Real talk: So apparently my deal is just writing experiments lately? This wasn't meant to be chapter 4 of Love Song, and to be honest I'm not sure how I feel about it, but I hit a road block with the actual chapter 4, so I wanted to give something new a try, try to grow more as a writer before I start on Opening Act officially. Look, all I know is that I have three chapters of A capella in the works, a mini-series half-written, and a couple more plots I'm playing with, so lots going on here.
She sensed her before she saw her. Not that it was objectively hard; the older woman wore her heart on her sleeve and was unashamed of that fact, allowing the younger woman to predict her moods, her logic, her emotions with frightening accuracy. It was something the budding princess never understood because it seemed like such a liability. But then… the older woman was one of the strongest beings she had ever met, perhaps one of the strongest in all of Ooo; she could afford such a weakness. More than anything she was loyal, she was protective, she was even loving, at least to the candy golem.
She was also the last thing Bonnibel Bubblegum needed at the moment.
It was cruel, really. She finally had the rare opportunity for a night of peace and quiet, something much appreciated following a day that was equal parts rewarding and taxing. But then… all of her days were like that as of late. Her castle's construction was coming along beautifully, and though she was behind schedule in filling the radioactive river with candy there was still noticeable progress. There was only so much she could ask of her children, who were still so young, so helpless. They wouldn't fail her, but they still needed gentle guidance, guidance she was more than happy to provide.
Bonnibel Bubblegum liked to think of herself a patient woman. A wise leader. She knew she was a technical wonder-child, and she knew, just knew, her intellect could not and would never be matched. She was a hard worker, and a gifted scientist. Conceited? Hardly. How could it be conceit if it was true? But, perhaps above all, Bonnibel Bubblegum was a proud woman. And why shouldn't she be? She was building a kingdom with her own bare hands, had figuratively birthed a whole new species and imbued them with her own will in one fell swoop. Everything was designed with frightening efficiency, and though there may be hiccups or delays on the odd occasion everything was under strict control.
Except.
"Close the door," she whispered. It was drenched in irritation and she would do nothing to hide that fact.
There was no literal door, of course. Not yet, anyway. Bonnibel's bedroom was still largely unconstructed and for now she slept in her half-formed tower, within arm's length of the sacred tree she was centering her fledgling castle around. Prior to her guest'sarrival Bubblegum had been enjoying a cup of warm tea on her bed, which was, arguably, little more than a cot that seemed designed specifically to be uncomfortable. But that was alright, it was all she needed right now. One day she'd have a luxurious, plush bed, decorated with the softest blankets and warmest sheets, but that would be a treat for Future Bubblegum. As would a ceiling. For now, the enormous blackout curtain her guest was using to cover the gaping maw of the exposed tower would have to do, and with a sigh she rested her pink cup at the small ledge that was little more than exposed blue stone, hoping that it wouldn't be knocked off in the ensuing… conversation. It was a beautiful porcelain thing, a soft shade of taffy pink with a lavender lace design around the rim and base, veins of royal purple almost dancing around the curved handle. It had been salvaged from the ruins of a strangely intact shop she and the other woman had found in their travels together, and she was rather fond of it.
Were it anyone else entering her makeshift home she would feel dreadfully exposed in her drab grey nightgown, built more for function than form. That would change one day as well. On the opposite side of her temporary room sat a small chest that housed her day outfits and what few accessories she possessed. At least, the ones she could risk her children finding. She sat on her makeshift white cot, atop her faded moss green blanket, in only her nightgown, her eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden darkness. Yes, were it anyone else she would feel vulnerable. But for all of her monstrous tendencies the other woman would never hurt her. She knew this just as much as she knew she herself would one day be the most feared and respected princess to ever hold a throne. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, but only briefly, and when she opened them once more she was face to face with Marceline Abadeer, queen of the vampires, last of her kind, and heir to the Nightosphere - though, admittedly, Bonnibel didn't know much about that last part. Yet.
She appraised the floating woman, who was doing her best to appear impassive, but oh Bonnibel knew better, could easily sense the crackling energy underneath, because as loving and protective and loyal as Marceline was she was more or less a feral animal and a cryptic paradox, a vampire half-demon who drank the color red rather than precious blood all the while having the propensity and delight to torture and maim those she felt looked at her funny. A woman over two hundred years old, mind forever cemented at the age of 19, when she had been Turned. A half-demon who struggled with humanity. A struggle she didn't always win. A struggle she didn't always want to win.
She looked well that evening, despite her attire; torn black jeans, a black and red flannel shirt that did nothing to hide the maroon stains, black combat boots caked in a rust-colored substance. Her garnet eyes were slitted against the darkness, her precious bass that was really an axe strapped to her back. Her black cloth wristband's array of steel spiked studs matched the four lining the bridge of her left ear, strangely immaculate. But she was tense, almost twitchy. Focused. Too focused.
The only part of her untainted by her journey was her hair, which was still in the same tight braid Bonnibel had weaved for her just before she left. Odd, given that she had been gone for over a week, but then Marceline had always been vain about her hair. Bubblegum shot her a pointed look, and after shooting her one back the older woman relented to the unspoken 'request', touching to the ground. It was something Bonnibel often requested in her presence and the other woman's submission - as reluctant as it was - emboldened her. It wasn't an order or a requirement or anything else so ludicrous, but it was part of their dance, reminding the vampire that she was more than half her bloodline, and as much as her garnet eye twitched they both knew she would be lost without the structure the scientist provided, without the emphasis that she was a civilized creature. Above all, it was a silent reassurance of their bond, their commitment, of how much they meant to one another.
Still, it would have been foolish to approach this situation with anything but caution. Marceline was a dangerous woman, and while her protective nature was a welcomed trait 99% of the time she lacked the strict control over her emotions that Bonnibel possessed. The soon-to-be-princess knew that the queen enjoyed the structure and rules she provided - deep down, at least, where secrets slumbered - but sometimes, such as now, she needed to be reminded of that fact. And so they watched one another, imploring the other to speak first. Because the one who spoke first would lose, relegated to the submissive position. True to form, it was one the musician fell into readily.
"So I'm gone for a couple of weeks and you're already replacing me, Bonnie?"
Bonnibel pursed her lips. She wasn't sure which was more infuriating: Marceline's jumping to conclusions or her spying on her. After brief deliberation she decided it was the former, simply because it was undeniable that the onyx-haired woman's spying had saved her life and limb on more than one occasion. But there was a fine line between being a 'protective' and 'possessive' girlfriend, and it was a line Marceline either didn't understand or flippantly ignored. Which will it be this time? "You've been spying." It was an accusation, but a calm one. They both knew the answer, and the vampire wasn't an idiot.
"Kinda my job, Bonnie." There was a defensive undertone there. Or was it a challenge? Bubblegum knew there was only one way to find out.
"Has it ever occured to you that, while I appreciate your desire to protect me, you're bordering on being obsessive?"
Marceline snorted, a strangled mockery. "Obsessive? Wow, already bringing out the big guns? Did I strike a nerve, Bon?" There was that challenge again, teasing that was less teasing and more an implicit insult, and the candy woman frowned. Handling Marceline was more art than science, but a skill she knew it was necessary for her to develop. In the best of times the older woman was her greatest asset, her lover, her best friend, the person who had literally moved mountains for her. But then there were her pesky emotional outbursts, less because she was selfish and more because she was horribly insecure. Perhaps you're the one with the struck nerve, Marceline.
"No, Marcy, but I already know where this is going, I'm quite tired, and I'm going to prevent this argument by informing you that you're overreacting."
Marceline raised an eyebrow, but stayed quiet and for one brief, shining, moment Bonnibel hoped that meant she had diffused the situation. Woefully, it didn't. "So what's its name?"
Bonnibel sighed. This was going to get ugly. "Her name is Shoko."
"Shoko? Is that the girl or the cat?"
Bubblegum scowled. Now she's just being childish. "Marceline, stop it. I understand that you're concerned-"
The half-demon almost choked on her laughter. "Concerned? Come on, brainlord, think about it. She shows up out of nowhere, says she doesn't know anything about you but tries megahard to get on your good side, wants to get all involved in your biz, moves fast to do it, and that doesn't seem a little weird to you?"
The shorter woman narrowed her eyes. "Marceline, she was attacked right outside my walls by the Bath Boy Gang-"
"Yeah, that's real convenient. So the girl with a tiger couldn't handle some tranch in a towel-"
"MARCELINE!," she hissed. Her mocking was over-the-top, even for her. "What is your deal right now?"
"My deal?," she growled. "Bon, there is no way…" She took a deep breath. Held it. Exhaled. Marceline didn't actually like fighting with her lover - not like this anyway - but the younger woman was still so ignorant of the way the world really worked, and as much as she loved her it got taxing, and protecting her was often a full-time job. Bonnibel was just so sure of her big brain, and her ego wouldn't even consider the possibility that she was being duped, even when it was mondo obvious. But that's what I'm here for. I gotta see the danger for you sometimes, Bon. "Think about it, nerd. It's just way too perfect. She's playing you."
"Or she's just a poor girl who's had a hard life-"
"Cool, so what's that gotta do with you?," she replied icily.
Bonnibel clenched her blanket, teeth almost grinding. The vampire could undoubtedly hear her candy heart pounding, and the younger woman could almost feel Marceline's dead blood boil. It had been a long time since the two had actually gotten into an argument, but in truth tensions had been running high for quite some time; the fledgling kingdom just demanded so much of Bubblegum's attention that, admittedly, she had been a tad neglectful, something Marceline never failed to be sensitive about due to that horrid insecurity. Still, it was unusual for her normally insightful girlfriend to behave so rashly. If anything, it would make more sense for the vampire to find in Shoko a kindred spirit, another child abandoned in a harsh world, and the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could think better of it. "Would you listen to yourself? I'd think you of all people would know what it's like to have a jacked up childhood-"
This was not the right thing to say, and the young scientist knew that the second those traitorous words left her mouth. As close as the two women were Marceline considered her past - especially her childhood - a sore wound, and Bonnibel had effectively poked it just to prove a point. The guilt made her flinch, internally at least. Logically, she knew, the vampire was just trying to protect her; the one-day-would-be-royal may not be privy to all of her past, but she had learned enough to know that her girlfriend had lost everyone and everything she had ever cared about rather traumatically, and repeatedly. To make matters worse she had never learned to cope with that perpetual sense of loss and so deemed everything even the least bit suspicious to that which she loved as a threat; Shoko had just ended up on the wrong side of that equation.
Hidden in the darkness the half-demon's eyes pinned and she shape-shifted thoughtlessly as she reacted automatically to a threat that she knew didn't actually exist, but when had that ever stopped her? Her fangs elongated as she grew a sharp muzzle with two grotesque and yellowed tusks, her hands becoming grey claws with fierce talons, her height growing until she towered over the candy golem. Her roar, her reaction to that thoughtless comment, was loud enough to have surely woken all of her candy children, but Bubblegum herself merely crossed her arms defiantly, not the least bit afraid of the beast before her. Marceline had once vowed to never use her immense strength to hurt the younger woman, and though she may be capricious and emotional the rockstar took promises with deadly seriousness. Green eyes pierced into demonic garnet ones, not in challenge but as a reminder that as ferocious as the vampire was Bonnibel was immovable unless she otherwise chose.
By the time Marceline was done erupting she was panting, not because she needed breath but because even she knew she needed to calm down, needed to do the impossible and control her rage. The two were still so new to one another and the concept of a long-term relationships - at least by the standards of immortals - and the last thing she wanted was to drive Bonnibel, someone so pink and perfect, away. When she felt her nerves steady she regained control of herself and assumed her normal form, fists clenched from the effort of quelling the beast within that wanted nothing more than to tear out a certain one-armed girl's throat.
"Calm?"
"...Calm," she muttered, and Bubblegum offered her a gentle smile, her animosity fading at the self-deprecating look in eyes once pinned, now dilated. Were it anyone else such displays would be unforgivable, but Marceline was different. In the half-demon's eyes Bonnibel knew she would always take priority, and while the vampire was incapable of explaining why exactly that was such an irresistible compulsion the young scientist was not about to let that power slip through her fingers. The musician was paranoid and fiercely protective, but neither of these traits were necessarily bad things. Bonnibel just needed to learn to expertly wield that mentality in her favor.
She was a fast learner.
The first lesson: physical contact was enticing and so she reached out, cupping a grey cheek until the tension in her face relaxed. "Marcy… I know you're worried about me, but you don't need to be. She's just a scared, troubled girl that needs a place to chillax until the Bath Boy Gang stops being a collective wonkus. Okay?" But the vampire wasn't looking at her, may not have even heard her, because Shoko had just emerged from her tent and wandered off into the nearby woods. Even through a blackout curtain Marceline's senses were never wrong, and the noises themselves were unmistakable.
A low-pitched growl emerged from the back of her throat. "She's up to something, Bon, and I'm gonna find out what." And then she was gone, the black-out curtain covering the tower ruffling before falling still. Bubblegum allowed a deep-seated, weary sigh. There would be no convincing her with logic- but did I really expect that to work? It was a difficult position to be in, and for a brief moment she found herself deeply concerned for Shoko's safety, but shook her head to clear the thought as she lowered herself in her cot, wrapping her blanket around herself. Marcy may be irrational and… more than a little bit violent, but she wouldn't hurt her without my permission. She's protective, not isolating.
True as the sentiment was, this was not the first time Marceline had grown suspicious of a newcomer in Bonnibel's life, and while the older woman could be over-the-top and almost territorial her judgments often had merit. After all, Marceline tended to be an excellent judge of character; it was one of the things Bonnibel liked most about her. She was insightful and observant, wise in her own twisted sort of way, the holder of little truths that were often overlooked by the scientist's overly-analytical mind, such as people seeing only what they want to see and the past having a nasty history of repeating itself in ways that weren't always obvious.
Bubblegum's worries followed her into sleep.
By the time she woke up the apprehension had faded from her mind, mostly because she had grossly overslept, the black-out curtain having done its job and shielded her from the morning sun that so often acted as her alarm clock. With a frustrated groan the candy golem rolled out of bed, pausing to search for any sign that her wayward girlfriend had returned home after she had fallen asleep, disappointed to find none. That's… probs not good. Although Marceline valued her alone time she also craved physical affection, something she vehemently denied out of deep-seated fear but that remained true all the same. She probably just went to hunt some demons and blow off steam. Probs lost track of time. She'll realize she's being a ding dong and be back tonight… hopefully unburnt. Hear me, Marcy? You better be somewhere safe or… else! So… yeah!
Without any time to spare the eventual-princess swiftly stored the curtain where it would be kept safe from the construction crew and equipment. She barely had time to dress, not bothering to change her outfit from the day before. It wouldn't matter anyway; as much as she loved her children they probably wouldn't recognize her without her tan vest and shirt over her brown, long-sleeved shirt. They were delightfully simple at times. All the times. She barely had a moment to re-braid her hair and pack up her black-out curtain before a banana guard tapped a blue stone. "Knock knock!" She sighed, turning to him and glad that her weariness wouldn't be obvious to such a dense creature. "Yes?"
"My Leader, Shoko wants to know what you want her to do today." Bonnibel allowed herself a soft smile. It was becoming increasingly obvious that the poor thing seemed confused by the very concept of not knowing one's own purpose, and against Marceline's better judgment Bonnibel found it endearing. She just wants a place to belong, Marcy. You're being ridiculous. Besides, she seems to genuinely enjoy helping me. She can help in the day while you help at night. If you could just learn to- The scientist gave her guard a small nod. "Tell her I'll be down in a minute and to just chill." And then he was gone, leaving her alone once more.
Well, almost alone.
"She's a thief."
Bonnibel almost jumped at the sudden voice, the musical tone she loved. Then her startlement gave way to confusion and she turned her gaze across the room. No vampire appeared and she frowned. "Where are you?," she asked, baffled. After all, it was broad daylight, and there were only four things that could waste a vampire, the Sky Ball of Death included.
"Blackout curtain."
The candy golem rolled her eyes at her own lapse of judgment, glanced around once more to be sure they were alone, then crossed the short distance to the once-folded-but-now-a-mess curtain, which was suspiciously less folded and organized than it had been a short time ago. As carefully as she dare she lifted the curtain, just enough to see the small grey bat, a tiny ball of fluff really, hiding within. It locked eyes with her, and it was only then that Bonnibel realized what she had said. She frowned. This is absurd. "Marceline, that's a serious accusation. And how did you get in there?"
The half-demon ignored the question. "I asked around last night. She's a thief, Bon. She's playing you. You gotta kick her out before she does something messed up!"
Bubblegum took a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm her. Marceline's protectiveness was quickly crossing the line between 'charming' to exasperating. The only one doing something messed up is you and you know it. "And what is your evidence, Marceline?" It was less of a question and more of a protest. Well, less of a protest and more of an assertion of dominance. "Because that's a gonked up thing to accuse someone of unless you can prove it."
"I told you, I asked around! She's pretty well-known, apparently. Does all sorts of stuff for money."
The scientist sighed in frustration, pinching the bridge of her nose in ire. "And who exactly did you ask?"
"Dude, all the sketchy peeps know each other. You just gotta know how to talk to 'em!"
Bubblegum's look was pointed. That wasn't an answer and this is getting out of hand. "Marceline, stop it. Even if that were true - don't look at me like that, I didn't say I believe you - she was still attacked outside of my gate. I know because I saw and treated the wounds myself. They didn't appear self-inflicted or suspicious, they looked like she was assaulted and was lucky to remain as intact as she is. She's my guest until she recovers, and that's the end of it. And, for the record, I don't believe you. You're being irrational and emotional." And not for the first time. "What could she possibly be after?" It was meant to be a rhetorical question, but was instead an opening for the half-demon.
"I dunno, Bon. You got a pretty nice lab all set up-"
"Don't be ridiculous, Marceline. You and I are the only ones who know about that-" She stopped, then sighed, softening her tone. Calm down, Bubblegum. She's not trying to be a ding dong. She's just scared, either for you, herself, or both. Not that this is an appropriate manner to express that… But that would be a conversation for another day, after she had calmed down. After they had both calmed down. Still… she needs to know that this isn't acceptable behavior, and there's only one reason she would be engaging in it. Because Bonnibel knew, knew, that as much as her queen may deny it she was prone to self-destruction and needed a guiding hand. This was proof of that. "I understand that you're jealous-"
Not her best choice of words. "JEALOUS?!," she hissed. The fact she had managed to restrain her shout to a dull roar was a miracle in of itself. "I'm not jealous of some… whatever she is!"
Bonnibel narrowed her eyes at the affront to common decency and logic. "Marceline, you're obviously jealous. It's in your nature, and I accept that about you, but you need to understand that I cannot tolerate controlling behavior-"
"CONTROLLING?!" Now she wasn't bothering to lower the volume of her shout, and it took the sharpest glare the candy golem possessed to force her into behaving once more. "Bonnie, you don't get it. You can't get it! You're young, you don't know-"
"I know jealousy when I see it, Marceline." Her tone was calm, but her heart was pounding. I'll need to learn how to control that. I know she can hear it and it's too much of a liability. "You've said it yourself: you're convinced that she's attempting to take your place in our relationship some way, which doesn't even merit a resp-"
Marceline hissed, baring her fangs. "This isn't-"
-and while it's true that I'm younger than you I'm hardly a child. I know enough to construct my own kingdom, to create an entire species-"
"And you're smarter than you are wise!" It was something Marceline had once heard Simon say, and only now, in this moment, did she realize what it meant, because as much as a genius as she was Bonnibel Bubblegum was just too arrogant, too self-assured, too convinced she was infallible. It made her vulnerable and at this rate one day she would become a victim of her own hubris.
Evidently, though, Bonnibel already understood, or was at least quite good at pretending she did. "Marceline, you are trying my patience. I neither condone nor appreciate your behavior. It isn't acceptable, and I'm not going to continue this conversation." The bat opened its mouth, but a sharp glare flinched her into silence. As furious as she was even the musician had to admit that the younger woman could be terrifying when she was mad mad. That she had a dark streak that could rival her own. The vampire knew, in that tiny logical part of her mind that understood what 'reason' was in the strictest sense, that Bonnibel was the smartest woman she had ever met, maybe the smartest person alive, dead, or anything in between, that she was hardly naive about how the world worked. But Marceline knew that it only took one slip up, one mistake to cost someone everything. It was something she had personally experienced, and it was her goal to protect her girlfriend from suffering the same fate. But without meaning to she had relented, as she so often did, and Bonnibel kneeled in front of her, reaching out to scritch her ear. As if that were a fair reward for crumbling, for wrapping herself around a pink finger.
As much as she hated herself for it Marceline's eyes slipped shut, a soft purr escaping her, taking her dignity with it. The display of affection just felt too nice, it was too calming. It was also an entirely involuntary reaction, a curse courtesy of her demon half, and Bonnibel smirked, knowing she won; her lover was just too sensitive to the influence of physical affection. It had always been the best way to entice her into behaving. She hoped it always would be. "Good girl. Now, this conversation is over. It's day now. You don't need to stay here if you don't want to, but I strongly encourage you to do so, given the safety of your current location." She tapped the black-out curtain with her free-hand, letting the obvious translation hang in the air: Stay put.
When the hand withdrew Marceline blinked, dazed, then snapped back into focus when she realized what had happened. "What the flip-" A gentle kiss was deposited on her forehead, and though she made a grand show of trying to bite in retaliation, but that was all it was: a grand show. And so with one last pointed look to cover her shame Marceline burrowed deep in the soft curtain without a word, a silent admission of defeat as she ignored Bonnibel's smug look in an attempt to lick her wounded pride. With a soft laugh that wasn't entirely unkind the candy golem pulled on her boots, affixed her crown, and donned her amulet, the secret to some of her most powerful inventions. "Sweet dreams, Marcy," she whispered softly, meaning it with every bit of sincerity, because as irate as she was with the queen you don't stop caring about something just because they're being a dink. And then she was down the stairs, leaving her girlfriend to her own devices. Which better be sleeping. It's far too late for her to be awake.
By the time she was out of her stone tower Bonnibel's relationship issues had been compartmentalized and shoved to the back of her mind. She still had one quick task to complete before she saw Shoko, and it took more care than she'd like to sneak into her laboratory, the one part of her kingdom that was already state of the art and fully operational. She'd have to work swiftly to avoid suspicion, but her task wasn't exactly difficult. It was simple construction, really, with easily accessible materials that she had loads of. The schematics weren't exactly the most difficult either.
From the moment she stepped foot inside of her laboratory, her natural environment, she got to work. Even the necessity of starting from scratch - drafting the schematics, harvesting the electrical components, soldering the metal - wasn't a deterrent. If anything, it was a wonderful distraction from her overly-protective lover. She got to work, her stunted emotions quashed successfully in favor of a greater, more pressing task, which was completed while her body was on autopilot, muscle memory more than capable to complete her undertaking swiftly. With a self-satisfied smile Bonnibel stashed the finished product securely inside an inconspicuous box. Oh! This is the perfect opportunity to…
"Peppermint? Are you around here?," she asked softly, not wanting to startle the poor dear. There was no response from her newest creation, a small candy child, but that was to be expected. He was still young, his mind almost literally a ball of mush. Unlike the rest of her children she had a very, very specific goal in mind for her youngest, and he would have to be raised with precision, for his destiny was to be her most faithful and loyal servant, her right-hand candy-man. She was already off track; the month prior Marceline had thought it the greatest idea in the world to try to drain the red from his stripes, and now the poor thing was reluctant to be anywhere he thought she might be. Which, given her ability to turn invisible, could be literally anywhere. She only hoped it wouldn't leave any lasting mental trauma or prolonged ill-effect because the last thing she needed was to have her paramour and her servant at odds in any way for all eternity.
Just as she was about to call for him once more Bonnibel spotted a perfectly round, white and red mint-shaped head poke out from under her computer desk. She smiled and kneeled down, motioning for him to apporach. "It's alright, Pep," she soothed. "Marcy's not here. And she's very sorry that she tried to hurt you." She better be. I don't need her losing control everytime she gets too hungry. With a mental resolution to find a way to train her vampire out of that little 'red-starved' problem she reached out for the young candy, giving him her most loving smile. After only a brief pause he crawled out from under the desk. "Thank you. I have something I'd like for you to do." He almost seemed to tilt his head, but curiosity was getting the better of him and she gingerly handed him the box. "Can you take this upstairs for me?" Peppermint stared, then smiled. "Awesomers. Thanks, Pep."
The candy golem watched him totter off with a warm sense of pride. It would be a while before he reached the exit of the laboratory, but it was important he complete the task on his own; as her butler he would be the highest ranked candy person in the kingdom, her right-hand mint, and it was important he learn to take on responsibility now, when he was still so impressionable. By the time she emerged from her second home Shoko was already waiting at the bottom of her tower's steps, accompanied by her lovely tiger. It was certainly a refreshing sight to see someone so willing to help with her menial tasks, even if the day's chores did consist of filling the radioactive river. See, Marceline? She only wants to help. You're being ridiculous.
If Bonnibel hadn't been convinced of the ridiculousness of Marceline's assertions before Shoko's second assault at the hands of a Bath Boy Gang member certainly cemented her opinion, though how the assailant made it up the mountain without being seen was a mystery. But the result was impressive; the girl, despite her noticeable handicap, successfully knocked the larger man unconscious, and she had done it all while burdened with the weight of the candy she was hefting and with only some slight bruising and a few gashes for her trouble. The Bath Boy Gang member had not faired half as well, and if his stagger as her guards had escorted him to the dungeons had been any indicator he would require some medical treatment before his extended stay. Perhaps it will be nice to have someone around the kingdom who can fight without losing control… There was only a touch of bitterness in that thought, just enough to give it some zest, before she felt the searing guilt. That's not fair, Bubblegum. It's not Marceline's fault. She's trying her hardest. It was unarguable though; not only had Shoko suffered a second assault in as many days she had done so with good nature and aplomb, brushing off all of Bonnibel's concerns and redirecting all of her compliments.
It was refreshing. And it gave her an idea.
In truth, Bonnibel had hoped to activate her Gumball Guardians to greater fanfare. After all, they were a symbol of her greatest technological accomplishment to date, a living - so to speak - testament to her intellectual prowess and scientific ability. They were a signal of her potential as a ruler, and a silent deterrent against any would-be threats to her home, be they lone rogues or potential ally or enemy nations. But the more she considered the idea the more she thought better of it; it would be a stroke to her ego, yes, but it would also briefly reveal the inner workings of her secondary laboratory, a location that would need to be strictly controlled. Even if Marceline was right about Shoko- not that she is of course -the young woman would have no idea what to make of the laboratory, too sheltered to understand what it was she was seeing and why it was there.
The girl's description of her childhood was disturbing at best. As the the pair descended into the laboratory's sub-division Shoko regaled the scientist with tales of her youth, of her struggling to survive, and of meeting and befriending her animal companion. Although she gave no visible indication Bubblegum was impressed by her tenacity and adaptability, two traits she greatly admired in potential allies. Does she remind you too much of yourself, Marceline? Even Bonnibel knew the thought was acrid and unfair, but in the sanctity of her own mind she did nothing to correct it. Even if it would explain why she's jealous… She allowed herself an internal sigh.
By the time Shoko had been presented with her hard-worked gift of a substitute arm and fled with it the hour had grown late, even by Bubblegum's standards and she was sure, absolutely certain, that if she wasn't back before Marceline was awake the older woman would tear the encampment apart looking for her.
She had always been one for overdramatics.
Besides, it was perhaps best to let Shoko alone for the evening. Something about the mechanical arm had been upsetting, and it seemed possible to the scientist that she had never received a gift, a legitimate present, before and didn't know how to handle genuine appreciation. But it would have to wait until morning, after the girl had the night to think on it, after she had the private opportunity to calm herself. And so Bonnibel was free to return to her temporary bedroom, every step up her stone tower was a trudge, and the closer she got to the top the more she dreaded it. With a sigh she turned towards the sun, frowning when she caught it daring to set on her. Great. Just what I need. Now she's going to wake up, find out Shoko is still here, and throw a temper tantrum. Mercifully, her internal groan stayed internal, and for one brief, wonderful moment she thought she would make it upstairs and into bed without being noticed.
But then… nothing ever snuck up on Marceline Abadeer.
"Look who's back."
A pink hand clenched into a fist, then relaxed. "Marcy, I've had a mega harsh day. Just let me get some sleep, alright?"
Marceline opened her mouth to argue… then stopped, closing it as she observed her girlfriend. Bonnibel certainly looked like she had a mega harsh day; her eyes had bags, her shoulders were sagging, and her gait indicated something unpleasant was happening with her back. The half-demon narrowed her eyes at that last one; hundreds of years in Bonnibel's line of work meant that she was prone to developing muscle knots which would often trigger painful spasms, and based on the younger woman's wince as she sat on her bed to undress that certainly seemed the case.
Marceline could pinpoint the exact moment she felt her resolve break.
With a sigh she flickered back to visibility and without waiting for permission - because when did she ever, really? - she floated behind the shorter woman, wrapping her arms around her waist, her weight settling on the cot. "Can I help out with this?," she asked quietly as she placed a gentle hand on her lover's back, just between her shoulder blades. It was a coded phrase; it had been decades since Marceline had begun courting the scientist, but the pink-haired woman's unwillingness to show vulnerability - her inability to admit she even had any - was still something that reared its ugly head from time to time. To the candy golem's relief the vampire didn't take it personally, never did, probably never would. After all, she knew all about constructing thick emotional and mental walls, and she wasn't hypocritical enough to blame her for it. Bonnibel had her own troubled past and may have brought her enormous burden and responsibility upon herself - what with founding an entire kingdom on her own, from scratch - but she still carried her burden well. So well, in fact, that she seemed to take great delight in ignoring her body's cries to rest. The pair had lots of coded phrases to both of her benefits, and this one in particular gave Bonnibel the opportunity to ask for help with her muscle aches, her insomnia, her unintentional self-neglect without really asking for help. It was a careful rephrasing of the problem: rather than Bonnibel imploring Marceline to help Marceline was imploring Bonnibel to let her.
The about-to-be-princess nodded reluctantly. "...Yeah. You can help."
In spite of the situation, the tension, the borderline animosity Marceline couldn't help but smile. Yes, Bubblegum was being completely unreasonable about The Shoko Problem, and yes, that was almost definitely going to hurt her one day, but somehow, at the moment, those facts fell to the wayside because try as she might Marceline Abadeer was a creature of instinct, not of reason, and that deep, dark part of her where her demonic heritage lay in wait saw its lover as hurt, and that would always take precedent. Even if it was just an aching back. The half-demon nudged her shoulder with her cheek. "Hey… get comfy in your nightgown. I'll rub out your back. Sound good?"
It did, it sounded amazing, but Bonnibel couldn't help her suspicion. Oh, so now you're agreeable… The thought was as bitter as it was unfair, and she knew it, even mentally apologized for it. No matter her methods Marceline was only trying to help and there were only so many ways she knew how to; unless they concerned her music they almost all involved violence in some way, shape, or form. Were it anyone else Bubblegum would be convinced there was some ulterior motive, and with a sudden sense of cold dread- Is… is she trying to convince me to sleep so she can go after Shoko? She jerked away from her queen, catching her out of the corner of her eye as she went to retrieve her nightgown. All she saw was concern and love. Calm down, Bubblegum. It's Marcy you're talking about. Yeah, she's done some messed up junk, but she wouldn't do that. Of course, she had no real reason to believe such a thing. She had seen no evidence whatsoever. In fact, she had seen the opposite; the musician could be positively sadistic when protecting the younger woman, a trait Bonnibel wasn't ashamed to admit she enjoyed, at least to the vampire, and behind closed doors. There was just something delightful about having one of the most powerful beings in Ooo wrapped around her little finger, almost at her beck and call. Like a housepet.
Against her better judgment, she trusted the monarch.
After one final mental beratement Bonnibel swiftly changed into her night clothes, depositing her crown on top of the pile of her day clothes. Her amulet remained, as it always did. Once her grey nightgown slid over her head she turned back to her lover, unbraiding her hair as she returned to her bed. Her lover, who was waiting on the bed obediently. No sooner had the younger woman sat that the familiar pair of cool, strong hands gingerly touch her back. There was an involuntary flinch as there always was, courtesy of the vampire's naturally cool flesh. Soon the flinch settled into a shiver as the calloused hands traced tight muscles, feeling the tension underneath. It wasn't long before the younger woman found herself lying prone, happily dazed under Marceline's skilled hands, the half-demon herself engrossed in her task of making sure the candy golem relaxed.
By the time the last knot had been dealt with the sound of soft breathing was filled the open room, and the singer couldn't help but smile, because this was what she was trying so hard to protect: her girlfriend, her best friend, happy and content, at peace and as de-stressed as possible. Was there a threat lurking down below with the rabble? Definitely… but… Slowly, carefully, Marceline floated off the small cot, gingerly pulling the blanket over the sleeping woman. I won't let you hurt her, tranch. I won't let you take her. But you get one night. One night, because Bon needs to sleep. When she deposited a gentle kiss on her pink forehead Bonnibel stirred, then sighed softly before settling once more.
Adorable.
With great reluctance Marceline inched away from her girlfriend, begrudgingly willing to put her one-sided feud with Shoko on pause in the name of The Greater Good. But there was still the pent up energy to contend with, the rage that had taken up residence within her, an emotion that could not be logicked away. She could fight it, snarl, bite and claw in her frustration, but there would be no use; she was half demon, a creature of instinct, and it was screaming that her lover was in danger and she had the duty to end the threat.
But that would be the fastest way there would ever be to driving the candy woman away, and so in the name of The Greater Good she smothered every base urge she had, pulled away from Bonnibel, and took to the sky. Because there would always be that internal war, between rational civility and that darker part of her, and no matter what, despite everything she had seen, Bonnibel Bubblegum had never once thought of her as a monster. With one last survey of the room Marceline was gone, back into the night sky. Where her kind belonged.
It took a long time, far longer than she would ever like to admit, but eventually her eyes dilated, her posture relaxed, and she sighed her relief at the murderous tension leaving her body. The moon and stars always had that effect on her, soothing her just as often as she serenaded them. 'Symbiotic', that had always been Bonnibel's word for it. The memory of the long-winded explanation made the vampire smile, and she perched herself in a tree overlooking the fledgling kingdom. After one last cursory glance Marceline rested her back against the bark, head rested in her hands, leg dangling from the side. It wasn't often she napped in the moonlight, but the urge, the compulsion to protect, was too powerful to let her stray far from Bubblegum's side. It sickened it her just as much as it relieved her.
Besides, she had shade, she had a nearby blackout curtain to duck into, and naps would always be totes cool in her book.
The shout roused her. She would know that voice anywhere, because it was the one voice her sensitive ears always strained to listen for, always ready to answer its call. Bonnie! Before she knew what she was doing her eyes had pinned, fangs extended and hands clawed talons, ready to tear someone in half. But the pleasure would be denied her, because by the time she had made it back to the castle it seemed the danger itself had already taken its course: Bonnibel sat on her bed, body slumped, head hung, eyes closed. One hand clenched the hem of her nightgown, the other clasping her arm.
"Hey Marceline."
Marceline felt herself freeze. It wasn't a greeting. It was an acknowledgement, a shorthand for so much sentiment, so much heartbreak. It was flat, strained, and so, so quiet. The scientist wasn't even looking at her, hadn't even opened her eyes. The vampire kneeled before her and immediately set to work checking for any sign of injury, any small wound. Any indication of who she needed to kill. When Bonnibel consented to being examined without so much of a mutter the musician's worried intensified. "Bonnie? What happened?," she asked softly. When she didn't get an answer she lifted her hand to cup her cheek. Only then did her paramour open her eyes.
"...You were right."
So much. So much sentiment, so much rage, so much said, so much unsaid with just those three little words. Something inside of the older woman snapped and she had only enough time to withdraw her hand before it was a claw once more. "I'll kill her." A soft whisper, with just a dash of tremor underscoring her fury, but before she could turn to the camp, to that tranch's filthy tent, a weak hand grasped her claw, rendering it a useless hand once more.
"She's gone. She fell into the toxic river. I sent my Guardians after her, but I haven't added the radioactive coding…" She trailed off, still not looking at her vampire. If she had expected an 'I told you so', or taunting, or any self-satisfied vindication of any kind she instead got only silence.
"...I'll kill her."
Well, except for that. The hand pulled away, and by the time Bonnibel lifted her head Marceline was already halfway down the wall, keen eyes scanning the waste for any sign of Shoko. She sighed; there would be no reasoning with the half-demon when she was like this, and while she appreciated her efforts it wasn't what she needed at the moment. "Marceline."
The vampire froze, tearing her gaze away from the toxic river. "Bon?" The response wasn't verbal, it was a morose smile, and it was enough for her to get the message. Search abandoned, Marceline returned to Bonnibel's room, back to the bed she hadn't moved from. Once more she kneeled before her. The last thing she needed was an imposing beast lording over her. Not after the conversation they had just had. "What happened?," she gently repeated.
The scientist's sigh was bone-deep. "...You were right. She just wanted my amulet. Jacked it when I was sleeping. She fell into the toxic river when I caught her." Marceline's eyes widened, and she cursed herself for leaving Bubblegum alone, for not following her instincts, for a hundred other things. But now two different compulsions warred within her, and she would have to choose: stay and comfort Bonnibel, or hunt down and destroy Shoko. We don't even know what she is! Toxic sludge could be a refreshing bath for her for all we know!
But there was no contest, and within moments Bonnibel smiled weakly at the fluffy grey bat in her lap, hand stroking down her back when it pressed against her abdomen. Her free arm snaked around the puffball, drawing it even closer, allowing it to drain her of her warmth, even through her nightgown. It was oddly comforting, and it didn't take long for a candy heartbeat to stabilize, gradually returning to normal. As the adrenaline wore off, as her mental reserves exhausted themselves, Bonnibel's hand slowed, then stilled, and as carefully as she dared Marceline disentangled herself from her favorite person, resuming her normal form.
Bubblegum didn't look at her. "Some brainlord, huh Marcy?"
The queen swallowed hard. It was too much. "Bon… don't do that. You made a mistake. You're not immune from that. Neither of us are, you know? We'll find it." And when I find that tranch, however long it takes me, I'm going to annihilate her down to her soul. There was no response to that. Nothing at all but the deafening silence of dissenting opinions. "Hey… it's getting late. Why don't I crash here?"
More coded language, more secret consenting, and as Bubblegum gradually lowered herself back to bed Marceline retrieved the blackout curtain, shielding the makeshift room from the Ball of Death, fully aware that her girlfriend was watching her every move, tense and uncertain. The moment the vampire was sure of her own safety she returned to the candy golem, sliding in next to her. As she nestled into the crook of her lover's neck, feeling strong grey arms wrap around her, Bonnibel sighed, eyes closing. Only now was she beginning to feel okay, safe within her own room, her own bed. Already she knew what was about to happen, there was no question, no need to ask. Tomorrow Marceline would take it upon herself to track down whoever had sent Shoko. The next night, or perhaps the night after, the bloodbath would begin, and depending on how fargone her bloodlust madness would take her she may even present Bonnibel with heads or other appendages, proof of her kills, offerings to present her strength and worthiness. Gifts that Bubblegum would accept. Happily. With luck the other woman would find her amulet, the partner to the red one the candy golem had once gifted her long ago. With luck her hope wasn't lost to the poison waste below.
You're smarter than you are wise.
A silent, bitter laugh as she curled deeper into her other half's protective embrace.
Marceline always was an excellent judge of character.