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sollucets · 2 years

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ocean eyes

angel & darlin’s first meeting, featuring my named & described listener ocs (ivy they/them, aster they/she/he but they/them here, cameo from hazel they/them) & very very gently implied pre-poly angel/david/darlin(/sam). i didn’t initially mean to do that, but aster flirts too much lmao. only ivy’s physical appearance is described in specific detail, but i include a lot more appearance headcanons (and general headcanons) than i usually would otherwise.

i’m a little nervous to post oc content, but for me there really wasn’t another way i could imagine going about in-depth listener character interactions, and dammit i’m here to have fun

[ed: 06/11/22 some small edits made here, mostly proofreading]

2500 words of a whole lot of significant eye contact incoming: that first pack meeting

"Snacks always help."

Ivy keeps staring at them for a long moment. Their eyes are intense, and Aster sort of feels like a butterfly pinned to a board. "You're David's mate," Ivy says, slowly. "You shouldn't want to help. I put you in danger. He said so himself." At this volume, plenty of nearby wolves are sure to be able to hear their conversation, but Ivy doesn't sugarcoat their words or lower their voice.

Aster considers their answer. They could try and tell Ivy what they'd thought before, about intentions and sympathy, but they doubt that would go over well. They can almost imagine it, the already-rigid lines of Ivy's posture going even sharper, like broken glass. No, that won't work. Instead, they just shrug and push the bowl a little closer. "These have pickles in them."

Aster and Ivy meet at that first pack meeting.

David didn’t want them to come. He’d returned from the talk he’d told them about stressed out and angry and anxious, visibly so. It wasn’t that he’d flat-out disallowed them entry; even as distraught as he’d been, he’d never do that, and if he even tried he’d have been in trouble. But he’d admitted to them with some difficulty that his pack member’s situation had him worried in more than one direction. He didn’t want them to be directly involved with each other.

(“Quinn went after an unempowered human just to hurt them before,” he’d said, voice so deadly quiet it was barely a rasp in the still air of their shared bedroom. “There’s no reason he won’t do it again. I’m – I’m scared for you, angel.”)

They understand where he’s coming from, and they’d told him that much then, taking both his hands in theirs and squeezing. David likes pressure like that, a physical reminder of their presence. Aster had done their best not to dismiss his concerns out of hand, because as much as it chafes, they know he isn’t wrong to worry. More than that, they never want to make David feel bad for showing them his real emotions.

But they’re not in any more danger at the meeting than anywhere else. They’re probably safer than ever here, even, surrounded by their Pack. Quinn would have to be a real idiot to attack now. More than that, they’d made a promise a long time ago they’d never skip one, not if they could help it, and even if they hadn’t, this one will be important.

Their mate doesn’t know about their promise, but that doesn’t make it any less important, and Aster doesn’t regret showing up today.

David holds meetings outside when the weather's good, at a park in the heart of pack territory. They all gather at a set of wooden picnic tables under a shelter, surrounded by green. Essential to any Shaw pack meeting is the long table covered in snacks that spans the entire length of the floor. Usually, even during the actual meeting part, it’s difficult to get people’s attention away from the food, but today everyone’s eyes are fixed one one wolf in particular.

David’s wayward packmate looks nothing like Aster might have imagined them. From the way he’d talked about them, Aster had half-expected them to be intimidating, hulking, tall like David or Asher. Their boyfriend had described his pack member’s many scars with a difficult-to-read expression, something regretful and angry and wistful all at once.

The person slouched uncomfortably on a central wooden picnic table, leaving several feet of space clear between their spot and David’s, isn’t how Aster had pictured them at all. They’re covered from nearly head to toe in shapeless layers of dark, pragmatic clothes, black jeans and boots and shirt and leather jacket, and their ears and left eyebrow are pierced with multiple golden rings, but that’s where the expected parts end. They’re a lot shorter than Aster, and only a little taller than Ash’s tiny mate Hazel. They have dark, soft-looking skin, none of the scars showing on what bits of it Aster can actually see. Although their black hair is close-cropped in a no-nonsense style, a few wispy little baby hairs escape to brush against their forehead.

Aster had pictured someone like the members of the pack they were most familiar with, but Ivy Linden looks almost delicate. If they were human, it’d be easy to lift them, just the way spinning Hazel in a hug is. But they’re not. There’s a wolf behind those big, dark eyes.

Those eyes glare out over the gathering as they haltingly tell the story of their return to Dahlia, gaze darting from person to person and barely settling. David sits next to them on their bench, mostly silent, watching them with a carefully neutral expression and interjecting only rarely.

In Aster's opinion, Ivy is obviously, painfully scared to be speaking in front of a crowd like this. They stumble over their wording often, barely holding back curses each time, and their back is rigid, ramrod straight. As their story goes on, Aster blames them less and less. They don’t know the precise reason that Ivy never meshed well with the pack as a kid (because David doesn’t know; if he knew, he’d have said) but it must have been bad if they didn’t feel like they could ask for help, and here they are, spilling what sounds like the most traumatic moments of their entire life to the whole group at once. If it’s difficult, if they’re angry, who could hold it against them?

Well. Maybe some people could. They’d inadvertently focused Quinn’s attention on the Shaw Pack, it’s true, lying to David in the process. But Quinn had been fucking around in Dahlia already, albeit on Solaire territory, and they’d been intentionally trying not to endanger the Pack, even if they’d done that in the most stupid way possible. Aster’s heart is melted straightaway. Someone else might’ve hesitated, might’ve looked at their defensive posture and harsh words and obviously cultivated bad guy appearance, and shied away from assuming innocent. Someone else isn’t Aster, though, and they have some experience with recalcitrant wolves.

David’s never gone without his pack in his life; they can’t imagine him not turning to them for some form of support. But taking everything on his own shoulders in some misguided attempt at martyrdom? Yeah. Yeah, Aster can see it, and it hurts.

Ivy finishes their story, their words faltering towards the end. They don’t expand on anything David said to them, cutting off with a sharp jerk of their chin.

David takes over, words measured as he starts talking about where to go from here, and Aster tunes him out to switch their attention to the crowd. He’ll tell them the decisions later; it’s more important to them to see how everyone is taking this.

Milo, who was the first to speak up and offer his and his mate’s support, looks at Ivy like it hurts to do so. Asher hasn’t spoken at all, expression surprisingly sober, but Hazel at his side has been whispering into his ear, and when they do their customary debrief Aster’s sure he won’t spare them his opinion. The other members of David’s generation all look at Ivy with conflict of various shades; older pack members seem to be tending more towards outright disappointment.

Ivy, under the weight of all those gazes, juts their chin out harder, jaw set. A glance down confirms their fists are clenched. They listen silently to David’s instructions and the input of the pack.

David announces a brief break while they move on to the next topic, and the tense atmosphere breaks some as people begin milling around the snack table. Ivy doesn’t move even an inch, staying completely still on their bench, and although people still stare, no one is approaching. Watching them, Aster wants with a surprising amount of intensity to take one of those hands in theirs and watch the tension smooth out. It’s a gut feeling, completely unprompted by their conscious thoughts, and following those has never led them wrong.

They grab an entire bowl of those little ham roll things that David likes so much and sit right next to the wolf of the hour, plunking the food right onto the table. “Hi,” they say plainly, letting a smile play at the corners of their mouth. “I’m Aster. You look miserable.”

Ivy jerks over to look at them in a movement faster than they can follow, dark eyes narrowing in suspicion. Up close, the color of them is like the ocean at night, so black it’s nearly blue. “And you look rude.”

They let their grin widen. “Aww, really? But I brought you snacks.”

“Why?”

“Snacks always help.”

Ivy keeps staring at them for a long moment. Their eyes are intense, and Aster sort of feels like a butterfly pinned to a board. “You’re David’s mate,” Ivy says, slowly. “You shouldn’t want to help. I put you in danger. He said so himself.” At this volume, plenty of nearby wolves are sure to be able to hear their conversation, but Ivy doesn’t sugarcoat their words or lower their voice.

Aster considers their answer. They could try and tell Ivy what they’d thought before, about intentions and sympathy, but they doubt that would go over well. They can almost imagine it, the already-rigid lines of Ivy’s posture going even sharper, like broken glass. No, that won’t work. Instead, they just shrug and push the bowl a little closer. “These have pickles in them.”

Finally, Ivy breaks their stare-off, looking down at the bowl of snacks like Aster is handing them a bomb. “I don’t get you,” they say quietly, but they take a little ham roll, quick like they expect to be interrupted, and crunch into it.

Aster can feel another pair of eyes heavy on the back of their neck now, and they glance over their shoulder to find David watching them in obvious concern. These two are honestly too similar, with the staring and the leather jackets and the obvious muscle tension. No wonder he’s so tied up in knots over all this. They wave at him, a little two-fingered thing, and turn back to their new project. “I’m not so hard to get,” they say.

Ivy snorts, a barely-audible exhale, no humor on their face. That unwavering gaze is now fixed on the ham rolls. “Not sure that’s a good thing.”

“Poor phrasing,” they concede lightly. “But I’m an open book.”

“If you say so.”

They sit there in near-silence for a while. The other pack members mill around the shelter, eating and talking, but none of them come close. Milo is looking at them from across the room like he might want to try, little surreptitious glances, but he doesn’t. Ivy takes another ham roll.

Aster breaks the lull, as they usually do. “How have you been getting along in the city on your own for this long? Do you have a job?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“You said I was rude. Isn’t it polite to ask after work?”

Ivy snorts again, but the corner of their mouth is curved up. “You’re annoying. I do odd jobs. Construction, sometimes.”

Putting a hand over their heart in mock offense, Aster grins. “Excuse you, I am a delight. You work in construction? How? You’re tiny.”

“Fuck you,” says Ivy, baring their teeth. On anyone else it might be a smile. “You’re tall, but you’re skinny. Like a bendy straw. I could take you.”

Aster raises an eyebrow and just barely holds the obvious innuendo in. This isn’t David, for all that Ivy’s acting a bit like him. “I’m stronger than I look, too,” they answer serenely. Then, despite their best efforts, they add, “I invite you to try.”

To their slight surprise, Ivy’s expression thaws for the very first time at this. “I think your mate would actually kill me,” they say slowly. “He’s trying to glare me to death as we speak, you know.”

They shake their head fondly. “I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Ivy opens their mouth like they’re about to argue with that, brow furrowed, but they’re interrupted as Asher approaches, Hazel trailing behind him. “We’re going to start up again soon,” he says, a little more subdued than usual. “It’s mostly company stuff from here.”

At the sound of his voice, Ivy’s back goes straight as a board again. Huh. Aster hadn’t realized it had relaxed. They aim a smile at the beta. “Thanks for letting me know.”

There’s a long moment of extremely awkward silence. Hazel catches Aster’s eye from behind their mate and makes a face. Finally, Ash looks right at Ivy and says, “I think the last time I saw you was at Amanda’s graduation party.”

“Might have been,” Ivy replies, tone flat.

Aster winces.

Ivy and Asher stare at each other, his expression falling further and further the longer they look. Aster doesn’t envy Ash the full force of that attention, honestly. The silence hangs even worse, and Aster almost opens their mouth to interrupt, but Ivy beats them to it. “You were drunk off your ass and flirting with that boy from the Keaton pack the whole time.”

That’s a peace offering if they’ve ever heard one, and Asher takes it that way, his mismatched eyes softening into something approaching a smile. It’s still not close to his usual bright affect, but it’s better. “I barely remember most of it, honestly,” he admits. “But that seems about right. Sober me would’ve known better. Tragically heterosexual, that man.”

The reminiscing session is cut off by David coming back to his seat and clearing his throat loudly. Asher says, “See you later, Ivy,” and heads back to his spot. Hazel waves slightly to Aster as the two leave. Aster chances another look at Ivy’s face and catches the only unguarded expression they’ve seen from them all night – a small, wondering shock. For the second time that night, Aster’s heart melts in their chest.

David sitting down again immediately closes up Ivy’s expression again, and has the secondary effect of him very nearly sandwiching Aster between him and Ivy. They could go back to the outer tables, sure, but they don’t. It’s their right to sit next to David, anyway, although they usually don’t bother. He shoots them a glance, concern and question in his warm brown eyes, and they link their pinky with his under the table in reassurance.

Yeah, he might’ve been right to be worried after what happened to Ivy’s last unempowered friend, but it’s too late by now. They know it in their chest, the same way they’d known the moment they’d seen Davey’s ears go red in the food court. This is someone they can wear down. They have no history with Ivy, not the way the rest of the Pack does, and someone without that baggage should be on their side. Those little scattered bits of information about the Solaire Clan vamp make them think someone already is, and that’s good, but Ivy needs contacts in the Pack. David wants to be, but his expression when he’d spoken about them, that ocean of distance, might be too far for him to bridge on his own.

They can do it, though. So it’s decided.

Ivy is staring again when they look back over, eyes fixed on where David’s hand disappears under the table. Aster nudges them very slightly with their free arm, and counts it as a victory when they don’t flinch away from the touch. “Just the boring bits left now,” they murmur, feeling David’s pinky tighten around theirs in obvious irritation. “Talk to you after?”

Ivy’s big dark eyes flick up to theirs for another long, excruciating moment. It feels like they’re searching for something. An ulterior motive, maybe. Aster stares right back, evenly, and doesn’t hide their smile when Ivy finally says, “Okay.”

#my fic tag #redacted asmr #ocposting #i... am not going to use a bunch of tags #because i am truly Super Anxious about this #i know there's not really a reason i should be but the Fear remains #there's kind of an unwritten rule it feels like. yknow?#sigh #i have more written oc content. if that's. like. something people like #[pins my kids to the fridge like macaroni art] have em #this is what i did instead of working on scarfic or bridging fic #this is stress relief for me #this ot4 is kind of really occupying my brain as well #anyway i will. perhaps? put this on ao3. i don't know yet #ive been hovering over posting this for an hour the worry hasnt been this bad in a while #so we'll see #f: ocean eyes

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vickyvicarious · 2 months

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You know, Villefort is really introduced as a very intentional contrast to Edmond, isn't he?

They are both relatively young, stepping into the role of a superior (the former captain who died, and the crown prosecutor who is away)

They are both about to be married, and in fact both are celebrating their betrothals when Dantes is arrested

They are both facing some disapproval from their fiancee's family

They both have a relationship with their father that dictates a lot of their actions

But of course, despite all these similarities their personalities and the specific circumstances of each are almost opposite:

Edmond's acting captainship was driven largely by duty, which is what gets him involved in the letter business to begin with. While his time spent captaining the ship went well, the actions outside of the typical duties he took (stopping at Elba, getting the letter) were for other people's request without much thought of how it looked for him. He was more focused on this being his duty as an honorable person. On the other hand, during his interview with Dantes, Villefort was looking for ways to please others initially (his fiancée asked for mercy and he wanted to get on her good side) but it was still self-serving motivation in the end (he wanted her pleased for what it got him, not just to make her happy). He also abandoned that plan, and the idea of justice altogether, as soon as he realized the letter Dantes carried could injure him. His motivations were selfish throughout.

Edmond is engaged to a poor woman with almost no family who he loves deeply and sincerely. Villefort is engaged to a rich woman with an important family who he loves 'sensibly' for what he will get out of the marriage in the long run. He doesn't hate her but he isn't in love with her romantically, really. When Villefort realizes the coincidental timing of this arrest pulling them each away, his reaction is brief sympathy quickly superseded by him planning out how to make this a witty story impressive to his guests on his return. He doesn't tell Edmond the similarity between their situations.

Fernand dislikes Dantes because he wants to marry Mercedes instead; a deeply personal motive. Edmond dismisses any suspicions suggested about the man and chooses to see him as a friend, trusting Mercedes. Villefort faces some reluctantance from his fiancee's mother, but it's due to his father's political reputation and how that might look, more than anything. Villefort plays along really well and deliberately, greatly emphasizing his political zeal in order to better ascend higher in society. When he talks about his harshness as a judge he is doing so in front of a group of people with a mind to their opinions, giving a speech calculated to impress.

Edmond loves his father very much and the two are very close. He acts to protect his father's pride, and works to bring in money to support him. At his wedding, his father was a major presence, the most excited person there other than the bride and groom themselves. Villefort has denounced his father publicly, given himself a new name to completely separate them in the world's eyes. He wasn't at the betrothal feast except as a name talked badly of, and Villefort only acts to protect him (by burning the letter and arresting Dantes) because the bad publicity/shame would rebound onto himself.

All in all, Edmond is very focused on personal matters. Personal honor, true emotions... even his enemies are driven by feelings of jealousy and envy and hatred. He's emotion-driven and while he works hard and has ambitions, they come second to his love, his honor, his pride. When political considerations intrude on his life it is due to the actions of others (the former captain) and even the way politics is used against him by Danglars and Fernand is motivated by their feelings for him, not their own beliefs.

Villefort is very focused on public perception. He wants a good reputation, he wants more power, he is climbing that social ladder and politics is his way to get up while distancing himself from his father. He is very calculating, and while he does have emotional moments (affection for his fiancée, sympathy for Edmond) they come in second every time to his ambition and self-interest. His life is built largely around politics and reputation, and his personal feelings of sympathy for Edmond are brief and easily overshadowed by his worries about the connection to his father's politics getting out and harming him. Not to mention his ambition when he realizes he can use this to further his career.

Where Dantes trusts those around him and says he has no enemies, Villefort worries deeply about the consequences of the letter getting out. He assumes the people around him will shun him easily if his name is dirtied by this affair. (He's probably right, but it's a very different view of people than Edmond.) He is willing to send Edmond to prison rather than trust him to never mention the letter to anyone, placing his suspicious and self-serving nature above any sense of honor.

#the cristo account #tcomc #villefort #edmond dantes #the cristo account spoilers #i am pretty sure cristo account isn't continuing so i am reading through the rest on my own schedule. namely whenever i feel like it...#tagged spoilers on this one just in case but i think it'll be the last with that tag anyway. i'll just start using tcomc instead #not sure how much i will be posting but i read one chapter past and had a bunch of thoughts so. probably at least some #(going back to add tcomc to all old posts too. i just like having them in one tag)

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