A catch-all for some Drakgo short stories, either too short to be stand-alones, or too random for me to publish separately. Includes canon fic, AU, head-canon, and everything in between. The now-famous "Watermelon Saga" of short stories is part of this collection! This also includes my 100th Drakgo fic!
"Are you sure this is safe?" Shego interrupted after a faint rumbling of thunder reached her ears from below. "...It'll be worth it," Drakken said, his smile not faltering. Shego turned her head and looked at him. "Drakken." Before another word could be spoken, a flash of lightning revealed Drakken's reason for bringing her up into the sky.
"What's she doing? Trying to make us dizzy?" Drakken asked in annoyance. "No...worse." Possible's skating in circles with dangerously sharp skates had sliced through the ice around where they sat to create a disk, which the two of them were not centered upon. Shego took a deep breath as they started to slide together, and in the next instant they were plunged into the frigid water.
The telltale stench of burnt hair reached Shego's nostrils even as she jerked out of the way, and she turned to see the laser impact a stalactite in the lair, pieces of rock crumbling down to the floor. "There! So you see Shego, the next time Kim Possible attacks us, with this tie clip nano-laser I can... Uhm..." "You burned my hair!"
Before Shego could decide upon a course of action to avoid the invisible lasers, an alarm sounded. With a snarl, she blasted the vent and dropped into the room, landing in a fighting stance and squinting in every direction as red lights flashed on and off. Through the blaring of the alarm she faintly heard the sound of multiple guns sliding into the cocked position.
"What exactly are you doing, Doc?" "Neghn. I'm about to solve an age-old problem for the entire first world, that's what!" She surveyed the open tool box and scattering of screws, wires, bolts, and other paraphernalia. But what really drew her attention was the strange device in Drakken's lap. "What...is that?" "Nnh... It's a cowcatcher for socks."
The last time Drakken had unknowingly gotten on a ship with aliens, he'd not wanted to talk about it. But that was different. This time, those green War-whatever aliens had captured him for revenge. "They were going to kill us." Drakken's voice caused Shego to startle again, and she turned her head to watch his profile as his gaze remained fixed on the fan. "What...?" she breathed.
Dr. Drakken blinked back to awareness, seeming only then to finally realize where he was and what had happened. He surveyed the destruction around them and then finally made eye contact with each of them, his eyes resting on Lutz at the last. The henchman took a breath and opened his lips to speak, but Dr. Drakken turned on his heel and strode briskly out of the room.
A prompt a day in December! Mini one-shots in a mixture of headcanon and random, as the inspiration strikes. Let the winter and holiday vibes abound!
It was in motion. It couldn't be stopped now. Either he would finally win, or else... It would be the greatest defeat yet. Worse than the Li'l Diablos, if somehow Kim Possible were to stop him again. He began pacing in front of the computer. No, it wouldn't happen. He'd thought of everything this time. The plan was flawless. Now it all depended on... The door slammed open. "Shego!"
Batman, without his cowl, leaned heavily against the wall of a building across the street. He would have missed him in the darkness but for the enormous red bat emblazoned across his chest. And now he could see the shock of silver hair the Dark Knight sported. "Batman!" he called, and the black-clad man turned and they looked at each other face to face for the first and last time.
'Yet the world fades into darkness The truth neither one denies, In the end hold fast to love Revealed by alexandrite eyes.' Set in the moment after a certain man made the only decision he could make...
It was a question so unlike any that had ever come from his flatmate before that John actually stopped in his preparations of tea and walked back into the sitting room. "What kind of question is that?" "One that I imagine most people contemplate at some point in their lives." "Well yeah, but...why are you asking it?" The detective's brows rose. "I was asking you."
Sherlock would have thought he was looking at a figure in a wax museum or perhaps an unusual murder scene, if not for the almost imperceptible rise of John's back that showed his lungs filling with air...