivating.)

Kid: “What’s with that look?”

His voice was surprisingly matured, considering the elaborated make-believe appearance.

Yuno: “Even if you warn me....I will be fine because I’m an adult.”

I looked at the little boy and smiled back.

(Anyway, where is he from?)

(He is wearing fancy clothes which means he is obviously not a commoner....Maybe you’re a son of some high ranking official?)

Yuno: “Hey, what is your name?”

Kid: “Ibuki.”

Yuno: “I’m Yuno.”

(I know its none of my business, but I feel like it’s dangerous for a child like him to be walking around by himself...)

Yuno: “Ibuki-kun, aren’t your family members with you?”

Ibuki: “No, I’m lost.” (With most deceiving saddest expression but at the same time its cute.)

Yuno: “....I have never seen a kid like you getting lost. Hmmm. Would you like me to help you find your way back home?”

I don’t want to leave him by himself and so I made an offer....

Ibuki: “Will you?”

His clear blue eyes stared at me, and the little red lips drew an arc.

Yuno: “Yeah. Let’s get you home before the sun goes down.”

Ibuki: “Okay. Let’s go.”

Ibuki-kun walked up right next to me and took my hand as a matter of course.

Ibuki: “This way.”

Yuno: ‘Eh? Okay.”

I followed Ibuki-kun, who pulls my hand and started walking.

(Although he’s lost, he walks without any hesitation,...)

Yuno: “By the way, Ibuki-kun. How old are you?”

(He looks like he’s ten or twelve...)

I asked that while feeling a peculiar heat from his his palm radiating my body.

Ibuki: “I’m 1200 years old.”

Yuno: “Huh? Wait....Don’t make fun of me.”

Ibuki-kun laughed at my ridiculous response.

Yuno: “ If you’re like this from a young age, I’m worried about your future.”

Ibuki: “Heh, this is the first time someone is worried about my future. Also, I made a mistake. I’m aging one more year today.”

(Ah)

Yuno: “Is today your birthday?”

Ibuki: “Yeah.”

Yuno: “Congratulations! I mean......You’re not teasing me this time, right?”

Ibuki: “You’re a ruthless person to doubt an innocent child, Yuno.” (Innocent? huh!)

Ibuki-kun, lifts one end of his lips which didn’t seem innocent.

Yuno: “If it’s your birthday today, you have to go home quickly and celebrate.”

Ibuki: “Nobody lives with me. So it doesn’t matter.”

Yuno: “No one...”

(I know that’s not possible, but what’s going on?)

Ibuki-kun peeked at my face when I didn’t speak.

Ibuki: “If you’re going to look like that, will you celebrate my birthday, Yuno?”

(Hm?)

When I stared back at him in dismay, I saw a somewhat amused color in Ibuki-kun’s eyes.

(Maybe because he doesn’t have a family, might be the reason to his matured personality...)

When I think about that, I feel like I can’t leave him alone.

Yuno: “Okay. I can’t stay long, but I’m happy if I can.”

Ibuki: “Okay.”

Seeing Ibuki laughing with satisfaction, I also relaxed.

(I have to celebrate his birthday properly.)

Yuno: “Oh, wait.”

After asking him to wait, I quickly ran to a nearby store. Without him notice, I bought him a small gift and then we made our way towards Ibuki’s house.

When the sky turned red, we made it------

Ibuki: “Welcome, make yourself at home.”

Yuno: “Um..yes.”

Ibuki guided me to a house in the outskirts of the town without hesitation.

Yuno: “.....So. Is this where you actually live?”

Ibuki: “Is it strange?”

Yuno: “Because, this atmosphere is different from any kid’s room.”

The room, that Ibuki-kun claims is his, had a somewhat lewd atmosphere.

Ibuki: “I’m the only one who lives here. But I did bring many guests before.”(But seems like no one has made it alive!!)

The light coming from the window illuminates Ibuki-kun’s cheeks. For some reason, I felt a shiver run down my spine at a mysterious premonition.

Ibuki: “What’s wrong?”

Yuno: “......”

(Something is wrong. Ibuki-kun looks much more.....frightening.)

I unconsciously backtracked to Ibuki-kun who is approaching me.

Ibuki: “It’s not wrong but don’t you think its too late to be vigilant.”

Yuno: “Eh.....”

That’s when Ibuki-kun rolled up his long sleeve and I saw what looked like a very old looking bracelet. The moment he took it off-----

(.....!)

Ibuki (Daddy version): “That’s why I warned you before,didn’t I?. You have to hide from demons.”

Yuno: “You.....”

(What is happening.)

Ibuki-kun, who I thought was a small kid, is now transformed into a young man in front of me. He has two horns growing on his head and had bright blonde hair.

Yuno: “Oni....”

When I was surprised, the young man----Ibuki, laughed as if he was amused.

Ibuki (Daddy version): “Correct.”

(No. I must not space out like this, I have to run away!)

My body moved as if it sensed danger and I ran to the door.

Yuno: “Eh.....Why won’t this open.”

Ibuki (Daddy version): “Oh yeah, I locked the door with a magic spell. Do you think a human could leave safely after entering a devil’s den.”

(That’s....)

I stared at Ibuki as hard as I could with my back to the door.

Yuno: “What are you going to do to me? Maybe this has something to do with the rebels...”

Ibuki (Daddy version): “I know one guy from the rebels, but other than that, this not has nothing to do with them.”

Yuno: “Then...?”

Ibuki (Daddy version): “Don’t worry, I approached you because I have a personal interest in you. That’s it.”

(I’m pretty sure he’s hiding something....but what does he want....)

At least there is no murderous intent in Ibuki’s eyes. Even so, I can’t let my guard down and be weak....

Ibuki: “So. How long are you going to stand there? Don’t you want to celebrate my birthday?”

(.....How serious are you?)

I can’t read anything from Ibuki’s teasing tone.

Yuno: “I only wanted to celebrate your birthday, because you were posing as little kid.”

Ibuki (Daddy version): “Isn’t it your fault for not checking in advance if I am suspicious or not? Humans only see the surface. That’s what’s so cute about them.”

I looked at Ibuki while being confused as he continues to speak with amusement.

Yuno: “I made a promise and I’m not comfortable breaking it. But.... I really don’t know what you’re thinking. What’s your purpose?”

Ibuki (Daddy version): “That’s simple. If you managed to satisfy me, I’ll let you go.”

His blue eyes gleamed dangerously and my heart pounds with an anticipation. He takes my hand invitingly and brings me closer.

Yuno: “Wait....”

Ibuki (Daddy version): “It’s okay. There’s plenty of time. For you, that is.”

(Ah)

As he sweetly bites my finger, my shoulders bounce.

Yuno: “Mm...why...why are you doing this?”

Ibuki (Daddy version): “Say my name.”

Yuno: “Ngh........Ibuki!”

In the midst of my spinning thoughts, I reflexively called out his name as requested.

Ibuki (Daddy version): “Well done.”

As if to maintain the anticipation...Ibuki’s fingertips slowly unties my hair.

Ibuki (Daddy version): “Yuno. It’s just a for fun. So relax.”

(............)

A sweet dangerous sensation hits my body as he hugs me.

Yuno: “Mm.”

When I felt his lips touching me neck, my voice slipped out.

(This is not good.)

My body became numb at the feeling of his tongue. But then my body follows Ibuki’s words and I relaxed.

Ibuki (Daddy version): “You like this, don’t you?”

Yuno: “.....Let go. You’ve had enough, haven’t you?”

Ibuki (Daddy version): “No way. Demons are greedy. At this rate, I’ll have to devour you completely.” (No wonder your son is Kurama. You raised him just like you.)

(Wait....)

Yuno: “ Are you saying that you’re literally....?”

Ibuki chuckled when I asked him fearfully.

Ibuki (Daddy version): “We are not little kids. Of course, you know what I meant.”

The touch of his fingertips at my throat tickled and made my body heat up.

Ibuki (Daddy version): “Or do you want me to celebrate and please you in some other way?”

His fingertips slides down  from my throat, tracing the curves of my body teasingly.

(This is bad. If I don’t quickly satisfy Ibuki....then!)

When I tried to work my head, I caught something in the corner of my eyes.

Yuno: “Oh yeah, the gift!”

Ibuki (Daddy version): “Hm?”

I pulled away from Ibuki’s body and picked up the gift and pressed it against his chest.

Yuno: “I bought this while we were in town....It for your birthday, so take it.”

Ibuki (Daddy version): “You are not very sexy in this kind of situation, are you? Oh well.”

Ibuki began to open the gift in a relaxed manner.

Ibuki (Daddy version): “If you are bothered to give it to me, that means you’re very confident about this, right?”

Yuno: “Well....”

(I gave it on the spur of the moment to stop his play. But the stuff inside is....)

Ibuki (Daddy version): “...!”

Ibuki’s eyes widened as he sees the gift.

Ibuki (Daddy version): “----Cat figurine?”

It was a cute wooden carving cat that I intended to give to a small child.

(Please tell me you like it.)

Yuno: “Well, you see...actually---”

Ibuki (Daddy version): “You’ve got a good taste, I’ll give you that.”

Yuno: “Huh”

Ibuki happily looks at the cat figurine as if he was in good mood.

Ibuki (Daddy version): “The loveliness of the cat is well expressed.”

He continues to talk to himself while arranging the figurine on his shelf.

Yuno: “....Do you like cats?”

Ibuki (Daddy version)(pouting): “Is there anything not to like?”

(Well yeah,....cats are cute, though)

Yuno: “How surprising...”

Ibuki (Daddy version):(Pouting) “Insolent woman.”

Having said that, Ibuki didn’t seem to be offended.

Ibuki (Daddy version): “Okay. I can’t help it, I was originally planning to play with you until morning.....but Yuno, you can go home.”

Yuno: “Eh!?”

Ibuki (Daddy version): “I promised that I would let you go when I’m satisfied, didn’t I?”

Yuno: “Yes, you did....”

(That was easy.)

Looks like he a disciplined type who keeps his promises.

(Forcible, dangerous, disciplined, cat-loving demon?)

I don’t know which is the actual Ibuki, but....before I knew it, my fear was completely gone.

Ibuki (Daddy version): “What’s wrong? You don’t want to go. If you want to do it, I’ll do my best to satisfy you.”

Yuno: “No no no! I’m fine.”

Before Ibuki changed his mind, I quickly touched the door.

(...! It really opened.)

Ibuki (Daddy version): “How rude. At least you could say ‘I’ll miss you’.”

(Being unreasonable, but ......)

Yuno: “Hey, Ibuki.”

While hesitating, I stopped behind the door and stared at Ibuki.

Ibuki (Daddy version): “....? What?”

Yuno: “I know it’s little late. Happy Birthday! I didn’t get to say it earlier.”

Ibuki (Daddy version): “...........”

In the faint light of twilight, I could see Ibuki opening his eyes slightly.

(Ah..... Ibuki can look like that!?)

Somehow that unexpected expression shook my heart....

[emiefaunwrites]

So a while ago, @conicalcrowd posted a part of their Transformers AU that just so happens to be one of my own headcanons (just not in the Transformers AU...in my own Ishileon world heh). And I said I was going to write it, but got caught up with Broken Arrow.

BUT! I need a break from work. So Imma write it now! So here you guys go - long distance Ishileon. Again, basing it off my UK lifestyle so sorry if University and College are all confused! (I hope you like this Conical!)

Oh - trigger warning for mild alcohol misuse under the stars(but they're in their 20s so its not underage!)

********************************

• After leaving Hope's Peak, Taka pursues his dream and starts studying Politics in University.

• Leon gets a sports scholarship as well at the same Uni so they end up seeing each other just as much as before.

• That is, until Taka's offered six months of studying in America.

• He initially wants to turn it down, worrying too much about his and Leon's relationship. But when Leon finds out, he won't let him even think of refusing.

• So after long nights discussing it over and over, Taka accepts and has to start preparing to leave in a couple of months.

• They make plans on how they'll stay in touch - online calls every other night to catch up and daily emails as well.

• It all sounds like it'll be fine. It's got to be fine, right?

• Well...

• It doesn't start so well when Leon falls ill the day before Taka leaves. And given his reaction to illnesses, they can't say goodbye.

• Taka has to ask his father to drive him to the airport, leaving Leon asleep in his bedroom with no clue that Taka has even left.

• So when Leon's mum pops in when he's starting to recover and has to break the news that Taka left early a couple of days ago, Leon feels so bad that he just cries into his pillow, clutching one of Taka's jumpers to his chest.

• Once everything has settled though, their plan stays mostly in place for a couple of months.

• But Taka's schedule starts getting tighter and tighter with more and more deadlines. And Leon has baseball games that fall on their video call nights more and more often.

• So they start to feel the strain, despite doing everything they can to keep in touch regularly.

• Leon had given up smoking for Taka but his anxiety started to sky rocket so the cigarettes returned.

• So does the drinking.

• Taka would often log onto the call to find Mondo on the receiving end, awkwardly explaining how he'd gotten a drunken call from Leon and had to come keep him company. And that Leon, more often than not, had passed out before Taka could log on.

• This triggers all of Taka's anxieties in return. He would always stay strong on the calls, be it Leon or Mondo he would talk to, only to burst into tears once it was over.

• But they manage. No matter what, neither boy gives up on their relationship and before they know it, six months has past.

• Leon can barely contain his excitement, needing his parents to drive him to the airport because they're worried he'll lose concentration at the wheel.

• Taka's flight ends up an hour delayed and poor Leon is about to explode when the board says his flight has finally landed.

• 'Where is he?!'

• 'Sweetheart, calm down, he'll be here soon...'

• 'I can't see him!'

• 'Just wait a little longer...'

• 'I can't!'

• And then he doesn't have to. Because there he is - amongst the crowd, frowing characteristically as he obviously searches for Leon.

• 'TAKA!'

• Leon's shout is wet with tears and happiness as he charges forward, unaware that his father has been filming the entire time.

• As Taka spots him, it takes everything in his power not to run forward as well. So instead, with an enormous grin, he drops his suitcase and opens his arms just in time for Leon crash right into his chest.

• All worries about appearances are out the window as they collapse to the ground, sobbing amd laughing into each other's neck and shoulders, limbs tangled in knots.

• Eventually, Taka gains his compsure just enough to stand, scoop Leon into his Koala position, spinning them around as they kiss for the first time in half a year - all of the emotions that they've struggled with meaning nothing now that they're together again.

• Leon doesn't let go of Taka for the entire journey home. Seriously - he stays firmly Koala'd until they reach the car and then plasters him with kisses and touches all the way home.

• 'We're going upstairs - leave us alone.'

• And for once, his parents listen.

[marvella15]

Astaire & Rogers Rewatch Part 2: Gay Divorcee

• Once again, background info first. 

After they were a smash hit in Flying Down to Rio, Astaire and Rogers were quickly paired up for another film. Gay Divorcee is an adaptation of a successful stage musical (Gay Divorce), which Astaire had starred in immediately prior to coming to Hollywood. It was the only major production he did on the stage without his sister. More on this later. 

Why the name change? Execs didn’t think a gay (happy) divorce was appropriate but a happy divorcee was acceptable. 

Back in the day, the only way I could watch classic films was checking them out for a dollar from my local library. When I checked out Gay Divorcee, the librarian commented that title certainly had a different connotation today than back then. This meant nothing to me as a young person at the time but now I think about that moment every time I think about this film.

• Our characters/actors: Guy (Fred Astaire), Mimi (Ginger Rogers), Aunt Hortense (Alice Brady), Egbert (Edward Everett Horton), Tonetti (Erik Rhodes).

• What kind of name is Egbert??

• “I’m on my vacation. I’m not gonna do any dancing.” Unless there’s a beautiful woman to woo, of course. Or a check to pay.

• The bugle call is heard for the first time in the Astaire/Rogers films when he begins his solo. It will pop up several more times in the next films but it originated as something funny from Astaire and Rogers’ rehearsals. In Roberta and Follow the Fleet, art imitates life in a way when the bugle call becomes a signal of their past partnership/connection.

• Guy’s gentle mocking of Mimi’s repeated calls for a porter will come back later in this film and be slyly referenced again in Swing Time. 

• Heh:

Guy, hopefully: “You didn’t say goodbye.”

Mimi, coldly: “No, I didn’t.”

• The subtitles very incorrectly indicate Egbert says “asked” each time he repeats what the English messenger said when delivering Guy’s coat. Egbert, in his attempt to mimic the English accent, distinctly says, “arsed.”

• Love this exchange:

Egbert: “What’s her name?”

Guy: “I don’t know.”

Egbert: “Where does she live?”

Guy, more emphatically: “I don’t know.”

Egbert: “My, what an interesting romance.”

• Astaire often thought his singing voice sounded better right after he’d had a drink or a smoke. So he usually does one or the other (often the latter) in scenes right before singing. 

• Already his speaking-singing style is to his advantage as he sings “Needle in a Haystack” while finishing getting dressed. It seems natural and effortless, the way we all sing to ourselves sometimes. 

• Love how he leaps over the back of the couch and the way his tapping kicks up with the four horn blasts in the song. No one makes a more stylish exit than Fred Astaire lbr.

• Mimi, having been blocked in by Guy’s car: “Would you mind moving your car, or don’t you want it anymore?”

• And here he repeats her call for a porter to break the ice and it works. She may think he’s a little nuts but she’s clearly interested. When he asks when he can see her again, Rogers lets a look of longing and regret flash over her face. Neither the audience or Guy know yet that she’s actually still married and trying to discretely get a divorce. Going out with another man would ruin everything but this charming dork is tempting. 

• Buuuut she’s not so interested that she cares at all about destroying his elaborately packed picnic basket when given the chance to speed away. And he’s so into her already, he also couldn’t care less.

• One of my favorite lines here from Guy:

Egbert: “Guy, you’re not pining for that girl are you?”

Guy: “Pining? Men don’t pine. Girls pine. Men just… suffer.” 

• Ok, the “Let's K-nock K-nees” sequence is something I skip every time because it’s pointless and insane that young Betty Grable is somehow into Egbert. And that opinion has not changed.

• Hortense and Egbert are part of the comic relief but I have always found them annoying. Thy do have some good lines though:

Egbert: “You can’t have a clandestine affair between three people.”

Hortense: “Oh, that’s what you say.”

• “Your wife is safe with Tonetti. He prefers spaghetti.” 

• I like that Guy legit almost leaps over the second story railing to follow Mimi before thinking better of it. He's got it bad.

• “Night and Day” is the only song from the stage musical to make it into the movie and it’s also the first dance duet Astaire and Rogers have performed since the “Carioca.” And it is worlds different and stunningly executed. Future films won’t make audiences wait nearly an hour before pairing up Astaire and Rogers for a dance.

• Although Mimi asks Guy to let her leave, she smiles instantly when he again asks her to stay. The whole time he sings to her and for most of the dance, she’s very obviously conflicted and Rogers portrays that beautifully. Some of it is the choreography but most of it is her acting. Just one of many, many examples of, as one film historian put it, Ginger Rogers realizing that “the acting did not stop when dancing began.”

• If you think I’m going to shut up about Astaire’s singing, you’re dead wrong. “Night and Day” is a love song with lines like “this torment won’t be through, ‘til you let me spend my life making love to you.” When Frank Sinatra sings that line, it’s seductive. When Fred Astaire does, it’s a sentiment straight from his heart.

• Astaire’s look when he grabs Rogers’ hand and the music kicks up as he does a little dance. Love it. 

• This dance is incredibly intimate. When he twirls her in close for the first time, they lean together, noses almost touching. Her dress is pressed to his suit in several places. 

• Each time they move apart, they come back together slowly, her arm gently on his shoulder, his around her waist. When they’re side by side, again noses almost touching they’re so close, a smile spreads slowly on her face and he responds in kind. 

• It’s after that moment that, for the first time in the dance, he lets her go and they dance together without either holding the other, a signal of their characters’ growing intimacy and partnership. Any other “attempts” by Mimi to leave are all playacting within the dance. She is right where she wants to be. 

• Two movies before a song will induce it, Astaire and Rogers dance cheek to cheek for a few brief seconds in “Night and Day.” As the music turns triumphant, he smiles and she looks a bit rapturous. He doesn’t take his gaze off her for a second and she meets his look without breaking it even after the dance is over. 

• Love the tiny wiggle of Astaire’s fingers as the music dies down, his leg still lifted in the final pose of their dance.

(gif credit) 

• The implications of his offer of a cigarette as her chest is heaving a bit and after such an intimate moment are, um, obvious. 😏😏😏

• A lot of this movie is about sex or the suggestion of sex. “The Continental” involves kissing while dancing. Mimi must pretend to be caught in an affair in order to get a divorce. “Night and Day” mentions “making love.” When Mimi instructs Guy to meet her in her room at midnight, he’s shocked but he shows up and more than once goes to embrace her since he assumes that’s why he’s there. But, as usual in Astaire/Rogers films, the sexiest moments are tied up in the dancing and “Night and Day” is one of the clearest examples.    

• Mimi may have thought Guy was her corespondent because he “said the right words” but there’s something to be said for how suave and charming he was in their dance. Mimi had no trouble believing he might be a hot guy who was hired to help women convince their husbands they were having an affair.

• As Rogers starts to sing “The Continental,” Astaire looks at her so warmly right before the shot switches to a close-up where he’s supposed to stare affectionately at her. But his genuine look before the switch is better.

• Rogers’ dress change before “The Continental” is a good one. That negligee and hairstyle were not the most flattering and her new dress is one of my favorites.

• “The Continental” is very different than the “Carioca” even though it’s meant to replicate it in many ways. But Astaire’s control over the choreography is much more evident. He and Rogers switch from the prescribed motions of the dance to more energetic pieces seamlessly. Several times he sneaks smiles at her that appear to be Astaire himself, rather than solely his character, such as when they turn towards each other with their arms outstretched for the first time or when she begins marching forward first and he follows. 

• The “three steps to the right, three to the left” move that will be integral to the choreography in Swing Time, shows up here first. 

• Pretty sure he nearly gets punched in the face when they link hands and spin so each has one arm in front and one behind. 

• Kissing her hand, rather than her lips, in response to the lyric “you kiss while you’re dancing,” is just the start of a longer conversation about (the lack of) kisses in Astaire/Rogers films. More later.

• The affection on both their faces in the close up near the end of the dance as they twirl around one another (in a slight mockery of the kissing other couples were doing) is very sweet. And I love the final move when he spins her towards him on that last beat and instantly smiles broadly. It’s a look I’d expect to see during rehearsals when you’ve finally done a tricky move perfectly.

• For some reason, RKO thought what people wanted was several more minutes of this song without Astaire or Rogers, and they were wrong. At 17.5 minutes, “The Continental” was the longest musical number on film until the ballet sequence in An American in Paris outran it... by one minute.

• When Astaire and Rogers do rejoin the dance briefly, you can see how well they flow together. Critics and historians have often noted that Rogers wasn’t the most technically perfect or trained of Astaire’s partners but she looks pretty damn perfect. They switch from formal dancing to tap to spins to twirling down steps and she doesn’t ever look out of her league for a second.

• And this is somehow only their second film and third on screen dance together! And yet they already look incredible??

• In the morning, Mimi and Guy’s relationship is so obviously cemented and we know it not by grandiose declarations but in the small action of her grinning and calling him “clown” after he jokes about the arrival of their breakfast. 

• So Mimi’s husband shows up and doesn’t buy Tonetti is her lover for a second because duh. She calls Guy out from hiding to kiss her as proof she’s having an affair of some kind. And he obliges… by kissing her cheek somewhat ridiculously. 🤦‍♀️

• Their final dance as they get ready to leave takes them around the room. I love how he leaps over the couch, not unlike he did back when he was pining for her in “Needle in a Haystack,” and then slides across the rug to reach her in time for the next step. 

• “The Table Dance” that ends the film is another carryover from the stage production. As Astaire guides Rogers from the table down to the floor, her foot doesn’t stop on the chair as his does. It goes from table to floor in one motion. For one beat both of her feet are touching nothing. The move relies entirely on his control and her trust in him. Not an easy ask, not only because of the maneuver but also because Astaire’s stage partner did hurt herself during this dance at one point and the injury eventually led to the end of her career. Maybe that’s why Astaire quickly glances down at the chair on each rotation.  

• And in the final seconds, the music becomes jaunty and the pair look at each other and grin with complete sincerity. For just half a second before he grabs a hat, Astaire looks at her with that same softness you see in other moments. The way she leans into him as they exit is in character, yes, but it’s like two friends thoroughly enjoying themselves, which they were in both respects. 

• So movie two finished! If you think these posts are already getting long, just you wait. Roberta is next and it’s one of my favorites. 

[ejzah]

Can you do a fanfic where the team has to go undercover at a nightclub and Deeks has to take the role of a singer. The rest of the team thinks it’s going to be hilarious and poked fun, but are shocked when they discover that Deeks is actually an incredible singer.

A/N: Takes place sometime after Kensi finds out about Deeks’”Touching Wood” days.

Thanks to @glenncoco4 for the song suggestions!

***

“Miss Blye, you will be a waitress, Mr. Callen, the club has a sudden opening for a bartender, and Sam you will be a patron,” Hetty announced, as she glanced at each team member. They were going undercover at the “Twisted Heart” nightclub, hoping to find information on a potential human trafficking ring.

Hetty smirked, turning to face Deeks, who had his hip cocked out as he leaned against the center table in OPS. He frowned at her, obviously not liking where this was headed. Kensi grinned, knocked his shoulder, and muttered,

“I bet there’s a janitors uniform somewhere with your name on it.” Deeks glared at her, but didn’t say anything.

“Actually, Mr. Deeks, you will be filling in for the “Twisted Heart’s” normal singer. He came down with an unfortunate case of laryngitis,” Hetty informed him, still smirking as Deeks eyes widened.

“Whoa, hold on, Hetty,” he said nervously. “You’re joking, right?”

“No, I’m not. I have it on good authority that you were in a band as a teenager.” Deeks shot another glare in Kensi’s direction, but she raised her hands innocently. She certainly hadn’t told anyone about their discussion, despite her threats. “I believe it was called “Tou-“ Deeks made a distressed sound and tried to cover it with a strained laugh.

“Heh, we uh, we don’t really need to talk about that. I’m sure no one’s interested in hearing about what I got up to as a teenager.”

“Actually, I’m intrigued,” Callen said, crossing his arms as he clearly saw a chance to mess with Deeks. “What exactly did teenage Deeks sound like?”

“I bet you sang Pearl Jam covers,” Sam teased.

“Hilarious,” Deeks said. “I’ll have you know we were the best group of fifteen year old singers around.”

“I’m sure,” Hetty said diplomatically. “Now, I have your clothes down in wardrobe and then you come see me about a guitar.” With that, she started to leave the room.

“Hetty, can we just talk about this for a-ope, nope, she’s gone,” he said, running a hand through his hair as he pulled in a deep breath. “No, that’s fine. Totally fine.”

“I cannot wait for this,” Sam said gleefully. He mockingly patted Deeks on the back.

“Good luck, man. You’re going to need it,” Callen offered as they grabbed their case files and left. Tossing his head back, Deeks settled his hands on his hips and drew in another long breath.

“This is a terrible idea,” he told Kensi.

***

“I still say you should have let me help you warm up,” Kensi said a few hours later. She had just finished changing into her waitress uniform, which consisted of black pants and a black shirt made of out some kind of silky material and low heeled shoes.

Deeks was in the adjoining changing room, putting on whatever outfit Hetty had laid out for him. He kept muttering to himself, the sound of Hetty’s name the most prominent.

“You’re just saying that because you want to hear me sing,” Deeks responded shrewdly.

“Hey, in a couple hours, we’re all going to hear you.” Deeks didn’t answer and she sighed. “You’ve been in there forever. Come on out.”

After another minute, he pulled aside the curtain and walked out, looking annoyed.

He wore a dark blue button down and dress pants. It was simple, but he looked fantastic and Kensi realized belatedly that she was staring at him. Why the hell had Hetty given him a shirt that matched his eyes?

“What’s wrong? Is my collar messed up or something?” Deeks asked, turning to the mirror. He glared at his reflection.

“You look fine,” Kensi told him dismissively. When he continued to fiddle with his shirt, she sighed and grabbed him by the shoulders. She grasped the edges of his collar, straightening them, so it hugged his neck. Her fingers brushed his skin and she abruptly let go. “Well, you should go see Hetty.”

Deeks raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t otherwise comment on her strange behavior as he walked off to find Hetty.

***

“Look at him up there,” Sam commented from his table, which he had strategically chosen to get the best possible view of the room. “I think he’s going to faint.”

Kensi was in the middle of serving a table of two young women, so she didn’t comment, but glared at Sam. Now that Deeks was up on stage and the moment of truth was nearly here, she felt bad for him.

“Or throw up,” Callen offered. Glancing up at the stage, Kensi watched Deeks finish setting up. Despite his reluctance , which lasted right up until the moment he entered the club, Deeks had gotten right down to business.

He seemed at ease checking the. acoustics and making sure his mic was on. True, he did look a little nervous, but nothing Kensi wouldn’t expect from someone who hadn’t ever sung professionally.

A few minutes later, he sat down on the stool a few feet away from the edge of the stage and tapped the top of the mic to make sure it was working.

“Good evening, everybody. My name’s Justin and I’m standing in for Henry tonight,” Deeks said, pausing to flip his hair out of his eyes. Kensi noticed that he spoke with slightly more drawl that usual. Someone from the back of the room shouted,

“Marry me!” and Deeks grinned and said,

“You might want to hold onto that proposal until after you hear me sing. Anyway, this is one of my favorite songs.” With that, he picked up his guitar and started picking out a simple, but recognizable melody. Kensi saw his lips part for a second as he pulled in a shallow breath.

“I took my love, I took it down

Climbed a mountain and I turned around.”

Kensi’s mouth opened slightly as he sand the first few lines of “Landslide”, and a few people clapped enthusiastically.

“Damn, Deeks can actually sing,” Sam muttered, sounding as stunned as Kensi. His voice was surprisingly strong and smooth, nothing like the horrible sounds he’d made when he first told her about “Touching Wood.”

“Well, I've been 'fraid of changin'

'Cause I've built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Even children get older

And I'm gettin' older, too”

Kensi listened to him sing the chorus before she remembered that she was supposed to be waiting tables.

Maybe it wasn’t the genre typically heard at the “Twisted Heart”, but Deeks’ audience didn’t seem to mind. He received a loud round of applause when he finished. Seeming more at ease, Deeks grinned and nodded his head in thanks.

He spent a couple minutes chatting with the patrons and then played the intro to “I don’t Want to Miss a Thing”. Any sign of his early nervousness was gone and seemed to be truly enjoying himself.

“Did you know he could sing this well?” Callen asked, when Kensi stopped at the bar to reload her tray.

“I had no idea,” she answered honestly. Kensi might have been annoyed or hurt that Deeks had kept this from her, if she wasn’t so impressed.

Deeks kept the crowd happy with a wide range of songs, from his own version of heavy metal, to achingly sweet love songs.

Several hours later, the club was starting to empty out. Deeks’ hair was clinging to the sides of his head, dampened by sweat and there were circles of moisture darkening the fabric beneath his armpits, but he seemed in high spirits. He leaned down over the mic, locking eyes briefly with Kensi before he moved on. “For my last song, I’d like to dedicate this song to my girl, Fern. I know she’s out there somewhere listening,” he said, with a hint of smirk playing at his lip.

Kensi rolled her eyes; of course he’d find a way to work that stupid name in again. Still, she was curious to hear what song he’d apparently chosen for her.

“What would I do without your smart mouth?

Drawing me in, and you kicking me out

You've got my head spinning, no kidding, I can't pin you down

What's going on in that beautiful mind?

I'm on your magical mystery ride

And I'm so dizzy, don't know what hit me, but I'll be alright.”

A rush of heat warmed Kensi’s cheeks and she made sure not to make eye contact with Sam or Callen. She knew Deeks was jut messing with her but the lyrics combined with his voice were slightly overwhelming.

***

“Well, that was certainly eye-opening,” Callen said later that night as they walked back out of the mission. If was after 1 in the morning, but Hetty had insisted that they complete their reports for the day. “And admittedly, impressive.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you had it in you, but you did good,” Sam agreed.

“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” Deeks said dryly.

“What I’m more interested in, is why you didn’t tell us you could actually sing,” Kensi said, crossing her arms and he shrugged.

“It’s been a while since I performed to that big of an audience.”

“Which implies that you perform for smaller audiences,” Callen pointed out.

“Monty likes it when I sing,” Deeks replied with a small grin and Sam snorted, shaking his head.

“Ew, you sing love songs to Monty?” Kensi said, wrinkling her nose.

“No! I sing the them for him, not to him. There’s a big difference.”

“Well, I’m beat. You two can keep arguing if you want.” Sam said and then gestured to Callen. “You want a ride home?”

Kensi waited until they were both out the door before she rounded on Deeks and asked,

“Ok, what was that whole “dedicating this song to my girl, Fern” thing about?”

“Why, did you like it?” he asked, leaning in towards her. Her eyes flicked up to where his shirt opened, the top two buttons now undone, and momentarily lingered on the patch of tanned skin.

“Maybe,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “But I think I’d need an encore performance just to be sure.”

“Anytime you want.” As they walked out together, Kensi had a feeling she’d be taking him up on that offer.

***

A/N: Somehow this ended up with much more Densi that I intended. Although, at this point they weren’t together.

Landslide by Stevie Nicks and All of Me by John Legend.

Thanks for the prompt! I hope this is ok, it turned out to be more difficult than I anticipated.

[starlene]

I know there’s at least one person looking forward to this, so here goes: a list of interesting details from the Danish production of The Hunchback of Notre Dame (Klokkeren fra Notre Dame), based on the two performances I saw in October 2019.

Fair warning: it’s 90% about Frollo.

I saw the following cast in Fredericia Teater:

Quasimodo: Lars Mølsted Frollo: Mads M. Nielsen Esmeralda: Bjørg Gamst Phoebus: Emil Birk Hartmann Clopin: Oliver J. B. Aagard-Williams Something to know about the staging: there are seats onstage, three rows on both sides. Audience members sitting there get to wear hoods, and the seats are gently pushed back and forth depending on the scene. It gives the illusion of the ensemble being bigger than it really is, and sometimes, ensemble members sit and stand in empty spots next to these seats.

And now, from the Prologue onwards…

Christ, this Frollo has AUTHORITY. Sitting onstage, his little sermon at the beginning of the show is directed to us – the ensemble all bowed their heads, and only my unwavering decision to enjoy every second of Frollo without as much as blinking helped me to keep my head high. He’s scary!

When he becomes archdeacon, Frollo does a Cinderella spin where his plain black robe magically turns into a white, ceremonial one.

Frollo smiles at baby Quasi before he sees his face. And why shouldn’t he! A very sweet 1.5 seconds of undiluted happiness in between proud uncle and nephew there before the former’s prejudices kick in.

I obviously didn’t get a chance to see it quite up close enough to see the inscription, but otherwise, it seemed to check out – if Instagram is to be trusted, Frollo wears a replica of The One Ring throughout the show. Might explain certain aspects of his behaviour?

~

In the beginning of the show, Quasimodo and Frollo seem to truly, genuinely care for each other! They hug and everything. Frollo being emotionally abusive is subtle and he’s probably not consciously aware of it himself – he simply does not have the capacity to understand that Quasimodo (or anyone else, for that matter) experiences the surrounding world in a fundamentally different way from his own. (“And can stone talk back?”)

Frollo seems truly surprised when Quasimodo says he could protect him – and it felt to me he means it when he says he didn’t mean to laugh at Quasi. Frollo also chats with Quasi in a quite relaxed manner (too bad, though, that his idea of small talk is racist rambling).

~

Quasimodo is SO happy outside. He does a little dance on one of the onstage seats!

There are many, many ladies throwing themselves at Phoebus. It seems like he’d be happy with just one, but they keep coming and he decides to just roll with it.

Esmeralda’s so full of life here. Rythm of the Tambourine is not seductive but so vivacious, small wonder all the guys crush on her.

The light/video design goes all pink with falling flower petals when the three men fall in love with Esmeralda. A bit silly, to be honest.

Both Phoebus and Frollo (!) laugh/smile at the King of Fools contestants (you can only really see this from the onstage seats)… until Quasimodo pops up, of course.

The congregation covers in shame/fear when Frollo does his little speech about showing kindness to all Lord’s creatures. Probably mostly fear, the man really has an aura of authority.

~

At first, Esmeralda is all mesmerized by Notre Dame (and why wouldn’t she be, it’s a gorgeous place and I guess we all remember how we felt when it looked like it’s going to burn to the ground last April) but she has some great expressions when she understands what Frollo’s all about. At very first, she turns the other cheek – but of course, it takes Frollo less than 15 seconds to be gross again, and then she’s simply done with his bs.

Esmeralda and Quasimodo are SO CUTE during Top of the World. Talk about chemistry – the actors are married in real life, that might have something to do with it… The whole scene is one of my top 2 favourite moments in the show. It’s so beautiful and optimistic (!) and pure, with stars in the sky and all Quasimodo’s statue friends supporting him… Finally, finally Quasimodo has a human friend. I cried, I’m this close to crying right now.

Right after, it’s time for some Quality Frollo Comedy! He does the mocking SpongeBob meme to Esmeralda when she says Quasimodo ringing the bells was her fault (“iT wAs My FaUlT yOuR gRaCe”). Then he switches gears and tries SO HARD to be all suave around Esmeralda: he flings his cape around, sits on the balcony railing all nonchalant, almost loses his balance and does this little silly oops heh heh heh thing.

And then Esmeralda says she sees the way he looks at her and Frollo just flips. It’s been a long day, right? That awful Feast of Fools business, Quasimodo’s disobedience, falling violently in love/lust with a woman you’re supposed to hate, trying to hit on said woman on two awkward occasions, trying to act normal in the midnight mass in the middle of all this… The moment Frollo starts yelling, some switch in his mind turns and his downwards spiral begins.

Next, Frollo gives Quasimodo The Talk. The original script has Frollo slapping Quasi left and right here, but the Danish production takes a completely different approach. It’s 100% clear Frollo is trying to talk himself out of the “impure thoughts” he’s having, and he’s so borderline panicky about it that the mood catches onto Quasimodo. For a moment, they both seem equally lost, and in the end of the scene, they hug it out. You believe Frollo when he says the “you and I against the world” line. Despite all, he really seems to think of himself and Quasi as a sort of a ragtag team.

~

Hellfire here is a journey into Frollo’s mental breakdown. The colour scheme progresses from light blue tones to the whole cathedral being in flames, you have seductive dream Esmeralda (way more seductive than the real Esmeralda) beckoning come-hither and dancing just out of reach, the music gets more and more intense, the subwoofers are turned up to 11 so the floor is shaking and in the end, your heart is beating twice the normal rate and Frollo is screaming and you’re screaming.

After experiencing all that with him, you understand that in his mind, the mind that just broke beyond repair under our very eyes and all around us, Frollo really sees no way out of his situation other than dragging everyone else in general and Esmeralda especially with him. Go hard or go home when you’re losing your mind, I guess.

~

The following scene with King Louis sees the return of Comic Relief Frollo – nothing overtly funny, mostly just the king taking his sweet time to acknowledge Frollo, but since the previous scene was so intense, you’re laughing all the same. How do they even do it? How do they have the character have such an earth-shattering mental breakdown one minute and then do a successful comedy routine the next, and all without losing a trace of his frightening aura? WITCHCRAFT.

Frollo gets a hold of a sword during Esmeralda (at one point, Phoebus has two, loses both, and Frollo picks one up) and turns into a holy crusader. He’s getting to live out his revenge fantasy and he’s clearly enjoying every second of it – it’s been clear from the beginning that he inspires fear in his congregation, and now, he gets to act out every single bit of his sadistic impulses. This is where he goes full feral, so to speak.

Dream Esmeralda is back, dancing in the center of a fire whirl. I adore the video design in this production.

~

In the beginning of the 2nd act, Frollo has sunken further into his madness. He’s clearly unhinged, so much so that I have a hard time believing that he coldly calculates Quasimodo showing him the way to the Court of Miracles. Probably just a happy accident.

The exchange here, with Quasimodo lying and so forth, is tense from both sides. Frollo and Quasi are hugging it out again when the soldier pops in, and Frollo just glowers at him – can’t you see we’re in the middle of a hug here?

~

The end of the Court of Miracles scene is so absurdly good here. Frollo busts in, the Romani are rounded up, everyone leaves the stage except for Frollo, and then he has a good 10 seconds or so to just chew the scenery in complete silence. He has the sword, he glowers right, he glowers left, he does a little villain laugh, then he leaves.

There was some genuinely nervous laughter from the audience at the villain laugh bit, because goddamnit, he’s just so deliciously, almost unsettlingly villainous at that moment. You wouldn’t want to be left alone in the same room with this man, but there we are, all alone in a dark room with him – and it’s just a thousand or so of us versus one of him, so we’re clearly at a disadvantage here.

~

Frollo takes his cross off his neck when he goes to visit Esmeralda in the dungeon and leaves it outside the door. This is my favourite detail in the history of theatre.

You wonder what Frollo is thinking when he goes to burn Esmeralda. He seems almost happy at the beginning of the scene. Is it because he’s a sadist – or because he’s so damn sure Esmeralda is going to change her mind now, he doesn’t really stop to consider that he’s going to end up killing her for real? Could be either. Or maybe he’s just completely lost it and is not thinking about any consequences at all, hell-bent on taking his revenge...

Whatever it is though, having seen his eyes from the onstage seat when he left after setting fire to the pyre, I can tell you it wasn’t an actor performing a role at that moment. It was a man who’s just set the object of his obsession on fire and cannot believe what he’s done and is conflicted and hurting because of it.

~

Frollo is sobbing on Esmeralda’s body and touching her hair and hands and you just feel so gross – stop touching her, she didn’t want that, she’s dead and even now you won’t understand, STOP IT!

I’m certain that Frollo genuinely believes he could have loved Esmeralda. Love feels different to each and every one of us, and in the end, I’m so so sorry that this is what is feels like to him.

Quasi and Frollo’s dynamic during the last scene is so real. I believe Quasimodo when he says he’s lost everything he’s ever loved. In the end, my heartbeat is twice the normal rate again.

Quasi and Frollo always hug during the curtain call here. It’s a running theme with the two of them.

~

Can you tell how much I love this production?

[pi-cat000]

MSA: Take Two (part 10)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Part 11: here 

.

Apparently, Vivi needs time to process the fact that her Arthur is not in any danger because she stands in quiet contemplation for several long seconds. Her face scrunches, brows creasing, and she massages her chin thoughtfully. Most likely, she is revising whatever theories she’d concocted since their last encounter. Arthur uses the brief reprieve to float over to Vivi’s desk and right the lamp he’d accidentally knocked over. However, when he reaches to touch it, the bulb flickers on, startling him. He hastily jerks his hand back. The lamp goes dark. Arthur hesitates, but nothing explodes, so he hovers his hand near the lamp, watching the light spark. A quick check under the table confirms that it is not plugged in. Perplexed, he switches sides, but his metallic arm elicits the same response. Weird, but also fascinating. Arthur must be producing some form of charge, creating an electric field. It can’t be the static because, now he is relaxed, the sparks - which are usually jumping every which way - have quietened, becoming almost non-existent.

“I think it’s pretty cool.” Vivi, having finished her reflection, steps beside him and gives her lamp an excited grin, like it’s not just a faulty bit of electronics.

“Uh.” Arthur is not sure if ‘cool’ is the right word. He pulls back. The lamp flickers off.

“Your anchor does that too,” Vivi continues, pointing at his heart. Impulsively, Arthur coves it, drawing back and angling away.  

Vivi freezes and quickly flushes with embarrassment, stepping back, “Sorry. Was that rude? It felt rude.”

Arthur jumps to reassure her, “No…I mean…Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

She doesn’t buy it. “If it’s rude, you should let me know. None of this ‘I’m fine' when you’re obviously not, nonsense,” Vivi orders, actually rolling her eyes to show exasperation. She’s got the determined air about her that he has come to associate with a lecture on honestly and sharing one’s feelings.

Deliberately, Arthur moves his hand back to his side, motioning awkwardly, “It was the pointing that made me uneasy. I don’t think I like other people being near it.” He then quickly makes to continue their conversation, “What were you saying about this thing producing an electric field?”

Vivi falters, “Oh…” seemly thrown, like she’s not used people being immediately honest with her.  She recovers quickly, “Okay. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been carrying you in my purse. Mystery said we shouldn’t leave you lying around, and it felt wrong to stash you someplace random. I totally fried my phone and laptop.”

Vivi’s been carrying around his heart thingamajig in her purse? Arthur is surprisingly okay with this setup.

“I don’t mind. I think I would rather you carry me around than be left alone somewhere…” If he had a mouth, he would probably be grimacing, “What do mean by ‘fried your phone’?”

“You kind of short out nearby electronics. My whole bag caught fire,” Vivi elaborates, sounding way too enthused about the subject. “It was my fault really, I should have known that keeping you and my phone in the same spot wasn’t the best idea. The laptop thing was definitely my bad. Of course, if Mystery had just told me about the plasma stuff straight away, I might have cottoned on sooner.” She delivers the last sentence with an irritated frown.

“It...I mean 'I' must produce some type of charged electric or magnetic field,” He reasons, briefly glancing down at the heart, “I can probably fix your phone…Once I figure out how to control it." He tries to sound as apologetic as possible, hoping to compensate for his lack of facial features. His fingers let out several sparks.

“Oh! Hold on,” Vivi pipes, spinning to hurry and inspect a specific pile of books, “I have something for you.” She yanks out a thicker notebook form near the top then pulls free three additional tombs, all very old going off their many scuff marks. “I’ve been writing down everything I learn. You should read it. Maybe you’ll get some ideas.”

The pile wobbles dangerously before tipping over to scatter more paper across the floor. Vivi pays it not mind. Instead, she settles down at the centre of her blue, tasselled carpet, flipping open the notepad. Arthur floats closer, curious. She pats the floor next to her, beckoning him to sit, continuing to comment, “Also, Mystery says these books aren’t ‘entirely useless’ which is pretty much a glowing recommendation coming from him. I annotated the margins when I noticed a crossover in the information.”

Cautiously, Arthur drifts down into a cross-legged position, peering at the notepad. Not wanting to touch the paper, he simply examines the first page. It is covered in Vivi’s squiggly handwriting, with sticky-notes protruding at odd angles on all sides. Arthur recognises a few diagrams, describing a magnetic field, and some other info on lightning. Vivi flips the book around, so he is not trying to read upside-down.

“How long did this take you?” He wonders out loud, “How long have I been out?”

“About a week,” Vivi turns the page for him, “There’s a whole lot of stuff about elemental affinities further in. Did you know people have auras that naturally resonate with an element? Therefore, if a ghost is strong enough, it will automatically mimic its elemental affinity.”

Arthur nods vaguely. His own Vivi, the future Vivi, had come up with a similar theory after they’d run into one too many elemental themed ghosts. It’s nice to have confirmation. It’s also nice that Vivi can learn about this stuff without putting herself in danger.

“Anyway. Since you’re only mimicking lightning, this electricity or lightning will only act per your understanding of electricity or lightning. Of course, it’s also influenced by your emotions and mental state, which is kind of tricky to control, but it’s a start.”

“That…makes a bit of sense.”

He’s not sure how this information will help him manage the lightning because one doesn’t just stop understanding scientific facts, and figuring out his emotions sounds just as impossible. However, Arthur finds the act of simply knowing is already making him feel a load better. Sure, being dead was terrible, but he hadn’t realised how badly the lack of control and understanding was affecting him until it wasn’t.

He glances up to Vivi, “Thank you…for doing this.”

“Heh, it was nothing. Besides, Lewis was the one to make the connection between your mental state and your level of control, that you wouldn’t hurt us. Also, you, the other you, explained all the technical sciency things. So, I didn’t do much, aside from accidentally fry my laptop.”

“It means a lot.” He reiterates firmly. In his timeline, Vivi had harboured a lot of guilt after the incident, which had manifested in a refusal to accept credit for her work. It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to notice. Good to know he could skip that drama this time around. Finally, he’ll be able to repay her for everything.

With new determination, Arthur reaches out to carefully turn the next page without help. Vivi stares openly then glances down. Her next smile is soft and more private. A smile for herself.  The amusement trickles back, warming his core. This time, instead of fading immediately into that void of numbness, it hangs over him like a cozy blanket.

Arthur still needs to figure out a way to exist in the same space as Lewis long enough to explain himself properly, but, in this moment, he is just going to enjoy the warmth.

.

NOTE: So Lewis was supposed to be in this part, but this conversation took more words then I planned. He’ll be in the next part though. 

Part 11: here

[tisfan]

Why Do you Have to Go (And Make Things So Complicated)

Title:  Why Do You Have to Go (And Make things So Complicated) Collaborators: @27dragons and @tisfan AO3 Link Square Filled: N1 - Character is a Femme Fatale Ship: winterironwidow Rating: E Major Tags: threesome, anal, oral, vaginal Summary:  He could see the headlines now: Stiff with a stiffie. Or He died happy. Or Stark monument already erected. Word Count: 4963 Created for @mcukinkbingo

A/n: This continues from Something Truly Shocking which was a little sarcasm prompt. All you have to know is that Tony was pretending not to notice how Sexy Nat and Bucky are.

Tony was going to die. Specifically, he was going to be murdered, right here in his own workshop. Either Natasha was going to give him a heart attack, or Bucky was going to clue in and come after him with a knife.

Pepper’s worst nightmare was going to come true: Tony was going to die with an erection, and she was going to be stuck trying to keep that out of the news cycle.

He could see the headlines now: Stiff with a stiffie. Or He died happy. Or Stark monument already erected.

Jesus. Natasha had always, since the first day Tony had met her, been a femme fatale, but even when she’d been trying to seduce her way into his company under Fury’s orders, she had never been quite so determined about it. And the femme was a lot closer to fatale, these days, because she had a boyfriend now. An impressively sexy, resting-murder-face, not-quite-ex-assassin of a boyfriend, who would absolutely come after Tony’s balls if he realized that Tony was thinking about his girlfriend that way.

Even if it wasn’t his fault. He was trying not to, but Natasha did not make it easy on a guy, with her barely-there bikini, asking him to put sunscreen on her, for pity’s sake, because the stuff gummed up Bucky’s arm.

Why couldn’t Bucky just use his other hand to lube up his girlfriend? Why did it have to be Tony’s job?

Christ on a cracker, and the draping herself seductively over the furniture all the time! Logically, Tony was pretty sure that was just a habit for her, left over from the days when she was earning her codename much more literally, seducing marks into her deadly web. Damn it, Tony was only human! And since he and Pepper had split a year or so back, he hadn’t exactly been on the dating scene, so he had a lot of pent-up urges floating around.

This last episode had been far too close; Tony had actually found himself staring down into her cleavage, trying to decide if he was actually seeing a bit of nipple or just imagining it, when he’d glanced up and caught Bucky staring at him. He’d nearly died on the spot.

Possibly literally.

(more under the count)

Not that Tony wouldn’t have deserved it, even though he and Bucky were on pretty decent terms these days. It had been a rocky path to start, but now Bucky came to Tony for trouble with the arm, then stuck around and watched old episodes of Star Trek with him. Sometimes Bucky brought Tony snacks when Tony was working late, and let Tony ramble on to him about whatever the latest project was. (Tony had actually worked through several knotty issues simply using Bucky as a sounding board.) Also, Tony would never admit it, but Bucky had long since ousted Steve in Tony Stark’s Avengers Sexiness Rankings. All the same supersoldier muscle topped off with a bad-boy cherry? It was like goddamn catnip.

Still, their hard-won friendship was probably not up to the pressure of Tony leering at Bucky’s girlfriend.

Tony slumped onto his stool and put his head in his hands. Maybe he could hide in the workshop until they’d finished swimming and then put clothes on again. Lots of clothes.

That didn’t seem very likely, as there was a rap on the glass door of the workshop and there were two bathing-suit-clad not-quite-Russian superspies right outside. Natasha had Bucky by the strings of his shorts, and the way she was tugging on them was not disguising at all that Bucky had a rather impressive package just underneath the nylon-spandex material.

Yep, he was going to die with an erection. Iron Man’s hard end.

“Got a minute?” Natasha mouthed, waving her free hand around to indicate-- something. Her, her boobs, maybe. Tony wasn’t quite sure, but the gesture made her body wriggle impressively.

And because he’d never been able to resist either one of them for very long, he waved back, signaling FRIDAY to open the door. “Thought you two would be splashing it up by now,” he said as they came in.

“We had a question,” Natasha said. She walked over to one of the workshop tables, still dragging Bucky, which was both hilarious and very distracting, because there was an awful lot of Winter Skin on display. He turned, just a little, and Tony got a really good look at Bucky’s shapely ass. He lifted Nat up so she was seated on the work table, and then practically lounged between her pale thighs.

“She’s been going about this all wrong,” Bucky said, and Natasha smacked him on the shoulder.

“Shut up, you said I could ask,” she said.

“No, I said you could just open your mouth like you were an actual grown up and everything,” Bucky retorted. “She could, really. I’m not sure if she will, however.” He gave Tony a look, like he was expecting some sort of male solidarity sympathy or something.

Which Tony was absolutely not going to give him while Natasha was watching, because Tony liked all his body parts right where they were, unskewered. “What’s the question?” He picked up the nearest tool to fiddle with, because he needed something to do with his hands that was not touching all the gorgeous skin in front of him.

“It’s complicat--”

“It’s not complicated. What’s so hard about ‘would you like to have sex’?” Bucky demanded. “It’s not that complicated, is it?”

DOES NOT COMPUTE. Tony opened his mouth, closed it. Considered some sort of hard-reboot option for brains. “I’m sorry, what?”

“That-- that’s why it’s complicated,” Natasha said. “Look, you broke him. What good is he to either of us if his brain leaks right out?”

Bucky leered. “I can think of a few things-- Ow, stop hitting me, woman.”

“You’re going to have to back up a few lines,” Tony said. He felt like someone had kicked him in the head, only without the pain. “Someone forgot to give me a script.”

“We’ll start with the softball questions,” Natasha said. “You like both women, and men. Bi-- or pansexual. If we’re wrong about that, obviously, the whole question is off the table, but you don’t have a particular objection to… men. Or women. As partners, dating, bed or otherwise?”

Tony had to snort at that. “You researched me, Romanov,” he pointed out. “You’ve seen my sex tapes. All of which were, if somewhat ill-advised, entirely consensual and enthusiastic.”

“See, I told you. If he’s got a problem, it’s not with the gender. So, you want to, or no?” Bucky leaned back against Nat’s thigh, spreading her legs even further to accommodate that impressive body.

“This is where you lose me,” Tony said. “Am I hallucinating? FRIDAY, you’d tell me if I were hallucinating, right?”

“You bet, boss.”

“Forgive him, he has no sense,” Natasha said. “Comes from being frozen so long. His brain, it’s all… freezer burned. See? You don’t do any better than I do. We try-- looking pretty, flirting. You ignore us, both together, or separate. You look, and then look away.”

“See, doll, we think you’re pretty swell,” Bucky said. “And, spending so many years -- both of us -- not gettin’ what we want, we aren’t hung up on… stuff. It’s a indecent proposal, maybe, but we’d like you-- to get with us.” Bucky pointed, like Tony might not know which you he was talking about, or which us.

“It’s all right, if you are not interested,” Natasha said, but there was the slightest pout to those perfect lips. “We have each other, and that is enough. But I’m greedy. I want it all.”

“Fri?” Tony couldn’t quite take his eyes off them.

“Still not hallucinating, boss.”

“The Black Widow and the Winter Soldier want me in a three-way,” Tony summarized, testing the surreality of that statement, tasting its flavor.

“Tony sandwich, extra mayo,” Bucky added, directing that leer at Tony again.

Tony blinked at him. “What is the mayo in this metaphor?” he wondered. “Because I can think of a couple of different-- Wait, never mind, wrong focus. That’s what all the... this has been about?” He demanded, waving a hand at Natasha’s unfairly skimpy bikini.

“He is crude, but to the point, yes,” Natasha said. “We like you. If you like either of us-- together is best, but if only me, then Bucky will content himself with watching, or hearing about it later.”

“Bucky will, will he?” Bucky wondered. “I don’t recall agreeing with being content about that.”

Tony watched them bickering for a moment. “This is for real? You’re not pranking me, or got dared, or something?”

“Why the hell would I do that? I mean I get why Tasha would, she sometimes does things just because someone tells her no--” Bucky reached a hand out. “We like you. There's nothin’ objectionable about me, is there? I mean… look you don't gotta let me down easy or nothin’. If you ain't interested, just say so. We can be, you know, adult about it.”

“Speak for yourself,” Natasha said. “I reserve the right to cry and eat way too much ice cream and drown myself in vodka.”

“I-- Yes. I’m in.” He couldn’t think of a single reason that he’d want to say no to two of the most gorgeous, amazing people he knew.

“Heh, too bad for you,” Bucky said, and for a moment Tony's heart absolutely stopped, here it came, the punchline. Maybe even literally. “No excuse to eat too much ice cream.”

Holy shit, this was real. “Ice cream is its own excuse,” Tony said, talking on autopilot through the spinning daze of his brain. “Uh. Logistics?”

“Tony sandwich,” Bucky said with enthusiasm. “Seems only fair to let you get all the reward, at least the first time.”

“Come here and kiss Bucky so his brain will stop glitching,” Natasha told him. “And I will watch and decide if you get to do it again.”

Tony almost asked, Now? but it got caught in his throat, arrested by Natasha’s expectant look. “Right. That’s... Right.” He put the screwdriver down and slid off the stool, moving toward them through what felt like a dream. Toe to toe with Bucky, feeling the heat baking off their skin, Tony thought, well, if it’s an audition, then I’d better nail it.

Heh. Nail it. His lips pulled slightly into a smirk. He reached up with one hand, tangling his fingers in Bucky’s hair and pulling Bucky down. He fell into the kiss, tentative at first as they felt each other out, and then more confident.

Bucky turned until he had his back to his girlfriend, her knees still around his hips, as he moved into the kiss, tongue flicking out to test Tony’s reactions, one hand going around Tony’s waist to draw him in even closer, the other sliding down Tony’s shoulder, to his bicep, then around, until Bucky’s fingers were tracing the line between Tony’s tee and his jeans.

It had been a while since he’d been in a threesome (or foursome, or moresome) but not so long that it was weird when Nat started petting them both, her fingers moving curiously from Bucky’s shoulder to Tony’s hair, and then along the back of his neck, fingernails dragging lightly, eliciting a shiver.

Tony finally had to pull away first, panting for breath. “Those of us who are not supersoldiers need to breathe occasionally.” He grinned at Bucky and then looked past Bucky at Nat. “Verdict?”

“We will take you upstairs and demonstrate the supersoldier’s ability to breathe through his ears,” Natasha told him. “And he has a very long-- tongue.”

“Among other things,” Bucky added, easily enough. “Don’t scare him off, Tasha. At least wait t’ panic him after I get my hands down his jeans.”

Tony shook his head. “I’m not panicking. Confused and surprised, but not panicking.” He backed up a step to make space and held out his hands to both of them. “My bed’s the biggest.”

“You lead, then. I’ll follow with the good view,” Bucky said. “Seriously, can I just--” He made a squeeze-gesture in front of Tony, like he was starring on an old-time Charmin commercial.

Tony smirked a little wider. “Don’t damage the goods, but feel free to test the springs.”

Bucky pulled him back in, hands going straight down Tony’s back to explore Tony’s ass. God, Bucky had huge hands, practically spanning the entire expanse of Tony’s cheek, palming him like a basketball at a Globetrotter’s game. “Perfect,” Bucky purred in Tony’s ear.

“Save some for the rest of us,” Natasha told him, like there was a line queuing up or something. She slid one hand into Tony’s back pocket as she hopped down from the workshop table, which did interesting, bouncy things to her anatomy. And Tony was allowed to look, and admire, which was a relief, because he wasn’t sure he could really, actually do anything but. Bucky crossed his arm over Nat’s, reaching into the other back pocket, so they formed an X; one on either side.

Well, okay then. Tony took a step and they moved with him, in tandem, as if they had rehearsed it. Spies and assassins and their freaky ways. Which, Tony thought, would make for very interesting and athletic sex, he suspected. Jesus, how was he even going to keep up?

Mental breakdown later, he told himself firmly, and continued through the workshop to the elevator. “My floor, Fri. Express route.”

There was a pointed silence before the elevator moved, as if Friday was registering some sort of… artificial judginess. He’d thought JARVIS was the only one who preferred his sexcapades to be tame, but maybe Friday had picked up more from her predecessor than Tony had supposed. It didn’t seem to bother Bucky, who was absentmindedly tugging on Natasha’s bikini strap, threatening to spill her out of it entirely.

There was another pointed little pause before the doors opened again, and Tony made a mental note to have a chat with Friday later. Much later. And then he stopped thinking about anything at all that wasn’t the two perfect specimens in front of him.

He reached for Natasha, hand stopping an inch short of her hair. “Okay?”

Natasha took the outstretched hand, planted a delicate kiss in his palm, and then put that palm directly over her breast, pushing herself into the touch. “Yes?”

“Oh, hell yes.” Tony cupped her breast, delicately exploring, testing, finding the most sensitive places, the pressures and movements that made her eyelashes flutter, her mouth fall open in a gasp. He leaned down to kiss her, flicking his tongue against her lip and then opening to her own explorations.

Bucky moved in behind Tony, giving his ass another squeeze and making an utterly adorable squeal of delight. Tony shouldn’t find that cute, should he? That was undignified, or -- whatever it was was going to have to wait, as Bucky reached all the way around, his fingers hauling Natasha even closer. Tony was starting to feel remarkably overdressed for the party, because when he pulled back a little, Bucky had -- or maybe Natasha had -- undone the strap to her bikini top and she was, in fact, spilling out of the tiny thing.

“Isn’t she lovely?” Bucky murmured in Tony’s ear. He knew exactly what to do, making a vee with his fingers to pinch her nipple erect, and then thumbing lightly over the tip while Natasha juddered and shivered and tried to move closer, going up on her toes and whimpering.

Tony couldn’t resist leaning down to lick over that captive nipple, and then moving to the other side, sucking it in, letting his teeth graze just lightly over the skin as he traced circles around it with his tongue. He wrapped his arm around her waist, wanting to feel every shudder and moan.

Finally, laughing and still shivering with too much stimulation, Natasha pushed them both away, swatting at Bucky’s hand. “You promised a very big bed, Mr. Stark,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him like she was some blushing virgin. The tone was convincing enough, even if her casual ease with nudity gave it the lie.

“Also, someone is wearing too much clothing,” Bucky said.

“Absolutely, you’re completely correct,” Natasha said. The bikini bottom unfastened at the sides and she flicked the little scrap of fabric in Bucky’s face before bouncing off in the direction of the bedroom. She didn’t need directions, because, of course she didn’t.

Tony glanced at Bucky, and gestured. “After you. My turn to ogle.”

Tony half-expected Bucky to shuck his shorts with the same gleeful anticipation that he’d done everything else, but suddenly he was flushing, neck red and ears burning. He fumbled with the strings at his swim trunks before shoving them down and stepping awkwardly out of them. “Yeah?” That glorious blush kept going, crawling down Bucky’s chest as he lifted his chin to let Tony look at him.

And wow, was there a lot to look at. “Yeah,” Tony said, letting his eyes linger, even as he reached back to pull his tee over his head. He dropped it to the floor, then unzipped and dropped his jeans as well. The view wasn’t as nice -- Tony was no supersoldier, and on the wrong side of forty-five, to boot -- but he thought he did okay. Bucky’s eyes certainly seemed to agree. “Ready?”

“I’m waiting--” Natasha called from the other room.

“Bad idea to keep her waiting, she gets inventive,” Bucky said.

And, apparently she did, because as they got to the door, she was posed dramatically on Tony’s bed, the comforter kicked onto the floor. She paused, then sunk until a perfect split, legs going from one side of the bed to the other. She bent forward from the waist, tossing her head back to give them a sultry look.

“I’m failing to see the downside to this inventiveness,” Tony observed.

“What do you like, doll?” Bucky wondered, tracing that metal hand up and down Tony’s spine, inspecting the line of it. “Bottom? Top? Middle? On your knees between Tasha’s thighs while I stroke you from behind?”

“I’m flexible,” Tony said, suppressing the shiver from being touched with that hand. “Not as flexible as Natasha, mind you, but who is? You got something you want to try, lay it on me. Or what you said, that sounds great.”

Bucky made a deep, snarling noise right in Tony’s ear. “I will absolutely lay it on you.”

Natasha rolled over, spread across Tony’s bed like an offering. “I like that idea. I get to lay back and let you two do all the work,” she said.

“Why do I doubt that?” Tony wondered. He climbed onto the bed and knelt between her legs to nuzzle between her breasts, kissing upward toward her neck, dragging teeth along her earlobe. He propped himself up on one arm and let the other roam over her smooth, creamy skin.

“Mmmm,” Natasha hummed, arching into his touch. “His hands aren’t cold.”

Bucky slid that metal hand down Tony’s back, along the curve of his ass. “Do you think my hand is unpleasantly cold?” Slick, cool fingers explored Tony’s thigh, almost frictionless.

“Uh, no,” Tony said, “but I have an unnatural boner for tech, so I might not be the prevailing opinion there.” He made his way back down to Natasha’s breasts, teasing and toying with them and watching in awe as she twisted and arched under him.

“Your boner doesn’t feel unnatural,” Bucky pointed out, keeping that chilly touch very light-- to avoid pinching with the minute plates in his fingers, probably. He swapped out, warm skin replacing cool metal, and the contrast was enough to make Tony wobble. “It’s interesting. The difference, I mean.”

“Ug, he gets like that,” Natasha said, rolling her eyes with affectionate exasperation. “Give him a condom or a pair of gloves and he’ll stick that finger places it’s really not supposed to be.” Tony wasn’t sure if that was supposed to dissuade him or not.

“I am one hundred percent down for that,” Tony admitted. “Though at the moment...” He wriggled and slid further down the bed so he could drag his mouth down Natasha’s stomach, hand stroking the inside of her thigh. He glanced up at her to make sure she was on board, then flicked his tongue along her folds.

Natasha hummed, her hips rocking up to meet Tony’s mouth with approval. Her hands went into Tony’s hair, tugging lightly, and then her thumbs brushed along his ears. She tasted sweet and tangy. Fresh, like she’d actually been planning on swimming and had showered not more than an hour ago.

Tony almost lost the thread for a moment, as Bucky reached around Tony’s middle, teasing at him with one cool hand and one overly warm one. “You have lube? Condom? I didn’t know if you were actually going to say yes, and… well, there aren’t pockets in a swimsuit for a reason.”

Without lifting his head, Tony made a vague gesture toward the nightstand where he kept such supplies. It had been a long time since he’d done this sort of thing, but he remembered that it was best to get his rhythm established before activities at the other end got too far along, because otherwise he’d get distracted and someone would end up irritated. He spread Natasha’s labia with two fingers and went to work, letting her hands in his hair provide hot-and-cold clues.

Natasha’s legs kept shifting, rubbing against Tony’s arms. Her knees would come up for a bit, squeezing at his shoulders, and then flopping back down again, spreading herself wide for him to work.

“For you, if you need them,” Bucky told him, putting two wrapped condoms near Nat’s shoulder. “And for me--” There was a soft snick as Bucky opened the lube. He drizzled a line down Tony’s crack, working it in with his flesh hand, rubbing along Tony’s hole, up his crack, and then down to his balls, teasing as he went. Circling the opening to Tony’s body and inhaling as Tony shifted. “God, your ass is pretty. Like, sorry, Tasha, but Tony’s got ya beat there.”

“He keeps doing what he’s doing, and he can beat me wherever he likes,” Natasha said, her voice spiraling up toward the end as she gasped and then flexed again.

“I don’t usually discuss the heavier kink until the third date,” Tony quipped, and then went back to what he was doing. He’d always liked going down on a woman, but god, she tasted sweet.

“Pretty sure threesomes count as heavy kink, Tony,” Natasha pointed out. “Although, as you say-- aaah! -- I have read your dossier. Hell, I wrote-- mooost of it.”

Tony squeaked as Bucky leaned over and nipped at the curve of his ass, leaving a spark of teeth, and then spread into welcoming heat. “Lovely.” Bucky’s finger slid around Tony’s hole again, and then breached him. “Like that, do you?”

“Mm-hm,” Tony hummed. Which seemed to do interesting things to Natasha, given the way she gasped, so he did it again.

It was easy to lose himself in the push and pull of bodies, the tastes and smells and sensations. He pushed forward into Natasha and back into Bucky and let the rhythm take over the endless whirring of his brain.

Bucky breached him, nice and slow, and dear Tesla, thick as hell. He reached around Tony’s middle to stroke him, keep him hard and eager. It was a little awkward; Bucky was left handed, but Tony supposed that lube in those finger joints would be a bitch to clean up. “Oh, you feel so tight,” Bucky murmured. “You should see this, Tasha--”

“Take -- ah! A picture. It’ll last longer,” Natasha scolded, poking Bucky in the ribs with a long leg. Bucky caught her ankle, which did interesting things to both the way she was positioned, and the way Bucky moved into Tony. When Natasha groaned, and pushed her other leg up, Bucky rocked all three of them together, using his grip on Natasha’s legs to give him leverage.

“Oh my god,” Tony said, because that was definitely different. “You two are going to be the death of me, but at least I’ll die happy.” He reached up and found Bucky’s hair, wrapping his fingers in it and tugging.

“Don’t die,” Bucky told him. “If you die, you’ll miss the good bits.” He rocked slowly, perfectly, in and out of Tony’s body. Under Tony, Natasha could barely move, her legs wide spread and pinned, glorious.

Being held like that seemed to make her more sensitive, every lick and stroke met with desperate, pleading gasps as she twisted and moved. Trying to get closer or squirm away, and neither worked. She let loose a torrent of Russian that Tony didn’t quite catch, but made Bucky laugh, which-- oh, that felt amazing, the way they all vibrated together.

God, Tony wasn’t going to last very much longer if this kept up. He redoubled his efforts, determined to bring Natasha off before he succumbed. Bucky was moving faster now, and for a few moments, they worked together like a well-calibrated machine, every movement serving the greater purpose of the whole. It was beautiful, it was sublime, it was intense, as close to flying as Tony could get with his feet on the ground.

Natasha threw her head back, practically arching off the bed, her whole body going rigid. Air hissed in and out of her lungs, and then she screamed, a strangled, glorious gasp. She kicked one leg loose from Bucky’s hold and-- ow, that was probably going to leave a mark, but it was good, because she was completely out of control, oblivious to everything except the way she shuddered and cried out.

Bucky had gone still while she came, watching intently over Tony’s shoulder at every movement.

When Natasha came back to herself, she grinned at him, pulled her knees up. “Wanna finish off in me?”

Tony shuddered. “Oh, yeah.” He scrabbled for one of the condoms Bucky had tossed up earlier and rolled it on with hands shaking from need. He climbed up, positioning himself, acutely aware of Bucky still pressed against his back, and slid into her. Heat and wet and a perfect tension that crawled down his spine and lodged in his balls. “Oh, fuck.”

Their well-oiled machine lost its rhythm for a bit. “Let me drive,” Bucky growled in Tony’s ear, and he surrendered to Bucky’s grip on his hips, the way they all moved together, instead of tangling up. They got going again, and it was a continuous line of Bucky sliding into him, and he pushed into Natasha, and then out again, perfect harmony, sweet and slick and so, so hot.

“There you go, there you are, my pretty Tony,” Bucky crooned.

Natasha moved with them, hips rising to meet Tony’s strokes. Her hand was on Tony’s waist, and Bucky linked his fingers with hers, a sweetly innocent gesture.

With Bucky’s relentless pace driving them, the heat built quickly. Tony tucked his head down and tried to prolong it, but there was only so much he could do to stave off his climax with so much perfect sensation surrounding him. He gasped, caught his breath, gasped again, and the world went white for a while -- a few seconds, or an hour, or a year. “Oh god, oh god.”

Behind him, Bucky made a sound, some sound, and then he smacked Tony’s ass once, sharply. Not enough to really hurt, but it stung for a second, and then the whole area flooded, hot and perfect. Bucky jerked, once, twice, and then went utterly still, exhaling with a low, shaky moan.

Tony tried to catch his breath. “So that’s a thing we did.” He gave Bucky a minute to breathe, then nudged him gently. “Off. My arms are giving out and Natasha does not want to be crushed.”

Bucky peeled himself off Tony’s back, dropping a kiss between his shoulder blades, before collapsing onto the mattress. “Yeah, that’s a thing we did, all right,” he agreed.

Natasha squirmed out from under Tony, letting him fall face down in between them. “It was a good decision.”

“I need to record that,” Bucky said, and going down to cup Tony’s ass fondly. “She doesn’t credit me with a lot of sense.”

“Two thumbs up, five stars on Yelp,” Tony agreed, not bothering to roll over. He wondered what happened next, but couldn’t quite bring himself to ask.

Natasha rolled over, cuddling against Tony’s side. She reached over his back and linked her hand with Bucky’s again. “We should,” she said, kissing Tony’s ear, his neck, shoulder, “snuggle for a while. Take a nap. And then you will feed us, since we worked so hard. And then, we will figure out what we’re doing next.”

“What’s to figure?” Bucky asked, voice muffled by one of the pillows. “We are dating each other, and we are dating Tony. It’s not complicated. She always makes it complicated.”

“Tony may have opinions of his own, you know,” Natasha said, tart. “That don’t always agree with yours.”

Bucky scoffed, then immediately looked concerned. “I will be needing all that ice cream you were talking about earlier if this is a one and done.”   

Tony thought about it for a moment. “No reason we can’t have ice cream and be dating,” he offered.

“Ice cream as a date?” Natasha suggested. “We can do that. I like this idea, I’m happy to be a part of it.” 

[trashassassin]

How to Smut 101: Getting Over the Hump (heh) and Just Doing It

Hello friends! This little guide comes to you from someone who has literally been creating original stories in some form or another since before they could hold a pencil. So well over a decade. And yet, I’ve only really delved into the land of smut writing in the past few years. This was a genre that I, and many creators I’m sure, were scared to touch. It was too difficult, too embarrassing, too easy to get wrong.

And yet, I believe I’ve gotten a pretty good handle not only on writing it effectively but also dissolving the embarrassment surrounding the subject, at least in my own mind. Obviously everyone’s methods for writing are different, so this will be less of a guide and more of an outline full of things to help you prepare for your jump into the world of smut for the first (or maybe twentieth after a bunch of scrapped attempts if you’re like me) time.

The first thing that really helped me was changing how I thought about smut.

Sex scenes always had this mystical, untouchable quality to them whenever I thought about writing them. They were set apart from the rest of the story, placed on a sort of pedestal, a pedestal that had my thought processes heading places like “alright, now it’s time for the Sex Scene™”. Sometimes I would just throw random sex scenes into a story because I felt as thought they had to be there. Which brings me to my first real point.

Sex scenes must have a reason to exist!

Unless you’re writing a plot-what-plot situation, a sex scene must be in your story for a reason! This applies more to published novels or longer fics, which is why I’m posting it first as this one in particular won’t apply to many of the people who clicked on this post.

Imagine this a bit differently. What if your story was progressing along normally when, all of a sudden, you threw in a random, pointless scene about your characters stopping to get coffee? Nothing plot-relevant happens; no important characters interactions happen; there are no special items hidden in the coffee shop. Your characters just decided that they needed a pick-me-up and sit around quietly sipping coffee for 1,000 or so words. This would be really boring, right?

Well, an unnecessary sex scene is the same way. I’m not naming any names here, but there is an exceptionally popular series of erotic novels out there that makes this mistake all the time! If you have pointless sex scenes sprinkled into your story every chapter, it’s going to become boring and grating in a hurry.

Sex scenes must be consistent with the tone of the story, happen naturally over the course of the plot, and/or teach us something important about the characters involved in order to have a true place. If these things are not present, I find it’s best to reconsider if it’s really best to have a sex scene during this point in the story or in the story at all.

Sex scenes are just like any other scene!

Going back to the whole stopping for coffee analogy, a sex scene is just another scene in your story. Now you might be thinking to yourself, “well, duh!”, but this realization was actually a big turning point for me.

I realized the main responsibility we have in writing is to take mundane, everyday activities and present them in a new or interesting way. Think of an adventure story. A group of characters going on an adventure to find the Golden Sword of Wisdom is the exciting version of you and your friends driving down to your local Walmart to obtain Golden Magnum Ice Cream Bars.

Or, consider the Harry Potter series. It takes going to school, something every person within its targeted age group is required to do, and turns it into a fresh and, dare I say, magical experience.

Instead of simply providing a blow-by-blow (pun intended), textbook-style retelling of a sexual encounter, it’s important to put your own unique spin on it.

Play with your readers’ senses.

A huge part of what makes any scene great is the ability of the reader to immerse themselves into it. And you as the author can make this much easier for them by describing it to them in as much detail as possible, how everything contained within it looks, feels, smells, and tastes.

And sexual scenes are certainly no exception to this. In fact, I’d say creating an enjoyable sensory experience is of the utmost importance.

Consider things like how does your character’s partner smell? How do their surroundings smell? Are there any candles burning, a window through which fresh, or perhaps not-so-fresh, air is streaming? Have their clothes or sheets just been washed and smell of a particular scent of detergent?

Also consider how things feel. Is your character in a cold or warm place? Perhaps you could describe a feeling of goosebumps rising on the skin or of sweat dripping down their back. How do the sheets feel beneath their fingertips? How does the brick wall feel at their back? What is it like to be pressed up against a window pane?

What sounds are present, besides the obvious ones? Is there music playing? A fan going? Cars outside? Perhaps the sound of footsteps are present as they desperately try to keep quiet in a crowded place.

Also consider your characters’ own personalities, as well as how much experience they have in sexual situations. How do they feel about their partner? Are they excited or apprehensive? Are they overwhelmed with love or simply looking to get their rocks off? All of these are important things to consider when creating a well-rounded scene.

Your scene does not have to be vulgar, but it can be!

You may think that every sex scene must be contain levels of vulgarity reserved for professional porn movies, but this is simply not the case. As I said before, take into account the personality of the characters involved. A shy character would not likely use words like “cock” and “pussy”, where as a more bold or experienced character very well may.

And if you’re not comfortable with using such words in your writing, well, now is the time to step outside of your comfort zone! As long as it is appropriate for the characters involved, of course.

But regardless of boldness or levels of experience, some are simply just not into super vulgar dirty talk. This post by Smut 101 is a perfect example of dirty talk of a more romantic sort for the more hopeless romantic types that may appear in your stories.

Keep things accurate but not necessarily realistic.

You always see people criticizing sex in books and movies for not being realistic enough, for not involving vagina-having characters taking a piss afterward to prevent UTIs, for a lack of condoms, for both characters reaching orgasm at the same time. You know what I say to that? I say that sexual scenes are meant as an escape, as a fantasy, and that such realistic touches would ruin the illusion of the perfect scenario the reader is looking for.

That being said, if everything is sunshine and rainbows all the time, you’ll once again find yourself with a boring scene on your hands. It’s alright to include moments where your characters knock their heads together or say something so ridiculous it makes the other person laugh. Sex can and should be fun and, when the moment calls for it, a bit goofy.

Something that you cannot compromise on, however, is accuracy. If you’re delving into a particular fetish or act you’re not familiar with, it’s best to do your research beforehand, something else that the author of the aforementioned exceptionally popular series of erotic novels seems to have neglected. Watching videos, reading articles, and browsing forums can all be useful in familiarizing yourself with the subject.

Even if you’re a virgin, this does not bar you from writing well-written sex scenes, I assure you! If someone was required to experience something in order to write about it, the vast majority of authors would be up shit creek without a paddle.

As with any genre, it never hurts to familiarize yourself with it before you start writing it. Reading highly praised romance novels and other peoples’ erotic fics is a good place to start if you’re looking for inspiration or guidance.

Don’t be afraid to draw from your own experiences.

If you have had a bit of sexual experience, it’s not a bad idea to draw inspiration from this. Remembering specific sensory experiences you’ve had and applying them to your writing can help enhance the realism of a scene.

It’s also not forbidden to include your own personal fantasies in your stories. Just be careful that all of your erotic stories don’t turn out exactly the same. While we all have our own individual tastes and preferences, it’s good to step outside of that to keep your stories fresh.

Some general tips for you as a writer.

Writing smut is going to feel awkward if you’re not used to it. And even if you are used to it, feelings of embarrassment may still come up on occasion. This is normal. Do not let it dissuade you from pursuing your creative endeavors. Even if the embarrassment over writing lewd scenes never fully goes away, it will get easier with time. I promise.

Whenever I’m writing any kind of scene whether it be exciting, emotional, or, yes, lewd, I always like to select some music to set the tone in my mind. Spotify and YouTube are my go-to sources. If you’re settling down to write a smut scene, find yourself a sexy playlist to get your brain in the zone.

Your mood is important as well. Obviously you don’t have to be dripping with lust to write this sort of scene, but being upset, tired, or ill can definitely put a damper on your ability to get into the proper mindset.

Never try to force writing of any sort if you’re not feeling inspired. As that old saying goes, writing is like a fart: if you have to force it, it’s probably shit. The original quote pertains to relationships, but I think it’s pretty fitting here as well. Should this happen, don’t scrap the project entirely. Simply take a break, play or watch the property involving the character(s) you’re writing about, read some of your favorite authors or fic writers, read some guides like this one. And then come back when you feel suitably inspired.

In conclusion...

As I said before, this is less of a guide and more of an outline. Everyone has different methods for putting out their best content. Perhaps listening to music distracts you or the writing of others sticks in your head and hampers your ability to create original work.

And that’s completely fine.

That being said, I hope that you guys found this useful in instilling you with the confidence you need to finally begin writing smut! There can never be too many smut writers in the world. If there’s something in particular that you’d like advice on, leave a comment and I’ll try to address it as soon as I can. Thanks for reading, everyone! Now, go forth with the faith that you can finally do the thing !!!

[monetfatalia]

Heat Rises (Todoroki X OC)

Chapter 5

All credit for artwork goes to the original owner.

Word Count: 3,819

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

•••

This is no time to talk you idiots, if we all strike now we can kill him—UGH!” All Might’s speed was astonishing as he took out the villains between him and the group I’d gathered by Aizawa. He picked up all five of us at once and had us a good distance away from Shigaraki and his Nomu before I could blink. When he set us back down he handed Mr.Aizawa off to Tsu and Midoriya.

“Everybody back to the entrance. Take Aizawa with you, he doesn’t have much time.” We all looked up to him in that moment.

“Yes sir.” Mineta scrambled to help the other two hold up Aizawa.

“What about Rue? She overused her quirk saving us from those villains and—“

“Go Midoriya.” I cut the freckled boy off from where I sat on the ground. My breathing wasn’t as bad as I was expecting but all the muscles in my body had cramped up at once making it hard to move.

“No no no. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. He’s still fast father. Of course a government hero relies on violence. I wasn’t prepared, I couldn’t even see him when he moved. But he’s not as fast as I thought he would be. Not as fast as he used to be. I guess it’s true after all, he he, All Might really is getting weaker. And little Ruine seems to have gotten much stronger.” I didn’t miss the confused glance All Might sent in my direction at Shigaraki’s deranged mumbling.

“All Might you can’t, that brain villain took one for—“ it was my turn to give a questioning look as Midoriya cut himself off mid sentence. “—uh I smashed him and didn’t break my arm this time, but he wasn’t fazed at all. He’s too strong” This time All Might cut him off.

“Young Midoriya.” He threw the scatterbrained boy a thumbs up. “I got this. I’ll keep Miss Foster safe.” He actually turned throwing up a piece sign which seemingly convinced Midoriya who reluctantly started carrying Aizawa away with Mineta and Tsu. Once they were out of hearing distance All Might glanced down at me again.

“Can you stand young Foster?”

“No, but I can tell you the easiest way to end this mess.” I grimaced trying to move my legs under me.

“What do you mean?”

“Shigaraki, the one covered in all the hands. Take him out first and the bird brain shouldn’t be an issue. From what I can tell it only takes orders from Shigaraki, and without his orders it should become compliant.” I huffed.

“Then I’ll end this quickly… CAROLINA SMASH!” All Might advanced on Shigaraki, but not quickly enough as Shigaraki muttered the abominations name using it as a shield. And a highly effective one at that. The Nomu had taken All Mights hit head on the same way it had done to Midoriya and remained unfazed, only looking at All Might’s smaller frame as the water behind it blew in all directions from the blowback. The Nomu swiped both hands towards the symbol of peace making him dodge as he realized his attack did no damage. “Guess he wasn’t wrong when he said it has no effect on you!” All Might got in several more blows while evading the Nomu’s attacks before taking a leap back. “It doesn’t even matter where I punch you does it.” The Nomu advanced after him resuming blows.

“That’s because Nomu here has shock absorption All Might. The only way you’re going to hurt him is to slowly gouge out his flesh. Of course I don’t think he’ll sit back and let you do that. You’ve finally met your match.” All Mights flow of attacks changed and he was quick to take up position behind Shigaraki’s pet beast.

“Thanks for telling me how to beat him.” All Might grabbed the Nomu by the middle lifting him into the air. “All I have to do is wear him down, and then it’s on to you.” I watched from a couple feet away as All Might threw the Nomu over his shoulder and behind him in a move powerful enough to put the Nomu’s head underground. Or at least it should have been. When the smoke cleared something much worse was revealed.

“Hey Hey Hey now,” the close proximity of Shigaraki’s voice caught me by surprise making me scramble to try getting my legs under me and stand. “I wouldn’t bother struggling, you’re in no position to run.”I stilled feeling Tomura’s hand wrap around my neck. His grip wasn’t the strongest but I wasn’t worried as much about that as I was about the finger he lightly tapped against my throat in warning.

“Damnit.”

“And you were so confident of your victory just a moment ago.” Shigaraki’s chuckle pissed me off as it was the same taunt he used when we were kids.

“Agh…what kind of cheap move was that?” My attention snapped back to All Might who was put in a bad position by the warp villain. Instead of the Nomu’s head being crushed in the ground a warp gate was opened bringing half the Naomi’s body through to where it now had a grip on All Might’s rib cage, where blood had already begun soaking through his shirt.

“Nice, you were trying to bury him in the concrete so he couldn’t move around anymore. Sorry, that won’t work. Nomu’s as strong as you are, that won’t stop him.” Shigaraki laughed again tightening the grip of his four fingers on my neck. “Nice Kurogiri, we’ve got him right where we want him now.” The warp gates began shrinking and I watched as more blood bloomed from All Might’s wound making him visibly grimace.

“Let go All Might, for the sake of your student.” All Might looked in our direction quickly taking notice of the situation before letting go and trying to pry the Nomu’s grip off of himself instead.

“Hold on Foster!” I frowned, risking turning to look at Shigaraki who tightened his grip in response.

“You won’t kill me. The master wouldn’t let you.” I stated quietly not backing down from his look of warning.

“Master isn’t here right now.” He brought his other hand down on my crushed shoulder letting all five of his fingers rest there. I grit my teeth as I watched the bruised skin crack under his touch before graying as it died. My throat was already raw but a small scream tore through it anyway before Shigaraki removed his destructive touch but keeping my neck captive preventing me from curling in on myself in pain.

“You monster, how dare you use a innocent child as a hostage. If this is the best you can do you picked the wrong place to attack. You should just give up now.” All Might was very obviously trying to provoke the villain but I couldn’t find it in myself to care at the moment.

“She’s far from innocent All Might. Kurogiri.”

“Normally I wouldn’t want blood and viscera flooding the insides of my warp gates. But I’ll make and exception for a hero as great as you. Since you’re to fast to see with the human eye, Nomu had to restrain you. And once he’s pulled your body halfway through… I’ll squeeze the gate shut! I’m going to enjoy tearing you to pieces.” My head was spinning at the warp gates words and all I wanted to do was curl up and disappear. The sound of distant footsteps from several directions snapped me out of my pain filled haze as I saw Midoriya run past me.

“Midoriya don’t…” I knew he didn’t hear me as he jumped aiming for the Nomu restraining All Might before Kurogiri, the warp gate, got in the way.

“How foolish.” I heard the warp gates garbled words before there was an explosion knocking him back.

“GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY DEKU!” Shigaraki’s hands tightened around my throat at the newest interruption cutting off my airway. I started clawing at his hand in an attempt to loosen it. Simultaneously witnessing as Bakugou took down the warp gate pinning him to the ground, and the Nomu was encased in ice from his leg to right below his grip on All Might freezing half his body.

“One of your poorly trained thugs told me you’re here because you think you can kill All Might.” The monotone voice did nothing to comfort me as my mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water in desperation for oxygen. With the Nomu’s body frozen All Might broke its grip freeing himself before making a move in my direction only to stop.

“One more step and I’ll turn her to dust.” Shigaraki’s warning was deadly his grip allowing the smallest bit of air to leak through keeping me conscious, all while his fifth finger tapped lightly against my throat. The tables were turned though when a yell resembling a battle cry sounded behind me making Shigaraki dodge whoever it was and release me. I barely caught myself with my hands in a coughing fit, thankful for the precious air filling my lungs.

“Are you ok Rue?” Kirishima kneeled down next to me wary of my injured shoulder.

“I could be better, but I’ll be fine for now Spike.” I replied doing my best to hide my grimace with a smile. He gave me a doubtful look but moved so he was supporting my good shoulder and lifting me up so I was standing.

“Geez Rue, no need to be so manly.”

“Guess I found your body that time you smoky bastard!” Bakugou called out smugly.

“The symbol of peace will not be defeated by delinquents like you.” Todoroki voiced facing the two remaining villains.

“Kachaan, everyone.” Midoriya was quiet while wiping tears away.

“I wish you guys had shown up five minutes ago…but I’ll take what I can get I guess.”I muttered sarcastically earning a astounded look from my red haired friend holding me up.

“Do you even have a limit?” I think the question was rhetorical because Kirishima looked lightly intimidated.

“Of course I do, I hit that about ten minutes ago when this shitbag showed up.”I decided to answer anyway throwing a nod in Shigaraki’s direction. Everything was at a standstill for a moment before Shigaraki’s raspy voice broke the silence.

“Kurogiri, how could you let this brat get the best of you? You’ve gotten us into a real jam here.” He was panicking and it was starting to show.

“Heh, you got careless you dumb villain, It wasn’t hard to figure you out. On,y certain parts of you turn into that smoking warp gate, you use that mist to hide your actual body as a kind of distraction thinking that made you safe. That’s why we missed, but if you didn’t have a body then you wouldn’t be wearing this neck armor. Right? You’re not immune to physical attack’s if they’re well aimed.” Kurogiri let out a light grunt prompting Bakugou to let off several small explosions in response. “Don’t move! You try anything funny and I’ll bow your ass up so bad they’ll be piecing you back together for weeks!”

“Whoa, that doesn’t sound very heroic.”

“He needs a T-Shirt that says that.” Kirishima and I looked at each other and smirked before nodding in agreement.

“They escaped uninjured and captured two of my strongest men. Kids these days really are amazing. They make the league of villains look like amateurs, can’t have that.” Shigaraki looked almost complacent with his hands woven together in front of him. “Nomu.” The word itself put me on edge before I watched the creature lift itself back through the warp gates breaking the ice that held it but losing almost half its body in the process.

“How is that thing still moving? He’s all messed up.”

“Stay back everybody.” All Might commanded.

“Shit.” The word slipped from my mouth as I watched it try to hobble forward before the remaining ice shattered revealing new muscles and tissue.

“What is this? I thought you said his power was shock absorption.” All Might sounded anxious and surprised whereas I was anything but. I knew as soon as it regenerated, exactly who made this abomination.

“I didn’t say that was his only quirk. He also has super regeneration. Nomu has been modified to take you on even at 100% of your power. He’s basically a highly efficient punching bag that hits back.” Shigaraki’s admission had everyone falling into a defensive stance. “First we need to free our method of escape.” My eyes widened in panicked realization and I pushed away from Kirishima desperately. “Get him Nomu.” I wouldn’t be fast enough. Bakugou wasn’t gonna be able to dodge in time. I didn’t even take a single step before the blowback of the Nomu’s hit sent me flying back several feet before hitting someone else. When I hit my injured shoulder collided with something and I let out a short scream reeling away from whatever it was and gritting my teeth to prevent any further sounds from escaping me.

“Ugh, such force.” I distantly heard Midoriya’s comment as we all regained ourselves watching the cloud of dust dissipate. When it did the Nomu was revealed now crouching next to a freed warp gate.

“Are you alright Ruine?” Todoroki was the closest to me and looked concerned. He probably was the one I was thrown into.

“Not really, but I’ll get over it.” I grunted letting the boy pull me up on my feet.

“KACHAAN!” There was a stiff grunt snapping all of our attention to a unharmed Bakugou sitting only a foot from Midoriya.

“Kachaan!? Woah that’s awesome you dodged him.”

“No way,” I whispered.

“Shut up, no I didn’t you damn nerd.” Bakugou said still looking shocked himself.

“Then how’d you get over here?” Kirishima asked getting to his feet. I watched as Todoroki seemed to catch on before speaking up.

“Is it it obvious?” I rasped following the marks in the concrete to the broken wall. The other three caught on quickly all on their feet when the smoke cleared to reveal their teacher looking worse for wear.

“All Might!” Deku called out looking positively horrified.

“These are kids and you didn’t hold back!?” Despite his injuries All Might looked livid.

“I didn’t have much choice he was threatening my companion, besides these kids are no angels. The plain looking one, he tried to kill me with a maxed out punch. What kind of hero does something like that? You think you can get away with being as violent as you want if you say it’s for the sake of others. Well you know what All Might, that pisses me off. Almost as much as little Ruine being amongst such trash. Why do people get to decide that some violent acts are heroic and others are villainous. Casting judgement as to what’s good and what’s evil. You think your the symbol of peace, heh, you’re just another government sponsored instrument of violence. And violence always breeds more violence. I’ll make sure the world understands that once you’re dead.”

“You’re nothing but a lunatic. Criminals like you, you always try and make your actions sound noble, but admit it your only doing this cause you like it. Isn’t that right?” There was an obvious challenge in All Mights voice, and it served its purpose judging by Shigaraki’s annoyed body language.

“Even with Ruine out, we’ve got them outnumbered.” Todoroki stated a firm look taking up his features.

“And Kachaan found the mist guys weakness.” Midoriya added holding his hands up for a fight.

“These dudes may act really tough, but we can take ’em down now with All Mights help. Heh let’s do this.” Kirishima finished hardening both his arms.

“Don’t attack, get out of here.” All Might ordered stepping between the five of us and the villains.

“You would’ve been in trouble earlier if it weren’t for me remember? You need our help.” Todoroki protested looking a bit agitated.

“I thank you for your assistance, but this is different. It’s gonna be alright, just sit back and watch a pro at work.” A quick sense of deja vu rushed over me of All Might giving the same reassurance right before he was restrained.

“But you’re to hurt. You’re bleeding and your almost out of tim-“ Midoriya cut himself off yet again this time covering his own mouth like whatever he said was a secret. We didn’t get time to decide as Shigaraki spoke.

“Nomu, Kurogiri, kill him. I’ll handle the children.” His growled orders had panic running through my veins as I looked at the four boys around me. “Let’s clear this level and go home.” Shigaraki took off running for us with an excited gleam in his eye.

“Heads up we’re fighting after all.” Kirishima announced. Everyone fell into a defensive stance and I followed suit to the best of my ability.

“No matter what don’t let him lay a hand on you! He’ll disintegrate you in seconds.” I told them leaving no room for argument. Before Shigaraki could get close All Might leaped forward colliding with the Nomu and creating a backdraft that sent everyone a minimum of 20 feet away from them. I tensed waiting for the in pact on my shoulder again only to have Todoroki catch my wrist holding me in place.

“Weren’t you listening? One of his powers is shock absorption.” Shigaraki growled landing as gracefully as to be expected from the blast.

“Yeah what about it?” With that All Might looked himself into a devastating duel against the Nomu. The backdrafts from their blows had everyone else struggling to stay standing and nobody would be able to get near them. I gripped Todoroki’s wrist not wanting to get thrown back and he gripped mine holding us both down.

“He’s gonna fight that brain guy head on?” I could barely hear Midoriya over the wind in my ears.

“Woah they’re so fast.” Kirishima was easier to understand since he was right next to me.

“Ruine can you do something about this wind?” Todoroki asked. I looked at him funny until I noticed the trembling of his body. He was holding me stable as well as himself putting a lot of strain on him.

“I can try to lessen some of the blowback.” I grunted. Todoroki’s was holding me stable by my good arm so in order to lessen the blowback I needed to use the other one. Gritting my teeth I moved my arm in front of me in one swift motion setting a cone like wind barrier. It forced the brunt of the blowback to the sides leaving a more manageable current to stand against. The only problem was the flare in my shoulder was only getting worse holding up my arm and my breath was already labored so I didn’t know how long I would be able to keep it up.

“Woah Rue! You need to stop, your arm is…”

“A mangled mess? Yeah I’m aware Spike, thanks for the reminder.” I yelped as a more powerful backdraft hit the barrier making me flinch.

“No I mean, lifting it like that is making it worse, you’re bleeding a lot.” I didn’t feel the warm liquid trailing down my side until Kirishima said something, but I had no intention of stopping.

“Kiri, I need you to tear off a piece of my jacket and tie it around my shoulder.” I gulped feeling my head become lighter at the blood loss combined with my quirk use.

“What!? No I—“ “Kirishima!” I cut him off before Todoroki used his hand on my wrist to pull me in front of him.

“I got it, just lean against me so I can tie it off.” Todoroki’s calm voice forced me to settle and lean back against him without complaint as he ripped a long piece off the bottom of my costume jacket. He wrapped it around the decayed part of my shoulder loosely before pausing. “This is gonna hurt.” He warned. I nodded my head with my eyes clenched shut telling him to go ahead, and he quickly tightened the bandage before tying it forcing a whimper from my lips. The wind barrier had faltered for a moment before I looked back up focusing on keeping the wind diverted. From what I could tell All Might was winning despite the Nomu’s number of quirks, but they were moving to close to my barrier forcing me to use my quirk even more just to keep it up. The edges of my vision were starting to fade bit by bit and I felt like Shigaraki was suffocating me all over again, causing me to stumble backwards right into Todoroki. He didn’t say a thing and moved to hold me up.

I can’t keep this up much longer

As I thought it I caught a glimpse of All Might throwing the Nomu into the ground before my eyes fell shut. Watching the fight was wasting energy I needed to keep up the barrier. And I did just that, while All Might was speaking, while the ground shook beneath me, and even after the sound of a crash and explosions came from somewhere up above me. I didn’t dare let it down until Todoroki tapped my good shoulder making me open my eyes. As soon as I did, the barrier fell and without Todoroki’s support I would have too. There was a large whole in the dome of the U.S.J. and the Nomu was nowhere in sight. However the warp gate and Shigaraki still were.

“You can let me go now Todoroki.” I said turning my head to look at him.

He raised a questioning brow at me. “Can you stand on your own?”

“No, but you don’t need to hold me. I can sit on the ground.”

“There are still two villains here, one of which seems set on harming you. Leaving you on the ground would make you an easier target, besides you look like you could use someone in your corner.” I couldn’t help the small grin that lifted the corners of my lips.

“Is this your way of accepting my friendship Todoroki?” I mumbled curiously. Todoroki didn’t answer looking away towards All Might, who happened to look like he’d been hit by a bus.

“I guess I really have gotten weaker. Back in my hay day five hits would’ve been enough to knock that guy out, but today it took more than 300 mighty blows.” When All Might turned to face Shigaraki and his warp gate my eyes flickered to them, and Shigaraki was shaking. “You’ve been bested villains. Surrender, we all want to get this over with quickly.”

[it-refused]

Summary: Grillby’s given up on Sans, but that might’ve been a bad idea.

A/N: This is just an out of nowhere scene from a human AU.  I wanted to experiment with some unrelated writing stuff 

CN: They drink and smoke 

Rating: T

--

The picnic was in full swing.  Everyone had scattered around Undyne's backyard, playing games or sitting in the shade under the trees back by her fence.  Sans was content staying at the glass picnic table after most of the rest of the crowd had wandered off.  He was too buzzed from the steady stream of beer he had been drinking to be bothered by the heat of the sun.

Grillby sat across from him.  His eyes were on Undyne, across the yard, hoisting Alphys onto her shoulders.

"never a dull moment, huh," Sans said.  

Grillby had zoned out from the sun and the food, and Sans suddenly talking startled him.  His lips quirked into a smile and he shrugged.  

"they're good kids," Sans said.

Undyne ran across the yard, Alphys yelling and laughing on her shoulders.  

"Kids?" Grillby signed.  "They're the same age as us."  

"we're good kids, too."  

Grillby laughed.  He didn't get called a kid very often anymore.  "When's their wedding?"

Sans' eyes watched his hands, and then flicked back up to his face.  "when someone sucks it up and asks, probably.  it'll end up like when they first went out.  all this tension, and then it was all aired out and done in twenty minutes."

Grillby couldn't help but be envious.  Things never worked out that neatly for him. Months of tension and finally forcing himself to just do it, just ask, had ended with just more misunderstanding and confusion.  At least Sans had taken the gesture to mean Grillby wanted to be better friends with him, and hadn't interpreted it negatively.  

"heh.  what those two need is a laxative.  except for dating.  just force it and get it all out at once."  

"..." Grillby had to cover his face for a minute before he could say anything.  He finally signed: "Romantic."  

"that's what everyone says about me, yeah."

Sans wasn't Grillby's only friend at the picnic, but Dogaressa and Dogamy were busy playing frisbee with their kids and their young dog.  Grillby was happier over in the sun drinking beer with Sans.  He didn't get to spend a lot of time sitting, thanks to his work, so he stretched out his legs and relaxed.  

"what about you, huh?"  Sans asked.  

Grillby wondered if he'd missed something.

"i mean, you and...whoever," he clarified, unhelpfully.  "you must've been going out for a while.  i don't think i've met 'em."

"Who?" Grillby asked.  "I'm not seeing anyone."

Sans shaded his eyes and stared at him.  "what?  huh.  no kidding.  oh.  uhh...was it recent?  sorry, man.  shouldn't drink and talk.  crash right into it."

"I haven't dated anyone seriously in three years," Grillby signed.  He was utterly baffled.  

"wow.  wonder where i got that idea from?"  Sans sipped his beer, musing over his misunderstanding.  "must've just assumed it and then ran with it."  He laughed and winked.  "i mean, you're a pretty good looking guy, so why would you be single, right?"

This was almost too much.  He had asked Sans to coffee and gotten all worked up about it when he accepted, only to have him obviously completely unaware it was meant as a date the entire time.  Sans got coffee with his friends all the time, apparently, so he'd seen it as an overture of friendship.  Grillby had eventually decided that Sans just didn't see him that way and didn't see him that way to such a degree that Grillby asking him out had just never occurred to him as a possibility.  All the time they had been spending together since then - going to get coffee, seeing the occasional movie, including each other in events like this picnic - had been pleasant and he'd just decided being Sans' friend was good enough.

But apparently Sans had thought he had to be seeing someone?  

"What the hell?"  Grillby signed.  He pinched the bridge of his nose over his glasses.  

"no idea, grillbz," Sans said.  He laughed at himself, again.  He remembered Grillby mentioning going out on a date probably two years ago, and he must have figured it was a long term thing.  

"I'm very single," Grillby clarified.  

"single and ready to mingle, huh?"  

Grillby closed his eyes.  He nodded.  Sure, why not?  He was curious where this was going.

"well, i've had a lotta beer and i know tons of people.  maybe i can help you out. what's your type?"

Grillby opened his eyes and stared at him.  

"i mean, if you want."  Sans shrugged.  He looked around the yard.  A lot of the people their age were in relationships or coming out of them and glad of it.  "but i need something to work with.  tall, hard worker, blond-- just give me a hint."  It actually grated a bit that a great guy like Grillby couldn't find anyone.  The sun baking him wasn't the only thing that made Grillby hot.  Plus he was just...good.  He worked hard, he was great at what he did, he was kind to his friends, and he even laughed at Sans' jokes, sometimes. He was the whole package.  

Grillby seemed to be a little bit annoyed.  Maybe he'd crossed a line, there.

"What's my type?"  Grillby asked.  He set his hands down and rapped them on the table.  His lips were pressed together so they made a thin line. He suddenly moved, so he was standing and leaning across the table. He reached out and jabbed Sans directly in the middle of the forehead.  

He sat down again, heavy, in his chair.  

Sans touched his own forehead.  For a second, he was completely confused by what the gesture was supposed to mean.  When he realized, something hard seemed to sink into his stomach.  He swallowed.  

Grillby crossed his arms over his chest and looked away.

"uh, heh...what?"  That was sure the wrong thing to say.

Grillby rolled his eyes and stood up.  

"where are you--"

Grillby glared at him and then started walking off, towards the gate.  He was going back to his car and going home.  

Sans didn't think that was really fair.  He'd just kind of laid that on him and left.  

Except...the guy sure had come to a picnic with a lot of people he didn't care about, and he'd spent a huge chunk of his time there hanging out with Sans.

He had a feeling he'd been misunderstanding things for quite a while.  

Sans hauled himself out of his chair and wobbled until his head stopped spinning. Grillby had a head start, but Sans knew a shortcut or two.

There was a gap between the hedges and the fence, which gave him a much more straightforward path towards the road.  Grillby had parked a little distance down the street, so Sans strolled through the neighbor's backyard.  He was standing by Grillby's car, waiting, by the time he spotted Grillby walking down the street towards him.

Grillby caught sight of Sans and his shoulders slumped.  He looked resigned.  When he got to his car, he opened the front door and took out a pack of cigarettes from the glove compartment.  He offered the box to Sans.  

"i quit again."

He nodded and just took one for himself.  He closed the door and leaned against his car, taking a long slow drag from his cigarette.  He exhaled and the smoke circled up over him.  

"sorry about laughing, back there.  just took me by surprise."  

Grillby shrugged.   He'd realized that.  "Sans.  When someone asks you to get coffee, it isn't always just about coffee."  He kept his cigarette between his teeth while he signed, and then took another long drag when he was done.

"whoops.  yeah, i really thought you were seeing someone."  

He nodded.  Well, that was cleared up.  Grillby felt like an idiot.  He couldn't even blame Sans for being oblivious.  At some point he could have said "Hey, did you know this was supposed to be a date?" and cleared everything up.

Sans had a tiny leaf in his hair.  Grillby tapped on his own head to show him where it was.

"yeah, kinda dumb.  but you gotta admit, grillby.  you're, uh, out of my league."

Grillby rolled his eyes.  Sans was charming, friendly, and sometimes when he aimed his smile at Grillby, he felt like his heart was going to pound out of his chest.  They stood by the car in silence while he finished his cigarette.  He dropped it on the ground and stepped on it to put it out.  

Sans' hands were shoved deep into his pockets.  He wanted to ask if he'd blown his chance.  He thought that Grillby not getting in his car and driving away meant he hadn't, but he sure wasn't making any kind of move.  At this point, he'd made all of them, anyway.  Sans should probably do something or say something.  Like, that he wouldn't mind giving it a shot.  

He tried to figure out how to put it.  "uh, maybe..."  Couldn't get the rest of it out.  

Grillby was looking annoyed again, and Sans just wanted to do something that would clarify things.  His head was buzzing and he was a little sick to his stomach.  Nothing felt entirely real.  Sans knew what he wanted to do, but it was pretty much impossible.  He told people he was five foot tall because they got weird if he said he was under that, and Grillby wasn't tall but he was a lot taller than that.  Even on Sans' tiptoes he wouldn't quite reach.

"oh, hey, you got a little something - some ash or something on your face.  just bend down a sec."  

Grillby wiped at his face, but couldn't get it off since there was nothing actually there. He shrugged and leaned down and Sans brushed a spot right under his eye.  When he went to stand back up straight, Sans put his hand on Grillby's shoulder and held him down.  He swallowed.

Grillby was right there, now, his lips parted slightly.  Sans' eyes flicked from Grillby's eyes down to his mouth, and then back up again, but he couldn't make himself cross the small gap left between them.  

Sans knew he was a coward.  That was the big reason Grillby was out of his league.  

Grillby suddenly laughed.  He got what was happening.  

He smiled and leaned in, pressing their lips together and then pulling back to readjust himself to kiss him properly.  Sans' lips were as soft as he had imagined.  When Grillby felt a tentative hand on his hip, he knew he had read Sans right and he let himself wrap his arms around Sans and hold him a little closer.  

Grillby's back started to twinge, and Sans climbed up onto the hood of Grillby's car and they kissed again, comfortably.  They needed to get off a public street but Sans was too buzzed to be embarrassed and Grillby was too happy to reel himself in, yet.  

Sans was the first to pull away, quite a while later.  "i'd better get back to the party, before bro comes looking for me."

They weren't in a very private place.  Grillby nodded.  

"you coming with?  they kept saying there'd be dessert."

Grillby looked Sans over and tugged a small leaf out of his hair.  

"huh."

"Did Toriel make something?"

"yeah, she brought a couple pies."

Grillby tossed the pack of cigarettes into the car and followed Sans back to the party.  

[castiel-left-his-mark-on-me]

Jensen’s Salon

It didn’t take Jensen long to realize certain things about Misha Collins—the guy is very smart, a little quirky, and absolutely, one hundred percent incapable of styling his own hair. It was bad enough that the show’s stylists always made the guy look so like he just danced on a train’s third rail, but Jensen soon discovered that Misha wasn’t any better with it, and it’s little things like that that tend to drive Jensen crazy.

He loves his friends and he wants them to be happy, and he knows that people feel happier when they look sharp. So Jensen will often lend a helping hand. It’s why he’s given Richard certain scarves—so that all his outfits can pop; and it’s why Jared started wearing beanies all the time—because Jensen knew how well they framed his face. And it’s not like Jensen thinks any of his buddies look bad without these little adjustments, but why not help them spice things up a bit? Why not make sure that they’re always putting their best foot forward? Appearances certainly aren’t everything but they do count for something, and that’s why Jensen wants to ensure that all his buddies look their best.

So after the third week in a row where Misha showed up to set looking like a cow had just treated his head as an ice cream cone, Jensen became determined to do something about it.

“We’re friends, right?” he asks suddenly, catching Misha by surprise.

Misha cracks a wary smile but then nods. “I would like to think we are.”

“Okay good” Jensen sighs, finally grabbing Misha by the arm and yanking him in the direction of his trailer, “because we need to do something about all—” he makes a floppy gesture towards the top of the other man’s head, “this.”

Misha’s hand shoots up to touch is own hair, and then he squints at Jensen. “What?”

“Your hair, dude. This …” he gestures again, “this is not a look.”

Misha eventually drops his hand and shrugs. “I don’t really have a look. It’s not worth my time.”

“Looking your best isn’t worth your time?” Jensen counters, stopping in his tracks while sounding slightly offended by that idea.

Misha shrugs once more. “Who am I trying to impress?”

“You’re a public figure! You’re trying to impress practically everyone!”

After the third shrug, Jensen gives up on the speeches and continues to drag Misha up the steps to his trailer. “Well, if you don’t care then you won’t care if I try to make that mess on your head look a little better.”

“Go for it” Misha laughs, still sounding completely unimpressed by any of this.

Once inside, Jensen sits Misha down onto one of the stools by the kitchen peninsula and tells him to wait there, and then he goes to the back to grab all of his combs and hair products from his bathroom. By the time he returns, Misha’s eyes are wide as he looks at all the things filling Jensen’s arms.

“I don’t think I have enough hair for all of that” the man mutters, obviously second guessing his agreement to let Jensen style him. “Come to think of it—how do you have enough hair for all of that?”

Jensen rolls his eyes as he sets everything down on the counter. “I’m not going to use all of it, but I don’t know what I’ll need until I get in there.”

“It’s hair, not brain surgery, Jensen.”

“Hey—hair can be complicated. Just ask your poor scalp. You must torture that thing!”

Misha frowns and then scratches at his head with concern. “Does it really look that bad?”

Jensen frowns some too. “Nah, man – look, you just need to know how to handle it. It’s not horrible … just … messy.”

“Isn’t messy all the rage these days?”

“Not a good rage” Jensen grunts, lining up the mousses and gels in order of hold. Once everything is ready, he smiles and claps his hands together. “Alright—here we go!”

“You’re way too excited about this” Misha mutters, spinning back around on the stool as Jensen comes around the counter to stand in front of him.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks” Jensen admits, already reaching out for Misha’s head to get started.

“Really?”

It’s only then that Jensen realizes what he’d said, and it makes him blush a little. “Heh—uh, yeah, well … I just had some ideas of how I could help, ya know? Make all this look better.”

Misha stares up at him curiously but Jensen continues to avoid direct eye contact, choosing instead to focus on running his hands through the man’s hair, seeing which way it naturally wants to go.

“Well …” he says after a minute, “at least it doesn’t feel too coarse. Do you condition it?”

Misha makes an unsure sound before shrugging again. “I just use whatever my wife uses.”

Jensen nods, thinking about how much that makes sense. A guy who doesn’t really care about his appearance, probably wouldn’t go spending money on extra products just for him. “Alright, well—whatever she gets is pretty good.” Jensen pushes his hands across Misha’s scalp one more time, just feeling and playing with the strands. “Okay—so it seems like your hair naturally wants to pull to the left, so that’s what we’ll go with.”

“Usually things on me want to pull to the right” Misha laughs while looking up to catch Jensen’s eye. He then gives him a slow wink, quickly flicking his gaze downwards to try and emphasize his point.

Jensen groans. “Stop movin’ your head and be quiet, will ya? I’m trying to work my magic.”

Misha corrects his posture and sits up straight. “Take it away, Magic Man. I’m in your hands.”

Jensen groans again, but he soon focuses all his attention on the top of his friend’s head, trying to figure out which mousse to start with. After a second more, he reaches for the one with medium hold and extra volume, thinking that some lift might just create the image that Jensen has in his mind. And as soon as he has a generous amount of foam in his hand, he begins to work it through the dark locks of Misha’s hair—massaging here and twisting there, trying to make the tendrils clump together just right.

“How’s it goin’ up there, boss?” Misha asks, peeking at Jensen from the tops of his eyes.

Jensen steps back a bit before answering, pivoting in the middle to try and see his masterpiece from every angle. “I’m … not sure yet.”

“That’s a good sign” Misha hums dryly.

Jensen glares at him and then scoots up close once more. “Shut up—I just started.”

“Well, please, take your time. After all, I’m just here to help you get through beauty school. Are we practicing highlights next? Doing my nails?” Misha brings up his hands to his face and begins picking at his fingers. “I know my cuticles have been a hot mess lately.”

“Jesus” Jensen moans, wondering why he expected Misha to be at all cooperative throughout this experience.

“We should get Jared in here too—you can braid his hair, or put it in a bun … no! Shave half of it.”

That makes Jensen finally crack a smile. “Dude, he won’t let me anywhere near his hair! He’s so protective.”

Misha grimaces as Jensen tugs some of the strands just a bit too hard. “Yeah—I’m starting to see why.”

“Oh shut it, ya wimp!”

After that, Misha smiles but he stays quiet, letting Jensen play hairdresser without any protest. So Jensen pulls the locks every which way, twisting and combing, running his fingers through it all and then starting over when it all refuses to work. And before he knows it, nearly twenty minutes have passed and Misha is starting to slump in his seat. “Are we—ya know, close to being done yet? It has been a long day.”

Jensen sighs before pulling over the other stool and sitting himself down as well, immediately going back to his work once he’s settled. “I just can’t … it’s not doing …” he bites his lip a moment. “It’s just not doing what I want it to.”

Misha laughs. “Now do you see why I never bother?”

Jensen grumbles but he doesn’t want to give up yet. With a determined breath, he runs his index finger across Misha’s hairline, tracing the edges of each strand—as if mapping it all out will help somehow. But just as he slips down over the man’s ear, Misha drops his chin a little, so Jensen moves his other hand over to lift it up again. He then sits back, finally taking in all of Misha’s face at eye level, thinking that it may help him figure out where he’s going wrong. While gazing at his hair, Jensen’s eyes drop down some—and he notes the man’s high cheek bones and strong jaw as well—and the way his large eyes tilt down slightly at the ends. He stares at the rough stubble covering Misha’s chin and upper lip, framing his mouth in a way that makes his lips seem impossibly pink. Jensen then looks at the man’s nose, realizing how it’s not the usual type of nose that would work on someone—but on Misha, it looks good. It fits his face—and his face overall, is a nice one to look at.

“Everything where it should be?” Misha asks, and Jensen suddenly realizes that he’s long since stopped playing with the man’s hair, and is now just staring at all his features while his fingers play lightly at the base of his neck.

“Oh—uh …”

Misha chuckles a little before quirking an eyebrow. “Do I look super sexy now?”

Jensen blushes again, finally glancing back at the man’s hair, which he has somehow—made worse. “Well, actually …”

He doesn’t let him finish, and with a wide grin, Misha stands up, eventually lifting his hands back to his hair and running them through with a few quick swipes. Then, with the tips of his fingers, he combs the strands over to the left, doing soft little twists once he gets to the ends. After his hair is parted just so, he flattens his palms and smooths down the sides behind his ears, giving his head a quick shake when it’s all said and done; and that makes everything bounce and lift—like the mousse was supposed to.

Jensen gawks up at him in shock, because after only a minute and a few blind, flicks of his wrist, Misha’s hair looks perfect, a beautiful example of “intentionally messy” and exactly what Jensen had been going for. “But … how?” he whispers, standing slowly to reach for Misha’s head.

But the man only smacks his hand away, wearing a smirk that would put the devil to shame. “I said it wasn’t worth the effort—I never said I didn’t know how to do it.” And with that, Misha grins, stepping around Jensen and smacking him on the ass before heading out the door. “Thanks for the head massage though!” he calls out, just as the door slams shut behind him; and Jensen would flip him off, but he’s still just too damned stunned to even try.

[vetustus]

Here’s a record of all Anderson’s voice recordings about his life for future reference.

Childhood

“Ahem. Okay. So... tombstone data. Admiral David Edward Anderson. Not sure why anyone would be interested, but thanks for asking. I was born in London on June 8th, 2137, the last of three children born to Ursula and Paul Anderson--a nurse and a flight mechanic, respectively. That's a little dry. Someone's going to spice this up, right? Never been much for the spotlight. Anyway... where was I? It was a second marriage for my parents. They were almost fifty by the time they had me. My mother worked shifts, so my father would often take me to the base. While he worked, I watched transport ships and fighters take off. Worked his whole life around space travel, my father, but he never left Earth, not for a day. He was a good man. But that's just a side note. Don't put that in. Who is it, Kahlee? Yes, I need to take that. I hope this is what you're after. I'll get to the more interesting N7 stuff next time.”

Enlisting

“What was... What was I talking about? Early days, right. People ask why I joined the military. Everyone talks about honor, duty, sure. But that's never the whole truth. It's a hundred little things that add up to commitment. I joined because of a dog. Yeah, a dog. This patchy, mean, son of a bitch that used to bark at me every day on my way to school. It'd snarl, and I'd start running. Scared the hell out of me. I was just a kid. I remember being in a bad mood one morning. Angry. I can't recall why. When that dog started in on me, I snapped. Started barking right back. We both kept at it until we had nothing left. Dog never bothered me again. Why'd I join the military? Sometimes, you just gotta howl to make things right.”

Contact

“No, no. It's fine. I've got a few minutes. First Contact War? Yeah, I was there. My first real combat. First for a lot of us. I remember one night, early in the war, strapped to my seat as our transport approached the LZ. Everyone was dead silent. Just the sound of breathing. Good men. I'd trained with all of them. We were always joking and horsing around. But not this time. Just the rattle of the shuttle and that heavy breathing. Everyone was thinking the same thing: we're off to fight alien invaders. Aliens! Think about that. We all grew up wondering what was out there, if we were alone in the universe. Now we knew. We weren't alone. And we were in trouble. So there we were, about to face an enemy as different and unknown as we could imagine. I knew I had to say something, keep the men relaxed. So I turned to the soldier beside me, Hendricks I think, and asked him how his mother was doing. "Fine," he said. "Why?" "Cause I heard your momma's so ugly the marines thought she was a turian... almost shot her." That got a few smiles. Then Hendricks turned to me and said... "Hell Anderson, I heard it was a picture of your momma that started this goddamn war in the first place. Scared the turians shitless." Everyone had a good laugh at that. And the boys fought great that night. Sometimes that's all it takes. A joke. A pat on the back. Just a little reminder that everything's gonna be okay.”

N7

“Embarrassing moments? I got more of those than anyone will ever know. Only way to learn something. But if I had to pick one to share... I had just gotten promoted to N7. Full of myself. King of the castle. Found myself buying drinks for undesirables in some run-down bar in the Wards. They toasted my recent promotion. Hell, they would've toasted batarian slavers if it got them more drinks. About the time my money ran out, my new friends turned on me. I was outnumbered. Things didn't look good. My plan to get out of there involved lots of punching. That worked for a while. Then a table hit me... or I fell down. When I came to, I saw a salarianputting the rest of the troublemakers down. A salarian! Moved like a damn cat, I swear. When everybody was out cold or running, he walked over and helped me up. "N7?" he asked. "Yes, sir," I replied. He looked over my collection of unconscious friends, nodding. "Not bad, human," he said. Then he walked away. I had met my first Spectre. Learned an important lesson that day. No matter how good you think you are, there's always somebody quicker, faster, and a helluva lot smarter than you just around the corner. That little lesson's kept me alive more than once since then.”

Turian Experience

“The turians? Hmm. I might not always see eye to eye with the politics and the individuals, but I have great respect for the turian military. Any Alliance soldier lucky enough to take part in their training programs will certainly be better for it. Their precision, skill, and discipline come together in a way that's second to none. Not that I'm faulting our own people or training.. It's just that, after fighting turians in the First Contact War, years later I had the opportunity to observe and train on Palaven. It's a unique experience to put yourself in the squad of a turian commander. My commander was an uncompromising bastard named Bartus Aurix. If you can find him, just ask how the platoon I commanded was trounced in his strategy games. Humbling, but I've used what I learned that day, many times. The xenophobes will have their say, but I think it's vital that we do more of this kind of cross-species training. There you go. Heh. And if you do find General Aurix, let me know--I owe him money.”

Relationships

“You never asked me about this, but... My wife just called. My ex-wife... Nobody likes to talk about the toll that long months apart can have on military relationships. She wasn't military. She couldn't handle it. But it's not even about military and non-military, damn it. It's space flight. Space flight--finding the mass relays--miracles of engineering. Human imagination rising to meet our desires. We pay a price for that curiosity, that drive. Our relationships suffer. People we love suffer. But that's reality and it's worth the cost. I must have thought it was... I guess I still do. In the end, you just hope you made the right choices.”

Normandy SR-1

“You asked me to talk about the SSV Normandy--the Normandy SR1. As commander of the Tokyo, I was consulted on the Normandy's design and on board for her initial training exercises. The average person probably doesn't know that the Normandy was a joint project with the turians. Acting CO Elli Zander was no diplomat. She ran out of patience with turian posturing and politicking during construction. The chief architect of the drive core, Octavio Tatum, and his team of turian engineers were in the CIC for final training exercises. Tempers flared when Zander pushed the limits of the stealth system, waiting to vent the IES well past what Tatum was comfortable with. I tried to calm the situation, but it still ended with the turian scientists in shackles and a human/turian fistfight in Chora's Den later. Funny now... When I first laid eyes on the Normandy, she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Day after that training run, Admiral Wright found me on the bridge. "She's yours," he said, "Can't trust her to Zander. Send me a list of crew from the Tokyo you'd like and prep for your first mission." Short command, thanks to Saren. Still. One of the highlights of a long career.”

Normandy

“The Normandy? A brand new ship. My ship. You don't forget that moment. The first time you're standing there, the whole crew looking to you for direction? Unforgettable. I'd led men and women before that. Seen a lot of combat already. Always managed to find my way home in one piece. Do that a few times, you begin to think you know better than the next guy. Maybe you do. I don't know. But if you're lucky, really lucky, you find yourself on a good ship, in front of a good crew. A crew you can trust with your life. Gifted, disciplined, brave. All of them eager to set sail into the endless black ocean. I still remember my XO asking what my orders were. "Shepard," I said, "Let's see what we can find."”

Shepard

“Sure, I can talk about Commander Shepard. Big topic. There's been a lot written about the Commander, but most of it isn't true. People are quick to judge. They don't know the whole story. I don't even know the whole story. But I know the man/woman. Worked with him/her, fought with him/her. Trust him/her with my life. Shepard's had some rough patches. Who of us hasn't. He's/She's been forced to fight a lot of battles alone. God only knows how he/she got out of some of that. Makes your head spin. Thing is, you never heard a complaint. Never once got "No, sir. I can't do that." He/She never hesitated. Few people know what Shepard's been through. I'd like to think I come pretty close. And I worry sometimes he/she forgets: there's a whole bunch of people who lose sleep over him/her getting back home. Maybe it doesn't need to be said. Maybe we're too dumb to say it. Soldiers like the Commander are rare. Men/Women like Shepard... even more rare.”

New Questions

“Okay. I have your new questions here... "As a leader, do I ever feel that the ends justify the means? Spirit of law over word of law?" I'm not going to touch that with a ten-foot pole, but I think I know what you're after. You're referring to the way I, uh, arranged to have the Normandy released to Commander Shepard before the Battle of the Citadel. I'm not sure how valuable hindsight is to the military. Obviously, it worked out for the best. Without the Normandy and Commander Shepard free to do what they needed to do--what we needed them to do--Saren might have taken the Citadel. I think it's clear what a different galaxy this would be if that had happened. I did what I had to. If I had been wrong, I would've gladly accepted the repercussions. The real trick is never being wrong. Ha. If you're looking for more action and less philosophy in these notes, let me know.”

[enkisstories]

The android cemetery (Chapter 11)

A while later Daniel was standing at the top of an open shaft, keeping watch. Meanwhile Gavin was down on his belly and wiggling his flashlight around.

“You were right”, the detective said. “It is a PL600 indeed that’s lying there on the bottom. Damn! This could have been our lucky break on this godforsaken “quest”.”

“Why only could?” Daniel asked back, not averting his attention from their surroundings. “Something wrong with the shaft? It looked stable enough earlier.”

“Uh…”

“Uh” was, in fact, a pretty good summarization of the shaft’s state. For one, it was made out of android bodies piled upon one another. Some had reverted to their factory settings state, but on most of them the outer skins were still online. Nearly all of the ones with their skins intact were also still wearing android uniforms, but in one case also - and upon noticing that Gavin had vomited into the shaft - a baseball cap with the stallion of the Detroit Pistons. Seeing all the standard android attire was one thing, but another altogether to spot individuals you could relate to within the mass grave. The Pistons cap was even worse than the various hands and feet sticking out of the walls and into the shaft. Or the fact that some of those were still moving…

“I, uh, erred. It’s kinda unstable, after all.”

“Oh. Too bad.”

Nearby, although still in a safe distance from the would-be graverobbers, a crane yanked around. The claw opened to release more dead bodies into the landfill. Daniel registered it with clenched teeth.

“Yes, too bad. Too bad for US, meerkat!” he exclaimed. “Sorry, but, not sorry. We’ve wasted enough time and I’ll probably have nightmares of that dead polar bear chasing me for weeks to come. Calling out for me in Connor’s voice for bonus points. We’ve got to get that PL600 so that we can finally be done with this expedition!”

“Heh! Now you are talking, slide-rule!”

Gavin moved away from the shaft’s opening to where his backpack stood. It was time to put some of its contents to good use! The man took out the bigger of the two grappling hooks. It was of the folding variety. Daniel thought that the device would not do them much good. They didn’t want to dredge the android carcass up a gentle slope, but lift it upwards. On closer inspection the presumed grapnel turned out to be a grabber. The claw’s opening was facing away from the handle, not towards it. In its ready state the device consisted of four arms that were held apart by a wedge. On contact the wedge would drop and the claw snap shut. It was the same principle grabber machines at fun fairs employed, the difference being that this one wasn’t rigged against the user.

“And now you and me are doing some wholesome family fun – we’re going fishing!” Gavin said, waving invitingly. “Give me a hand here, will you? And the metal pole!”

Wordlessly Daniel handed over the pole they had found earlier. Gavin had used it to test the ground before them so far. Now he slammed two narrow metal bands that the dump had provided down the pole’s length to roughly the middle. They formed a groove just wide enough for the grabber’s rope to run through. Daniel recognized the improvised construction as a very basic pulley system. Only then did it dawn to him that one was needed. They didn’t want the android corpse to scrape along the shaft’s wall, after all. Together they put the pole across the shaft’s opening. They secured it on both ends with more garbage and the help of, much to Daniel’s astonishment, a small welder. But having seen his boyfriend pack all the stuff honestly he should not have been surprised to find a build-your-own-android kit at the backpack’s bottom. Or in a side pouch.

“Okay, this shit’s sure to stay in place”, Gavin said after having tested the construction.

They ran the rope over the pole and lowered it slowly into the shaft. As Daniel watched it descent, he couldn’t help but notice the heads, torsos and limbs.

“Oh”, he uttered.

“Right.”

Nothing else was said.

The hopeful fishers let the grabber dangle over the PL600’s body. The dead android wasn’t helpful enough to lie directly below the device, therefore Daniel had to maneuver the rope into place with a poker. The whole operation seemed unnecessarily complicated to him, but then again, so was cooking to Gavin. Daniel had to trust his human that he knew what he was doing.

Finally the claw snatched the body. Gavin re-aligned the rope until it sat firmly inside the groove and then they could start pulling. As the torso got lifted off the ground it bent somewhat, with head, arms and legs dangling. The good news was that none of the limbs detached during the process. The corpse seemed to still hold together after however long it had lain on the shaft’s bottom. Hopefully not too well, Gavin thought. The last thing they needed was the android snapping back to consciousness and say “Hi” to them. The bad news was that the attachments made the while package unstable. Despite all the care the graverobbers had taken, their corpse was moving towards the shaft’s wall, after all. It bounced off, only to drift into the opposite direction – where it was caught by a set of moving fingers! They grabbed and caught a hold, unwilling to let go again.

“What the…!” Gavin uttered. He looked down more closely and yelled: “Gah! A zombie android’s fucking stealing our corpse!”

“Well, just pull harder!” Daniel suggested.

“Can’t! We might lose our PL!”

They stopped pulling and gazed down into the shaft. Whatever had grabbed the PL600 had to be under the impression of having caught onto something it could use to pull itself out of the mass grave. It was tugging harder at the corpse now...

“This is no good”, Gavin whispered.

“I know.”

Daniel looked down. Not because he felt like shit now, or better: Not just because he felt like shit. The android was also trying to gauge how deep they would have to dig to reach the moving fingers’ owner. The tools needed… the risk of the whole shaft collapsing, destroying all the other still wriggling half-dead androids in the process… the statistical probability of there being deviants in the mess… But the numbers were not adding up favorably in any sub-calculation. Probably if they had more time on their hands. An army of helpers. An official writ of some kind. But as things stood, there was nothing they could do.

Slowly Daniel drew his submachine gun.

“I’m sorry, stranger”, he whispered. “But it’s you or me now…”

Tears in his eyes Daniel tried to pull the trigger, but his grip was as shaky as the dying android’s down in the shaft. Standing next to his partner Gavin remembered something from earlier today. Something Daniel had said when they had been cuddling on the couch. Something they had laughed about!

“Between the two of us”, the man said in a calm, quiet voice. “You ARE the good guy.”

“Maybe”, Daniel replied. “But not right now.”

And then he emptied his weapon’s magazine into the shaft. If there was a cry of pain down there, they didn’t hear it. But the hand let go and the dead PL600 started spinning in circles like a panicking spider. The grabber was holding it firmly for Gavin to pull it upwards. The corpse hit the metal pole, Daniel grabbed it and dragged it on firm ground. Gavin stood towering over both the dead and the living PL600, the rope and the grabber still in hand, as if unsure what to do with them.

“Yes, good idea”, Daniel said between sobs. He held the dead PL600 in his arms, but it wasn’t this already dead android he was crying about.

“What idea? I didn’t have an i… oh, I see.”

Gavin shrugged, then let the claw snap around the metal pole. He fastened a suitable piece of unrecognizable trash on the rope’s end and let it fall into the shaft. Maybe the climbing aid would do someone or something down there good, maybe not. It didn’t matter to Gavin Reed. All that mattered were Danny and, obviously, himself, and them still being together in the near future. The grabber he could replace easily, his Daniel’s happiness to the contrary could not be bought with money. Or rather, Gavin COULD have bought it, in a CyberLife store, to be specific. If only he had kept his trap shut! If only he hadn’t announced his plans to buy a pre-owned PL600 to replace Daniel in the evidence archive and if only that hadn’t offended Daniel, ultimately resulting in this crazy foray into the landfill!

Gavin touched Daniel’s shoulder.

“Come on”, he whispered. “Those floodlights are way too close to our position for my liking.”

The android nodded. Only one of the androids, as Gavin registered much to his relief.

Extending a hand Gavin repeated his “Come on!”. He dragged Daniel up and then, not letting go of the other’s hand, nosed his boyfriend.

“But you hate that”, Daniel said, still shedding tears.

“I hate a lot of things, but here we are, standing in roughly the middle of the one that’s currently topping my list”, Gavin replied, smiling at the partner. “Let’s get away from here!”

They started walking away from the shaft, trying to concentrate on the sounds their own feet caused instead of any noise possibly emerging from down in the dump or the machines at work around them. Daniel was carrying the PL600 corpse. Gavin slung his arm around both.

“Also I just remembered it’s election year”, he grunted. “We might want to have a serious talk about source-segregated recycling with our district representative!”

[abutterflyobsession]

Doctor Who AU: Part 16

prelude/one/two/three/four/five/six/seven/eight/nine/ten/eleven/twelve/thirteen/fourteen/fifteen/ao3

“What about this one?” Roland stepped over the twisted wreckage of the smashed painting and indicated another canvas that had been concealed behind the picture of the Doctor, “ring any bells? Rustle any leaves?”

“That's . . . Dawn?”

Bog figured that keeping Roland talking helped delay the creation of an evil plant army and, more importantly, any more personal suffering on Bog's part. Bog was just too tired to consider the abstract thought of a plant army attacking the world for no discernible reason except for Roland's twisted amusement.

The painting did look just like Dawn. Fluffy yellow hair and energetically cheerful face.

“Wrong!” Roland waved a rebuking finger at Bog, “This lovely young lady, full of sunshine and love, is obviously my buttercup.”

“That is obviously Dawn.”

“I'm telling you it isn't. My buttercup and her sister are identical twins, you buffoon.”

“I have met them, you know. Noticed that they aren't. Aren't identical. Not in the least.”

“You've met them as they are now. This girl of bright-eyed wonder was the lady who ended up in the Time War. Breaks your heart, doesn't it? Thinking of that poor little thing caught in all that messy fighting. Then she died.”

Roland knocked the painting off the wall and it landed face-down on the floor. He walked along the wall to the next painting, treading on the fallen canvas as he did.

“And so innocence is lost to the cruelty of the universe and the shattered remains of a once radiant youth are packed up and sent home with accolades and medals for valor. Like a purple heart with a new face thrown in as a bonus.”

The woman in the painting was nothing like Dawn—or the Doctor's supposed first face, that is. She looked to be at least in her mid-thirties, as compared to Dawn's early twenties.

Also, this woman was Indian.

“Look,” Bog said tiredly, “I've kind of lost a lot of blood so I'm not very quick on the uptake right now, but . . . what?”

“Why must I be plagued with the tiny, ignorant brains of lesser beings?” Roland implored the ceiling before turning his gaze back to Bog with a look of deliberate condescension, “When a Time Lord dies they regenerate. If you're off wandering around on a battlefield there's no way to stabilize things when your genetics get put through a blender and things can get a little off model. So, new face. New brain. Old memories. Very simple.”

“Of course it is.”

“This broken little soul comes home to the loving embrace of her family. The family who had wanted to tuck her safely away with her sister, but instead she ran off to play soldier and got herself killed. There were reconciliations, hugs, all manner of touching emotional slop. Even her darling, dearest husband had come home. And like she was a changed woman, he was a changed man.”

“I'm hoping I pass out soon, honestly.”

“The war was ended, the lovely lady goes spinning off into the universe with reckless abandon, burning through face,” Roland knocked down the painting, “after face,” he knocked down the next one, “after face.”

He made his way around the room, knocking the paintings off the wall one by one until they were all laying on the floor.

“Trying to make a fresh start. To shake off the past, the fickle lady that she is. Me, I prefer to maintain a standard,” Roland gestured to his face, “the highest of standards. Everything she ever wanted me to be and yet she still discards me. For you, of all primitive creatures!”

“I'd say you lost me but I wasn't really following to start with. I met the woman like five minutes ago and I'm not exactly enamored of the consequences so far.”

“Fixed point in time,” Roland went on, punctuating his narrative with dramatic hand gestures, “Boy meets girl. Girl tells boy about his roots and he ends up doing glorious things for his plant peers. Boy and girl fall in love, get married, have 2.5 kids. Well, maybe not the last part, but you get the point. It's a tale as old as time and it's a disgusting cliché.”

“To be honest, I'm not exactly keen on the Doctor. So let me go and you can get back to your obsessive stalking without having to worry about me.”

“Please,” Roland pressed his hand to his chest, “I've worked myself to the bone to prevent you two meeting. It's tied into her sister's release somehow so I arranged for plenty of danger to come my sweetheart's way. A few daleks here, a cyberman army or two there. I knew she's get herself out just fine, clever little thing, but it convinced her it just wasn't safe to wake up her dear baby sister. But she ended up doing it anyway and—ugh! You make your entrance.”

“I really don't want to be hearing about your relationship problems. Have you ever considered that the lady just isn't interested in you anymore?”

Roland stared at Bog with total incomprehension.

“No,” Roland laughed away the idea, “No, before you came along it used to be her and me, rocketing around the universe, playing our game. She might have amused herself with you little mayflies, playing at friendship and humanity, but all of them passed. I was still the most important one in her life, her one, real companion throughout all of the universe and all of history. But then this glorified potted plant comes along and for some reason her head is completely turned.”

“Look, I haven't even known her a whole day and I would hardly imagine her head as capable of being turned by anything less than than blunt force trauma.”

“Yes, because you haven't gotten to that part yet!”

“Right.”

“It happened, but then I made sure it didn't happen! I made sure that your happy, fluffy little meeting never happened. Then time went all to pieces and kept trying to shove you two together some other way. She knows, my buttercup knows that something isn't right and she's been trying to get to the bottom of it, but I've kept her distracted. Yet somehow you end up meeting. But I'll fix it. I'll change it.”

“I'm totally up for going home and losing her phone number.”

Something pinged softly.

“Hm, results are in.”

A console rose up in the center of the room. It was a sleek thing, a far cry from the patchwork console in the Doctor's TARDIS. This one was white with reflective silver trimming. Bog wondered if that was so Roland could catch glimpses of his own face while he worked.

“How frustrating,” Roland said after a brief study of a screen's readout, “I'm still having trouble cracking the code.”

“You tried your best. Guess it's time to call it a day.”

“It would seem that there is not only a genetic lock on it. It's recognized you as admin and has decided that only your genetic code and your mental profile can unlock it. Hm, dear, dear, I was so hoping I could kill you now.”

“Too bad.”

“I'm sure I can make it work.”

“Lovely.

The Doctor frowned at the readout from the vortex manipulator.

“Why were you skipping around 1960s America for a week?”

“I thought we were working on a plan to save Bog,” Dawn sighed, “not prying into my activities.”

“I was checking the charge.”

“It was an accidental excursion. We got back as soon as we could.”

“What were you doing all that time?” the Doctor asked suspiciously.

“Oh, this and that. Caught some concerts. Partied with some celebrities. Tried to process that my sister is eight hundred years older than I thought.”

The Doctor dropped the vortex manipulator and crossed the room to rummage in a dented tool box. This conveniently placed her so that she was facing away from Dawn.

“I'm not mad. Well, I'm not boiling in a red-hot fury of indignant rage anymore. I'm still not happy with you, but I've calmed down enough to listen to whatever you have to say. And to hear the story of . . . what happened to mom and dad.”

Oh, little rising star, Dawn's sister had said, I tried. You have to believe I tried. But I couldn't save them.

Then the cloister bells had tolled and the discussion was shelved.

Dawn had run out of the TARDIS, shoving the words out of her head, refusing to accept them. She had fixed a smile on her face and ran like mad toward the next adventure. And she had kept running, headlong into the 1960s, right until the third day of their involuntary stay there when it all became too much to hold inside and she spilled the whole story out to Sunny.

He had been teaching her to climb trees at a park. Not an important park that showed up in the history books. Just a park somewhere with ducks swimming in a pond. A few of the ducks were actually an alien species, but Dawn figured they were close enough not to make much of a difference.

“I figured out pretty quick that I was better at climbing and acrobatic stuff because I was small,” Sunny was telling her, “I've got a good center of gravity. The advantage of being short is that my legs aren't so long that I get tangled up in my own feet. I was in all these gymnastic classes when I was a kid and my mom was always talking about how I'd end up going to the Olympics but that was just her bragging it up to her friends. I've always thought of it more as a survival skill than anything else.”

Sunny had climbed up the tree so fast and so easily that Dawn couldn't see how he had done it, so she made him come down and do it twice more. Then she tried to copy his moves and slammed her head into a branch.

“Usually it's my sister who ends up needing medical attention,” Dawn grumbled once they were finally in the tree, sheltered among the thick growth of spring leaves.

“Heh, every family has one of those. My mom likes to say that my brother Josh broke three arms.”

“I'm assuming he didn't actually have three arms?”

“Nope. He broke his left, his right, then his left again. One time by falling like three feet into soft sand.”

“When we were ten my sister broke her leg when she tripped in the middle of an empty room with a perfectly level floor. Even she wasn't sure how she did it, but she insisted for years that it had been invisible aliens and we both researched every kind of race and species with invisibility and camouflage abilities and got so interested that when we went to the academy we coauthored a paper on the subject. I wanted to call it something like “Exposing the Hidden Enemies” but my sister said no one would get the joke since most of the races we discussed in the paper were rather shy and not at all violent.”

“But they did break her leg. That's pretty vicious.”

“That was my exact argument! It nearly swayed her, too.”

“How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“Just the two of us. You have six brothers, right? That sounds . . . crowded.”

“Totally. The family joke is that there was no space for me to grow, all my older brothers had filled it already. They're all taller than I am. I got used to being randomly picked up by my brothers just because they thought it was cool that they could.”

“What about your parents?”

“Both taller than I am. I'll forever be their 'little boy,'” Sunny wiggled his fingers to make air quotes, “Mom's a welder and dad runs a little Cajun catering business. Mom used to be a backup dancer for a whole lot of different bands, but after she had my oldest brother she decided welding was steadier work. I get all my moves from her. We all do. You should see us at family reunions, we have a whole hip hop routine.”

“That sounds . . . amazing . . .”

That was when Dawn had started crying and told Sunny that her parents were gone, that they had been dead and dust for centuries and she hadn't even known until that day. Just a little while before she had been looking forward to seeing them again and telling them all about her adventures rattling around in an obsolete TARDIS.

For a little while she cried and hated her sister for lying.

Now, back in the TARDIS, watching the stiff set of her sister's shoulders, Dawn was ready to hear the story.

“After we save Bog, like the foliage in distress that he is, you have to tell me what you've been doing. Eight hundred years, that's a lot of adventures. Or misadventures. No wonder this TARDIS is such a wreck. Have you even been doing maintenance on it or do you just wait until something explodes and sets the room on fire?”

“You'll want to leave,” the Doctor said without turning around, “Once you know everything you'll want to leave.”

“You don't--”

“You think I'm still the same inside. Still your happy, kind sister. But there's nothing left of her but some old photographs.”

“Well, we'll see.”

“I am super uncomfortable listening to this,” Sunny called from the other side of the console room.

“Why did you bring your date back here?” the Doctor grumbled, “didn't you do enough kissing on your little excursion? What are you keeping him around for?”

“I might want to kiss him again,” Dawn grinned.

“Doesn't that get tedious?”

“Nah, Sunny is a good kisser.”

“I am going to die,” Sunny groaned, “I hope that I die.”

Bog had fallen into a haze of exhaustion, too uncomfortable to sleep, but too tired to stay awake. He watched in a detached way as some sort of electronic device was assembled, cables snaking between it and him. Roland's voice rose and fell in smug tones but Bog couldn't wake himself up enough to listen.

A hitch in Roland's smooth voice sparked a tiny bit of interest in Bog, but not enough for him to try and force his eyes full open.

“You really need to moisturize more often. Winter is murder on the skin,” a familiar voice said close to Bog's ear, the breath of their words touching his face. A bottle was put to his lips and water poured into his dry mouth. He almost choked before he remembered how to swallow.

“Took you long enough,” He said when the bottle was empty and his eyes focused enough to let him see the Doctor's face floating in front of him like a dream, “I can feel myself getting uglier by the second.”

“You're looking good, marsh man. The calvary is here.”

“Finally!” Roland's voice rang out, “I thought you were never going to show up, sugar! Now, before you go fiddling with any of those cables please be aware they're jacked into his nervous system and if you pull them out he'll flat line immediately.”

“What is this? What have you done?”

Bog felt the Doctor's fingers touching where the cables had been attached to his arm, driven in through the hardening bark of his skin. The sonic screwdriver whistled and glowed, but she needn't have bothered, Roland was eager to share the details of his project.

“I've turned him into an interface for his precious primrose. He's hooked up to my computers and I've got full access. The AI program is functioning, he template for the army has been complete and growth is beginning outside. Within the hour I'll have an army big enough to take this city. Within a day . . .? Probably enough to take the country.”

“Turn it off!”

“Sure thing, darlin'. Here's the switch.”

A small white box with a red button on it was tossed into the Doctor's hand.

“Just, before you press that you should probably know something: I've worked it out so that if you turn off my program you turn off your chia pet.”

“Explain.” the doctor grated out the order, button clutched in her hand.

“It's simply, dearest, really. If you want to stop my army then you have to turn off the program. But if you stop the program you hit the kill switch on the plant as well. You can either stop my army or save him. You can't do both. Now, think it over, but don't take too long. But I'm sure you'll decide quickly. We both know how good you are at making hard decisions.”

The smile he gave was vicious.