#microscope pictures are way easier with my little camera...

[flameshardsgoo]

june

[eudikot]

you're a researcher!! that's so cool! if you don't mind me asking, what do you do?

Thank you for the ask, I love talking about my research!! Currently, I'm working on studying barley and its interaction with Pseudomonas fluorescens using a clear hydrogel media instead of soil. I got interested in this project because I think that the ability to grow plants in hydrogel instead of soil to study their roots is such a cool thing, and since I'm majoring in both plant and microbial biotechnology adding the bacterial aspect helps bring everything I'm working on all together (and is something I can make a paper out of). Then to add biotechnology into the equation, we added GFP (green fluorescent protein) into the bacteria, which causes them to glow green when hit with UV light and viewed under a filter. This makes it easier to see the bacteria on the roots.

Because this projects excites me so much and has some cool pictures, I have to share some. The first picture are roots without any bacteria and the second one has the bacteria. Feel free to take a second and see if you can identify any differences between the two images.

The first noticeable thing I see is within the hydrogel itself. The non-bacterial control has a much darker background, likely because there are no bacteria to fluoresce in it. However, you may notice that the roots still have a glow to them. That's actually because plants have autofluorescence based on the proteins/chemicals they produce which was visible through the filter. Now, the things that stand out to me on the bacterial roots compared to the regular ones are that they almost have a rougher appearance, likely due to the bacteria colonies growing on it. And then there is the bright spots of bacteria that are not present on the bacteria-free roots. Seeing such a stark difference so easily (since I have been looking at images of these for a while now and know what I'm looking for) honestly blew me away when this actually seemed to work.

Also, just to talk about autofluorescence again, the chlorophyll in the leaves make the plants so bright in this system. I mean look at that leaf!! I never though I'd see such a pretty plant (the last one looks slightly different from the rest because it was taken with my phone instead of the microscope camera, but catches the entire autofluorescence really well).

And to wrap this whole spiel up, let me give a little background on where I started with doing research. I actually started out by doing data analysis on differential gene expression, or the differences in expression under different conditions. A lot of analysis uses an "out of 100%" model if you will, and because of this if one gene changes expression a lot but everything else stays the same, it'll look like all those genes have lower expression compared to the one that changed even if they might not. You can see how that might be a bit of a problem. I was testing a new R package that would compare gene expression in a different way to bypass this problem and more clearly see what is actually happening to different genes.

Because I was just helping a bit on this project I never saw its conclusions before moving onto other things. I took a side off of that project to get a grant and do a systematic review on how other researchers are describing their gene expression clustering, since in R you need to define the clustering method (how different groups are compared to one another) and the number of clusters you want. Because these are human entered and can change the outcome of the data you're analyzing, it's important that what you do can be replicated, but a lot of researchers were very vague in even what packages they used to cluster. I'm still finishing up that work so hopefully I'll be able to publish a paper on it soon.

Then I've also had fun helping some of our grad students with barley biomass measurements and, my absolute favorite, soil microbe DNA extraction. That student is using differences in the soil microbiome to see if it has an impact on the growth of the barley, and is actually what inspired me to student plant-microbe interactions!

[astro-wrld1]

Observatory exploration

For the first time this week, I was lucky enough to step foot inside an observatory. This experience was quite unreal to me due to me having no prior knowledge to what an observatory carried. Being apart of this experience has taught me a lot of things about the observatory and what they exactly are capable of. While in the observatory we learned that the dome has the ability to rotate and the microscope can be adjusted manually. Another thing that caught me off guard regarding the observatory is just how small the telescope within the middle is. Despite being deceivingly little, the telescope shown here has the power to study objects that are 4.5 billion light years away(Quasar 3C66a). This camera also has the options to put different filters over the lenses to get different looking pictures from the same angle. An observation I noticed while in the observatory was that the whole room was illuminated with a red light. It made me curious as to why the room would need to be red in order to observe space. After researching I came to the conclusion that red-light has a peak wavelength of 635-700 nanometers, while normal light is 530. This makes it easier for the pictures to come out darker and get the color they're looking for. Also present in the room was a lot of high tech equipment that operated the telescope. It's captivating how much work truly comes with taking pictures of the stars at night. It also makes me wonder how pictures can be taken during the day, with such a high exposure coming from the sun. After doing some of my own research I learned that without a specialized lens there isn't a way to take pictures during the day. The lens has the ability to dim the exposure of the sun making it possible to photograph past the sun. This experience was very interesting and made me want to learn a lot more about space and astrophotography. I am extremely happy that I was able to experience something such as this since it's not often you get offered a tour of a whole observatory. It amazes me the amount of knowledge required to capture these truly intricate pictures of things located within the sky.

[explosionshark]

how to live here!

here's a special deleted scene that was supposed to go in one of the chapters after rachel and chloe start fighting, but i never really found a place where it made sense. but i always liked it too much to delete it.

The first time Chloe had talked about hanging out in a junkyard, Max had kind of assumed she’d been joking.

She’s been here a few times already since her return to Arcadia Bay, but the novelty of it still hasn’t worn off. Chloe doesn’t seem to mind, letting her wander off, camera in hand, to explore and take photos by herself until she’s halfway through a roll of film and finally satisfied.

Max lets the sound of breaking glass lead her back to Chloe and snaps one more picture. Chloe, broken off hockey stick poised at the highest arc of a big swing, aimed at the sun-bleached head of a mannequin perched atop a splintered milk crate like a fucked up golf ball on a tee.

The arc of the swing is completed. The head goes flying with a sharp crack, landing in a pile of scrap a few feet away. Chloe holds the stick up over her head and cheers.

“You get that, Max?” she calls over her shoulder. “One for the highlight reel.”

“Got it,” Max confirms, reaching up to withdraw the Polaroid as it’s ejected from the camera. She closes the distance between them to show Chloe the shot.

“Sick,” Chloe says, and then twirls the stick in her fingers. “Y’know, I never used to allow press in here before, but maybe that was a mistake. A few more like that and maybe I can finally catch some attention from the big leagues.”

“I can’t imagine they can ignore skills like yours for very long,” Max grins, leaning up on her tiptoes and craning her neck to try to spot the mannequin head in the garbage.

Chloe grins again and mimes another swing. “Wanna take a shot? Ride out my hot streak?”

“I’m good,” Max says.

Chloe nods and shrugs and swings again abruptly, for real, putting the end of the hockey stick through the screen of a boxy old TV on the ground suddenly and loudly enough to make Max jump.

“You sure?” She props a boot on the corner of the TV to hold it in place as she yanks the stick loose. “It’s hella cathartic. You’ve always struck me as having more rage than you’re willing to own up to.”

“Do I really?” Max asks, a little alarmed.

“Maybe I’m projecting,” Chloe concedes.

They wander further, Max trailing behind as Chloe beats the ever-loving shit out of anything even vaguely breakable in her path.

“Remember when you actually played?” Max asks, after the fifteenth minute of uninterrupted smashing.

Chloe pauses, turning on her heel and drawing the bandage on her arm across her forehead to wipe away a bead of sweat. “Oh hell yeah. They called me The Destroyer.”

“No they didn’t,” Max rolls her eyes. “Only you called yourself that.”

“Me and both our dads,” Chloe points out. “Yours even made a sign.”

“Oh yeah,” Max laughs. “Y’know, I think you were the hockey hooligan kid he always wanted. I couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or relieved when I quit the team.”

Her dad was a huge hockey fan and had been elated when she and Chloe had agreed when he showed them the newspaper ad he’d found seeking players for the local youth hockey team. William and their mothers had been a little more hesitant, Max remembered, but no one enough to really object to their joining.

Chloe took to it immediately, aggressive, competitive, and already more naturally athletic than Max had ever been. Max’s tenure was only a week long, but she’d remained a devoted fan of the team long after, going along with her parents to every game, home and away.

“Relieved, I think,” Chloe speculates. “You were a really small twelve year old.”

“I was appropriately sized for twelve,” Max protests. “You were tall.”

“Pint-sized,” Chloe teases. “Microscopic. Besides, you never had the heart for it. The bloodlust.”

“I liked the skating part. But yeah, you always had more fun with it than me. Did you ever get back to sports?”

Chloe shakes her head, quick and jerky, almost offended. “I never liked sports. I liked hockey ‘cause you guys would always come to my games and stuff. But then…after…”

Chloe missed the first couple weeks of practice, after William had died. It was Max’s dad that got her to go back, at Joyce’s insistence, hoping that the sport could be an outlet, that trying to preserve as much normalcy as possible would help Chloe deal with her grief.

Max and her dad had stayed in the bleachers through that first practice without William. Chloe’s play had been sloppier, and she’d left the ice early, face splotchy and red, thick hot tears running down her face into her jersey. It hadn’t gotten easier from there. It made sense that Chloe had stopped going entirely once Max’s family had moved.

“Anyway, can you even imagine me playing for Blackwell?” Chloe scoffs, brings the hockey stick down on the windshield of an old beat up car. The first blow sends a spiderweb of cracks all through the glass. The second penetrates, a small, fist-sized hole. The third, fourth, and fifth obliterate it completely.

Max closes her eyes, chases the images of a young, grief-stricken Chloe from her mind with this new fantasy. Chloe, hair undyed, strutting through the halls in a red and white letterman jacket. Chloe doing keg stands with Logan and Zach. Chloe with girls like Victoria and Juliet hanging off her arms. Chloe completely and totally ignoring a nerd like her.

“Okay, it’s a little weird,” Max admits, feeling a little embarrassed for the irrational churning in her gut. “You’ve never really been a joiner, huh?”

“Organized sports are so not punk rock,” Chloe says obnoxiously.

“It’s kind of hard to imagine you at Blackwell at all,” Max admits. “I wish I’d come back sooner. Y’know, before you left.”

Chloe’s quiet and Max knew it was a risk to go there at all, but it feels too true to keep to herself so she keeps speaking.

“I didn’t choose to be gone, but,” is it brave or stupid to do this now, actually? Has Chloe been waiting for an apology or will this just make things needlessly awkward and uncomfortable and painful? “I mean I wish I’d handled it differently. That we’d talked more while I’d been away.”

“Yeah,” Chloe shrugs. It feels like Max is on the verge of losing her, so she hurries on before the silence between them stretches too far.

“Can I be honest with you?” Max asks, stomach twisting in knots.

Chloe raises an eyebrow and nods for her to continue.

“I kind of thought,” she pauses and winces. “I mean, I was a little afraid that after I left you just. Wouldn’t want anything to do with me. That you’d replace me.”

“Max, what the fuck?” Chloe lets the words out in a harsh exhale and Max knows that tone of voice. Knows she’s pissed off for real, now.

“I know,” Max cringes, scrubbing a hand down her face. “But, I mean, you were always the cool one, right? And you were going into high school and I was still sleeping with a teddy bear and—”

“This is such bullshit,” Chloe’s voice cracks and Max was not expecting that. “You’re not just— You can’t just replace a best friend! I fucking needed you. I was so… I needed you so much and you hung me out to dry because you were scared I’d stop thinking you were cool?”

“No,” Max hurries to clarify, feeling appropriately breathless for the desperate, drowning sensation overwhelming her. “No, not like that. I just… I didn’t know how to handle it. So, I just kept putting it off, y’know? Like with homework. Remember how many times my mom had to bail me out because I’d wait too long on finishing a project and it wouldn’t be ready by the due date? Only no one could bail me out this time. And the longer I waited, the worse I felt, the more sure I was that you hated me, that you’d scream at me and tell me to stay out of your life. And I was too scared to face that so I…”

“I never hated you,” Chloe says, face caught somewhere between fury and despair. “Fuck, for the longest time all I wanted was to leave here, to be where you were instead.”

“The night you called me,” Max cuts in gently, proud at least when her voice doesn’t shake, “when you tried to run away, I was so scared for you. And I felt guilty because I realized I was wrong, that you still wanted to be my friend, and I knew I didn’t deserve it. I cried myself sick on the ride down with my mom to pick you up. It really freaked her out. But when we got there you just hugged me and you let me hold your hand the entire way back to Arcadia Bay.”

Chloe stays silent, chewing her lip hard enough to make Max wince.

“And even after, even though we were talking again the entire time I was away I’d think about being back here instead. I think about all the years I missed with you and I get mad because it feels kind of like my fault. Like if I’d tried harder it wouldn’t have taken this long. But I can’t fix that now, I know, I’m just glad we’re here now.”

Chloe shakes her head, rough, and throws the beat up hockey stick into a pile behind her. “Max, you fucking—”

She cuts herself and stomps over and Max isn’t sure what she was expecting, but she’s definitely surprised when Chloe wraps her arms around her, drags her close until there’s almost no space between them.

As tight as the hug is, Chloe’s hands hovering over her back are gentle. She’s quiet but her breathing’s rough. It takes a long time for her to speak again; when she does her voice is shaky, quiet. “I never, ever hated you, but I was pissed at you for a really long time.”

“I’m sorry,” Max tries to say but Chloe squeezes her tighter until she falls quiet.

“I got tired of it,” Chloe says. “And it wasn’t fair, either. Not really. We were just kids. God, I fucked so many things up so much worse than that. You don’t know how bad. If you did, you’d think I’m so pathetic. You’d hate it.”

“Chloe Price, you’re so many things, but pathetic has never been one of them,” Max insists, a little startled by the steel in her voice. Chloe tenses in her arms, but doesn’t move away so Max continues, gentler, “I wish I’d been here more. I know you weren’t alone the whole time but still, if I could go back and change anything it’d be trying harder to be a bigger part of your life. It’d be not letting it take so long to get here.”

It’s stupid, she knows, it’s ridiculous to think she could have prevented any of the hard knocks Chloe had taken in her absence but the thing is she’ll never know and Max thinks that she’ll probably always feel responsible somehow.

“God, imagine if we’d had a few years together at Black-Hell,” Chloe says and releases her, finally. She stays close, pushes some hair out of Max’s face. “We would have gotten into so much trouble. Me, you and…” She trails off with a wince but doesn’t linger. “You could have cheated off my science papers. I’d trade you rides around the Bay for homework.”

“Hey,” Max laughs. “Presumptuous. How do you know I would have compromised my morals like that?”

“Oh, you would have,” Chloe says, laugh all low and breathy. “When have you ever been able to say no to these baby blues?”

She bats her lashes facetiously, but the blush staining Max’s face is very real. “Okay, whatever. What else would we have done?”

“Oh, pranks,” Chloe says. “No doubt. We would have pranked it up so hard on those nerds. I always had this idea about semi-permanent hair dye and Victoria’s shampoo bottles, but I never lived in the dorms. And for some reason, Rachel refuses to be my inside man on this one.”

“I’d be down,” Max blurts out, not sure what the sudden pained look on Chloe’s face could have been leading to, but desperate to head it off.

“Wait, for real?” Chloe asks, appropriately distracted and Max realizes suddenly that her hypothetical assent to collusion had just been offered in practice.

“Uh, I mean—”

“No take-backs,” Chloe crows, gleefully. “Holy shit, dude, yes. Okay, I’ve got it worked out pretty well, this is something I’ve been sitting on for a few years at least. First, we’ll need a distraction…”

Chloe’s plan is elaborate, but thorough, and by the time she’s done laying out the details Max isn’t sure she’ll be able to follow through, but she does know that whatever lingering doubts about their friendship she’d had this morning were founded in one-sided insecurity.

“Let me sleep on it,” she says, finally.

“Max,” Chloe whines. “You promised.”

“I did not.”

“I mean, practically.”

“No, I didn’t.”

It’s almost like being a kid again, arguing about something pointless under the midday sun, a little dehydrated but having too much fun together to do something sensible like go back inside. Max has missed this for so long.

She’s deliriously happy she won’t ever have to miss it again.

[bobbymckenzie]

runaway

☆ pairing: nicky x mc

☆ word count: 2.3k

☆ tags: @serafinedupont ; @ariendiel ; @venueska ; @bellarxse ; @lasswithumor ; @lucas-koh ; @violinet ; @messofakind 

☆ author’s note: ok full disclosure i stopped playing like day 3 of season 3 so i’m purely going off of screenshots i’ve seen of nicky. he’s seriously my favorite and i want him so bad!!! ok anyways here’s a one-shot of nicky and my mc, danielle/dani realizing their feelings for each other ! here it is on ao3 ! comments, kudos, and feedback of any kind is much appreciated !! [this is not my favorite thing i’ve ever written but i could not get this idea out of my head]

•─────────✦☆✦────────•

She nudged her way through the crowd, the edge of her dress fisted in her trembling hand, heading towards any exit door she could find. Huge crowds were never her thing, and it never got easier, even after the season ended.

She pushed out onto the balcony, revelling in the crisp, fresh air, breathing so deeply until her chest loosened up a bit.

The edge of the balcony looked out onto the huge lawn, precisely cut and bright as synthetic, store bought grass. Fake looking and expensive, just like half of the patrons at the gala.

She was rubbing elbows with the elite and she hated it. A lot. Humble beginnings to being a sellout.

Valets in steam pressed uniforms maneuvered the expensive luxury vehicles throughout the long, winding driveway, not a single person who made below six figures in sight.

She gripped the cold marble until her hands stung, trying to focus on anything other than her panicked pulse to slow it down. She was never gonna get used to this life, no matter how many high profile events she was invited to.

“Hey, Dani,” a melodic voice called from behind her.

“Oh, Nicky, hey,” she threw him a soft smile, hoping he didn’t hear the way her breath hitched in her throat at her nickname.

“Needed a breather, too?” He slid the glass door behind him, closing it with a click, before coming to join her at the railing.

“Yeah, I just… couldn’t handle the crowd anymore,” she shrugged, taking a shaky breath.

He knew how badly crowds freaked her out. Being on a t.v. show that hinged on hidden cameras and an intimate cast, she never gave off the appearance that she would’ve reacted this way.

But the night of the finale, she found herself hiding in the corner of the Villa bathroom out of the ways of the cameras, trying desperately to catch her breath. Camilo hadn’t come to check on her, like she’d hoped. First person to knock on the door and ask how she was doing was Nicky.

He gently removed their mics, and spoke to her with such kindness and understanding that she couldn’t help but fall for him more than she already had.

God, Camilo was a great partner in the Villa. He was hot, incredibly suave, and practically worshipped the ground she walked on. But it turned out to be exactly what she was afraid of.

All passion, no substance.

It wasn’t a messy break up, but she wouldn’t count on him trying for more than the basic “How are you?” type of filler conversations with her if they ran into each other on the street.

Which they just so happened to do, since the charity gala insisted on trying to get any single islanders to offer up a date in exchange for a hefty donation.

“Sorry about that. I know this isn’t your kind of scene,” he said, leaning his arm against the railing, crossing his legs at the ankles. His body faced her, but he turned his head, surveying the lawn.

Danielle couldn’t help but stare at his defined features, the short, neat stubble parallel to his jawline, full lips pursed in a thoughtful pout.

He looked back at her, brows furrowed, concern knitted between them. “Are you okay with the auction?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. The amount of old men here is disconcerting. I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do if I get bid on by a really ugly guy –”

Nicky cut her off, laughing heartily, the bass of his voice reverberating off of the marble. “Damn, you really don’t wanna be here.”

“What, and you do?” She giggled, his laugh infectious. It was one of her favorite sounds.

He shrugged. “Not really. I was kind of hoping I could auction off a chance to play at somebody’s wedding or something.”

“Yeah, they see a handsome face–” she motioned up and down his body, “–before they see everything else.”

“You say that like you aren’t a catch, too, Dani,” he grinned. She rolled her eyes, trying to be nonchalant when she was freaking out inwardly.

“So does that mean Elladine is okay with you being here?” She asked hesitantly. She knew that they’d reunited after she walked out of the Villa, and from what the tabloids said, they were happy.

He winced, taking a deep breath. “Uh, yeah we broke up a little while ago. We just realized we were better off as friends.”

“She did, or you did?” He couldn’t lie to her – they knew each other too well for that. By the way he fidgeted, she knew she’d hit a nerve.

“You got me. I did. I still love her, don’t get me wrong. It just ended up feeling more like a partnership than a relationship you know?” He shrugged, trying to mask the unsurety in his voice.

“You realized maybe it was better when there were other people around?”

He glanced away, rolling his lips together. “...Yeah.”

She nodded, taking another deep breath, her pulse picking up speed.

Danielle had developed a huge crush on Nicky early on, but he and Elladine had gotten along so well that she just settled for being best friends. From the moment he compared her to his sister, she set her sights elsewhere.

But sometimes Nicky’s lingering looks gave her mixed signals. She never completely gave up hope, but the chances of them coupling up was next to none.

“So… I saw you and Camilo are done. You doing okay? Sorry I didn’t reach out to you sooner –”

“No, it’s okay. Life happens. I don’t blame you at all,” she said, with a sense of finality.

“Dani… how are you holding up? Really?”

He could see right through her, just like she could with him.

She blew out air, her lips flapping together. “It’s weird. I haven’t really seen him since our break up. I mean, not privately at least, you know? He texted me on my birthday, and it was cordial, but it’s still weird.”

“Did you talk to him tonight?”

“I waved, but nothing more than that. I don’t feel like having an obviously fake and super awkward conversation in front of the press,” she shrugged.

“Uh, well he asked for you a little while ago.”

“When?” Her eyebrows shot up, and she pushed away from the railing.

“Yeah, I have a suspicion that he’s here with somebody else,” he said softly, like he was trying to break the news to her without hurting her feelings..

Her eyes widened. “I’m – I don’t –”

“It’ll be okay. Camilo’s friendly enough. I don’t think he’d cause a scene,” Nicky shook his head sympathetically. “Stay next to me. I’ll keep you preoccupied.”

“It’s not that, I just. I don’t… know what to say. Especially in front of everybody like that. I know people will zero in on us and fixate on how we talk to each other and interact,” she shook her head, gripping the railing again.

“God, especially if he’s introducing me to his new girlfriend or whatever. If I raise my eyebrows at the wrong time, they’re gonna think I’m upset –”

“Or if you scrunch your nose up like you always do,” he added.

She stared at him, mouth parted. “Hey, I know you’re not talking, Mister Grimace.”

“Mister Grimace? What the hell are you talking about?”

“You grimace when you hate something, dummy,” she laughed. “Did you really not know you did that?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Most people make faces when they hate something, Dani.”

“Not like you, they don’t!” She shook her head, still grinning. “You couldn’t pretend to like something if your life depended on it.”

He grimaced. That set her off even more, her soft laugh growing into a full blown cackle.

“You just proved my point, dumbass,” she said between gasps of breath, pointing at his crinkled nose, full lips raised into the exact face she’d been poking at him for.

“Hey, who’re you calling a dumbass? The ‘D’ in dumbass stands for Dani, if we’re being real,” he joked, his distasteful expression melting into one of adoration as he watched her laugh at his expense.

“Shut up,” she said, thrusting her arm out to playfully push him. He captured her hand underneath his own, his warm palm rough against her soft skin.

Normally, it would’ve been a light hearted gesture, because they joked with each other all the time in the villa, but in that moment, with no islanders, no cameras, no audience – those feelings they tried so desperately to repress were bubbling to the surface.

Nicky’s eyes flitted to her lips, parted in surprise at his hand covering her own. Her eyes flitted down his chest, fixating on the white button up beneath his blazer that hugged his toned chest just right.

He found his own gaze wandering down her body, the floor length dress accentuating places he normally never found himself looking at.

God, he had a full view of her near naked body every day for weeks and never thought twice about it, but now, seeing her in an elegant gown that was snug around the places that used to be exposed, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

She knew she looked good, because the hair, makeup, and wardrobe people wouldn’t leave her alone until she was picture perfect. She wasn’t used to being under that kind of individual microscope, seeking the approval of rich people, like she was supposed to be one of them.

Danielle felt so out of place the entire night – until the moment Nicky stepped outside to comfort her.

“Nicky…” she breathed, the charged air between them sending an electric buzz through her limbs.

“Yeah?” he whispered, eyes half lidded, yet focused on her like she was the only person in the world.

She opened her mouth to say something, but shut it, instead glancing around the balcony and the large glass doors and windows that riddled their side of the mansion.

“Let’s get out of here,” she chewed the inside of her lip, watching his every move, hoping – praying – that he wasn’t going to reject her.

“How?”

God, she could feel the secondhand embarrassment coming on, and she glanced away from his lips, trying to come up with an excuse to explain what came over her. Her cheeks warmed, and she was thankful for the thick foundation that neutralized her blush.

“Forget it,” she said, tugging away from him.

“I didn’t say no,” he murmured, firmly holding her hand in place. “I asked ‘how?’ Do we have a plan?”

She blinked, trying to process his words.

After all those months of pretending like she’d been rid of her feelings, he’d just affirmed that he wanted her just like she wanted him.

“You’re serious?”

He nodded. “Very.”

Minutes later, after devising a quick plan to slip out the back, they were sprinting across the dewy lawn, breathless but free, sliding into the limo as soon as the driver opened the door for them.

They panted, smiles wide and skin glistening. As she watched a bead of sweat slip down his temple, the atmosphere changed, dripping with the sexual tension they never acknowledged.

Nicky was thankful the driver had already rolled the divider up, because as soon as his foot was on the gas, they were sliding closer to each other, folding under the pressure.

God, it was like the logical and emotional sides of his brain that’d been playing tug of war for so long finally snapped the rope, and everything he pretended not to notice flooded out.

There were so many things about her that he paid attention to that he figured was because they were close friends. He cursed himself for being such an idiot, because there’s no way he should’ve thought about her lips, the dimple on her left cheek, the curls that framed her face perfectly, the curve at the small of her back… a “friend” would’ve never thought about how gorgeous she was every single day.

He never betrayed Elladine, because he really did love her – but he mixed his feelings for both Elladine and Dani up. What he felt for Elladine was friendly love, like a family member or a best friend. The gravitational pull he had towards Dani should’ve never been mistaken for just friendship.

He had been falling for her day by day, but chalking it up to finding his life long best friend.

And as he searched her eyes, hand cupping her cheek, he knew he’d lucked out. He’d found both things in Dani: a partner and a best friend.

He spent weeks in a villa full of eligible women, but he demoted her before he could give her a true chance. He kicked himself in the ass for not realizing it sooner.

So when his lips met Dani’s for the first time, everything clicked into place.

They’d deal with the backlash of leaving the charity gala early. They’d deal with the press swarming them asking why he’d insisted on their friendship from the beginning. They’d deal with the onslaught of texts from the other islanders teasing them about finally getting together. They’d even deal with Elladine and Camilo later. 

But in that moment, neither of them cared, focusing on the sweet bliss that was their first kiss.

And when he pulled back to see how she was feeling, he was met with the same serene expression he knew was on his own features – they were finally on the same page.

[black-streak]

Saturday night's alright for fighting (but Sundays are meant for rest) - A Little Perspective

Part 12

This actually takes a bit of a different tone to what the rest has been and is more of a reflecting inner monologue than anything else. But! We finally get a little more insight on Tim. Those who were there when this entire story idea sparked for me on the discord might recognize what this set up is leading to! And let me say, that bit is coming very very soon. Like, in the next three parts. Which means the main plotline is almost up! Anyways!

Tag list: @emjrabbitwolf @mystery-5-5 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @fandomkitty8 @dast218 @silvergold-swirl @shizukiryuu . @my-name-is-michell @kurogaya913 @elspethshadow @thecatnipmademedoit @shamefullove @ladylucina28 @crazylittlemunchkin @rayray384 @cassiejaydee @yuulxd @ladysblackcat @naclychilli @caffeinetheory @persephonebutkore @fertileleaf @hypnosharkrebeldreamer @weird-pale-blonde-person @st0rmy-w1th1n @littleblue5mcdork @dudet @naoryllis @disneyfoxuniverse

~---~

Sometimes, old hobbies come back from the dead. 

'Like many things in my life,' Tim snarked to himself, meticulously cleaning each detachable lens and placing it back in the small carry case for his camera. 

The old camera hadn't seen the light of day in nearly 7 years, when suddenly it became an almost weekly guest star to his life once more. Normally on a night where patrol fell to someone else or early in the morning after a quieter night out. Occasionally it would sneak out during a date or after waking up with a warm body pressed to his. And while Marinette supported and encouraged his newest endeavour, he never informed her that she'd been the inspiration. Or rather, Vixen.

It started when she first moved into Gotham, before Damian had brought her home and formally introduced them all. A shadow started descending on the nights of the city, but unlike most, this one seemed determined to make a positive impact, even if it never played by the rules. 

Thugs didn't find themselves unsure of how they arrived at a police station. Civilians were never found being helped by sweet, gentle strangers. Stray animals wouldn't stalk people around without an ounce of fear in their step. And Gotham villains did not fumble into their own traps so inexplicably as to knock them unconscious and be easily transported back to Arkham.

And yet, the entire family had come reeling to the fact that all of these things were exactly what was happening.

And as usual, the job of figuring out who exactly decided that rules were flexible fell to Babs and himself. 

That went downhill fast.

Cameras, street or self planted picked up nothing. No amount of hacking, research, or heat detectors could scrounge up an ounce of proof to even confirm the shadow was real. They often found Babs cursing under her breathe in those days, unable to comprehend what type of magic bullshitery this nonsense was.

Tim… well Tim thrived on the challenge. At first, he cursed and bemoaned the lost hours to no results, only to find himself being stalked one night. Shivers ran rampant down his spine as hair stood on end. The warehouse looked empty, but he knew better. He sensed eyes following his every step through the place. Taking the risk, he left to see if the feeling continued, only to find to his delight that it did. The shadow was tailing him. 

While nothing else came from that night, the idea started to form that perhaps if he kept its interest, he could study it as it studied him. Sure, the creature learned his behaviors as well, but his backup outnumbered it if things came to a head.

Two weeks after, Marinette barrelled head long into their lives. The tiny woman seemed timid at first glance, but a keen eye could see the sharp, intelligent gleam to hers. With the hunt for the shadow still in motion and the little woman's attachment to the coldest of the bats, Tim kept his distance. He felt no dire need to pursue any connection to someone perfectly content staying by his little brother's side. Especially if that gleam was any clue as to how dangerous getting close could be. Marinette was beautiful and intelligent and if the muscles coating her body were to be trusted, most likely vicious in combat. In other words, ridiculously attractive. And completely off limits. For as much as Damian might have believed otherwise in their early days, Tim wouldn't compete for someone his brother was so obviously endeared to.

However, that never stopped her from approaching him. Randomly at times, he'd find her by his side, asking questions or offering random thoughts to whatever project he laid out in front of him. Eventually, the object of his newest obsession came to light. Not that she knew they were speaking of the shadow, but Marinette had helped nonetheless. She took one look at his research and made an offhand comment about things being easier to decipher and look back on when provided with pictures and suddenly he was off, rooting through the closet in his old room, hunting for a camera case.

Suddenly, proofing the shadow followed him became easier. He patrolled until his senses alerted him to a new presence and worked around it until he found himself facing towards the entity, pulling out a camera and snapping a series of pictures. It became little things he clamored to: the way something shifted, how random little flickers of movement happened in the edge of photos, how a perfectly steady camera somehow had a haze to half of it's pictures. It threw him back to his days following Batman and Robin and then later, Nightwing through the streets, practically studying them under a microscope until he eventually uncovered their identities.

 In retrospect, that's probably how he gave himself away. Suddenly the shadow became more present, constantly showing up for all his nights as though it knew his schedule, despite not being consistent.

 In retrospect, that's also how it gave itself away. Or rather, herself. 

Vigilante talk had always been heavily coded for the family no matter if they were alone or not. Only the Batcave allowed freedom to speak openly. So who could possibly hear enough of their conversations to not only decode the meaning, but for long enough to use the scheduling to stalk him for more than three weeks now? The answer: Marinette. 

And yet, Tim couldn't bring himself to give her away. His shadow never caused any real harm. Always cleaned up after herself and honestly was doing hero's work when she branched off. The only real problem the bats had with her was that she was an unknown. But now? He knew her, so it became okay. Plus, he hadn't any proof, so really, it was self preservation that led to him not accusing Damian's little girlfriend of being the hidden creature in their night. Or so he told himself.

Suddenly, he found himself sneaking photos of the young designer, comparing her movements and stature to anything he could from the photos of his shadow. He never found anything concrete, but the pictures continued. If only because now he found that Marinette made an excellent subject and never seemed to mind the few times she noticed his lens pointed in her direction. They still kept distant, but it was too late. Tim knew too much and only became more fascinated and drawn in until a startling realization hit: he wanted her. Only he couldn't and would not pursue her, for she was with Damian. 

But suddenly, that was thrown out the window. Because she wasn't with Damian and the two had no interest in one another. Because she pressed herself into Tim's side and coerced him into sleep and flirted with intent. Because suddenly his shadow in the night followed him in the day and called herself his.

He found himself in the precarious position of hiding her secret from his family and protecting her from those who did find her all the while watching her freely laugh and tease with the same people in the light of day. He took photos of it all. From her laughter at the antics of his brothers, to the content look upon her face as she baked with Alfred. From the soft smile on her lips as she slept in his arms to the mischievous look she shot him from the folds of her transformed suit. Obviously he couldn't carry the camera on him at all times, but the collection grew nevertheless, tucked away in a compiled folder on his desktop, only labeled Mari.

Soon after, the subject changed and expanded, moving to capture the Gotham skyline at dawn or the gothic cathedrals as the sun set behind them. Cats stalking in the moonlight, Dick swinging from a chandelier. Jason with the softest smile he'd ever seen the man wear. Titus playing with Ace in the front yard. The view from his office chair at work. Damian hanging from the ceiling, trying to coerce a bat into letting him take it down below to treat a small nic in its side. Alfred relaxing in the garden. All pleasant memories he no longer wanted to take a chance of forgetting. And of course, the lens found its way back to Mari, but it was so much more now.

Closing the camera case and tucking it away as a small knock sounded at his door, Tim could only smile a little to himself. Maybe Vixen the mystery had started all of this, but truly, the outcome made all the sleepless nights and headaches and confusion worth it.

[fernthefanciful]

Epiphany

   The thing no one understands is that everybody can be a hero. We all are, for a tiny moment each day, a hero. We are heroes when we stand up for what we believe in, when we are our true selves – fearlessly, when we show courage, even though we are afraid. Small moments perhaps, but important ones.

   As soon as Superheroes enter the scene, you forget about the existence of those common heroes. Perhaps that is because we are surrounded with these acts of small heroism each and every day. We lose sight of them in the mundane, and then, when a shiny new Hero appears who can create fire out of nothing, like me, you forget about all others.

   You point a camera at me while ignoring the real heroes; the first responders, the parents protecting their children, the survivors. Even beyond this busy aftermath, you have no more love left for the nurse caring for your grandparent, or the people cloaked with rainbow flags, walking hand in hand. And yet  –

   And yet.

   And yet they have it easier, not being in the spotlight. Not being “Super”. They are not under a microscope every second of every day. Their every move judged, weighed, picked apart for meaning that isn’t there. Sometimes getting a scoop of peppermint ice cream really is just that.

   You know, I saved your lives last week. Saved the entire city, to be exact. And afterwards you flocked around me with your cameras and lights, and you shoved dozens of microphones in my face and asked me questions.

   Do you realise you never ask me the right ones? You never ask how it feels to save people, or if I was afraid when I had a gun pointed right at my heart. Instead, you ask about property damage and if I am afraid I will get sued this time, again. Instead, you talk about the loss of life as if I am the one responsible. You ask me about my opinion on unrelated things, like your entertainment or politics, knowing that I can never give you a real answer, my answer. Because whenever I do, whenever I show you that the fact that I am fire in human form is not the only thing about me that may be different, you scorn me. Your cheers turn to ridicule. Your love turns so easily to hate. Those that don’t despise me give well-meant warnings about “public opinion” and “playing the audience”.

   You see, the thing is, when I first discovered that the flame within my soul became too much to keep in, I was happy. I was overcome with joy at the thought of being something. Something more. I raced to show my parents and they were so proud. Not afraid at all. I went to a school filled with children, both with powers and without, and I was happy. Then you posed me a question, did I want to be a hero? Well, of course I wanted to be a hero! I wanted to save people, help people become better than they were, and I still do.

   I’ve only recently come to realise that I remember that question through rose-tinted glasses. Looking back, I now hear that it wasn’t a question at all, but a choice. Did I want to be a hero and stick to your rules, fit in your neat little boxes, or did I want to be medicated? Because I was too much, too loud, too dangerous to let go unchecked. But back then I only heard the word hero and I was sold. You see, the thing is –

   The thing is.

   I used to be happy. I used to be proud of who I was and what I can do. Proud of the red and gold suit that you gave me when I graduated. When I had learned to push that roaring wildfire in me down until nothing but a spark remained. Before I heard the whispers behind my back and the vitriol spewed right in my face because you only see me as a Hero, not as a person. Before I realised that although I fight for your freedom, you have put me in a gilded cage.

   You want me to burn like a candle – small and controlled, giving off just enough light. But that is not who and what I am. Fire consumes and grows bigger with everything it touches. That is what I want to be. Not the flame, but the Phoenix, ever rising from the ashes and spreading my wings to soar. Flying high above you all and your judgements, and pettiness, and hatred. Looking down and seeing your truths and the evil that rests in your hearts. And then burning that evil out until only the righteous and good shall remain. And oh –

   Oh.

   An epiphany is a wonderful thing, isn’t it? It rushes through you, leaving adrenaline and happiness in its wake. Just like the flames that flow under my skin, trying to find a way out and spread like wings, this enlightenment also cannot be contained. It clears the head of all distractions, making me see the bigger picture for the first time in my life, and let me tell you, darling, it is beautiful. I’ve finally figured it out, you see, figured me out. I was never meant for this life. I was meant for something more, much more, than mundane, yes, but never this life of containment and masks. Of rules and restraints. Now I see that even though you have pushed me, shaped and moulded me into your hero –

   I was meant to be your villain all along.

{originally posted on my website}

[pagesoflauren]

A Thousand Years (vampire!Jack x reader AU) - Chapter 15

(the amount of times I’ve reused gifs is crazy WE NEED MORE JACK CONTENT)

Summary: Y/N graduates and Jack is constantly confused.

Ya girl is graduating :)

Y/N sends a picture of her approved graduation form to Jack on snapchat, along with a thumbs up emoji.

A few minutes later, she opens a video Jack sent in reply. It’s not his face, but rather Socks on his scratching post.

“Socks, mummy’s graduating! What do you have to say to that?”

Socks doesn’t vocalize his excitement, rather he stares into the camera with his green eyes in what Y/N can describe as annoyance.

“He says congratulations,” she hears Jack say off camera before the screen switches to his face. “I’m so proud of you, lass! Promise dinner will be great tonight so we can celebrate. I love you!”

She laughs as she walks through the quad to the library, meeting with her friends to study for their impending exams, the last hurdle before graduation. They’re well into studying when the table vibrates as Y/N’s phone buzzes to life.

She picks up her phone, rushing out of the library when she sees the caller location: Cologne, Germany.

“Hello?” she answers in a rush. “Hallo, das ist Dr. Morrison.” “Hi, Dr. Morrison, my name’s Y/N.”

He clears his throat and speaks in a Scottish accent, “Oh, hello. I forgot your messages were in English. What can I do for you, Y/N?”

“Are you,” she hesitates and gathers herself in, trying to keep her hopes from getting too high in case it isn’t him, “are you Thomas Morrison?” “Yes, I am.” “Born in 1850?”

There’s a pause. Y/N feels a slow drip of disappointment and for a moment she believes she has the wrong Thomas Morrison. “Yes, that’s me.”

She smiles, breathes a sigh of relief at the thought of actually finding him. She feels tears well up in her eyes. “Dr. Morrison, I have been looking for you for so long and I’m so glad I finally found you.”

He laughs a bit, “Well, I’m at your service, miss.” “I’m currently dating one of your old friends. Jack Lowden? Does that name sound familiar?” “Jack?” he says in a tone of surprise, “How is he?” “He’s wonderful.” “Will you please tell him I’m so sorry I stopped contacting him?” he asks quickly, “I didn’t mean to forget to add my new address in my last letter.” “You can tell him in person, if you’d like. His birthday’s next month. I’d like to bring him to Cologne to see you. Is that possible?” “Yes. Yes, it absolutely is. Here, I’ll give you my mobile and we can call or text; however you’d like to arrange this.” “Wonderful, thank you so much.”

She commits the phone number to memory, repeating it to herself several times before she gets the opportunity to add him to her contacts list. When she finishes, she lets out a gleeful squeal, feeling doubly accomplished after successfully getting approval for graduation and finally getting into touch with Jack’s best friend.

Jack sat proudly in the upper level seats of the theatre, a large bouquet of flowers in his lap as he sat next to Y/N’s parents. A small box rests in his hand, piquing her mother’s interest, though Jack was quick to dismiss her suspicions.

“S’not that quite yet. Maybe soon, though.”

She pats his knee and squeezes it, smiling knowingly at him.

As the lights flicker on and off to let everyone know the ceremony was going to start in a matter of minutes, Jack knew if his heart still worked, it’d be beating out of his chest. The pride he felt for his girl was unfathomable, spreading from his chest until he felt it all the way in the tips of his toes. She’d worked so hard to walk down the aisle, even earning honors and wearing a cord around her neck to show it.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome your Spring 2018 Graduates!”

“Pomp and Circumstance” all but blasted through the speakers in the large room, calling everyone’s attention to the procession of students filing in from the atrium on the lower floor. It was utter chaos, completely different from the graduation ceremonies Jack knew. It was one thing when Y/N had spent days upon days dedicating hours at a time to decorating her cap (his graduation cap was plain when he graduated), but it was a shock to see the students move in a sort of herd rather than an orderly line.

He spotted the one person he was looking for rather easily, pointing her out to her parents before they scrambled to get a good video of her walking with her friends. This confused Jack even more; during his ceremony, they walked in alphabetical order. He knew Y/N’s last name was nowhere near Lily’s and Maeve’s, and was on the other side of the alphabet to George’s.

“I don’t understand,” he begins, leaning towards Y/N’s mum, “How are they gonna call her name? Is she just gonna stand? She’s not gonna walk across the stage?” “No, darling, she will. She wrote her name on a card and she’ll give it to a faculty member and they’ll read her name as she walks across the stage.” “Oh.”

He’s still very confused.

After the ceremony, Jack eagerly waited under a lamp post with Y/N’s parents. He had hoped he hadn’t embarrassed her too much; he had cheered rather obnoxiously when her name was called (as in, “WOOHOO THAT’S MY GIRL! I LOVE YOU!”), standing and waving his arms so she could see him, blowing kisses and whistling loud enough for people to hear him across the street. She had sheepishly waved back, blowing kisses as she walked back to her seat.

He spots her and her friends, wandering about the plaza in front of the theater trying to find their parents. She spots him quickly and rushes to him, which excites him but also worries him because he doesn’t want her to trip in her heels.

He’s not hurt when she goes to her parents first, hugging them and smiling as they drape a lei around her neck. Her parents kiss her on the cheek, saying their congratulations and wiping away tears of pride. When she turns to him, his chest feels like it may explode.

“Congratulations, my love,” he says, handing her the flowers and holding her close.

“Thank you,” she breathes, “I love you.”

“I love you, too. I’m so proud of you,” he whispers, arms tight around her waist as he kisses her cheek.

“Here,” she says as she pulls away, “I got you each of a stole of gratitude.”

She pulls off the strips of fabric, putting it on her parents’ shoulders. “For always supporting me in everything I’ve done, sending me off to get an education, raising me with a good head on my shoulders and a brain inside that good head and everything in between,” she says, kissing each of their cheeks. She turns to Jack, who slightly bends at the waist to make it easier for her to hang it around his shoulders. “For loving me and being so patient with me. For taking care of me and believing in me.”

“Don’t need to thank me for that, lass,” he mumbles quietly, tears filling his eyes as his hand comes up to cradle her face. “Here, got you something else.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the jewelry box, pulling the lid open to reveal a gold locket engraved with an image of the sun and flowers.

“Had it made,” he says as he gently takes it out of the box, paying special attention to the delicate chain, “took a few weeks but it turned out great.”

“What?” she asks, though she knows exactly what he said.

“Happy graduation,” he says, handing it to her.

Y/N pops the clasp and opens the charm, finding a picture of Jack is his RAF uniform for his army portrait, like something that would be neatly displayed over a fireplace in his family home. On the other side is an engraving in curly letters in almost microscopic text: With all my love.

“I thought the engraving might’ve been a little cheesy but,” he pauses to clear his throat, “I-I never got to give one to anyone before, so I may as well pull out all the stops.” “No, it’s not at all,” she says, snapping the locket closed, “It’s perfectly you.”

They share a moment, adoring gazes exchanged and no feelings other than happy, bright ones bursting through their chests.

“Will you put it on for me?” she asks, holding the chain out for him to take. “Of course.”

He reached around her neck to fasten it, hooking the ends of the chain into each other.

He watches as she’s suddenly swept away by her friends for photos, and even joins in when they call him too. Y/N gets some photos on her own as well, posing with her cap on and off before she motions for Jack to stand next to her with his stole still around his shoulders. She fixes her cap onto his head, allowing for her parents to capture a few candids of them together, looking so blissfully content in each other’s company.

After dinner, Jack drove Y/N home and carried her into the house. She had abandoned her heels after a few too many glasses of wine, though her parents couldn’t be bothered because they were celebrating after all.

“I’m so happy, Jack,” she hiccups as he carries her up the stairs. “You’re kinda strong, aren’t you?”

Jack chuckles, knowing exactly what she’s referencing when she asks that question, “Just a bit, yeah.” He kisses her cheek as he reaches the top of the stairs, maneuvering around the cats as they lounged in the dark hallway.

He sets her down once they reach the bedroom, watching her carefully as she tiptoes to the bathroom to get ready for bed. She emerges a few minutes later, face bared and hair loose around her face after being pinned back all day. Her dress hangs folded over her arm as she grabs a hanger to put it back into the closet before she turns to the dresser.

He knows what she’s after before she even voices it, handing her one of his old t-shirts to wear. She smiles at him, taking the garment and pulling it over her head. She all but leaps into his arms, whispering proclamations of love to him that he reciprocates. It’s a nice moment until she gasps loudly, pushing him away and rushing to her bedside table.

“I got you something,” she says pulling out an envelope. “Here.”

Jack takes it from her, brows furrowing in confusion as he pulls out two train tickets for Cologne, Germany.

“What’s in Cologne?”

“Your birthday present.”

Tagging: @albionscastle

[miraculousturtle]

at the edges

for @baneismydragon : missing nino moments throughout the episodes in season one :) 

i. 

The weather is beautiful, sunlight streaming through his window. He’s figured out a new beat for a song he’s writing for Adrien’s birthday. They’re new friends--but--there’s a thing, you know, when you start to care about someone and-- 

Nino’s phone vibrates, catching his attention, shadows shifting through his window as he reads the message.

ALERT: New Akuma at Local Park. Please stay indoors.

He doesn’t go back to his music that afternoon. Not even after Adrien finally replies hours later. 

(Sometimes it’s weird to admit you’re scared.)

ii.

The party is long over as they sit on Adrien’s couch, playing a racing game. It’s awkward. No words have been uttered for hours it seems.

His words are caught in his throat, refusing to rise because, because, because--

what is there to say? 

(Hawkmoth exposed his heart for the world to see, took his rage, took his love and pinned him under a microscope to play with his feelings.)  

Adrien breaks the silence. 

“Hey,” he starts. “Thanks throwing me a birthday party. Even Akuma you has good taste in music.” 

Nino rolls his eyes and leans forward, finally in first place in the game. “Anytime, man.”

iii.

He feels like it’s always his classmates caught by the Akuma, for he watches in horror as Alya dangles hundreds of feet in the air.

(He’s across town and nothing he’ll do will matter.)

(That’s a hard pill to swallow.)

iv.

He and Alya aren’t the best of friends, but they are close enough when he runs into her a day after her Akuma transformation in a coffee shop. 

(Nothing bad happened, of course, Ladybug and Chat Noir always save the day.)

And maybe because he’s been there and maybe because he gets it and maybe because he doesn’t feel so alone in a way he can’t explain to other people. 

When someone gets inside your head and twists your feelings inside out, an inverted picture of who you really are develops and--   

He stands close to her in line and offers a small smile with a greeting. 

She only glances at him before looking back down at her phone. “Hey.” 

It hurts, the thudding in his chest, the moment where everything takes courage and it’s a lot easier to hide, but hiding is like that man and really, fuck him. 

“It’ll get better, the shadows you sometimes see. Eventually, you won’t remember his voice at all, except maybe in a bad dream.”

v.

His heart pumps wildly in his chest, everyone is screaming and neither superhero is here yet. How can they be when there is so much to do and this was a stupid race between two dumb classmates. 

Is every day meant to be dangerous now? Every day not to be trusted when he wakes up and sees his friends turn into monsters?

Timebreaker (because Alix would never do this) dashes beside him, her hand a painful shock of electricity, splitting his cells and his very existence. 

“Gotcha!” 

His heart still pumps wildly in his chest, fear encompassing his whole body until-- 

(nothing.)

vi.

He has butterflies in his stomach. Random butterflies that brush the underside of his lungs. It’s different and he’s not exactly afraid, but watching Marinette in the contest and she’s so happy.

Well, it’s a different kind of fear, one that only boys have when it comes to pretty girls with prettier smiles. 

vii. 

He stops by Nathaniel's locker after school the next day after the Evillustrator debacle.  

Note to self: Chloe causes an alarming rate of Akuma attacks. He doesn’t know what this means about Chloe or about how apparently people in Paris lack thick when dealing with her. 

Leaning against it, he speaks as the red-head puts his books in his backpack.

“A few of us meet up sometimes. Me, Ivan, Alya, and Alix. You can come too. When you know--remember things.” 

The shy boy blinks before swallowing, tugging on the strap of his backpack as he shuts the door. “That...that would be nice.”

Nino smiles and clasps his shoulder. “Awesome, dude.”

viii.

It’s a normal day for a normal boy like Nino. Go to school. Akuma attack. Go home. Do homework.

He’s stuck on a math problem when his phone chirps. 

Adrien: we should totes watch robocop

Nino: ...

Adrien: ???? yes? no? imagine awful special effects and my big screen

Nino: ...

Nino: okay. i’ve been persuaded, ya dang loser

(Nino is just a normal boy with a normal life. Who watches with glee and tons of popcorn a stupid movie with his best friend to forget the real terror on the streets.)

ix.

Most people don’t know this, but he was so heartbroken when “Chat Noir” stole the Mona Lisa. Thank God it was just a copycat because he’d have to turn in his membership badge if otherwise.

Because despite everything, even he needs his own superhero.

x.

He thinks about getting Marinette chocolates for Valentine’s Day. 

But that.

That would be weird. 

And he’s going to toss that idea out the window as quickly as it came.

(He invites Kim to the club, the Akuma Club, and buys him lots of chocolates instead.

Kim deserves all the chocolates every day.)

xi. 

Okay, nevermind. Maybe he should have bought Marinette chocolates because it’s close to midnight right now and he’s going through all of the footage for the movie and there are only shots of Marinette.

It’s a monster movie and there was even a real monster--sorry, Mylene, you’re literally a sweetheart--and 65% of the footage is of Marinette Dupain Cheng. Looking flawless and amazing and--

Oh.

He’s so.

Screwed. 

xii. 

On one hand, he knows that he should vote for Marinette for class rep because she’s amazing and would make a fantastic leader.

On the other hand: Jagged Stone. 

(Point: Chloe)

xiii. 

The group gathers at an ice-cream parlor near the school. 

“So, the Mime, huh?” Nino says. 

Alix digs into her chocolate ice-cream. “Could there ever be a cooler Akuma? He seriously cut the Effiel Tower in half! Mylene! Your dad!” 

Mylene beams. “My dad is really cool, huh?

Kim laughs and leans in his seat. “Hell yeah!”

Alya groans and slumps in her seat. “Dang. We’ve all been put to shame.” 

xiv. 

“Okay, I know we’re supposed to be terrified right now, but like...the walls are covered in caramel--” he pauses, “AND TASTE DELICIOUS!” 

xv. 

He sits in the bleachers with his friends cheering on both Marinette and Max. It’s a soothing balm because he forgets there was an Akuma attack earlier this afternoon.

Maybe that’s a problem.

xvi. 

Note to self: Never have Adrien wingman ever again because Nino’s heart is spinning. 

Because this was supposed to be a date with Marinette? Who thought it was a date with Adrien? 

And-- 

He got locked in a cage with Alya

and holy shit, Alya is badass and fierce and set the record straight on Marinette’s affections

And-- 

(Hi, Alya, his heart says, with a dumb stutter.)

xvii.

He gets partnered up with Chloe for an in-class project. Adrien speaks the world of her, but Nino has known Chloe for years and--

She scowls as she scribbles down her brainstorm, pouting that she and Sabrina are separated. 

“Hey, I heard your Ladybug’s biggest fan,” he says quietly.

Chloe looks up at him and sets her mouth in a firmer line. “Are you going to make fun of me to? Or are you going to invite me to your stupid club?” 

Nino bites his cheek because Chloe truly has a special power of getting under his skin, but he smiles easily instead. “No, I was just gonna ask if I could see of the selfies you took with her. It’s cool you can see her so often.” 

Chloe...beams instantly. Not smirks, not scowls, or smiles smugly, but actually, beams as she digs into her purse and starts to chatter. 

“Yeah! I love taking pictures with Ladybug. She’s so cool!” 

Nino looks over his shoulder at Adrien and sees his friend give him a thumbs up and just accepts his wandered into an alternate reality.

There have been stranger things in all honesty.

(Chloe, when not being a brat, can be really cool. Not that Nino will tell her that.)

xviii.

“Alya, so you’re telling me that Marinette has made cute little plushes of the Akuma and there is no Bubbler?!” 

Alya’s voice is warm over the receiver. “Oh, she’s made a bubbler, but he came out wonky, so she’s going to try again. Don’t worry. But it was cute when showed it to me.” 

Nino glances at the alarm clock on his bedside, noticing it’s after ten at night, his heart does a little flip.

“Well, that’s good to now, but, um, hey. It’s kinda late and, well, good night, Alya.” 

“Good night, Nino. Sweet dreams.” 

He hangs up the phone and flicks off the light, wearing a dumb smile as the moon filters through his window.

xix.

“Juleka, Julkea! Come take a selfie with me!”

Julkea gets up from the bench and shyly walks over. “Um, ok...if you want.” 

Nino grins and pulls her in for a friendly hug. “I do want! C’mon, you have a beautiful smile. Say cheese!” 

He clicks the camera and Juleka’s seems happier than ever.

xx.

Adrien sits for a moment longer as every else breaks for recess. Nino catches him linger and pauses before going outside. 

“What’s up, dude?” 

Adrien sighs and drums his fingers on his desk. “Do you think.....”

“Yes?” 

Adrien sighs and drags his hand through his hair. “Do you think Marinette would sign my CD?” 

Nino blinks and then chuckles, nodding. “She’s not going to bite.”

“But....” Adrien starts. “She gets quiet around me....” 

Nino walks up to his best friend and places his hands on Adrien’s shoulders. “Trust me when I say this, but Marinette would love to sign your CD. She wants to be her friend. Trust in the Nino.” 

Adrien rolls his eyes and pushes him off. “Okay, whatever. I’ll trust in the Nino as you said.” 

Both boys laugh and head out the door. 

xxi.

Music surrounds him, the concert following him home as he feels like he can fly and Akuma no longer bother him. 

There’s a hum in his voice and a spring in his step and-- 

(He doesn’t realize this, but he’s crossed paths with an old man and that man stares and wonders...because maybe...just...maybe.)

xxii.

He’s not going to say it’s because of Rose, but Nino finds himself at the mall looking at colonge. Because...while body spray smells kinda nice, real men wear cologne and-- 

He has no idea why he’s here, but wouldn’t it be nice to smell good and have people realize he’s growing up and-- 

He sees the price tag...something like fifty euros plus and turns right around. 

Body spray can do for now.

xxiii.

Nino slides next to Adrien at school following morning. 

“Sooooooo. Ladybug, huh? Pretty hot. Can save you, looks awesome in red, stunning.” 

Adrien buries his head in his arms. “Plase shut up.”

“Adrien and Ladybug Agreste. Nice ring to it.” 

The punch to the shoulder is definitely worth it as Nino laughs.

xxiv.

Lila glowers at everyone blow, a pout on her face that reminds him a lot like Chloe. 

Nino stands beside her. “You should come hang out this afternoon.” 

“Yeah, so what, you can rag on for lying? I think not.” 

Nino rolls his eyes. “Come get coffee with us. A lot of us know what it’s like to be an Akuma. And maybe tell us a few things about yourself.” 

Lila is silent for a few moments and sighs. “Well, I honestly do love lattes so....fine. I’ll be there.” 

Nino gives her a thumbs up. “See you later, Volpina.” 

xxv.

Nino learns that there is magic in the world. Finds out at the start of the school year before he becomes friends with Marinette, Adrien, and Alya. 

Nino didn’t think that there would be superheroes and bad guys and-- 

Nino didn’t think there would be magic. 

But his beginning starts somewhat at the edges, only briefly there when the world goes wrong and he has no idea that in the future he will have magic too. 

He will no longer be orbiting the action, but fully apart of it. 

Completely apart of it. 

[gripefroot]

The Death of Agent 28

Everything in Avengers Tower is quiet. 

Snores or slowed breathing from each of the residents fill their rooms. Natasha shifts restlessly; a television plays to a sleeping Clint; Sam’s diffuser puffs and streams; Steve’s clock ticks closer to four a.m.; and Tony’s watch beeps. 

Your eyes pop open. 

It’s a deranged smile that curls your lips; after a moment of listening and hearing nothing to indicate anyone is awake, especially the out-cold Bucky beside you, you throw back the blankets and swing your legs out of bed. The floor is cold under your feet, but you don’t care.  

Silent footsteps to the terrace, and slowly you slide open the glass door. Immediately the distant honks and screeches of New York City below filter in, and Bucky sighs and turns over. Your heart is beating too fast.  

The night air is...nothing. It’s not hot, it’s not cold. It just is. A few steps take you to the metal railing of the balcony, and the lights of the city like a sky full of stars seem to press up against you. Spreading your hands on the top of the railing, you tilt your head to the side - and lift a foot to mount the railing.  

It’s like a dream. The flashing lights below, the inky blackness above; the lazy wind fluttering your pajamas around you. The giddy smile hasn’t left your face, and you spread your arms outward as if to embrace New York. 

And you fall. 

~

Bucky jolts awake. Shivering, he realizes that a dim light has been turned on in his bedroom, turning everything an eerie blue. What had woken him?  

“Sergeant Barnes,” FRIDAY’s voice says calmly. “Agent 28 has left the building.” 

Lifting himself onto an elbow with a groan, Bucky rubs his eyes with the heel of his flesh hand. Then feels the bed beside him as he blinks blearily in confusion - barely warm. He shivers. The door to the terrace is open - what on earth? 

“Did she tell you where she was going?” he mumbles back. 

“No, sir.” Silence. “Would you like me to wake the rest of the team?” 

“What? Why?” 

A flickering protection appears over the bed. Bucky frowns, and then his eyes widen at the camera footage of - of you - standing on the edge of the terrace and - 

What the hell. 

He scrambles out of bed, tangling himself in the covers in his haste - and falling flat on his face. Heart pounding out of his chest, Bucky grasps onto the glass door, taking two steps to the edge of the railing to peer over.  

Nothing. Just cars, far below.  

“Sergeant, if I may offer some information - ” FRIDAY starts to say, but Bucky is barely listening. The rush of his own blood is dampening all sound, as he stares in horror, uncomprehending - was this a new nightmare?  

“She did not fall to the ground, sir. She was caught.” 

It takes Bucky a moment to catch up. “C - caught?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

He whirls around, stalking back inside on trembling legs as the scene FRIDAY shows him changes. Your descent - a graceful freefall - but then twenty floors down you...you disappear. The scene flickers.  

“There are traces of energy in the vicinity. It was some sort of jet; I’m sure Mr. Stark could explain it if you wish me to wake him.” 

“K - kidnapped?” Bucky tries. His voice is shaking. His skin is cold everywhere - he must be going into shock. Damn.  

“No one has been in the Tower tonight to coerce her, sir.” 

A deep breath. It doesn’t slow down his heart rate in the slightest. “Wake up Tony, FRIDAY.” 

“Yes, sir.”

~

Head limp in his hands, Bucky keeps his eyes squeezed shut as the arguing goes on around him. It’s barely past dawn, but the last hour or so has been so convoluted with people and questions and theories that it had finally disintegrated into Natasha clocking Clint upside the head.  

“I’m gonna stop giving you my best agents,” Fury is saying to Stark now. They’re at the front of the briefing room, but Bucky doesn’t care - he just can’t turn his ears off. “Romanoff and Barton have up and quit, and now 28 is jumping off the roof of your building? The Avengers are a waste of my agents.” 

“I can’t take credit for all that,” Tony is protesting, anger coloring his tone. “In fact, I told Barton specifically to stay with SHIELD.” 

“Because you didn’t want Fury coming after you,” Clint chimes in.  

“Be that as it may - ” Tony starts to say, but a running and barging through the briefing room door cuts him off. The room is much quieter with this intrusion, but Bucky still doesn’t look up. He can’t. He recognizes Dr. Banner’s rapid breathing, anyway.  

“The strangest thing just happened,” Banner says, gasping for breath. “I was in my lab putting away some samples and remember the blood I drew from 28 after she was shot with that Hydra virus a couple months ago? It was going crazy. So I pulled it out to look under a microscope - oh my gosh, you guys have to look at this.” 

Silence. “Well, throw it up on the screen,” Tony deadpans.  

“Oh - oh, right.” 

A swoosh of air passes Bucky as Dr. Banner moves to the front of the room, and then an elbow digs into his side.  

“Chin up, Barnes,” Natasha hisses. “Maybe Bruce has something. Stay with us.” 

Wrenching his fingers painfully through his hair, Bucky lifts his head with a frown, blinking at the bright lights above. The tension in the room is far more palpable when he’s looking; Steve is stiff by the door, Sam’s smile is absent as he stares at the table, and even Clint, though drinking coffee with two empty mugs by his elbow, looks alert. Bucky drags his eyes to the front.  

A projection flickers, and then Banner fumbles with a device. The picture changes.  

“What the crap?” Sam blurts.  

“Ew,” says Natasha. 

“Ah,” Tony says.  

Bucky squints. Wiggling little things - blood cells? Platelets? It’s been a long time since he took biology. But he knows enough that something’s wrong. Unless everyone nowadays has little silver gears in their blood. 

“After we combatted the virus 28 had in her bloodstream, I checked to make sure there was nothing left, and I swear, at the time her blood was completely normal,” Banner explains. “But something woke up these - what would you call them, Tony?” 

Tony shrugs. “Microbots.” 

“Right. Something must have triggered the microbots to wake up. Rings some alarms, doesn’t it? Where is she? I want to - ” 

“What sort of effects could these microbots have?” Steve interrupts. 

Banner blinks. “Based on what we know of who developed the virus? Pain. Nightmares. Psychological torture. Mind control.” 

“Mind control?” Bucky speaks for the first time, his voice rough. 

“Yeah - I mean, has she been acting strange lately? Done anything out of character?” 

Awkward silence. So Banner hadn’t gotten the memo. A few uncomfortable gazes are exchanged, and Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Like, jumping off a 46th floor balcony?” Tony suggests.  

“Yeah, like - wait? She did that?”  

“She’s not dead, Banner, so don’t worry,” Natasha says dryly. “She was picked up by a cloaked jet. But mind control explains a lot. Really refutes the ‘28 has been part of Hydra all along’ theory, doesn’t it, Mr. Tinfoil Hat?” she snaps across the table to Clint, who colors.  

“Just a theory,” Clint mutters.  

“This reminds me of something,” Steve interjects, his brows furrowing as he straightens to pace down beside the table. “Remember that strip joint we busted last May? There were some mind-controlling drugs under the radar there. Do we still have samples? Can we compare?” 

“Brilliant idea,” Tony says, clapping his hands together. “Banner?” 

“Er - yeah, yeah, of course.” 

“Any other connections anyone wants to make?” Tony asks, as Bruce turns off the projection. The room is darker now, and Bucky can feel several pairs of eyes boring into him. He’s gonna have to say something, isn’t he? With his stomach twisting in on itself like he’s going to barf out all his guts. 

“She hasn’t been acting strange,” Bucky mumbles at last, slinking back in his seat. He can’t look at anyone. It’s easier that way.  

“Were there any other missions where she might have been compromised, Sergeant? You seem to know her best.” 

Whether that’s disapproval in Fury’s voice - Bucky doesn’t care. Does Fury even know - ? Maybe it doesn’t matter. Bucky sighs, thinking back.  

The only people that know your name are either in this room or in your hometown. Your family doesn’t know of your career - and since you’ve had them under surveillance, any suspicious activity would have been discovered. They’re probably out of this.  

If not your name...your face? Could anyone have gotten a photo of you that SHIELD didn’t erase? Put two and two together, with the secret agent taking down bad guys with the Avengers? Wanted to go for a non-enhanced weakest link?  

A photo. A camera that wasn’t hooked up to the internet or any cloud drive…

The wedding. 

Bucky groans.  

“Tell us,” Tony says at once.  

“The wedding we went to last spring,” he sighs. “They had polaroid cameras for the guests to take pictures. We didn’t take any - but she could’ve popped up in some.” 

“Okay, so we have to assume Hydra targeted 28 for some specific reason,” Steve says. “Any ideas on that, anyone?” 

“She’s a SHIELD agent, Steve,” Natasha points out. “That’s reason enough. And she works with us. She’s dealt them plenty of blows in the last few years.” 

“So why did they kidnap her?” Sam asks. “And where is she?” 

But to that - no one has an answer. 

~

Voices are coming from far away. There’s an ache in your neck, which you roll to the side with a moan that feels like razor blades in your throat. Your head is pounding, and as you shift, something harsh rubs against the sensitive skin of your wrists. The edges of your brain feel fuzzy. Frayed. Wincing, you try to force yourself to think harder.  

“She still controlled?”  

“Should be, sir,” replies a different voice. This one bored.  

“And the bots?” 

“Still running. They’ve got about fourteen hours of life yet before they’ll need to be recharged.” 

“Good, good.” Some footsteps break through your haze, coming nearer. “It worked better than I expected. Be sure to thank Coates for his information.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Some silence. Easier to focus, to take stock of your surroundings. No good in letting them know your strength is coming back, you keep your eyes closed, using your other senses instead. The air is cold, and your feet are bare. The air stinks of metal and mold. As for how you got there - well, your memory isn’t obliging. The last clear thing in your mind is...Bucky. Of course. He’d kissed you goodnight, and suggested some sparring in the morning. So how’d you end up here? 

Ragged breathing comes close, and instinctively you roll your head the other way, gagging.  

“I’ve been looking for you for a long time,” the first voice says softly.  

“If you wanted a date so bad, you could’ve called,” you mutter.  

“How are you feeling, Agent?” 

You think for a moment, peeking open an eye. A shaft of light blinds you, but the peek is enough. Two men - only one of whom looks like a threat. A large room, no visible doors. You scrunch your nose. “I could use some coffee, scissors, a gun, and maybe a donut - but otherwise? Not bad.” 

Pause. “Were the others this snarky when they were under?” the first voice asks, hushed.  

“Er - sometimes, sir.” 

“Hmm. Agent, do you know why you’re here?” 

“You wanted a private poetry reading? I promise my fee isn’t that bad; a kidnapping is a bit extreme - ” 

“Shut up,” the first voice snaps. “Don’t talk again. You’ve been dealing me some severe losses lately, Agent. You and the Avengers. I’m done with it. But I figure if you’re out of the picture, that’s not enough, is it?” 

“Is it?” you mumble back. Your heart rate is increasing - not in panic - but with strength as feeling starts to come back into your arms and legs. That’s good. Your mind is less fuzzy, anyway. But they can’t know.  

“So, my chemical research division has been working hard. We got some mind-altering microbots in your system. You’re ours, now. Would be a shame to kill such a talented agent, right, Juan?” 

“Right, sir.” 

“You’re gonna destroy the Avengers for us. Then, poof! Blame misdirected.” 

You sigh, rolling your shoulders. The handcuffs around your wrists feel flimsy. “Monologuing evil plans is a bad idea, buster,” you tell him. “Now I know what you’re up to.” 

He chuckles. “And what can you do about it?” 

“I’ll figure out something. You said Ricky Coates is in on this?” 

“From prison, yes. As soon as you and your buddies are taken care of, I’ll get him out of jail. I’ve been missing my arms smuggling ventures. He may be ugly, but he’s good at what he does.” 

“Well, gee,” you sigh again. “You’ve gone through a lot of effort to go through to get one lone agent. Good job. I admire your efforts and dedication.” 

Silence.  

“How are those bots?” the first man asks the second in a hiss.  

“Reading normal, sir.” 

“Can’t even take a compliment,” you say woefully.  

“I’m done here,” the first man grumbles. Footsteps walk away - well, stomp, more like, and you’re left alone in the metal room. But not before the bright light above is dimmed to red, and the clanging of a metal door booms throughout the room, followed by several clicking locks. 

Huh. If you were totally with it, you’d guess that the door is vibranium.  

Smuggling, eh? Several missions over the last couple years are making a lot more sense now.  

Blinking at the dirty floor, your eyes adjust quickly to the dim light. Absurdly quickly. In fact, soon it seems just as bright in the room as when the full lights had been on. How unusual. So you can see in the dark now? Maybe this virus they gave you has some side effects. That would be helpful.  

Weirdly, your wrists are hurting less, too. And the headache is already gone. No nausea - though that might be expected in such a situation, all things considered. In fact, you feel pretty great.  

Suddenly voices are coming from somewhere. From beyond the door? The wall? You tilt your head to the side, ears perking.  

“Do you have the supplies to send her back with?” 

“Two noxious bombs - improved from when they diverted the effects in a closed vent area. Vibranium N-35s. A potato bomb.” 

Again with the potato bomb? You roll your eyes.  

“Alright. Monitor her until the bots need recharging; then boost ‘em, give her instructions, and send her on her way.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Like that’s gonna work. To get you to terrorize Avengers Tower, or that Stark can’t deal with a potato bomb. Those smugglers - idiots. Next time they come in, they’re toast.  

You take a breath, flexing your fingers. The rope they’d tied you with falls apart with a tug. And you wait.

~

Bucky can’t sleep.  

Two days, it’s been. Hasn’t slept since FRIDAY woke him up after your fall - or jump, whatever it was. He hates seeing the constant worry in Steve’s eyes, the concern in Natasha’s voice - it doesn’t matter. He’d finally escaped their overwhelming sympathy; instead, he’s standing on his terrace at midnight, right at the point you’d fallen - willingly or by mind control or some other coercion - and even with only a forced sandwich in his stomach, he still feels like barfing all over New York City.  

How had this happened?  

“Sergeant Barnes, a phone call for you.” FRIDAY’s soft voice sounds on the terrace. 

“Take a message.” 

“Sir, it’s Agent 28.” 

He jerks upright. Phone. You? Phone. Where is it? He stumbles back into the bedroom, searching wildly in the strewn bedcovers, on the nightstand, in a drawer -  

It’s across the room next to the closet, screen bright. Bucky dives for it. Unknown number. Doesn’t matter. FRIDAY already confirmed it’s you. 

“Babe? Babe, is that you?” 

“Bucky.” A sigh - a happy sigh. Oh, your voice. Nags of despair and hope make Bucky feel as though his stomach has dropped to his feet. He curls into a sitting position, back to the wall as a wave of relief seeps through his body like a drug.  

“You okay?” he asks roughly. 

“Oh, sure!” you chirp. “I mean, I was kidnapped, they tried to control me and use me for domestic terrorism, that sort of thing. But I’m fine. Their tech sucks - barely worked at all. I fought my way outta there with only two metal legs of a chair - can you believe that? Clint’s gonna be jealous. Can you send a jet to me?” 

Your babbling brings a smile to Bucky’s face - the first smile for two days, and he closes his eyes briefly. “Yeah - yeah, I’ll come get you. Can I get your coordinates?” 

“FRIDAY will have them.” 

FRIDAY’s voice chimes in. “I have her coordinates, Sergeant. Would you like me to prepare a jet?”

“Yes, please.” Bucky inhales deeply. “Babe, are you sure you’re okay? What happened?” 

“It’s just some microtech Hydra developed for mind control,” you say dismissively. “Apparently it’s in my blood, so - ” 

“Yeah, Banner showed us a sample he took while you were fighting off that virus. Some foreign things - they were going crazy.” 

Your chuckle makes his heart skip a beat. “Wasn’t so bad, though. There were side effects. I broke a guy’s leg today with my bare hands. Never done that before - it was pretty cool.” 

“What is this, a field trip?” Bucky snarks. “How are you so upbeat? When FRIDAY told me you jumped off the building, I thought - I thought you were - ” His throat closes over. There’s a soft sigh in his ear.  

“So the mind control worked a bit,” you confess. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I didn’t mean to frighten you. You know how - how it goes.” 

“Yeah. I know.” 

“Sergeant Barnes, the jet is ready - ”  

Bucky surges to his feet. He needs a tac vest. Guns. Boots. Everything. “I’m gonna come get you, ok babe?” 

“Thanks, Buck. Can you bring me some clothes, too?” 

“Of course. Love you.” 

“Love you, too. See you soon.” 

It’s gonna be ok. It’s gonna be ok. 

~

Lying back on the examination table, you shoot Bucky a wink across the room. He’s standing stiffly with quite the glower on his face - for Dr. Banner, not for you - but you can’t help be amused. Bucky has been a complete mother hen since picking you up somewhere in Honduras four hours earlier. Just straddling the line between endearing and exasperating.  

“You should be resting,” he states loudly.  

“I feel fine, Bucky,” you insist. “Really. And Dr. Banner will get better samples and readings now than later. It’s fine.” 

“I’m going as fast as I can,” Banner says, a little irritably. It’s clear he doesn’t appreciate Bucky hovering. You don’t blame him - but you also don’t want to send Bucky away, either.  

The blood draw barely stings. Your blood looks normal, too - at least to you. Saliva test, some brain activity being scooted out on a tablet. It takes less than a half hour, though it feels much longer with Bucky tapping his foot impatiently.  

“FRIDAY, compile these results and make me some graphs,” Banner says absently, spinning on his stool back to a table. He dips into a vial of blood to smear across a glass plate, sticking it under a microscope. You take a deep breath - the computer monitoring your heart rate seems to be beeping awfully fast - whatever that’s about. Because you don’t feel like your heart’s going 120 BPM. Feels like 60.  

“Whoa.” The softest breath is exhaled from Banner. Careful not to dislodge any wires, you poke up your head.  

“What is it?” 

“This is amazing. FRIDAY, project please. And send for Stark. And Steve.” 

Tony and Steve? What for? You don’t care - the projection beaming across the room draws your attention. Blinking in surprise, your lips part slightly. 

“Those microbots again,” Bucky says after a startled moment. He’s staring, too. “But what - ” 

“They’re being attacked,” Dr. Banner clarifies. “But not by white blood cells.” 

All you see are squiggles. The red blood cells you recognize - the microbots are silver and square, fluttering madly as different cells - red, but lumpy and enormous - pursue them. As you watch, one of the massive red cells consumes a microbot. One less.  

“The bad guys didn’t say anything about anyone fighting off the microbots,” you muse.  

Banner chuckles, pulling off his glasses to wipe his shining brow. “I don’t think anyone else could. Where’s Tony?” 

“On his way, sir.” 

Dr. Banner returns to your side, picking up the tablet recording your vitals. His eyes bug out of his head. “Unprecedented,” he murmurs, as if to himself. “I’m gonna track every moment of this; this is groundbreaking, this is spectacular, this is - ” 

“This is my girlfriend,” Bucky snaps, interrupting at last as he strides over to your side, facing down Banner across the examination table. “You’re not experimenting on her, no matter how unprecedented this is.” 

“Don’t be silly, Bucky,” you admonish. “He just wants to find out the scientific reason for how cool I am. I don’t blame him.” 

“Don’t joke - ” 

The doors to the lab slide open; Tony first, followed quickly by Steve. And Natasha and Clint and Sam - because they’re certainly not going to miss a party.  

“What’s this?” Tony wastes no time asking, striding right up to the projection to study closely.  

“Blood sample I took from Agent 28 ten minutes ago,” Banner explains. “Look familiar?” 

Silence. Steve’s brow furrows. No one looks like they know what’s going on - except Banner, who’s grinning as he adds, “FRIDAY, pull up the recorded sample I took of Cap’s blood when he was fighting off tetanus.”  

A second projection pings up. Except for the viruses, there’s a remarkable similarity - Steve’s blood cells are lumpy and huge, too.  

“Oh, and normal cells fighting a virus, too. Just for fun.” 

This third picture is remarkably normal. Normal cells, though the white blood cells are much slower than yours and Steve’s. 

“Have you been taking super serum, Agent?” Sam jokes. 

“Not unless someone’s been spiking my cereal,” you shoot back. Then, with Bucky’s help, you gingerly swing your legs over to sit on the examination table. Blood rushes to your head - but the dizziness passes quickly. Everything is crystal clear around you. Too clear. 

“Could they have added something when they gave her the virus?” Steve asks, crossing his arms. 

“No - they wouldn’t have. Even Hydra’s not that stupid,” Natasha points out.  

“Do any of you remember that the blood sample I took when she was first shot didn’t have the enhanced cells?” Banner says. “The change must have happened since then.” 

“Oh, right,” Tony says slowly. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he swivels slightly to stare beadily in your direction. Then to Bucky behind you. You can practically see his wheels turning. “You and Barnes been indulging in blood play?” he asks. 

“Ew,” says Clint. 

“No,” you tell him, with Bucky’s yuck ringing in your ears.  

“Can any traits be passed through - say, saliva?” Tony asks Banner next, who shrugs.  

“Doubt it. Otherwise she would’ve been enhanced long ago, right? And Sharon, too? Not to mention sharing cups and straws - I don’t think the serum works quite like mono.” 

Steve’s ears turn red, and you grin. Tony taps his chin, still in thought. 

“Getting it yet?” Banner asks. His grin is nearly frightening. “Here - Steve - ” He gestures to Steve, who starts. And he points to you. “Go have a listen.” 

Steve balks. “A listen?”

“Yes, a listen. Or I’ll have to drag out more equipment and I don’t wanna do that. Everyone, quiet!” 

Clint’s mutterings to Natasha cut off. 

With a shrug, Steve walks over to you. Lifting a brow, you watch as he mouths, Sorry, to Bucky behind you, and then lowers his head. Not quite touching your chest, and clearly uncomfortable. 

“Heartbeat is faster than normal,” Steve reports. 

“And?” Banner prompts. Steve’s expression pinches as the room goes absolutely silent, apart from the beep-beeps of various machinery. Then his head tilts slightly, and his mouth falls open.  

“Oh,” he says faintly, after a moment. 

“Was I right?” Banner asks, rubbing his hands together. 

“Er - yeah, if that’s what your theory was.” 

“No way,” Tony says slowly. “No-frigging-way.” 

“FRIDAY, pull up Agent 28’s medical records.” 

Restlessly you tap your fingers on the edge of the table as Steve steps away. His eyes are wide, flickering towards Bucky. Some silent exchange must be passed, because Bucky steps around the table to face you. Uncertainty rims his eyes, and you bite your lip.  

And just as Steve had done, Bucky lowers his head to your middle. Tucking some stray hair behind his ear, he frowns for a moment, before -  

You wince. “I was going to tell you,” you try. 

Banner glances over. “You knew?” 

“Of course I knew,” you shoot back, aware of Bucky’s blue eyes boring into your face as he wets his lips, and straightens. “I only found out like, four days ago. I...was going to wait to tell you on your birthday. Next week.” 

Bucky blinks down at you. Lost for words, apparently. But his flesh hand feels yours out on the table, squeezing tightly.  

“But it looks like you saved me from mind control,” you add with a smile, and finally, Bucky gives a huff of laughter. It’s as if the tension in the room has been broken, and he wraps you in a hug so tightly that you start to see stars, and Sam starts to complain. 

“Save it for later, you guys.”

Banner is babbling. “It explains everything - the higher temperature - the engorged cells - the increased heart rate. This is seriously unprecedented; we have no record of any pregnancies involving super-serum. That she’s showing symptoms of enhancement herself? To carry enhanced fetuses? Will the effects last? How enhanced will the offspring be? This is pioneering work, Tony.” 

“Yeah, if you want to wake up in the middle of the night with Barnes standing over you with a knife in each hand,” Stark says dryly. “You think he’s gonna let you touch her now?” 

“No,” Bucky says at once. 

“It’s fine, Bruce,” you contradict. “I don’t mind. FRIDAY, did you log the coordinates of where I was held? I’m itching to get back. There’s a smuggling ring; Tony - Coates was in on it, and the terror cell in Stockholm and the potato bomb and the vibranium we’ve been seeing in Hydra facilities - ” 

“We’ll work on that,” Tony assures you, a little startled. “You don’t have to worry about it.” 

“Um - ” you blink. “They wanted me. They targeted me. To get to all of you. I’m gonna worry about it. They need to go.”

“We’re not disagreeing with that, 28,” Steve says soothingly. “But you’ve just had a harrowing experience - ” 

“I’m not harrowed,” you interrupt. “I’m operating on your level now, Stevie. I feel great. I could probably throw you across the room right now, thanks to Bucky’s super-sperm - ” 

“Ugh!” Sam groans. “I never want to hear that phrase again.” 

“ - and I haven’t even felt nauseous,” you conclude. “Really - you don’t want to fight an enhanced pregnant lady. I’m gonna be milking this for all it’s worth, you guys. Don’t cross me. Twelve hours ago I fought off 22 Hydra agents in my pajamas.” 

Maybe the grime leftover on your face from your kidnapping is making you a little more frightening. Maybe it’s that the examination table cracked underneath your grip. Maybe it’s Bucky, glaring around and looking like he’s ready to strangle someone. But no one responds for an awkward moment.  

“Ok,” Tony says at last. Banner is looking at his notes, and Steve and Natasha swap a grimace.  

“Will you rest yet?” Bucky murmurs to you. “We can talk about this later.” 

His nose is pressed close to your ear - you shiver, goosebumps of pleasure breaking out across your skin. Even from such a simple touch. Because you haven’t seen him in two days? Because you missed him? Or because your sensitivity to things like touch and smell and sounds is rapidly increasing? 

“Sure. If Banner’s done with me.” 

Fortunately, Dr. Banner nods. “Done for now, 28.”

~

The next morning there's no sunrise behind blankets of overcast clouds hanging low over the city. But that suits you - it means you don’t have to get up, either. Because who would want to, with Bucky curled up so close with his ear pressed to your belly? 

“You’re so much warmer than usual,” he muses. “It’s crazy. You’re like me now.” 

“Right. I could probably put my fist through a concrete wall, if I wanted,” you tease.  

“You wanna?” 

“Not yet. Maybe next time Sam or Clint try to make fun of me. Just to show them who’s in charge around here.” 

Bucky chortles as you continue to run your fingers through his hair. The peaceful shroud of the moment is like the fog outside - but warm and comforting. The bunker you’d been held in in Honduras is far away. Barely even matters. Only the here, and now. 

“You know there’s more than one heartbeat in there, right?” Bucky murmurs after a while. You smile at the ceiling.  

“I’m not surprised. Super sperm, and all.” 

Bucky laughs, his metal fingers tracing little circles on the inside of your thigh.  

“How many?” you ask boldly.  

“Um - two at least. I mean, the little beats are so fast and they’re overlapping like crazy. I bet Banner would find out for you, if you like.” 

“Nah. I like to be surprised.” 

“Surprised? You?” Bucky lifts his head, his eyes glittering up at you as he rests his chin on your ribs. “Since when, babe?” 

“Since I learned that some surprises can be good,” you retort, pinching his chin as he grins. The look in his gaze softens slightly, but his lips stay curled as he studies your face intently. “Looking for something?” you tease lightly.  

“Yeah. Just...for the future, I guess.” 

“Mmm. Wanna talk about how we're gonna bust up the smuggling ring?” 

“Not really.”  

“You’re no fun,” you sigh. 

“And you can’t go.” 

You lift a brow. “Bucky…” 

“You shouldn’t go,” he clarifies, though there’s a definite edge to his voice. “And I don’t say that because I think you’re not capable - because you are - but...it’s such an unnecessary risk - ” 

“I’ve taken risks before, Bucky.” 

“I know. You’re so amazing,” he says, his eyes darkening a shade. “But it’s ok for you to step back and let us take care of this.” 

“But I don’t need to.” 

“But you don’t have to go, either.” In his urgency, Bucky props himself on an elbow at your side, eyes so much closer now, better able to coerce you. “No one doubts you, babe. You don’t have to prove yourself.” 

“I’m…” Your head tilts to the side, a bare frown pinching your brows. “I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m going to do my job. Which has nothing to do with proving anything - you do remember that I work alongside the Avengers and get none of the credit? I’ve been putting bad guys in prison for years, and none of them even know my code name. It’s not about proving myself.” 

“You don’t have to see this mission through,” Bucky tries again.  

“I’m going to,” you snap back. “You’re not my boss, Bucky. Unless Fury orders me off, I’m going. Which he won’t, because he’s not an idiot - I know where we’re going, I know the building. I’ll be much more help out there than sitting here with my feet propped up.” 

“So I am an idiot,” Bucky says, and his voice is cold. A shattering moment that his gaze connects with yours - and then he rolls over and climbs out of the bed to stalk away.  

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” You huff in indignation. He’s apparently determined to misunderstand. 

“Yeah, whatever.” Digging around in a drawer, Bucky tugs on a shirt and shorts, hair sticking to his head. “‘S my fault for trying to protect ya, you know? Every time I try, you bite my head off - ” 

“Because you don’t need to worry that much about me,” you argue. The bed is much less welcoming now, and you leap out to search out your own clothes. “I can take care of myself. I’m not with you because you protect me - Bucky, I love you, and that’s a completely different matter. ” 

“Different?” His head swivels back to you, his eyes glittering darkly. “Oh, so I’m supposed to love you and not protect you? Let you jump off a cliff if you want? Or a building?” 

“Ha, ha,” you say sardonically, rolling your eyes as you tug on a bathrobe.  

“I can’t love you without wanting to protect you,” Bucky growls. “Asking me to is like...it’s like just having sex without any feelings. It’s not right. I can’t do it.” 

“Then how about you stay home while I finish this mission and you can pout to your heart’s content,” you snap. Glowering, Bucky turns on his heel, and stomps to the door. Over his shoulder he shoots back,  

“Maybe I will. Because the great Agent 28 can do everything by herself.” 

“And the great Winter Soldier is too stubborn to accept that he can’t have the entire world on his shoulders - ” 

The door opens, and slams shut. Your words are cut off, and the trembling shake of your beating-too-fast heart is making your breath catch. Tears burn your eyes, and your hand flies to your mouth to muffle a choked sob. What is happening? Is this the serum? The hormones?  

There have been no footsteps moving away. Beyond the door, you can hear Bucky’s breathing - ragged, and sighing. Oh, thank you super hearing - you rush to the door, putting your hand on the handle. At the same moment he bursts back through, eyes wild and red, and without a word he crashes into you with an enormous hug, and you cling to him as tears fall onto his shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry, babe,” he mutters into your hair. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know - ” 

“No, Bucky, it’s not your fault,” you snivel.  “It’s me. I think my hormones are amplified.” 

He chortles, kicking the door shut again. Then he kisses your cheek, your jaw, your nose. A steadying breath, and then you can meet his eyes again as he cups your face in his hands.  

“I can’t stop you,” Bucky murmurs, the slightest smile lifting his lips. “I know that. But I can be there with you, to protect you when push comes to shove and you really need me. You’ll never shake me, babe.” 

“I don’t want to,” you whisper back. “I shouldn’t have been so stubborn. I know you’re just trying to look out for me.” 

His voice is rumbly, low. “Gotta take care of my girl.” His lips inch towards yours as you speak, and finally you let your eyes flutter shut to feel the full potency of his kiss. The disagreement is lost in the roving hands, desperate and eager to make amends.  

Your robe falls to the ground as his fingers press eagerly into the flesh of your hips. A moan forms in your throat, and Bucky bites down on your lip. He pushes himself flush against you - the evidence of his arousal very much in evidence - and your breath is coming in short gasps as your back hits the wall and you’re dragged up so your legs wrap around his waist. Mindlessly you rip his shirt over his head before fastening your lips to his neck, where some of your frustration comes out as bright purple bruises - Bucky grunts.  

“You’re stronger now, don’t forget,” he mutters, wrenching down his shorts with one hand. “Please be careful with me.” 

You laugh, the sound throaty and hoarse as you lean your head against the wall, letting your eyes close in bliss. “Well, you don’t have to be too gentle with me. I’m not gonna break, you know.” 

“Nah. But the wall will.” 

Biting your lip, you open your eyes to meet Bucky’s - his gaze is devouring, as he maneuvers you to align with his hips. It only takes a single thrust and sparks burst across your body in sensual bursts of pleasure. Fireworks dance on the back of your eyelids as your legs clench around his waist, trying to pull him closer. Unable to stop yourself, you let loose a long, sighing moan, your arms tightening around his neck as he tries to breath in.  

“What the - ” he chokes. “Did you finish? Feels like you did.” 

“I couldn’t help it,” you whimper.  

A startled pause. And then Bucky starts to laugh - of course. And while your face is warm, you can’t be embarrassed. Without pulling out, he hoists you more securely on his hips and away from the wall, carrying you to the bed as you bury your face in the musky scent of his neck.  

“Alright, Miss Super-Sensitive,” he murmurs into your ear as he lays you back on the pillows. The softness engulfs you, and you sigh again. “Now you get to know how I feel when ya tease me. Extra sensitivity and all.” 

“You don’t have to tease to prove a point.” You peek open an eye to glare. “Come on. I’m ready for round two.” 

“Round two? What’s that? I get a real thrust in this time?” Bucky teases. “We gonna be here all day, babe?” 

“Don’t tempt me, Barnes.” Digging a heel into his bum, you bring him closer - his eyes darken as he lowers himself into your embrace. “Ah. See? That wasn’t so hard.”

He huffs a chuckle, and any thought of teasing is forgotten.  

The concession you do make - after a much more mature conversation takes place regarding your role on this upcoming mission - is that you allow Dr. Banner to continue to monitor the pregnancy, and if he discovers even a hint of danger - you must agree to follow doctor’s orders. But it’s not surprising to you that he finds no hint of danger.  

“Like I said, it’s gonna be fine,” you assure Bucky, as Banner is studying your charts at a desk, while a monitor records your vitals in a plush chair nearby. “If I’m carrying super-babies - I gotta be super, too. Or else they’d kick themselves right out of my tummy.” 

“Thanks for that image,” Bucky deadpans. His flesh hand is on your shoulder, squeezing slightly. “I know you’re not worried even a little bit, so how about you let me worry for you? Hmm?” 

“Hmm - nah.” 

“Everything looks spick and span,” Dr. Banner announces, swiveling back ‘round. “I’ve been wondering if the rate of pregnancy will increase with the genetic enhancements - but it appears to be proceeding normally. How fascinating.”

“What a relief,” Bucky mutters. 

“Will I be alright to go on this mission?” you ask, ignoring Bucky.  

“Sure. Just...don’t jump off anything and don’t get punched in the gut. The serum is obviously protecting you to some extent, but don't test it, yeah?” 

“I won’t,” you promise.  

“Oh, sure - she listens to you,” Bucky says sardonically to Dr. Banner, who blanches. Banner opens his mouth to speak, but since Bucky’s just being grumpy, you cut in, 

“Do you know if they’re twins, Dr. Banner? Or more?” 

“Oh! I thought you knew.” Banner hits some buttons on his tablet, and a squiggling image is projected. You squint at it for a moment but thankfully Banner takes pity. He points and says, “Two. One here. One here.” 

“Nice,” you say with a grin.  

“Oh boy,” Bucky says faintly.  

“Not ‘oh boy.’ Maybe they’re girls,” you tease, nudging him with an elbow. He peeks one beady eye down to glare at you. 

“Don’t you even start, babe. Like I need two more of you.” But his eyes are sparkling; you know he's not serious.  

“Oh, ha, ha. You’d be so lucky.”

Red-faced, Dr. Banner quickly unhooks you from the monitor, and you’re free to go - on the mission, too. There’s a sense of relief with that - the team will have your knowledge of the bunker, and that urge to finish what had been started in your name will finally be satisfied. Then you can take a step back, and Bucky will be pleased. 

~

Mission Day is bright and sunny. You’re the last one on the jet - finishing up a phone call with Director Fury - and when you step on in full gear, Clint only complains about your tardiness a little bit. Then the gangway is lifted.  

“Sorry,” you say to everyone, taking an empty seat beside Bucky to strap on your buckle. He eyes you suspiciously, but says nothing. The usual crease from your smile isn’t there. But when you glance up at him, you grin. “Fury made me promise I would shoot out any cameras in the facility.” 

“It took twenty minutes for him to tell you that?”  

“Eh - mostly.” You don’t clarify, and the engines of the jet rumble to life. Bucky closes his eyes - he’s not exactly a fan of takeoff or landing - but he does peek over at you as your hands find his on his lap, squeezing tightly. You wink, and he smiles back.  

“I’m feeling pizza for dinner, how about you guys?” Tony’s gaze is fastened on his phone, typing quickly.  

“How about something healthy for once?” Natasha asks. “Some of us who aren’t enhanced are gonna end up with heart disease if you keep ordering pizza all the time.” 

“Don’t care,” Clint calls from the pilot’s seat.  

“Don’t care,” says Sam, arms folded.  

“Someone should care,” Steve says. “I agree with Nat, Tony. If you aren’t gonna order something healthy, I’ll cook.” 

“On second thought,” Natasha muses. 

“No! No, no, no,” Stark says quickly, panic filling his features as he holds out a hand in surrender. “I’ll get - hummus or something. Don’t worry about it, Steve.” 

Your giggle joins the others in the cabin of the jet. Steve is looking distinctly miffed, but he’s perfectly aware of the team’s trepidation towards his cooking, and he doesn’t mind it one bit. Bucky can recall more than one occasion in the last century of choking down some experimental supper - he’s glad it’s not just him, anymore.  

“No opinion from the pregnant lady?” Stark asks, casting a look towards you. 

“Hmm? What? For dinner?” You sit up straighter, as if you’d been distracted. “Nah, whatever you guys want.” 

“No cravings?” Natasha wonders curiously. 

“Well - I’ve been really thirsty. That’s about it.” 

“Are your taste buds super sensitive?” Steve asks with an interested glint in his eye.

“Um,” you think for a moment. “I guess they’re a bit more sensitive than they used to be.” 

“Man, after I got the serum, eating was like...an orgasmic experience,” Steve says, his eyes misting over a bit as Natasha snorts. “All new flavors. New combinations.”

“That’s because you couldn’t taste for crap to begin with,” Bucky points out. “Remember when you made your ma breakfast in bed and she puked it up because it was so bad?” 

Laughter rings out - Steve’s face turns red from his collar to his ears, and opening his mouth in indignity he protests, “I was like, seven years old, Buck. I didn’t know!” 

“If you could’ve tasted it, you woulda known,” Bucky says wisely.  

“Everyday, we learn more rich details of the life of Captain America,” Stark says with a sigh, a smile stealing over his features as he leans his head back. “I’m so glad Bucky lives at the Tower.” 

“Good to know I’m wanted,” Bucky retorts. Your fingers tighten on his hand, and he huffs in disgruntlement.  

“And how do you earn your keep, Tony?” you ask him. “I haven’t heard any good anecdotes about Rhodey lately.” 

Tony’s eyes widen. “I’ve been failing.” And he launches into a story so overly-detailed and convoluted that Bucky loses track of what’s going on within ten seconds. Peeking over at you, he sees the mischief in your eyes as you contain your laughter.  

“ - and then the chicken just ripped the pages out of the book and went squawking into the night, we had to - ” 

The story lasts all the way to Honduras.  

Bucky is, to no surprise, a little tense when the team is finally entering the facility. It’s hot and sticky, and even the thudding urge to revenge himself on these people that kidnapped you - it’s with irritation that he lifts his rifle to his shoulder, right behind Steve for an initial sweep.  

“The security room is top floor,” you’d told them - and Bucky eyes you as you break off from the group to the left in search of a staircase. The team would be clearing out people to be arrested (the local police has already been notified), and your mission was to shut down the building and wipe their tech. After salvaging anything useful, of course.  

It’s not a large building. Clint’s in the basement, Natasha and Sam clear out the bottom floor, Steve and Bucky the second, and Tony finishes tidying things on the roof. Fifteen minutes, and over the coms congratulations are exchanged. 

“Police are three minutes out,” Stark reports. “28, you almost done? I’d like to get out of here before we get asked too many questions.” 

“Almost done,” your voice says calmly. “Um - which one of you aggravated the guy in charge? There seems to be a self-destruct feature that just turned itself on.” 

Steve swears.  

“How much time is left?” Tony asks briskly. 

“Three minutes.” 

“Everyone, OUT.” 

“Already on it,” Natasha reports breathlessly.  

Side by side Steve and Bucky run towards the nearest exit - Bucky’s heart is beating fast, and when he sees that the stairs leading to an emergency door, he doesn’t miss the staircase going up. Steve goes down. Bucky doesn't look back, and starts climbing. 

“Bucky - ” Steve calls back, warning in his tone. 

“Gotta get 28,” Bucky snaps.  

“Time’s ticking, Barnes,” Tony reminds him in his ear. Like he’d forget.  

The bodies of two security guards block the way into the room - Bucky steps over them, tempted to laugh despite the circumstances. You’re crouched over a central server, but look up with a frown when he enters. Then, without warning, the building starts to shake - automatically he puts his hand to the doorframe, sucking in a breath.  

“You need to get out,” you tell him over the distant groans of metal and shuddering concrete. 

“So do you.” 

“Bucky,” you say, voice level. “The doors automatically locked when the countdown started. I’ve been manually opening them so the team can get out - you need to go.” 

Bucky slings his rifle on his back, jaw ticking. “Not without you, babe.” 

“If I leave here, we’ll be locked in anyway.” Another shake - pitter patters of shattered rocks hit the ground; you stumble, but slam your hand back on the lever. “Bucky, go.” 

“Not without you,” he repeats stupidly, striding over you to haul you to your feet. You pull your arm back, but not angrily.  

“Bucky.” The calmness in your voice is scarier than the rumbling of the building, than the cracks in the ceiling. He stares, heart pumping fast as he devours the serenity in your gaze, eager to take whatever better solution you’re hiding. You always have a way out.  

“Bucky,” you say again, and your lips curl into a soft smile. “I'm staying. You have to let me go.”

“N - no…” Bucky’s voice cracks on the word. “No.” 

“Bucky, please. I can do this. It’s my choice.” 

“No!” 

“Bucky - ” 

“You can’t!” His throat is burning as he shouts - he’s never raised his voice at you before, but you don’t flinch. Only that smile, that sea of tranquility as the ground shakes again. Things are falling from the ceiling - how they don’t hit you, or him - he doesn't know. He doesn’t care. “I’m gonna protect you,” Bucky says, his tongue tripping over the words. “I’m gonna save you, babe - it’s us, remember? We gotta be together. There’s - there’s no me without you anymore.”

“Bucky,” you repeat, even softer. “You have to let me go.” 

“No.” 

Exasperation. “You really gonna make me do this, Barnes? Really?” 

“No, come with me, we’ll figure it out - ” 

But you’re already bending over to pick up a broken section of a pipe that had fallen from the ceiling. Bucky’s stomach turns - he’s gonna puke, he knows it - but before he can do more than open his mouth in surprise, you swing the pipe directly at his head and it connects with a resonating thud that drops him like a rag doll.  

His vision is fuzzy; there’s only grey, only the distant thudding of his own heart and cold - cold everywhere. And a pair of boots coming close - your boots - is he still there? A soft hand on his head, and he remembers no more.  

The resounding explosion and whoosh of red-hot flames jolts Bucky awake. Panic fills every cell of his body, and his limbs jerk reflexively to find - how the heck? - he’s hovering above the jungle, being carried under the arms by Stark. The roaring whoosh of the facility destroying itself perhaps twenty feet away makes his ears ring. The ground looms loser; a canopy of trees before he’s dropped the last ten feet to the ground. 

As his ears adjust from the deafening noise, he can hear distant footsteps. Bracing himself on all fours, Bucky shakes his head to clear it of noise and the stench of smoke. Then he’s being hauled up by Steve. 

“We thought you weren’t gonna make it out, man,” Steve says wildly, searching Bucky’s face for injury.  

“Wasn’t supposed to,” Bucky mutters back.  

“Where’s 28?” Natasha. Out of breath, and looking, for the first time he’s ever seen her - terrified. Bucky’s tongue is thick and heavy in his mouth, and his ears are ringing.  

“She - ” he tries to say, and lump the size of Antarctica wells up in his throat. His eyes are burning - dust from debris, and a horrific, all-consuming grief is battering in his chest. “She...stayed. To complete the...detonation. To let us out.” 

Sam’s voice cusses. Sam’s there? And Tony...Tony’s voice is mingling with Natasha’s. Suddenly Steve is pulling him into a half-hug, and without thinking Bucky clings to him, uncaring that he’s ruining Steve’s uniform with snot.  

“I was gonna go back for her next,” Stark is babbling, something akin to panic coloring his voice. “Honest, I was. But I barely got Barnes out in time - ” 

Bucky doesn’t remember much, after that.  

~

He’s numb. Everywhere, numb.  

Lying on his back, on his neatly-made bed in Avengers Tower - the bed he’d made with you that morning, with your every-morning insistence that the bed be put neatly back together. The bed with your scent still in the sheets, with strands of hair clinging to pillows, with your chapstick and keys and the bowie knife he’d given you for your birthday and collection of clicky pens and half-used notepads. All shoved in the door of the opposite nightstand. The nightstand which he’d moved in himself, after coming clean about seeing each other and you started sleeping at the Tower more and more.  

Bucky chews his lip raw, just to feel something, but it doesn’t help - the sting of air on broken, bleeding flesh is nothing. Barely even registers. 

You can’t be dead. You can’t. Not when you’d been riling things up with your usual teasing that morning. Not when you’d written “LUV UR BUTT” in the steam from his shower on the mirror only fifteen hours earlier. Not when you’d been bouncing around, acting like you owned the place because you were pregnant, joking that you were going to get special treatment or you’d use your new strength to throw the couch across the tower - 

It’s the pregnancy that sends Bucky hurtling to the bathroom, vomiting up what feels like three days worth of bile and bits of forgotten meals. His head is pounding as if someone was taking a sledgehammer to his temples, over and over and over again, until he’s slouched on the floor, worn out with only the cold tile of the floor on his cheek any link to reality. 

A minute later, or a day or a week or a year, Steve is there, lifting Bucky up by his arms and taking his limp weight out of the bathroom. Then it’s the bed again, your smell, and Bucky tries to protest -  but no luck.  

“You don’t look so good, pal,” Steve says, kinder than Bucky perhaps deserves. “Here. Dr. Banner sent something to help you sleep.” There’s a little medicinal cup in Steve’s hand, which makes Bucky grimace - ugh, he hates medicine.  

“Yuck,” he says petulantly.  

“Drink it, punk. Or I’ll force it down your throat.” Ah. There’s Steve’s testiness.  

“You know, when you were sick all the time as a kid, I remember being a lot nicer than this,” Bucky snaps, peeved as he snatches the cup from Steve, downing it on a single gulp. It’s too sweet, and he smacks his tongue in disgust.  

“Whatever you say, bud. Just sleep, ok?” 

Steve’s pinched face is getting fuzzy. Fast medicine. His limbs are feeling heavy, so Bucky lets his head fall into the pillow, welcoming the softer numbness, and the blackness.

~

Bucky sits upright in bed, breathing in panicked gasps as piercing sunlight hits his eyes. Scrunching his face with a groan, he pinches his nose as he tries to calm himself. But the nightmare is too close; when he closes his eyes, the repulsive face of the Enforcer is still in his mind’s eye.  

And his voice. That awful voice. The one that had commanded so many murders, so many missions and bloodshed and terrorism. The man who had worked for Hydra as a handler for over twenty years.  

Always bring back a body, he would bark to Bucky. No body, no kill. Even if it’s in pieces, bring back proof. It was to test his loyalty, Bucky had supposed long ago. The rule had been relaxed only a handful of times, when the target was too prolific to be smuggling out body parts.  

He rubs his eyes. “FRIDAY, what time is it?” 

“6:52 a.m., sir. Shall I send for Dr. Banner or Captain Rogers?” 

“Er - no. No.” 

Bucky’s throat hurts. It’s raw, like someone had taken a grater to it and made him drink lemonade. He finally looks up, barely daring to let his eyes rove around the room to take in his surroundings, to ground himself back.  

A painting Steve had done of Brooklyn in the 40s. The open closet door, with familiar clothes hanging inside. He flinches from the sight of your belongings. His nightstand - nope, there’s the picture of you and him, though you’d been wiped from it. The ugly carpet.  

Always bring back a body.  

Bucky flinches. If the Enforcer was still alive, he wouldn’t mind wrapping his fingers around the man’s throat… 

Always bring back a body. 

Bucky freezes.  

Always bring back a body. No body. No kill.  

No kill? No body? 

…No kill. 

Oh hell. He was so stupid.  

That last-minute phone call with Fury? Your quietness, on the flight down? That you’d accepted death so calmly, without even questioning it...that you’d knocked him out cold and he'd somehow made it out safely?  

Damn you. You’d planned this, right under his nose.  

Bucky wrenches back the bed covers - Steve must have tucked him in - and stomps to the closet to pull out a jacket and shoes. He’s still in his tac gear. Who cares? He probably stinks like vomit, too. He doesn’t care about that either.  

Stomp stomp stomp to the elevator. Natasha and Sam are in the common room, but their whispered exchange breaks off abruptly as Bucky passes them. He doesn’t even look. They’re probably laughing at him, at his grief - because you’re not dead at all. You’d faked your own death and he’d been duped.  

Stomp stomp stomp to the train. It’s early, so it’s not busy - but he’s given a wide berth.  

Stomp stomp stomp to an office building he’d only visited once or twice. Inside, setting off the metal detector, but one furious glare stalls the security guard. Onto the elevator. Top floor.  

Stomp stomp stomp. 

Fury is standing at the enormous windows of his office, overlooking the city he protects. Hands clasped behind his back, he looks a forbidding figure - but Bucky is too broiled to be scared. 

“Afternoon, Sergeant,” Fury says casually, not turning around. “To what do I owe this visit?” 

The words bite out of Bucky’s mouth. “I think you know, sir.” 

A huffing chuckle. “I can guess. Figured you’d turn up sooner or later.” Fury turns around then, bringing a hand to his face to rub his jaw. His eyes are piercing on Bucky, but Bucky doesn’t move. Then the slightest smile crack’s Fury’s lips. “How’d you find out?” 

“No body, no kill.” 

Fury nods. “Fair.” 

“Why?” 

“Why do you think?” 

Bucky doesn't want to think. But the sternness in Fury’s gaze gives him pause. “Her cover was blown,” he says at last.  

Fury nods again. “At SHIELD, that usually means forced retirement. Of a mission, or an entire identity.” 

But Bucky knows this. So he blurts the question he really wants to know the answer to: “Where is she?” 

Fury lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t know.” 

“Wh - ” 

“I can tell you what she’s doing,” Fury clarifies, as Bucky balls his fists. “She’s burning her identity. She could be anywhere, really. She’ll show up again, sooner or later. Probably.” 

From Fury, this is like information gold. He’s never this verbal. Bucky should be thankful for that - but mostly he’s just more confused. Why hadn’t you come to him right away? Told the team? He could’ve helped you burn your identity...he’s good at that.  

As Bucky turns to leave, Fury adds a parting comment, “Memorial next Saturday. You’d better show. Keep up appearances.” 

A memorial? A freaking funeral? This is the sickest joke Bucky’s ever been a part of - and he’d cut off more than one penis in his service to Hydra to send to grieving widows. At least no one will be sending him any parts of you...right?  

He has seen way too much. 

Stark was kind enough to spring for the funeral, with obscene amounts of flowers and booze, with what seems like all of SHIELD and the Avengers attending in the reception hall on the ground floor of the Tower. Bucky hates it - partially because it’s, you know, your funeral - partially because he’s itching to find you, but he has no leads to go look for you and bring you home.  

If he was willing to talk to the rest of the team, that might be a different story. But feeling as though he’d been left out of the entire scheme, he hasn’t been very social lately.  

But he’s here now - a glass of whisky in his hand but not drinking it, trying to appear what passes for normal as he’s greeted and consoled by dozens of people he doesn’t actually know. The distant tinkling piano music doesn’t help his nerves. Nor does Nick Fury’s droning voice, giving a eulogy he knows is fake.  

“Competent agent, a loyal friend, someone you really want to have your back in a tight spot…” 

The last part gets dry laughs from the crowd. Bucky’s fingers clench on his drink, the metal screeching on the glass. Funny how Fury doesn’t say anything about your love of puns or that you once won a pretzel eating contest when you were a teenager. Or that you’re incapable of doing any undercover accents.  

Bucky jumps when Natasha lays a hand on his arm. 

“Geez, Barnes, you’re a bit tense, aren’t you?” she says, frowning a little, but letting him go all the same.  

“Wouldn’t you be?” he retorts.  

“Well, sure.”  

Bucky tries very hard to read Natasha - but she’s a tough nut to crack. Always has been. The nonchalance in her eyes could be hiding real grief, or it could be the expression of her boredom in a funeral for someone who’s obviously not dead. A moment later her brow quirks.  

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” And she stalks away. 

More pulls and nudges in other directions. Half-hearted listening, no-hearted responses. Bucky taps his foot restlessly, peering over the crowd, desperate for escape. He’s put in his time, right? He can leave. His eyes roam over towards the bar, then to a door, then - back to the bar.  

A woman he doesn’t know.  

Or does he?  

Bucky’s vision tunnels. His throat goes try, his heart lodging somewhere around his tonsils. Breaking off the conversation he wasn’t interested in, he winds around the crowd of people, eyes only on the woman at the bar. He’s not really surprised when her gaze turns to him, and she smiles.  

He stops in front of her. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” she says back, her voice weirdly unnatural. Though the features are unfamiliar, he’s drawn in like a fish to bait. He’d know you anywhere, in any form. His heart is thumping a wild rhythm, of hope and excitement and relief and about a hundred other things. But he keeps his voice level.  

“Most people consider it poor manners to attend your own funeral in disguise,” Bucky deadpans. A snort of laughter.  

“Why? I’m having a grand time. Look at how many people will miss me.” 

“Is your vanity satisfied?” he asks, a little annoyed.  

“Mostly. How’d you know it was me?” 

Bucky sits on the barstool next to you, crossing his arms as he gazes out at the crowd. “Probably the way you were looking at everybody like you’ve executed a marvelous joke and no one knows it.” 

Another laugh. “I’m getting clumsy.” 

“You wanted me to find you.” 

“Of course I did.” A softer smile curls the unfamiliar lips now. A smile he knows, on a face he doesn’t. “You think I’d just disappear?” 

“You kinda did already.” 

“Right. Sorry about that.” 

Bucky sighs, running his hand through his hair. “It only took me about two days to figure it out. It was a bad two days though.” 

“I really am sorry, Bucky,” you say, quieter now. “These things have to be...thorough.” 

“I figured.” 

“Will you forgive me?” 

Bucky presses his lips together to keep from smiling, as he glances back at you out of the corner of his eye. “I will. Because I love you, and I don’t want something as inconsequential as death to come between us.”

Your laughter rings out.  

“You’re not breaking up with me, are you?” he asks next.  

“‘Course not. I’m gonna need you more than ever, you know. Plus I know I'll never find another bum as cute as yours.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes as you chuckle at your own joke.  

“It’ll be a struggle though,” you say with a little dramatic sigh. “I’ll have to start using my real name again.” 

“Tough,” he teases. “You could change that too, you know.”

“I could. Sounds like a bother, though.” 

“I mean…” Bucky trails off for a moment, and then takes a deep breath. “If we’re gonna stay together, you could change it. You know, so we match.” 

The smile on your face broadens. “I could be convinced.” 

“You wanna stay in New York?” 

You shrug. “Not really.” 

“Well, when you decide, just let me know and I’ll pack my boxes.” 

Though looking away again, trying to appear casual, Bucky can feel your potent gaze on his face. “You want to leave?” you ask back. 

“I want to be with you. Even if it means leaving New York and the Avengers. It'll be boring without you, anyway.” He winks in your direction. You giggle back.  

“Might be boring with me, too. Had to turn in my Glock.” 

“I’ll buy you another one, if you want.” 

“Nah, you don’t need to. My pension’s good. SHIELD may go through dead agents fast, but we’re paid pretty well for it.” 

Bucky grins. “You gonna be my sugar mama?” 

“You want me to?” That sparkle in your eyes - though the eyes are different - the expression is the same. Another lump lodges itself in his throat as he watches.  

“Are - um, are you still pregnant?” 

Your eyes flicker to the glass at your elbow. Water. Well, that answers that. Bucky lets loose a sigh of relief.  

“I was worried - the explosion - ” 

But you cut him off with a laugh. “I wouldn’t have gone through with it if there was danger. Besides, it takes more than a flimsy explosion to get rid of your offspring, Buck.” 

“Ha, ha.” 

Shaking out your wig, you uncross your legs and hop down from the stool. With a wicked grin at Bucky, you quirk a brow and ask, “Take me upstairs? My bio code has changed.” 

“Don’t you think it’ll be suspicious if I leave a funeral with a new girl?” he asks, even though he’s winding his fingers through yours already. 

“No one knew about us but the team,” you remind him. “And they already know I’m still alive. Probably.” 

Bucky chortles, falling into step with you towards the elevator to the upper levels. The solemn chatter is left behind, and he doesn’t mind one bit. Into the lift, and once the doors close he tugs you close, leaning his head down to sniff your perfume - that, at least, hasn’t changed. But he can’t kiss you - another look at that biomask you’re wearing, and he blanches.  

“What, don’t you like my new look?” you tease, tugging him closer by the lapels of his jacket.  

“Er - this isn’t going to be a permanent thing, right? You don’t have to get plastic surgery?” 

You laugh. “No - but I’ll probably change up my hair. Just for fun. I hear pregnancy hair is to die for - I can’t imagine how lucky I’ll be with super-serum to boost it even more.” 

“I knew it,” Bucky grumbles good naturedly, his fingers finding your waist and giving an affectionate squeeze. “You’re just in this for my super serum.” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault your sperm immunized itself to my birth control. A girl’s allowed to take advantage!” 

The elevator dings, and with some shared laughter he half-drags you off, towards the common area. The others had ducked out of the memorial early, too - Bucky stalls in his steps at the sudden gazes of the rest of the team - Steve, Natasha, Clint and Sam - sprawled on couches, still in their formalwear.  

“Wow, Bucky. You didn’t wait long,” Clint snaps after a startled moment.  

“Told you he’d figure it out,” Natasha says with satisfaction, holding out her hand to Steve and wiggling her fingers. “Pay up.” 

Steve sighs, and leans over to dig out his wallet.  

“You look good, 28,” Sam teases, toasting in your direction with his drink. “Not better. But good, considering you’ve been dead for a week.”

“Wait,” says Clint. 

“Oh, big deal,” Steve says sardonically, handing Nat a bill. “She died, get over it, I was dead for decades. Really loses its excitement when you work on a team like this.” 

“Thank you,” Natasha says smoothly, tucking the crisp twenty into her blouse.  

“Finally,” you mutter, and reach up to remove the biomask. A startling array of pixels, and then it’s your familiar smile beaming around. Until that moment - Bucky hadn’t been entirely sure. Just hopeful. And wondering if his desperation is making him lose his mind. But nope. As you shrug off your black blazer to toss on the couch, his heart leaps from his chest -  

It’s true. You’re here. You’re home. Mission’s over. For good. 

“You gonna stay here for a while, then, Agent?” Steve asks.  

“Oh, I’m not an agent anymore,” you correct him, as Bucky slings an arm over your shoulder. A mischievous smile lights your face. “I’m - ”

~

To Bucky’s relief - mostly - after pleasantries and jokes were exchanged with the rest of the team, you insisted on going to bed. To sleep. You’d explained that you’d taken a red-eye flight into New York City from Istanbul, and were, understandably, exhausted. Burning one’s identity is a tiring task, which Natasha readily agrees with - and Bucky, too. Maybe a little grudgingly.  

“Those silly masks are more uncomfortable than they look,” you tell Bucky ruefully, as he trails behind you into his bedroom. Shedding off your layers of clothing as if you haven’t been away at all - he watches with bugged eyes, standing dumbly in the middle of the room as you fluff out your hair. 

“I believe you,” he says, as an instinctive response. You flash him a grin, as you dig around in dresser drawers for pajamas. Had you even been away? Bucky’s beginning to question his sanity.  

“I had a great lunch on my way over from the airport though,” you muse. “So, nap time for me. And no, you’re not invited.” This is punctuated with a wink, and you crawl into the bed. “FRIDAY, close the curtains, would you?” 

“Of course, ma’am.” 

No more Agent. Bucky’s eye twitches.  

“Need anything?” he asks at last.  

“I’ll need food and water eventually, I suppose,” you yawn. “If Sam palmed any of my combat knives from downstairs, get them back for me, would you? Those are mine. Not SHIELD’s. Can’t be confiscated.” 

Bucky chortles. “Oh, I’d be more than happy too, babe.” 

Your voice is sleepy. “Figured you would.” 

Not that Bucky is entirely certain how the super-serum works for you - but when you sleep for the next twenty-six hours, it seems relatively usual. Both he and Steve can go several days longer than normal without sleep - but when the time comes to recoup - it’s brutal. Even waking you up for nourishment is a challenge. But your mood is good enough, at least. Even if you pass out again straight afterwards.  

It’s sometime after midnight, and Bucky is cleaning his guns in the kitchen of the Tower when you finally wander out. He glances up, unable to stop from smiling as he takes in your bedhead, a wrinkled robe, a loopy smile.  

“Hey,” you say. 

“Hey, yourself,” Bucky replies, very cleverly.  

“I’m starving.”

 Bucky puts his guns away, and gets to work.  

After an impressive eight-egg omelet (each), plus an enormous bowl of cut fruit, two glasses of milk and a half a loaf of bread worth of toast, you finally sigh and lean back in your chair.  

“I never knew what it was like to be hungry until now,” you confess, as Bucky swipes the last dribble of cheese from your plate. “Now I know how you feel all the time.” 

“You get used to it,” he teases.  

“I’m glad this is only a short-time deal for me.” 

“Me too. Then I can go back to not worrying whether you’re going to cause me serious harm.” 

Your brows lift, eyes twinkling all the same. “You’re worrying about that?” 

“Well, sure.” 

“Why? What’d you do?” 

“Ha,” Bucky says. “Nothing wrong, that’s for sure.” 

“Uh huh.” Your eyes flit to the clock on the wall, and sigh. “Yikes. Three a.m., and I’ve never felt more awake.” 

“Well, if you’re feeling it - I mean…” he trailed off, suddenly unsure as your gazes rests on him. Your lips are curled upwards - that’s a good sign. Bucky wiggles his eyebrows, and you burst into laughter.  

“I’m definitely feeling it. Think we can busy ourselves until dawn?” 

Bucky crumples his napkin in his hand, standing abruptly. “I can think of a few ways we can do that.” 

More than a few. Many. Every last particle of agony, of grief, of missing you so bad he thought his heart was going to burst into a million pieces - every last bit needs accounting for. Every bit of your skin memorized again. Every moan, every whimper, every way you say his name. And new learning, too: your belly is firmer than it was.  

However awake you were earlier, dawn sees you dozing off, half-hanging off the side of the bed where Bucky had made you squirm all tired and sleepy until your protests turned to soft breathing, and he’s left nuzzling the back of your neck as sunlight begins to send shafts of gold into the room.  

He extracts himself from around you. You don’t stir. The softest slide of drawer as Bucky peeps into his bedside table, and then he tiptoes around the bed. 

You’re glowing in the dim light, a dazed sort of smile still on your lips. Never more beautiful - Bucky’s heart does a stutter and a flip, and it feels delicious. 

Your hand is hanging towards the floor. Perfect. Scrunching his nose in concentration, Bucky c - a - r - e - f - u - l - l - y slides the metal band onto your fourth finger. He’s holding his breath - and nearly jumps ten feet in the air when you stir.  

“Whassisit,” you mutter, squirming as your hand flies to your face to rub your eyes. Which pop open, and you stare at the ring on your finger. Bucky panics.

“I was, uh…” he clasps your hand, yanking off the ring as your bemused gaze turns to him. “Seeing if it fit.”

“Oh yeah?” Mischief making your eyes bright, you prop yourself up on an elbow, and Bucky swallows thickly.  

“Yeah. Um, just for fun.” 

“For fun,” you repeat. Your smile is growing. “Bucky, that’s my grandmother’s ring.” 

“A replica,” Bucky blurts.  

“No, it’s not.” You laugh. “You think you can live with a secret agent and she won’t notice when you call her dad and ask for a ring, and then hide it in your bedside table? It’s a rookie mistake!”

Bucky’s mouth falls open. “You go through my stuff?”

“Everyone in the Tower has gone through your stuff at least once,” you say, laughing more as you swing your legs over the side of the bed to sit up. “Natasha? Four or five times, probably. Remember the sort of people who live here?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, and lumbers back to his feet, ring clenched tightly in his fist. 

“Hey,” you say, holding out the palm of your hand expectantly, quirking a brow up at him. “That belongs in my family. Give it back.”

Bucky sniffs. “I don’t think I will.” 

A pause. “No?” you ask, and your voice is low and dangerous - but the glint in your eye far too smug - and Bucky gulps.  

“Don’t do it,” he says abruptly, backing up slightly as you stand slowly. “Babe, come on - think of the babies - ” 

But you’re too light-footed - and too enhanced - he yelps as you take a leap towards him, and a half-second later your thighs are clenched around his head (a familiar position, though an unfamiliar circumstance), your too-strong fingers reaching for his fist as Bucky flails. One elbow is wrapped around his throat - fondly, not threateningly - and he pretends to fight for breath. You’re laughing - clearly not buying it.  

“Get off!” he chokes, but despite himself - he starts laughing as he nearly loses his footing.  

“Give it back!” 

“No! Get off!”  

“Bucky!”  

“Babe!” 

A knock at the door, and he freezes - and you do, too - then it opens with a crash, and Sam, huffing and puffing with temper in his rumpled pajamas, takes in the sight of two naked, wrestling agents (well, only one agent now, technically), as Bucky feels his face turn hot. Then Sam’s eyes widen, and he slaps a hand over his face.  

“You two,” he begins, loud and furious, pointing a finger in almost the right direction. “Woke! Me! Up!” 

“Sorry,” you say, voice trembling to keep from laughing. “Bucky, ah, filched a family possession of mine.” 

“I don’t care, you freaks - ” 

“Go away, Wilson,” Bucky says good-naturedly. “I’m tryin’ to propose to my girl.”

“Like that?” 

“Go away, Wilson,” you repeat. “I’m trying to let my man act like he’s super slick - ” 

“Try harder,” Bucky mutters, pinching your foot.  

“Seriously. I almost liked it better when she was dead,” Sam says vehemently, bumping into the doorframe as he turns to leave - eyes still covered. Then there are more footsteps, and  Steve’s head pokes into the doorway next - and he immediately squeezes his eyes shut. Bucky swears.  

“Hey,” Steve says, face red as a tomato. “Who left all the dishes in the sink?”

A Real Epilogue

Six months later. 

“Drat.”  

The doorknob is still in your hand, along with several inches of jagged door, splintered wood where it had broken off. Meanwhile the remainder of the door shudders to a stop, protesting the brutal treatment. Your ears still ring from the snap of wood, and you wince.

That’s the second time this week.

Oops.  

Waddling from the bathroom to the living room, you can hear quite plainly the shuffle of Bucky’s socks on the floor in the kitchen, the twist of a jar opening. It gets annoying, the super-hearing.

“How many sandwiches you want, babe?” Bucky calls. 

“Um - three. One for each of us.” 

“You got it.” 

The television is muted, and you sit on the couch with a sigh. Six months you’ve waited for this day - and there’s no way a little accident from a flimsy doorknob is going to ruin it. Propping your feet up, you turn the volume back on, gnawing at your lip as the newscaster begins to speak.

“Hey, you could’ve waited for me,” Bucky says crossly, wandering into the living room with two plates.  

“I could’ve, but the news won’t,” you retort.  

“Fair.” He hands you a plate - which you accept eagerly. It’s been an hour since your last meal and already your stomach is growling again. Growing babies is hard work. Gotta keep your strength up.  

Bucky’s feet join yours on the table, and finally the newscaster introduces the trial.  

“The indictment of Thomas P. Renlen began today at the Manhattan County Courthouse. Renlen, accused of conspiring with the supposedly defunct secret society Hydra, along with other crimes such as smuggling, theft, kidnapping, and murder - has pleaded guilty.” 

“Good,” you say, around a mouthful of sandwich. The screen switches to a shaky camera angle of several people exiting the courthouse - Renlen in the middle, his face repulsively familiar, flanked by angry looking lawyers. You scoff, and take another bite. 

“Renlen has criminal ties with the felon Ricky Coates, who is currently in prison in London, and Alexander Pierce, who led Hydra for years before his death. We spoke with an expert, who predicts that the trial will last less than a day, with evidence mounting up, and public discord against him…”

“He doesn’t look so good,” Bucky comments. Likely referring to the baggy skin around Renlen’s eyes, and the baggy suit he was wearing.

“Why would he?” you ask, amused. “Lost his job, and now he’s going to jail. “And I popped his eardrums on my way out of the bunker in Honduras. See how he winces when people shout at him? That’s not just sensitivity to noise - that’s still healing. He’s got scabs around his ears, see?” 

“Ouch. That's harsh.” 

“He put a mind control drug in my system, kidnapped me, and tied me up,” you point out. “And he didn't like my jokes.” 

Bucky chortles. “The real crime.” 

“Tell me about it.” 

“It’s thanks to the Avengers that we were able to nab Renlen in the first place,” a government security expert is saying on the television now. “He’s slippery as they come. The CIA nearly got him back the 80s, but under a different name. At the time, he - ” 

“I think that was all the new news,” you say with a sigh, and lean over with a grunt to grab the remote. The screen goes blank. 

“Heard from Fury?” Bucky asks, after a moment.  

“Nah - he’s not exactly the ‘let’s catch up over coffee’ type.”

Bucky grins. “Well - he’s testifying next week on your behalf. Though to be fair, I’m pretty bummed you won’t be there. I’d love to see you take the witness stand - Renlen would never know what hit him.” 

You can’t help laughing - but that strains your back, and so you stop. “I was never allowed to testify for SHIELD,” you admit. “My identity was that secure. Would’ve been fun, though. I’ve been told I have a disconcerting presence when I want to.” 

“You do,” Bucky says, nudging with an elbow in the side as his eyes glint down at you. “The first few times I saw you I wasn’t sure if you were gonna cut off my balls or grab them. Nicely.” 

“Wow, thanks for that imagery. And those excellent ideas.”

“Weren’t meant to be ideas, babe.” 

“Too late now.” You like a bit of mustard from your thumb, adding nonchalantly, “By the way, I broke another door.”

Bucky lifts his head, blinking fast in bafflement. Then he leans forward on the couch to peer around the corner - and sees the hole in the bathroom door. He groans.  

“Again?” 

“Yes, again, you goof. Don’t pretend like you never get klutzy,” you say severely, poking his knee. He laughs, and reaches over a hand to pat the swollen circumference of your belly. 

“Not this klutzy,” he teases. “You’re just...extra special.”

“Watch it, buster. I may be pregnant and retired, but I can still kick your butt all the way to Miami.” 

Bucky snorts. “Whatever you say, babe.”

Wise man. 

You start on your last sandwich, as he glances over at the broken door again. “I’m not sure if I can fix this one,”  he admits. “Might have to buy a new door.”

“On the insurance claim you can list the cause as ‘super sperm.’” 

“That’ll go over well.” 

“About as well as Clint’s stand up at Nat’s birthday party last year - you remember that?” 

Bucky laughs. “What are you talking about? You loved it!” 

“Well, I have a very strange sense of humor. Jokes about eggplants and lawn mowers? Count me in.” 

“You know, I’m not even sure I understand that joke now. And it’s been months.”

You set your empty plate on the coffee table, satisfied as you glance over at Bucky with a grin. “I’ve tried explaining it to you at least four times,” you tease. “I don’t think it’s my fault anymore.” 

“Ha, ha.” 

Undaunted by his good-natured glower, you curl up next to him as he sets his plate aside, too. Then Bucky lifts an arm, offering you a space in his embrace. You take it happily - ignoring that most of you doesn’t fit - and sigh as he kisses the top of your head. Curling your fingers around his knee, Bucky winds his metal fingers around yours - the ting! of metal against diamond makes you chuckle. 

“Amused?” His voice is low and gravelly in your ear, making you shiver a little. 

“Always. That’s why you love me, isn’t it?” 

Bucky tilts his head slightly to study your face, clearly baffled. “Hmm?”  

“Because you’re too solemn and I’ve never taken a single thing seriously in my life.” 

He obliges you with a laugh. “You think that’s why I love you? Really?”

“Well, that, and my sexy bod - ” 

“Very sexy.” 

“ - and my skill with the blade - ” 

“Never seen you use a sword, babe. Knives are good, though.” 

“ - and my singing - ” 

“Eh…” 

“ - and how I can rip doors off of their hinges - ” 

“Loved you long before you could do that, silly girl.” 

“ - and you especially love me because,” you nuzzle your nose to the skin of Bucky’s neck, and he twitches, eyeing you suspiciously. “I let you accost me in the bathrooms and rip my clothes off.” 

Bucky’s laugh rings out. “You like that, and don’t you dare pretend otherwise.”

“If you say so.” 

“I do.” 

His words hang in the air like the thickest honey; sweet and golden and shining until the warm feeling in your chest, of freedom and peace and love - builds and builds until there’s nothing left in the world that could disrupt it, ever again.

[jerometayz-blog]

Why You Should Spend More Time Thinking About Lung disease

Idiopathic lung fibrosis (Lung condition) causes mark tissue to grow inside your lungs. Typically, when you take in, oxygen moves via little air cavities right into your blood stream. From there, it takes a trip to body organs in your body.

Lung condition, mark cells is thick, like the scars you hop on your skin after a cut. It reduces oxygen circulation from your lungs to your blood, which can maintain your body from functioning as it should. Low oxygen degrees as well as the rigid mark cells make it hard to breathe.

There's no remedy for Lung condition. The disease will certainly influence your life and also your family. For many people, signs don't improve, but there are brand-new treatments that can slow down the damages to your lungs. Everybody's outlook is different. Some people will certainly worsen rapidly, while others can live ten years or more after they are detected. There are therapies to assist you breathe easier as well as manage your signs and symptoms. In some instances, you might be able to have a lung transplant.

Reasons

Some individuals get pulmonary fibrosis when they're exposed to something in their environment, like contamination, particular medicines, or an infection. Many of the time, medical professionals don't understand what causes Lung condition. That's what "idiopathic" ways.

You may be more probable to obtain Lung disease if you:

Smoke cigarettes

Breathe in wood or steel dust at the office or home

Have heartburn illness

In some cases, Lung disease runs in households. Physicians assume busted genes can cause the condition in some individuals. No person knows yet which specific genetics may be included.

Signs

You can have Lung condition for a very long time without observing any signs. After several years, the scarring in your lungs becomes worse, and you might have:

A completely dry, hacking coughing that does not vanish

Lack of breath, particularly when you stroll or do other tasks

You could also observe that:

You really feel a lot more tired than common

Your joints and muscle mass ache

You've dropped weight without attempting

The pointers of your toes and fingers have gotten bigger, called clubbing

Obtaining a Medical diagnosis

Due to the fact that it shares many of the same indications, lung condition is hard to tell apart from various other lung conditions. It may require time and also a whole lot of brows through to the medical professional to get the best medical diagnosis. If you have problem breathing that does not improve, you'll possibly need to see a pulmonologist, a physician that deals with lung problems.

The doctor will certainly use a stethoscope to listen to your lungs. She could ask inquiries like:

The length of time have you been feeling in this manner?

Have you ever smoked?

Do you deal with chemicals at your job or home? What kinds?

Has anybody in your family been identified with Lung condition?

Do you have any various other clinical conditions?

Have you ever been informed you had the Epstein-Barr infection, flu A, liver disease C, or HIV?

Your doctor additionally will certainly provide you one or even more of these tests:

Breast X-ray. It makes use of radiation in reduced dosages to make pictures of body organs inside your body.

Exercise test. You walk on a treadmill or ride a fixed bike while somebody checks the levels of oxygen in your blood with a probe on your fingertip or affixed to your forehead.

High-resolution breast CT, or computed tomography. This is a powerful X-ray that makes detailed images of your lungs. It can help discover just how serious your Lung illness is and also perhaps the cause.

Biopsy. The doctor removes tiny pieces of your lung cells and also analyzes them under a microscopic lense. This may be made with surgery or with an adaptable tube filled with a tiny video camera that overlooks your throat as well as right into your lungs. The versatile tube method is called a bronchoscopy. Throughout the bronchoscopy, a medical professional will make use of fluid to wash out your lungs as well as get rid of cells to research them. This usually occurs in a healthcare facility, and you'll be sleeping for it.

Pulse oximetry as well as arterial blood gas tests. They gauge how much oxygen remains in your blood.

Spirometry. You blow as hard as you can into a mouth piece affixed to a device called a spirometer. It measures just how well your lungs are working by demonstrating how much air you can blow out.

Questions for Your Doctor

Exactly how do you recognize I have Lung disease?

Do I need anymore tests?

Do I require to see any type of other doctors?

What therapies might work best for me?

How will they make me really feel?

Will anything aid me breathe much better today?

Exist any type of scientific tests that would certainly benefit me?

Just how commonly should I see you?

Will I require a lung transplant?

Will my youngsters get Lung condition?

Treatment

Therapies for Lung disease will not heal the condition, however they can make it simpler for you to breathe. Some may maintain your lungs from obtaining even worse swiftly. Your physician might recommend a few choices:

Medicine. Two medicines, nintedanib (Ofev) and pirfenidone (Esbriet), are approved to treat Lung condition. Scientists are still learning exactly just how they function, however they do recognize these treatments can reduce scarring and damage in your lungs.

You breathe oxygen through a mask or prongs that go in your nose. Whether you require to wear oxygen depends on how serious your condition is. Some individuals with Lung disease require it only when they exercise or rest.

You work with a group of medical professionals, registered nurses, as well as therapists on methods to handle your symptoms. You may visit the healthcare facility for a rehab program or do one at house.

Some individuals with Lung disease can get a lung transplant. Medical professionals typically suggest it for a person whose ailment is really severe or gets worse extremely quickly. Getting a brand-new lung or lungs can help you live longer, yet it is major surgical treatment.

If you fit the criteria for a lung transplant, your medical professional will certainly put you on a waiting list for a lung from a donor. You'll need to take drugs for what is popcorn the rest of your life that maintain your body from declining your new lung.

You'll require emotional assistance from household as well as close friends if you're thinking about a lung transplant. Assistance teams can help by placing you in contact with individuals who are also getting or have had transplants. Ask your doctor concerning programs that can help discuss what to anticipate prior to and also after the surgical treatment.

Researchers are additionally studying new therapies for Lung illness in medical tests. Your physician can inform you if one of these tests might be good for you.

Caring for Yourself

Lung disease is a serious illness, and also it will certainly have a huge result on your life as well as your liked ones. To remain as healthy as possible, follow your treatment strategy and see your medical professional routinely to see to it your treatment is functioning.

Everybody with Lung condition is different. For others, it can be a slow-moving process where their lungs remain the exact same for a long time.

Idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis (Lung condition) causes scar cells to expand inside your lungs. Lung illness is tough to tell apart from other lung illness due to the fact that it shares numerous of the very same indications. Some individuals with Lung condition can get a lung transplant. Obtaining a brand-new lung or lungs can assist you live longer, however it is major surgical procedure.

If you fit the standards for a lung transplant, your physician will certainly put you on a waiting list for a lung from a benefactor.

[bwicblog]

> [Part 1] Close Encounters of the Zombie Kind

[Pheres (RS) embarks on a zombie-observation expedition with his new research assistant, Laledy (SS); an ex-soldier, Faizah (BB); and a local guide, Cennef (XR). When they decide to livestream the adventure in a group chat, things, as predicted, go horribly wrong.]

EXCERPT:

XR: also, there could have been unattached larva down there

XR: where do you think they come from in the first place

RS: an oviposter, presumably, but clearly i was misguided

SS: (Storks!)

RS: a stork's oviposter

RS: hahaha

LP: The chat sure is uncharacteristically silent lately... >ooo<

LP: Or maybe I am just on at the wrong times! :o >ooo<

LP: Or maybe I am just on at the wrong times! :o >ooo<

RS: | Haha | It has Been a Quiet Day | ! |

RS: | And Now a Quiet Night |

RS: | I Expect All of Us are Busy at Work | ? |

RS: | Or Out | It is Still a Festival Week |

UV: Or because the end of the Festival Week is coming. A lot of couples are no doubt out celebrating the last nights.(edited)

RS: | Haha | Yes | ! | =:) | I Almost Wish I was Out |

LP: Ah... That does make sense. >ooo<

LP: How come you're not? >ooo<

RS: | Because I am At Work | ! | Here | Look |

SS: (Ey, pal, nonna that 'quiet night' hoofbeastshit, you're gonna up and jinx us!)

RS has attached VID345345.MOV! It's a quick pan of the camera over a dark, white-sanded desert. There's rock formations all around - a brief glimpse of a jadeblood and a brownblood, faces slightly blurred by the motion - and the sound of chattering off in the distance. The camera cuts when something whoops.

RS: | Not as Exciting as Festivities | Sadly |

RS: | But Occasionally One must Miss Them | Haha |

SS: ('It's a quiet night's, like, the last ish peeps up and say afore they get mobbed by thirty zeds and become one with the horde.)

UV: What sort of business do you have out in an area like that? If you do not mind me asking, that is.

LP: Oh! You're out in the desert? >ooo<

SS: (Bit athis, bit athat, bit a not gettin bit by zeds! (\eue/) )

SS: (Ain't sure how much Pher's up and down for spillin the deets of, tho, so: (\oxo/) )

RS: | Haha | Yes | We Are | ! |

RS: | And Our Business is Hunting Down a Lair of Zombies | So Far | In Theory |

RS: | Currently | Our Lovely Guide is Reorienting Herself |

RS: | And I Think Her Mother is Eating Something | I am Trying Not to Look | Personally |

RS: | | I am Always Up for Spilling the Deets | I am Afraid |

RS: | I Scored Dreadfully on the Internet Safety Part of My Schoolfeeds | =:B |

SS: (I'm totes watchin! (\eue/) )

SS: (Fascinatin stuff, this.)

LP: Ooh.. :o >ooo<

LP: Sounds interesting. :) >ooo<

SS: (And LUL.)

SS: (Hey, Pher, I got one a'those fancy personality questionnaires for you!)

SS: (It tells you what kinda zed you identify with most based on your credit chit code.)

UV: What sort of zombies then, if you are so willing to share?

MH: Oh he's back.

MH: Glad to see you didn't die, RS.

RS: | Mm | Pass | Laledy | ! | But Thank You |

RS: | Perhaps You can Get One of Our Friendly Resident Chat Members to Fill That Out for You | =:B |

RS: | And | We are Looking for Cuckoo Zombies | ! |

RS: | But So Far | We have Just Found a Number of Floral Zombies |

MH: The hell are cuckoo zombies.

RS: | I have Been Taking Pictures | If You'd Like to See | =:) |

RS: | | And Of Course I didn't Die | Haha |

RS: | They are Victims of Parasitic Birdwasps | ! | Their Eggs Hatch Within Dead Bodies |

RS: | And Puppet Them Until They are Large Enough to Burst Free | Which Is | Oh |

RS: | Three or So Nights | ? |

RS: | They're Very Hard to Witness in the Wild | ! |

BB: Very hard. or no one wishes to Bother with getting insects Burrowed into their skin and horns.

BB: Hard to tell.

RS: | Haha | We are Not at Risk of That | I Keep Telling You That | ! |

RS: | Adults Do Not Live This Far in the Desert |

RS: | They Need Plants to Pollinate | There are No Plants Worth Pollinating Out Here |

RS: | Have You Located the Stone Pillar Yet | By the Way | ? |

BB: Perhaps they are Busy working their day joBs. too. One might come home early. Similar to finding a quad mate in Bed with another.

RS: | | Are We the Quad Mate in This Metaphor | or the Bed | ? |

BB: Exactly.

RS: | Or | Wait | No |

RS: | Are We the Other | ? |

BB: The stone pillar is not too far away. yes.

BB: All I am trying to get across is that if there is adults. it will not Be happy with us going into its territory.

SS: (Well, that's what you've up and got walkstubs for, pal! (\eue/) )

RS: | | Oh | LP | ! | My Apologies | We have Tromped All Over Your Conversation | =:c |

SS: (And a talkbox, for your last words, ofc.)

BB: I would rather keep my walkBranches to remain walkBranches and not walkstuBs.

SS: (For that, pal, you're gonna hafta chat with the peeps what up and make dictionaries'n ish up.)

SS: (Or slang, whatevs.)

BB: I did not know that I would have to consult a dictionary to say that I wish to keep my limBs in tact.

SS: (Nah, pal, for that you'd hafta up and learn how jokes work! (\ouo/) )

RS: | Oh | Damn | I Think We Spooked Her Off |

RS: | | Somehow | Hahaha | Um |

RS: | Faizah | ! | You Worry | So Much | =:B |

RS: | Please | Relax | No One will Be Losing Limbs |

RS: | Not Even the Walkers |

RS: | Are You On Your Way Back Over | ? |

UV: Well if you did. I am still here. I was simply looking for a little more information on Cuckoo Zombies while you were occupied.

BB: I will Be Back soon enough. I am sure. I will also Be making sure that the only thing that does lose limBs is the walkers.

SS: (Yeah, pal, I totes wonder what did it?)

SS: (Bodysnatchin flapbugs what're up and puppeteerin peeps bods ain't made nobody queasy, like, ever. (\unu/) )

MH: Gross.

SS: (Soz, pal, didn't mean to give you internet cooties. (\unu/)

SS: (Leastways they ain't makin their waay outta here.)

BB: SS is an enjoyaBle fellow. in case you were wondering.

UV: The variety of species that parasitize trolls has always been rather fascinating, I thought. Of course, I have always done any observations from a distance.

SS: (Aww, pal, careful! You're gonna make my kokoro go doki doki. (\unu//) )

BB: See what I mean.

SS: (And hells yeah they are, pal!)

SS: (S'like a fun lottery system: erry time you think you're up and safe, boom! Turns out whatevs ish you're lookin at can totes be a parasite, too!)

RS: | Oh | If You are Interested | I can Stream Some of Our Expedition For You | ? |

RS: | It Doesn't Beat Real Observations | Of Course |

RS: | But If You are Interested | =:) |

SS: (I mean, like, if you up and think about it, we're parasites. Ain't like lusus naturae's the same species as you'n me.)

CC: eugh, yeah, fascinating. Tell that to all the jackwagons that get consumed in the deep woods.

CC: are you out hunting or something, RS?

UV: If it would not trouble you, Pheres. I would enjoy it. Thank you.

MH: Yup.

SS: (Well shit, pal, mb they're gettin all consumed-like on accounta they totes thought it was interestin nuff to see up and close-like. (\eue/) )

RS: | We are Out Observing | ! | No Hunting | Unless Things Get a Little Too Close |

MH: He's hunting. Or something.

RS: | Or | Mm | Feisty |

BB: Looking at things from a giant miscroscope only makes them smaller. doesn't necissarily solve anything.

SS: (Dude, huntin's for losers that up and think they can make a dif with a machete and some spuunk.)

CC: lol, I mean I guess you don't get more front row than that.

SS: (Research's how you up and figure out how to load some weedkiller into a drone and clear a whole section a'the desert.)

CC: it's easier to just get rid of them, but-- oh you're in a desert pff.

CC: I had to get rid of them in the woods, there wasn't enough space in the buildings to move safely with them there, yadda yadda. So is it just a curiosity or-- huh

SS: (And, uh, BB, soz to say, but I think you need a crash course on what microscopes do.)

SS: (Spoiler alert: Makes ish bigger.)

RS: | Ah | A Reminder to Those Who Would Rather Not See | the Dead |

RS: | Say | CC | =:B | There is a Button in the Screen | You can Press | to Make the Image Go Away |

RS: | I am Not Clear Where the Button Is | But I am Certain It Is There | ! |

CC: I don't have a problem, what are you talking about?

SS: (I'm p sure you gotta, like, choose to join the call anyhow.)

RS: | Usually Trolls Who Have to Exterminate Walkers Aren't Interested in Seeing Them Up Close | ! | They Find It | Ah |

RS: | Bothersome | ? |

SS: (It's against their religion!)

CC: oh hell no. I said extermination made it easy to move not that that was my job

SS: (The religion is bein a weenie.)

CC: ^

RS: | I am Fairly Certain It is Against the Sun Cultists Religion to Murder Walkers |

RS: | Or Is That to Burn Them | ? | It's Something |

CC: I'm a salvager show walkers all you want

RS: | | But | Ah | Good | ! |

SS: (Oh, y, pal, ofc, ain't you in the know I'm a sun cultist now?)

SS: (I got a pamphlet from that chick what stopped our van and everythin.)

SS: (Apparently I might be a saint, too.)

SS: (Ain't too clear on that bit. Do white oculars count, or do I gotta be proper dead-like?)

XR: Oh, Pherrres

CC: okay but if this turns into a drink the koolaid fest I'm out, st. SS

XR: erXR: Pheres

SS: (Nah, pal, no kool-aid! Just zed spores. Take a vine erryone, won't hurt once it gets to your pan stem!)

SS: (Wow, that weren't suspect at all.)

RS has started up a call! He's.. clearly using his cellphone to record the desert night, and the audio's been muted. They're still in the sand dunes, by the rock formation - but he turns the camera to beam into it, briefly, and then zoom in on Lal, who's speaking to his phone a few feet away.

MH: What the fuck.

CC: pretty.

RS: alright

RS: this is now on voice to speech!

RS: um

RS: voice to text?

CC: ...not the jadeblood. The desert

RS: i think!

RS: hahaha

SS: (Heyo!) Laledy waves at the same time as he sends the message, clearly speaking into his mic.

SS: (Wtf, way to kill my ego.)

MH: Rude CC.

RS: laledy is fairly pretty, i think. there's no need to be unkind!

XR: ...anyway I'.m. nearly there, is what I wanted to tell you.

CC: okay but can you blame me. This entire chat swarms people for things like that.CC: had to clarify

SS: (At least some peeps up and appreciate real beauty!)

SS: (Insert dramatic sniff here.)

RS: marvelous!

SS: (LUL)

SS: (Nah, pal, too late, I'm cryin already. (\eue/) )

CC: how many people are joining you, RS?

CC: pffff lol

UV: Seems like quite the expedition team.

SS: (Enough to form our own miniature horde once we get wasted by zeds! (^_^/) )

MH: Keep the camera running.

MH: I wanna see it.

SS: (Insert thumbs up here!)

SS: (Make sure you up and put it up on grubtube!)

CC: aw continuing research even in the after death. "Do teams remain allied after infection and passing"

XR: no. we'd all be idiot zombies.

SS: (Y, XR, but we'd be idiot zombies 2gether 4ever.)

RS: and oh, look, here's miss cennef's hound. A blurry shot of an alarmingly huge canine. Its jaws are moving, but he keeps pulling the camera back towards the ears. Eugh.

RS: uv, she's eating a floral zombie, by the way. do you want a picture?

SS: (It's the team spirit! (\ouo/) )

CC: love that optimism

RS: ... you all are talking so much

RS: heavens, we're not getting wasted by zeds, laledy

RS: can you imagine the indignity

UV: A picture would be nice, thank you Pheres.

RS: these aren't even proper zombies

CC: is it safe for animals to eat those? I always thought it fucked them up

RS: alright

-- XR has put on her own voice to text, and took her own picture of Pheres from sitting on her giant fennec fox/horned toad lusus --

SS: (I know, pal, I just thought BB needed some help w that wish fulfillment!)(edited)

XR: two can play at that

XR: anyway, I brought the zombie bait

RS: hahaha

RS: you take a picture of the zomb

RS: excellent!

XR: it smells horrid but then again, what else would it smell like

CC: sunshine and daisies

XR: sunshine smells like burning and death

XR: and some of them do have daisy strains I hear

CC: Chanel no.5(edited)

RS: but daisies smell delightful, presumably, to make up for it

UV: XR has a fair point.

XR: a little too delightful

XR: some of them snag you that way

XR: which is why I also brought masks

RS: ah, my apologies, uv

RS: i don't think i'm going to get very close to her lusus

XR: I know they're hideous but put them on

RS: how far did you say this was?

RS: they're cumbersome

SS: (Wtf is these double standards?)

SS: (I mean, I'm totes down for a mask, this ish looks totes badass and post-apocalyptic, but, like, pal.)

XR: if you get silly-panned by some floral scenter, you can't even come crying to me because that's probably the last thing you'll ever do

RS: and we're not dealing with psychogenic on- oh!

RS: you're incredibly silly

RS: but fine

XR: is smell it and lose yourself

RS: pass me a mask

XR: mask passed

XR: oh wait

XR: must document

SS: (LUL)

SS: (Dude, we can... figure that out.)

--  TOO LATE, he's already holding out his camera to take a begrudging picture of his face with the filtration mask on.  --(edited)

SS: (Uh.)

SS: (Duct tape, mb?)

-- XR has posted a picture of Laledy and Pheres in their masks --

XR: dammit

RS: smiley face

RS: haha

XR: you rob me of my glory

XR: how could you

UV: You all look like a proper zombie observation team now.

XR: all right, what's your strife

RS: oh

RS: thank you!

XR: I have a few firebombs, but I'd rather not use them

XR: they go up quick, even when there's not much to burn

SS: (Cutting sarcasm!)

RS: my amazing good looks?

RS: hahaha

XR: you're both hopeless

RS: you're being silly, cennef

SS: (Also a taser, a sword, and a wacking stick.)

XR: your hair isn't a weapon, Pheres

RS: come along! let's just get moving

XR: lovely as it is

XR: what, are you crazy? I haven't even told you what to watch or listen for

XR: hold on a moment

XR: remember, these are cuckoo zombies you wanted to see

XR: they don't behave like other ones

SS: (Idk, pal, I'm p sure he could eat me with that ish if he tried hard enough.)

XR: and god help me if you provoke them, we all have to run for it like giant spotted meowbeasts

SS: (Nah, pal, I only provoke peeps!)

XR: because they might burst prematurely

XR: and come after us all like avenging furies

XR: so we all have to be very quiet and lightfooted. They don't see well, being larvae, but since there's so many of them in one host their sense of touch is excellent.

SS: (Shit, pal, and here I was up and hyped to go hug one!)

XR: would that I were so lucky

XR: anyway, they tend to hide in hives, all curled up and waiting to gestate, unless they're hunting

XR: hence bait

SS: (Wow, you really know how to woo a guy!)

SS: (On pitch week, too. (\unu/) )

XR: Pheres why is he here

XR: no don't answer that

RS: hahaha

RS: for his stunning reparte

RS: obviously

RS: ah! no, sorry, was looking at this

XR: regardless, they should all be curled up before we get to them, but just in case one isn't, you might not see it at first. sometimes they hide in sand dunes instead of rocks. but, if one IS hidden there - what

XR: what are you looking at

RS has wandered a bit far off from the crowd! The camera's been focused on a section of stone for the past few minutes - it finally pulls away to show.. he's been sticking his arm into a crack. Alright.

SS: (Uh.)

He pulls it out a moment later, victorious, and holding what looks to be a bone.

RS:

RS: hmm

RS: never mind, not worth looking at

XR: PHERES WHAT THE HELL

SS: (Y'know that thing we were up and talkin bout with branches and stubs afore?)

XR: YOU COULD HAVE BEEN BITTEN ON THE ARM

SS: (Oh, nm, XR's got it in capslock, nm.)

XR: YOU ARE VERY LUCKY NOTHING WAS DOWN THERE

RS:

RS: cennef

RS: how small do you feel zombies get

XR: well Pheres I know it may stun you

XR: but there are dangers besides zombies

XR: like scorpion lizards

XR: however I assumed that was covered by common sense

XR: also, there could have been unattached larva down there

XR: where do you think they come from in the first place

RS: an oviposter, presumably, but clearly i was misguided

SS: (Storks!)

RS: a stork's oviposter

RS: hahaha

XR: uuuuuugh gods help me

SS: (HAH)

XR: if you are QUITE DONE being recklessXR: let's go toward the main hiveXR: and keep an eye out for florals or fungals, zombies aren't smart enough to have territory boundaries(edited)XR: so even though separate types usually won't horde together, that doesn't mean they don't stray

RS: yes, yes, right

SA: dude

XR: all right, we all need to keep our voices low

RS is not a cameraman, obviously! The footage of the stream keeps shaking as he trails behind Cennef's foxmom, and it keeps shifting away from the desert stretching out in front of them to capture things he thinks are even slightly interesting. A strangely shaped rock! Sand! A scorpion that he carefully kicks with his boot, and then scampers abruptly to the other side of foxmom when it raises its stinger in response.

XR: it's not noise, but vibration

RS: ah RS: yes

XR: you're lucky she eats those

SA: this is either the sickest shit I've ever seen or the dumbest fucking ide@ @nyone's had like ever

XR: there she goes

RS: lay out the bait now so i can catch it on camera?

XR: well I'm sure she's glad for the snack

RS: it is asolutely both, sa

SS: (Omg this is my favorite lusus now.)

RS: hahaha RS: smiley face

XR: you are both dumb and I want you to know that

SA: h@h@h@

XR: in case I die because one of you gets me killed

SS: (She eats stingerbugs AND she ain't eatin me!)

XR: yes, here's the bait, have fun with it.XR: and by that I mean set it out and then we're all retreating.

SS: (Is the bait me?)

XR: at least twenty feet.XR: no, you don't smell enough.

SS: (I'm startin to get mildly concerned about that, ngl/)

SS: (Oh, shit, a compliment!)

XR: it's this rotting meat.

SS: (My pusher ain't right broken yet after all!)

RS: i don't know if that's a compliment

SA: gross

RS: to be frank

SS: (Pher, quit tryin to crush my dreams, aight?)

RS: my apologies

RS: that was cruel and unneccessarily callous of me

XR: you have none because there are none with me involved.

XR: end of story

RS: you absolutely do not smell as much as this rotting meat

SS: (I'm glad you're a big enough person to acknowledge that, Pheres.)

RS: and that is a compliment

RS: hahaha

RS: here, hold the camera

SS: (And ofc I've up and got dreams w you, Cennef!)

SS: (They're the ones where Pher ain't here and you sacrifice me to zeds.)

RS: ah

RS: hold my phone

XR: yes, have him hold it, and then back away

Laledy takes the phone, orienting it at where he hears Pheres. It's somewhat off-angle, but gets most of the scene.

XR: I have Foxmom in case they swarm us but she can really only carry two trolls, even light as the pair of you are(edited)

Or, at least it gets most of the scene when Laledy isn't delightedly filming whatever foxmom is doing at any given moment. There is at least one candid of her yawning, with a dramatic zoom of her teeth.

XR: if you're that desperate I'll send you videos, my gods

XR: this is silly

SS: (I deffo ain't believin you, but whatevs, pal, we'll film this fascinatin ish instead.)

Insert closeup of the rotting meat, pointedly, before Laledy gives in to his actual scientific interests and films the presumed ZOMBIE LAIR.

SA: eewewwww

SA: show us the de@d ppl(edited)

XR: I will because this is just pathetic and also off - there we go

The camera sort of catches Pheres fussing extraordinarily over the meat. It is rotting. It has flies. For all that the audio isn't on, it's not hard to tell he's displeased.

XR: all right. we all need to be quiet.

He drops it --

XR: back up Pheres

XR: now

SS: (Uhhhhhhh)

XR: come back to us

SS: (Uhhhhhhhhhhh)

The screen goes white in a crackle of static, then clears as the light clears.

SA: oh shit is he getting m@uled

XR: stop fussing over the damn meat

RS: shhh i'm moving

RS: moved!

SS: (OW)

RS: you were rushing me!

XR: ugh that was loud

SS: (WHERE)

RS: you're fine!

UV: Well then.

XR: Laledy, back up with me, that might draw a rush

SS: (SURE I'M FINE, PAL, TOTES FINE.)SS: (Where are you?)(edited)

XR: can you feel my arm?

SS: (Uh-) There is some fumbling of the camera, and it's now pointed halfway at the ground.

SS: (Yeah.)(edited)

XR: pity about the footage but I'm not about to get us killed over it

XR: oh

XR: there's one

SS: (Where?)

XR: just peeking up, I see the horns and - oh

SS: (Insert more question noodles.)

XR: there's larva in the sockets

SS: (Insert more capslock.)

XR: most of the scentsponge is eaten too

SA: eeeeewwwwwwwwww

RS: oh, wow, this is amazing

SA: rs you're fucking nuts

RS: hahaha

RS: this is for science, i'll have you know

Lal fumbles the camera again, and it points vaguely in Pheres's direction.

RS: oh, wait

RS: you can't -- mm

XR: aaaaand another - and well that's just great

RS: give me that

SA: @nd presum@bly getting ur zombie rocks off

RS: wha

RS: no one is getting their rocks off

XR: there's a fungus coming and it looks it's been out here a hundred sweeps

XR: look at that growth

SS: (Love to. (\qnq/) )

SS: (Unfort Pheres is a jerk.)

The screen is back to a steady image as Pheres points it at the zombie in question. It's got purple fungus growing everywhere. And: yes, it's gross.

RS: you were rushing me

RS: that is the tragic result of rushing me

-- Cennef takes a photo of a somewhat blurry due to distance but magnificently orange fungal zombie absolutely covered in the stuff, with shreds of clothing over it --

RS: i actually move

SA: gross

SA: grooooooossssss

XR: ...okay so there's two

XR: excellent

SA: eugh does it smell

UV: Well that is quite the sight. And... Double the trouble.

SA: it looks like it smells

SS: (Yeah, pal, like sunshine and daisies. (\eue/) )

XR: fungals don't smell usually

RS: can you see it clearly

RS: uv?

XR: PHERES

SS: (Wow, pal, way to kill my pun!)

XR: I SEE THREE MORE CUCKOOS

SS: (What?)

RS: oh

RS: hm

XR: I HEAR THEM BUZZING

RS: maybe you should get on your mother

SS: (Pal, can you yell that in a way that is less mortally terrifyin??)

SA: oh shit

XR: and - no, damn you

XR: I'm taking care of the fungals, one minute, try not to die or upset the cuckoos.

RS: oh

RS: no, don't - just

RS: stay with laledy

SS: (Uh. Uh.)

RS: and i will take care of the fungals

SS: (I'm gonna stand here and not move at all.)

RS: that does seem a little wise

RS: just

RS: ah

RS: hold still

-- XR swiftly runs around and throws a firebomb at each fungal, because she knows full well those spores are very insidious and deadly and luckily both burn -- (edited)

XR: no, if those had gotten any closer we would be in spore range.

XR: too risky.

SS: (Oh, shit, I can see that at least.)

SS: (Wtf, are you tryin to burn the whole place down?)

XR: also it distracted the cuckoos, they're blind but not that blind.

XR: there's nothing around them.

XR: it won't last.

SS: (P sure they're less blind than me atm, tbh.)

SS: (Fwiw, I am totes never lettin this ish go. (\qnq/) )

XR: good for you

XR: it'll mean you're alive

SS: (This was gonna be so cool.)

SS: (Take good vids!)

SS: (Since I'ma have to rewatch later.)

SA: ...you're blind @nd you went zombie hunting?

RS: um

RS: it's a metaphor

RS: hahaha

-- XR takes a vid of herself staring disapprovingly before swinging at Pheres and the approaching zombies --

XR: ...Pheres

SS: (Pheres blinded me, on accounta his psi is effin bright af.)

XR: don't move

RS: i will move in a moment

SS: (Everythin's spots and ish.)

RS: don't worry

MH: This is the stupidest fucking zombie expedition I've ever seen.

XR: there's a fern zombie approaching

SA: oh ok

SS: (Pal, can we not make this a sitch where you get up and rushed again?)

MH: One of you are gonna get bit, or killed.

XR: and it doesn't look quite as shambling as the cuckoos

XR: who are quite enjoying the meat, at least

MH: Anyone wanna take bets on someone getting hurt.

XR: but I think they'll finish it soon

RS: no one is going to get bit

RS: for heaven's sake

RS: you will have to lose your bet, mh

MH: I said hurt, not necessarily bit.

MP: so uh

MH: Self harm counts because you're all throwing around fire bombs.

RS: did you

RS: heave-- hahaha

XR: That was me and that was for safety.

SS: (Hey, I'm totes offended!)

SS: (Cennef's throwin round -y, zacly.)

SS: (I'm too flammable for that ish.)

XR: the only thing Laledy throws are his words.

XR: which are annoying enough.

MP: dudes r hunting zeds?

SS: (Nah, pal! We're up and makin friends with em!)

MP: streaming too damn badass

SS: (Look, Pher's gonna up and hug that one!)

RS: yes

RS: thank you

XR: clearly we are cuddling up to them, as Laledy suggested

RS: finally someone appreciates it

RS: hahaha

MP: hey I'm paying you compliments here

XR: I'm a bit preoccupied with ensuring Pheres doesn't die

SS: (Or kill me. (\unu/) )

MP: defs do that dude

XR: well thank you for your suggestion

XR: how could I live without it

MP: dying fuckin sucks do not do that

XR: wow, you shock me

MP: v helpful advice I know lol

XR: however would I cope.

SS: (Shit, pal, way to ruin my plans for the night!)

SS: (How tf'm I supposed to spend my Sat now?)

XR: wait

SS: (I ain't made plans for Sunday!)

XR: wait no

MH: Who wants to lay down 50 caegers as the starting bet.

SS: (For what, how long its gonna be afore MH stages dramatic life insurance fraud schemes on all their friends?)

MH: 50 caegers on someone getting getting hurt but that's a good one too.

SA: I'll fucking take it

MH: I'll keep that scheme in mind when I make friends.

MH: 50 caeger starting bid! Who are you betting on getting hurt first?

SS: (I'm puttin 100 on 'way too long - okay, nm, pal, I was gonna make a joke bout you ain't havin none but then you up and just made it sad.)SS: (At least be, like, miffed that you're forever alone.)(edited)

MH: Nah I'm good.

XR: PHERES BEHIND YOU

SA: probs the jade tbh

RS: oh goddamnit

SA: no wait

XR: WE'RE GOING GET OVER HERE

MH: Too late, bid casted.

XR: TELEPORT

SA: d@mn

SS: (Y, pal, on accounta the jade's the one what's up and stickin his fronds into rock cracks.)

SS: (And huggin zeds.)

XR: oh fuck oh damn oh hell

SS: (Wtf???)

MH: Oh shit.

SA: ye@h I w@s @bout to ch@nge my d@mn bid

SS: (Can someone like narrate???)

MH: What's going on over there?

Good thing the audio's turned off! Because the phone's abruptly a mess of static, jerky screen, and then - white again.

XR: hhhhhhh

XR: okay it's down

XR: we need to go

BB: I would hate to be the person who would have to utter this statement.

XR: Laledy get on Foxmom I'm just going to have to chance it

BB: But I told you so.

XR: we're all light

SS: (I hate lits everything oh my god.)

MP: oh fucking shit

MH: Did someone get hurt?

XR: it'll be slow but I have two firebombs left GO GO GO

The stream turns off!

XR: SHE'S LYING DOWN GET ON HER

MP: oh shit

MH: I think someone got a zed on them(edited)

SA: did I win the bet

SS: (Y, SA, I'm totes dead.)

MP: ohhh boy oh no

SS: (This is me confirmin from beyond the grave.)

BB: Unfortunately. SS is not dead.

MH: Who got hit.

XR: PHERES PSIJUMP

SA: ty SS

SS: (That I am extra double blind now.)

XR: TELEPORT

MH: ....Shit.

XR: COME ON

MH: I think Pheres got a zed on him.

MP: ????? If he can teleport what the fuck is he doing

XR: I NETTED IT HE NEEDS TO MOVE

SA: d@ng it!

MH: Maybe he got hurt?

SA: I should@ ch@nged my bid

MH: Like really hurt.

BB: The excess narriration is doing nothing aBout the current circumstance and is only adding excess annoyance to my part.

MP: that's not a good thing dude not even a little

MH: Sucks to be you BB.

XR: ughhhhhhhh

BB: I would concur with that statement.

MH: Glad we're on the same page.

RS:

RS: / alright / ! /

RS: / no one wins a bet /

RS: / i am perfectly alive / or whatever you were betting on /

XR: you need a mediculler

RS: / perfectly fine /

RS: / and alive /

SS: (Can we go back to narratin?)

XR: you won't be if you don't get assistance

MP: what happened dude!

XR: I can't treat that and I don't think anybody in Port Mina can

BB: Which limB do I need to cut off.

XR: fuck off we aren't cutting off limbs yet

MH: But did you get HURT RS?

XR: will you all just shut up with your stupid speculations this is serious

MP: those infections get deadly intense tho

RS: / it's not serious /

XR: YES THANK YOU FOR YOUR HELPFUL INPUT

MH: RS is hurt.

RS: / calm down / cennef /

MH: I knew it.

XR: it's not right now but it could well be and it needs to be taken care of

RS: / it does not even qualify as hurt /

XR: yes it does

MH: I knew someone was going to get hurt.

RS: / i will take care of it at my hive /

XR: do not argue with me, you need treatment

SA: d@mn it

XR: no

XR: you need professional treatment or you will become a fern zombie

XR: you're VERY LUCKY that's a small wound

SA: oh shiiit

XR: but it will spread

MP: def do not do that

BB: I do Believe. even if that is true. that adding more shout poles to the pile will not solve the matter any faster.

BB: We should resort to action. and not yelling over one another.

XR: why yes thank you for being so terribly helpful as if I am not trying to think about what to do right now, however would I cope without the lot of you idiots yapping at me

MP: maybe put the chat down?

XR: Pheres who's your mediculler

XR: or no

XR: turning off voice to text now

RS: / it will be fine /

RS: / take a deep breath / cennef /

RS: / and / ah / - /

RS: / / yes / haha /

BB: So, I do Believe that we shall be making an expressed detour at the next convenient step. I will not say anything more until the injured can come Back to his senses.

MP: I mean I don't think they'll talk to each other here if they all know each otherMP: and are like in the same placeMP:MP: do they do that often

AE: Hello.

MH: Welcome to the shit show.

MH: Some fucks went and bothered zombies and someone got bit.

MH: Or scratched. I don't know.

AE: Do. Not. Touch. Zombies. That. Is. A. Bad. Idea.

AE: Don't. Do. That.

MH: You came in like an hour too late to say that.

AE: Undead. Saliva. Is. A. Primary. Source. Of. Various. Infections. Including. But. Not. Limited. To. Acute. Skinrot.

MH: Again, an hour too late.

AE: I. Was. Not. Here. One. Hour. Ago.

[mandysimo13]

Something to Remember You By

As promised! Here’s give-away gift #1! For winner @88thparallel, here’s their prompt. You can also read it here on AO3.

After Sherlock jumps off the roof of St. Bart's, John realizes that they've never taken a picture together. When his best friend returns from the dead he endeavors to fix that.

The idea struck John as he sat in the dim of their -the- flat. The idea to replace John’s last image of Sherlock inside his head. Because every time he closed his eyes all he could see what Sherlock’s pale face covered in blood too bright to be real. He needed something to wash away the stain of death from Sherlock’s face. He needed reminders of happier times.

Which is why, drunk on half a bottle of scotch, John was desperately digging through old boxes in the middle of the living room. After an hour of searching, he finally found the photo album Mrs. Hudson had put together for Sherlock years ago, insisting that the man needed a proper storage place for his photos. He heaved a sigh of relief and stood from his crouched position on the floor. Clutching it to his chest, heedless of the dust clinging to his jumper, he went to fix himself another drink.

Drink in hand, he settled in his chair. A deep breath in and out, a sip of scotch. Then, with a shaking hand, he opened the heavy leather cover and looked down on Sherlock’s life before John. He saw pictures of Sherlock as a baby, being held by his parents and by Mycroft. There were pictures of weddings, graduations, and holidays. With each turn of the pages he watched Sherlock, and Mycroft, grow from children to gangly teenagers until they were the grown men he knew.

Had known.

It was only when he had gotten to the end of the album, the pictures stopping shortly after Sherlock graduated uni (not that John wanted to think too hard about why), that he noticed there were no pictures of he and Sherlock together.

That can’t be right, John cried insistently. He’s too important to me. How could we never have taken a picture together?

It became an obsession. He asked Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Greg, even Mycroft, desperate for just one picture of the two of them together. He needed something tangible to commemorate the time they had spent together. Something to cling to. To prove to himself that it wasn’t all just a dream.

Finally, after a few weeks of frantic searching, Mycroft dug up a picture of them from an old newspaper article. Sherlock stood in center frame, smiling stiffly as a reporter held a mic to his face, while John stood behind him for moral support. They weren’t even really in the picture “together”. It was almost an accident. But there it was, the proof John really needed.

He put the picture in his wallet, hidden behind a picture of his parents and his sister. Locking his memory away with the rest of his family who had left him.

And he began moved on.

~*~

Two years.

Two years of grieving and sorrow and moving on and he had the gall, the nerve, to show up as if nothing had ever happened.

John hit him. He wasn’t proud of it but rage had surged through him like lightning in a storm and he tackled Sherlock, needing to know for sure he wasn’t a hallucination. Then afterwards, after being kicked out of the restaurant and moving to a deli down the street, Sherlock had to open his big, bloody mouth again. John had hit him then, too. Headbutting him, as if he could knock some fucking consideration into that thick skull of his through sheer osmosis and determination.

After that, being around him became easier. John had let it all out. He had let Sherlock have it, railing against him, telling him how simply unfair his deception was. How hurt he’d been. And after hearing about his involvement, Mycroft received a scolding as well. Not that he winced at all at John’s monumental tantrum.

But it felt good nonetheless.

And then the dust settled.

Mary moved on; she had taken one look at the two of them and saw that John would never leave Sherlock, no matter what he’d done. John moved back to Baker Street, and life continued as normal.

Then, when John was cleaning out his wallet of old, useless junk, a little piece of paper fluttered out. He picked it up off the floor and unfolded it. Suddenly a knot found its way into his throat.

The old newspaper clipping of the two of them. The one that initially helped him move on. Tucked away, hidden from view, then surprisingly unearthed. The immediate stab of pain eased and the longer John looked at it, the warmer he felt. Back then, he had wished for a second chance. He had wanted to have more of Sherlock and had prayed to a God he wasn’t sure existed for him to come back. And magically, he did.

After seeing the old picture, John did the only thing that made sense to him: he began documenting the two of them.

It started with a quick candid one morning, Sherlock reading the paper over his tea and toast.

Then a hasty selfie with him in a cab after a good chase through London.

There were pictures of them at dinner and at NSY during cases. He snapped hundreds of candid shots of Sherlock living life in their flat, looking through his microscope, organizing his mind palace, bringing in the take away, playing the violin.

One month into his photo taking, he realized and came to turns with the fact that he loved Sherlock. Two months in, he talked himself into keeping it to himself. He wouldn’t upset all their hard work at repairing their friendship for a selfish grab for more.  

It took six months of John documenting their life before Sherlock finally spoke up.

“Why do are you so interested in photography all of a sudden,” Sherlock asked after John had taken a selfie of them while watching a James Bond film. Something he would never have agreed to Before. But these days, he seemed to want to be around John just as much as John wanted to be around him.

“Since I learned how to use the camera function on my phone properly,” he responded sarcastically.

“You’ve always known how to, John.” He narrowed his eyes at John. “You were never this...concerned with documenting us before. What’s changed.”

John swallowed thickly. “A lot’s changed.”

Sherlock nodded. “I know.” He didn’t apologize anymore. It didn’t change anything. Instead, he asked, “you didn’t start taking excessive photos until about six months ago. But I’d already been back for four months. Something happened to change your behavior. What was it?”

John decided to be truthful. “I found an old picture of us.”

“There’s an old picture of us?” John nodded and told him about the newspaper clipping, even showing it to him, taking the fragile paper out of his wallet. Sherlock held it gingerly in his hands like it was a rare document; which in some ways it was. “This was the only one you had of us, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And now you’re taking more so that in case something happens again, to me, you’ll have more to-”

“To remember you by,” John finished for him.

They stared at each other, silence enveloping them. The only sound the ticking of a distant clock and their even breaths.

Finally, Sherlock broke the silence. “I’ll never leave you again, John. Not if I can help it.”

“You don’t know that, Sherlock. You couldn’t control it then, what makes you think you can control another situation like that?”

“Because there was only one Moriarty and he’s dead. No one will trap me that way ever again,” Sherlock replied with conviction. “I did everything I could to avoid that...regrettable outcome. And I fought hard, so hard, to come back to you John.”

“Why,” John whispered. “You had a chance to start anew. Why come back?”

Sherlock’s eyes moistened and John instantly regretted asking the question. He didn’t want Sherlock to clam up on him, to shrink back. But before he could apologize, Sherlock said in a broken whisper, “isn’t it clear by now?”

Hope sprang up in him. He needed to ask, needed to know. “You know I’m an idiot,” he said, trying for levity. “Tell me.”

Sherlock swallowed hard, licked his lips, gathering his courage. John stared on, watching him as the gears worked in his head. John Watson was a brave man but he needed to be sure before he let loose the words that had been sitting on his tongue for months.

At length, Sherlock finally said, “I needed to come back to you because…”

“Say it,” John whispered softly.

“Because I love you,” he said, voice barely a whisper.

Without replying verbally, John leaned forward, cupping Sherlock’s head in his hands and kissing him deeply. When they pulled apart for breath, John said, “I love you too. Always have.”

Later, after all the tears fell and all the words had been spoken, John took one more picture that night. This one would be for just them. A picture, taken in dim lighting and at an odd angle, but clear enough. A picture of the two of them sharing a kiss, smiling and content.

[giveuselife-blog]

Information about Spy Cell Phones and Adults

New Post has been published on https://giveuselife.org/information-about-spy-cell-phones-and-adults/

Information about Spy Cell Phones and Adults

What are spy cell phones? What are the different uses of these phones and tracking devices?

Imagine a cell phone secretly watching your behavior. Think of your mobile phone eyeing your actions and recording them in its memory. Sounds impossible? I am afraid, it isn’t. In fact, cell phones can be used to track user behavior and record conversations and text messages that are exchanged through them.

A spy phone is a mobile phone or a spy device that allows a user to monitor and hear or record conversations and other activities taking place over the phone. Spy phones can function in different ways. They can be used as listening devices whereby secretive conversations can be tracked. They are popularly used by secret agencies to track criminal activities that are carried out over cellular networks. They can be used for tracking periodic calls and recording the frequency of calls from certain suspicious numbers. Spy phones can be used for monitoring business and household activities while the cell phone user is away.

Previously, simple wiretapping techniques were used to spy telephonic conversations. Secret agencies and security authorities commonly used phonetapping as a tool to track the suspects’ behavior. It would enable the security officials to listen to the telephonic conversations taking place over phones they tapped. However, with the advancements in technology, spying became easier.

Today, installable software can be used to record cell phone calls and messages. Also, there are cell phone spying systems, wherein a spy is automatically alerted when the cell phone user dials a certain number. There are certain software applications, which can be loaded onto the cell phones and be used for maintaining call logs, recording text messages and monitoring Internet activity over the mobile phone. Some of these applications also let a user call the target cell phone number from a preset number and track the target user’s activities. ‘Phone Dead’ is a relatively recent technology that enables a cell phone to be used as a spy phone even when switched off. In this case, the spy cell phone is configured to function in a ghost mode, whereby it silently answers the calls it receives.

With the implementation of modern spying techniques, cell phones can be converted into call and text message interceptors or GSM trackers, thus making them function as spy cell phones. Besides tracking messages and conversations, spy cell phones can also alert third-party users of the target phone’s outgoing calls. Spy phones can also be used to track the target user’s location by means of GPS technologies. They can be programmed to record audio or video for a predetermined period of time.

Spy cell phones give rise to legal as well as ethical concerns. Their positive side is that they can be used by parents to monitor the behavior of their children. Also, they can be used by business officials to track workplace activity. The most important application of spy cell phones is in tracking criminal activities. But there is another side to this and it is not positive. Yes, spy cell phone software is easily available. Cell phones are easily convertible to spy phones. Their ready availability makes them subject to illegitimate use. Malicious cell phone users can gain an unauthorized access to other users’ mobile phones and dampen the overall security of cellular networks.

Perhaps, it is ironic that the technology that helps you stay connected to the world can also provide any individual with an unwarranted access to your life.

From wireless cameras to voice modifiers, there are a variety of spy devices that vary in size, price and function. Read on to see the latest and greatest espionage gadgets.

If you watch any spy movie like the Bond series or the Bourne Supremacy, you must have noticed, that no matter what the tight spot or situation is, a spy has a way in and a way out. He always escapes with his skin intact. And that is because of his tools. Gadgets, tools, devices, gizmos… whatever they are called, they make the difference between a successful mission and a disaster. For the sleeping spy within us, we may not need the most silent gun or the fastest bullet-proof car, but a secret spy camera up our sleeve wouldn’t hurt. Who said playing spy is for kids?

Spy Cameras for Adults

I spy with my little eye… Now you can have eyes and ears everywhere, with these latest video stealth gadgets. Video Surveillance Clock ($160)

Beneath the simple clock exterior, lies a motion-activated video camera. It can pick up sound up to a distance of 3 meters and can record video up to 8 meters. It takes photographs and stores data on a 4GB SD card (sold separately), so the content can be viewed on a computer. Up to 1½ hours of video recording can be done from a 3 hour charge. Video Spy Pen ($100)

It sits innocently in your pocket or on your desk but all the while, this spy pen quietly records up to 2 hours of images at a 1600 x 1200 pixel resolution. The stylish, executive design allows for an easy USB connection to your computer. Camera Cap with Remote Control ($60)

Here’s one accessory that makes a perfect hidden camera place. The cap has a built-in CMOS camera and a small remote, so you can easily control the camera from your pocket. 4 GB storage space, a microphone and a motion sensor just add to its appeal.

Spy Sunglasses Camera ($280)

Why do all spies wear shades? To secretly record everything of course! This gadget is a sleek and stylish pair of sunglasses, with a 1.3 mega pixel color camera and video recorder. It has a built-in memory of 4GB and can record for 5 hours continuously.

Spy Gear Spy Video TRAKR ($120)

This is not a toy. It’s a little mobile eye on wheels, that allows you to see everything around you, while you remain hidden. Using the remote control, drive the mini-car into different rooms to see and hear what’s going on. You can even use a memory card and upload color videos to your computer. It has an antenna, microphone, adjustable video lens and speaker, along with in-built apps, like a path mapper, for greater functionality.

PocketSpy: Portable Digital Microscope ($250)

Magnify small details and capture them in picture or video format with this nifty pocket-sized microscope-cum-recorder. You can zoom in and out of images, in light and dark surroundings, thanks to the built-in LED bank. This device has a memory of 16 GB.

Hidden DVR Tie Cam ($150)

The ultimate device in covert intelligence capture technology is a camera hidden in your clothes! This camera device is embedded in a simple tie. You can operate the camera by remote control and record video in VGA resolution undetected. It stores up to 2 GB of video recordings and can be easily connected to a computer, using its built-in USB port.

Audio Spy Gadgets

Sometimes, video is not as important as crystal clear sound. To monitor conversations, live and on the phone, here are some of the top sound related spy equipment.

Flash Drive Memory Spy Digital Voice Recorder ($20)

A sensitive sound recorder, sneakily disguised as a USB flash drive. It can capture audio within a 5 meter radius and has a 2GB internal memory, that stores up to 4.5 hours of recording. Turn it on or off, with the help of a tiny switch on the recorder’s side, that looks like a flash drive lock. SleuthGear Digital Recorder ($140)

This voice recorder is slim and flat enough for a low profile, with amazing audio recording capacity. Record up to 65 hours of audio on a 1 GB memory. Its memory slot is expandable with a 4GB SD card (sold separately), so you can record an additional 260 hours of audio and play the audio in either WAV or MP3 format.

Orbitor Electronic Spy Listening Device ($60)

Listen to conversations over 300 feet away! With the Orbitor, you can listen to distant and weak sounds and even capture snippets. Deluxe Voice Changer ($50) Preserve your secret identity with this voice changing device for your phone. The quality of the modified sound is very good and you can increase or decrease the pitch of your voice as desired. Just plug into the handset and base of any phone to use.

StreetWise Cellphone Voice Changer ($20)

It looks like a mobile phone accessory but this device is a hands-free voice changer, with 4 voice change options and an impressive 30 hour battery life. Miscellaneous Spy Stuff for Adults

Spies, like the boy scouts, are prepared for anything and everything. From erasing your tracks, to mini-weapons, these are some cool spy tools. UZI Tactical Pen ($20) A small but powerful weapon, the UZI pen is made of aluminum with a sharpened crown, to jab or poke an attacker. Best of all, it takes a quick DNA sample of your attacker in the crown. A must-have tactical equipment for adults.

Hand Paper Shredder ($30)

Leaving a paper trail is the best way to get caught. So for maximum protection, leave no paper behind with this hand operated mini shredder. The shredder has cuts and perforations of steel. Its small size and light weight make it an ideal spy companion.

SF103 Spy Finder Camera Detector ($85)

The secret to a good spy is to make sure no one is watching you. Detect wired and wireless hidden cameras, even if they are off, with this nifty detector. Small and easily kept away makes it, one key spy device.

EyeClops Night Vision Infrared Stealth Goggles ($130)

Monitor your target through night and day. The goggles use actual infra-red night vision technology, to give you a cat-like vision in the dark.

Telespial TrackStick – GPS Tracking Logger ($135)

The TrackStick makes sure you know the exact path and location, where your target has been traveling to. It provides quick and comprehensive travel reports. Place it in your target’s vehicle and get it back later, then use Google Earth to check where he/she has been. A minimal design and belt clip makes it ideal for covert use.

Credit Card Light Bulb ($4)

For a small and thin source of light in dark dinghy places, this light bulb fits in your wallet. Just flip the light up and down for use. Batteries included.

Spy Keylogger ($25)

Whenever you type anything into your computer, those keystrokes are recordable and here’s the device that allows you to record, store and view keystrokes later. With this gadget, you will know what your target does on his/hers PC.

Lipstick Stun Gun ($50)

Most tasers and stun guns are heavyweight obvious weapons. But for a more ladylike approach, here’s a 3 inch lipstick device with a built-in taser and flashlight. Shock and awe away!

KGB Disappearing Ink Pen ($15)

The ultimate device in espionage is an invisible ink pen. Jot down codes or passwords at ease, since the ink fades in a couple of minutes. Even if the note falls into the wrong hands, the ink leaves no trace on the note of what was written.

Hidden Wall Safe ($8)

Along with handy devices and stealth tactics, part of being a successful spy is keeping your own stuff safe. This means hiding things in plain sight, which can be easily done with this nifty wall safe. On the outside, it looks like a simple power switch. But pull it towards you to expose a small but roomy hidden cubbyhole. You can easily install it in your house.