Tumgik
#ocfairygodmother
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Beware: Angst ahead. Also, while this particular WIP doesn't have any +18 topic, in virtue of the fact that Vampire the Masquerade revolve around +18 content, all material will be presented as such. Therefore, Minors DNI.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Laying on the plushy velvet blanket of her canopy bed - one of the few amenities she still possessed from the days of her human life - Dorothea just stared at the ceiling, unblinking eyes that saw far beyond the roof of her boudoir, hands folded in her lap.
Not a single emotion could be seen on her face, immobile in that unnatural stasis that was of her kind.
A pool of complete stillness: nothing further from the immense chaos that churned just beneath the surface.
A rivulet of fresh blood trickled from the side of her lips, running down her neck until it blended with her golden white curls.
She didn’t know how long she had been standing so still, in that inertia that always caught her after each feeding and imprisoned her with her memories.
A soft snoring rose just besides her, distracting her from the solitary journey of her train of thoughts. She slowly turned her eyes to look toward the man sleeping peacefully besides her, enveloped in the blissful afterglow of the ecstasy that the Kiss always brought upon humans.
The blood always quenched the ancestral necessity of the curse of her kind, but did nothing to erase the emptiness that left behind.
His soft hair fell like a curtain over his face, hidden against the soft down pillow.
Eyes still unblinking, Dorothea broke from her inertia and raised her hand; hesitant, almost trembling, she caressed those black curls away from the man’s face, hoping against hope to see a glimmer of what her memories always showed her. But that face was wrong, completely different from what she expected: the curve of the jaw was not as defined, the zygomas not as sharp, his skin far lighter, his lashes not as long, the nose not as straight, the eyes not as upturned and, when they were staring at her, not dark and sweet, but blue and cold.
It wasn’t him.
She felt like heaving, a whole rock sitting on her stomach, a tightness in her throat that just wanted to find release in purging.
The blood had been to her taste, coppery with undertones of nutmeg and the spumescent aftertaste of all the alcohol in his system, irreverence and joie-de-vivre, and touch of spiciness that every Spaniard carried with themselves.
The vessel provided had indeed been delectable, as it always was when the preys that succumbed to her resembled the one man always in her memories.
Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling of utter disgust that had encompassed her, a feeling akin to the time she had made the mistake of feeding off the wrong type of blood, as a fledgling, when she hadn’t figured out what her type was yet .
Silent as a cat and in need of complete loneliness, she rose from the mattress and slipped a plum-colored robe on her naked body, the smooth fabric softly caressing her skin. Careful to not look behind, she left her master bedroom, mindful to lock the door behind to avoid any possible escape.
She would get rid of the man later.
With quick, inaudible steps, she reached the opposite side of her suite, where her boudoir was located, the only room in the sleeping area of her apartment that didn’t have obscuring blinds.
Without thinking, she put on some music from her own personal playlist, the only thing that could help calm her soul. As the notes started to rise in the sweet air of the evening, she took a deep breath, trying with all her might to will her memories away.
She didn’t want to.
She never wanted to will them away.
But she had to.
She sat on the small ottoman by the window and leaned against the windowsill for a while, laying her cheek on her crossed arms, eyes lost as she watched the world outside of her haven.
Snow was falling ever so softly, in an elegant dance that almost seemed to invite her to twirl around under the gentle flakes.
But she couldn’t.
Not now.
Not ever again.
Suddently the soft rendition of a cover of “Iris” hummed in Dorothea’s ears, the soft voice of the singer and the gentle notes of a guitar enveloping her in the soft penumbra of the boudoir, as she rested her head against the frame of the window.
“And I'd give up forever to touch you Cause I know that you feel me somehow You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be And I don't want to go home right now
'Cause all I can taste is this moment And all I can breathe is your life So and sooner or later, it's over I just don't wanna miss you tonight
And I don't want the world to see me 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand When everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am”
“I wish,” she murmured to herself.
“Never knew you were a Goo Goo Dolls appreciator, Dorlé,”
A gentle voice, warm as a late summer wind - one she would recognize among thousands - spoke behind herself. Dorothea turned her head slowly, giving the man that had just entered a long cold look.
Arno Dorian was standing tall against the frame of the door, his long dark hair hanging on the side of his face, enhancing his already otherworldly beauty. Dressed as sharply as ever, Dorothea could have been inclined to think that he was about to go to the club on the Strand - his favourite hunting ground.
“Just because I gave you permission to come and go in my abode as it pleases you, that does not mean that you can avoid to knock before entering, Arno. I could have been naked for all you knew.”
The man gave her a knowing look: her sulkiness could signify only one thing.
"Feeding night?”
“Yes, as if you weren’t in the known already! And as such, I must apologize but I am not inclined for social call of any kind tonight, not even from you.”
A small smile of sympathy touched his lips.
“Had it been any other night, I would have been the first one to block the passage of any visitor to your haven. But, as much as it cross me having to bother you when you are at your most fragile, You will heed my words, Dorlé. Because I am not here in vest of your sibling but as your Sheriff, my Prince.”
Dorothea’s expression transmuted from miffed to suddenly alert. If he was addressing her by her title, even in the privacy of her abode, she could not ignore his silent demand to be received.
“Speak. What happened?”
“Earlier tonight we had a breach in our Domain, just outside the perimeter of Saint Paul.”
“A rogue Lasombra?”
“Worse.”
Arno handed her a small object: a calling card, not so dissimilar to the one that she herself had seen used by her own father when she was still alive. Dorothea took it and her lips thinned in a grimace of irritation as she recognizing the symbol filigreed on the heavy coarse paper: a rook holding a knight in its talons, bright yellow against a murky green background.
On the other side of the card, there was only one word: "tonight".
So garish.
So presumptious.
She knew precisely who was sending her that invitation.
“The galls and gumption of not even penning a proper invite! To say nothing of the lack of protocol! I am in no mood to meet that barbarian, tonight, nor any other night for that matter, and certainly not without him taking a bath first.” She wrinkled her nose at the memory of the stench of the Thames that always seemed to hang to the Baron like a tick to a dog’s coat. “Have my Senechal do the honors and oversee this affair as he sees fit, and have him report to me once the meeting is done and over.”
Arno shook his head with resignation.
“I am afraid it won’t be possible. Monsieur Kenway is…unavailable for the night, my Prince. Besides, the Baron reported that he will speak to no one but you, and made it quite clear that he won’t take no for an answer.”
Fighting the impulse to roll her eyes, Dorothea stood up with a fluid movement and sat at her vanity. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, scouring for something only she knew about, before opening a small wooden box containing her perfumes and dabbing the sweet orange flower fragrance along the side of her neck.
“Always so aggressive in his ways, so disrespectful of the Traditions that have uphold this whole Masquerade ever since the coming of the Dark Father. I see the past century has not helped assuage his temper nor made him any wiser than when he was fledgling jumping around the roofs of London. His unruliness is what caused his own downfall in this wretched unlife,” she murmured in annoyance, starting to brush each of her golden white curls with meticulous care. “I always had a soft spot for his sister, you know: as much as she disliked me, I always thought her rather reasonable and quite agreeable. We were similar under many aspects. I was even given permission to Embrace her. She would have made for a fine Senechal in our Court, had it not been for that encounter with a Garou,”
Raising her gaze, she glanced again toward Arno, her eyes as cold as the winter wind that was blowing just outside the window. “Did he mention any particular reason for his haste?”
Arno hesitated for a moment, long enough for Dorothea to notice.
“He did not say his motives but-”
Dorothea narrowed her eyes, turning toward him.
“-But your instinct tells you that there is something there.”
“Correct. I have known Jacob-“
The young woman hissed and snarled through gritted teeth.
“Do not utter his name here!”
“Forgive me, Prince. For a moment, I forgot,” he murmured softly. “As I was saying, I have known the Baron for as long as you have, but never had I seen him so..distressed. Considering that he was willing to risk his neck coming straight into our domain in person, without any mediator, I gather that whatever is worrying him, it might have the potential to be a danger for us as well.” He weighted his next words carefully, before speaking.” It could be worth listening to what he has to say.”
Dorothea let out a long breath.
There was truth in her Sheriff’s words, a truth she didn’t want to agree with, at least not wholeheartedly.
She hadn’t spoken to the Baron in over seventy years, not since the Blitz in the 40s, not a single word passed directly between the two of them.
He had tried - oh, if he had tried to speak with her.
But she had closed herself to any form of dialogue with him.
Up until that point.
As her mind was frantically running around, trying to find an anchor to center her thoughts, she pursed her lips even more: she was nervous. Anxious.
He made her nervous.
The idea of seeing his face again, hear his voice again, rendered her nervous.
And there was nothing in the world that she hated the most as feeling nervous.
Yet, she could not risk the safety of her Court because of her uneasiness.
“Very well, then.” She murmured, taking one of her own calling cards and a plume and starting to carve an invitation with impeccable calligraphy. ”With Haytham absent for the night, I will have to ask you, my Sheriff, to give the Baron my answer and bring him my invite to join us at the Elysium at the next full moon.” She said, underlining the last three words with voice that didn’t allow any kind of rebuttal.
If he wanted to meet her, so be it.
But it would be on her own terms.
Suddenly, her eyes lit up and a satisfied smile spread on her face.
“Might be a good idea to extend the invitation to the Italian Triumvirate as well.” she chuckled.
Arno furrowed his heavy brows, his lips turning thin in displeasure - something that didn’t elude Dorothea.
“Does this displease you, Arno?”
“The idea of having the Italians in our sacred abode doesn’t truly sit well with me. And to have a Anarch come into our sacred abode and wreak havoc? Even less so.”
Dorothea finished penning the invite, apposing her signature with fanciful swirls. Then she gave it to Arno.
“He will behave, I am sure. A proper scoundrel he may be, but even the Baron knows better than to break the Fifth Tradition in my Elysium. He asked to speak with me, but considering his lack of... specification of any particular condition, we will make those conditions for him. And if he won’t speak with anyone but me, then, I say, have him come to us. It will be also an occasion to show that our strength lies in our unified bond, and what better occasion to showcase this if not during one of our gathering?”
Arno’s mouth quirked in a grimace of disagreement.
“Ahh, I see. So, now it is indeed my Primogen talking to me now, not my loyal Sheriff. Very well, Arno of the Clan of the Rose: what is it that is causing that deep wrinkle on your forehead?”
“Lucia. Why calling upon her as well? One renegade at the time is enough.”
Dorothea smiled benevolently, flashing her fangs as she did so.
“Because you see, brother of my soul, there is something that you do not know about the Baron.”
Arno raised his eyebrows, silently asking her to continue.
Dorothea chuckled, but there was no warmth in her laughter.
“Something happened in his early days as Kindred, something that left him with a level of aberration for the Tremere that rivals only the hate the Tzimisce have for them. He swore on his sister’s grave that he would never allow any of the Thaumaturges to even come close to his territories, let alone associate with him. And it is not only this, oh no! If he “just” abhors the Tremere, he is absolutely terrified of Lucia for the hand she had in what he had witnessed.”
Arno nodded, his long hair brushing his cheek as he did so: he could definitely see why Jacob would be terrified of Lucia, if the rumors around her coincided with the truth. (……………)
“Very well, if this is all, I will leave you return to your duties-“
“I….this is not all, my Prince,”Arno stood where he was, his eyes turning even darker than what they had been when he was alive.”I saw you today, not long before sunrise. Outside of that studio, waiting under the rain.”
She gripped the brush in her hands, catching herself at the last moment so not to pulverize it, her jaw tightening.
“Your point?”
“I am not one to tell you what to do, my Prince, nor would I ever fathom your motives. But the Court will start asking… questions, if they were to get a hint of why you have gathered such keen interest in a particular kine.”
Dorothea didn’t answer, not right away at least.
She took a long breath, even though she didn’t need to.
It just felt like something she would have done, had she been human.
Human.
Something she hadn’t been for more than 150 years.
As if on cue, she felt The Beast stirring up withink, somewhere deep in her abdomen, brushing its sharp talon against her still heart, its breathing hot against her neck, whispering, a soft, seducing murmur ever present in all her waking moments: a monster constantly lurking for the mere hint of weakness to exploit and destroy whatever humanity she had still left in her.
She touched the small ampule hanging over her breasts, the blood turned dark by the decades past.
All that she had left of him that still somehow anchored her to her last remnants of who she had been once alive.
“How long have you been following me, Arno?”
“Long enough to notice a pattern in these “excursions” of yours, Dorlé, and long enough to know that what you are doing to yourself will only cause your soul to wither further away. He is not him.”
Dorothea’s face stood still, her eyes never leaving the man’s own brown irises, not a single emotion transpiring from either of them.
But no amount of temperance and composure could stop the single tear -carmine, pristine like a ruby, the only tears their kind could shed- rolling down her cheek before she had the time to stop it.
“You are wrong,” she whispered, as the man she had know her entire undead life came closer to her and gently patted away her tear with his handkerchief. “I know that it could not be possible, that it should not be possible. But Arno, you know - you know why I cannot be deceived. I know what I saw. I know what I heard. And it was real. Real.”
The man let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping a little at the thought of the man that had been his brother in all but blood.
“Dorlé… you said it yourself. It cannot be possible. Mathias-“ Arno swallowed hard, the lump in his throat gripping. He hadn’t uttered that name in almost a hundred years, and the pain was still too much to bear at the memories, the very same that, he knew, haunted Dorothea each time she fed. “Mathias is gone. He is in God’s arms now, and no matter how much this man resembles him, he is not him.”
Grief screamed inside Dorothea’s chest, her own anguish shrieking in her ears, an echo of her own voice that reached from across the mists of time. She felt Arno’s hands on her shoulders, as he rested his brow against hers, locking eyes with hers in the hope to force both their minds to block the memories of the last moments of Mathias on that Earth.
“Arno, I beg you to understand…you have seen him. I know you have. He has his voice. His eyes, his hair, his hands..his smile! Even his scent resembles the one he used to have! Everything that made me human, everything that moved me when I was still alive is screaming at me that the man I saw was him, returned to me! How can I ignore such call? How can I-”
Arno’s brown eyes softened in pity.
“You cannot. And I cannot stop you from doing what you think it is right for you, Dorlé, even if it pains me to see you in this state. But the Court might not share this sentiment, and you know that.”
She closed her eyes, lips stretching in a grimace of pain. None of the stillness of their kind was to be found on her face, but all the pain of sufference that belonged to humanity.
“Do you ever wish to be able to dream again?” she asked.
Arno lowered his face, shutting his eyes to keep at bay his own pain, always threatening to overflow from his unbeating heart.
He decided to listen to her instead: it was easier to focus on her pain than face his own.
Her memories, she would often say, were her most prized possession and her most lethal weapon, sharp as the edge of a double knife.
And yet he knew that being an active participant of her shared pain was a right she had bestowed only upon one person in her unlife, and he was one that person.
He still remember, clear as if it had happened the day before, when he found her, still a fledgling, hidden in the catacombs beneath Paris, scared to her wits, with no memories of who her Sire was nor how she came to be welcomed in the Embrace.
Yet, as they started to walk the Earth together and he brought her deeper and deeper in his world, they came to consider each other the brother and the sister that neither had had once alive.
The fact that fate would have soon joined them by the same kind of pain, born out of the same sufferance, was also the reason why he knew he was the only person in the entire world that she trusted completely with her thoughts.
“No. Not really,” he murmured, closing again the door of the bedroom. “When I lay down and await to plummet into the nothingness, I feel all memories coming back to me, clearer than I wished them to be. And I don’t want them. I don’t want that pain anymore. So no, I don’t want my thoughts to be anything but what I choose to think about, and dreams have the pesky peculiarity of coming unsummoned.”
Dorothea nodded as she listened carefully, her gaze turning sad as a small smile touched her lips.
“I am grateful for the lack of nightmares,” she whispered. “Although the memories of them are dimmer than I remember, they used to plague my mortal life. But the nothingness still terrifies me. You know, when I was alive, I always believed that through dreams we could somehow return to the people we lost. Eyes meeting eyes even if it is never to touch again. I hoped to see Mathias again, to find the comfort of his embrace at least when I am drifting away. But after having been turned-“ she sighed as she looked up to the ceiling. “How cruel it is having to face this emptiness alone for all eternity,”
--------------------------------------------------------
MONDAY DRAFT?
MONDAY WIP?
MONDAY "ALMOST ALL CHAPTER"?
I have no idea how to call this post, just that OMG I AM SO HAPPY TO BE ABLE TO SHARE IT WITH YOU ALL.
Again, it's just a draft, and while I do multiple revisions of all my drafts while writing, sometimes mistakes escapes me, so please bear with me <3
I am sorry for the angst festival, but I PROMISE THAT IT BECOMES A BIT SWEETER. While I can write angst quite easily, I can't not reward everyone with FLUFF.
Well, I hope you will like this, just as much as I loved writing it! (and omg the fun I had to design the banner! I am such a sucker for vampire stuff, honestly).seriously, I went like a train while writing this, and it hasn't happened in FOREVER!! SO I TRULY HOPE YOU WILL LIKE THIS!!
--Nemo
39 notes · View notes
smurphyse · 1 year
Text
Zero to Hero Masterlist
Smurph's Masterlist
Eddie Munson x Lab Experiment!Reader (aka Zero)
Tumblr media
After being saved by a strange girl living in the Upside Down, Eddie recuperates with her in a secluded cabin away from the rest of the world.
Part 1: Into the Darkness
Chapter 1 - The Avocado I Didn't Have
Chapter 2 - Fuck You, Munson
Chapter 3 - Tomatoes Don't Bite
Chapter 4 - Zero the Weirdo
Chapter 5 - Hello, Henry
Chapter 6 - Wonder Woman vs. Cheetah
Chapter 7 - Somebody to Love
Chapter 8 - Bad Moon Rising
182 notes · View notes
impales · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
IVY 🍃 PROLOGUE In the gilded courts of 16th-century France and the opulent palaces of the Ottoman Empire, two souls are bound by destiny, yet torn by the weight of their inheritance.
Charles Valois, the carefree Dauphin of France, never aspired to rule, favouring the pleasures of life over the responsibilities of the throne. But as his brother, King Francis II, lies on the brink of death, he must step into the role he never desired, navigating treacherous politics and a looming threat to his kingdom.
Safiye Sultan Hazretleri, an Ottoman princess trapped in a world of deceit and patriarchal oppression, hungers for power and freedom in a society that denies her both. Her dreams collide with her family's ruthless struggle for the Ottoman throne, where women are mere pawns.
In a tale of unlikely alliances, Charles and Safiye must navigate the treacherous waters of politics, love, and ambition to secure their legacies and reshape the destinies of their empires. As their worlds converge, they'll discover that true power doesn't always wear a crown, and freedom can be found where least expected. Will they find their way out of the shadows and into the light of their own destinies? READ HERE → AO3 / WATTPAD
DEDICATIONS → it's been a while since i've made any edit for a story, or character but this one was really pressing on me and i was super excited to make it! may we all give a round of applause as for once, i didn't just make some gifs, but i actually started writing a fic 🎉 but i just wanted to share the sets that inspired me particularly: ana martinez by @zoyazenik / house greyjoy by @emilykaldwen / josanna lannister and rob stark by @dragonsbone / alyse and aegon by @kingsroad / and jaenara velaryon by @fragilestorm <3
GENERAL TAGLIST → send me an ask, dm or reply if you want to be added! @godswood-girl @kingsroad @emilykaldwen @hiddenqveendom @fragilestorm @zoyazenik 🍓
37 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙉𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉𝘼𝙇 𝙒𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙉𝙎 𝘿𝘼𝙔 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙇𝙇𝙀𝙉𝙂𝙀! 𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘖𝘯𝘦: “𝘐’𝘮 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭, 𝘐’𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴.”
Everyone had someone they looked up to growing up, for lots of us, that was someone in the media, and for lots of girls across the country, they came in the shapes of Disney characters. For this day, we want you to show which female media icon your OC looked up to as a little girl. Whether that be Megara, Princess Leia or even Katniss Everdeen.
On January 29, 1959, eight year old twins August and Feyra Sherwood visited the local cinema to watch the eventual Disney classic, and it was from that first viewing that Feyra would grow up looking up to Aurora, also known as Sleeping Beauty or Briar Rose. As an adult, Feyra would be inspired by the character’s kindness and grace, when she discovers her father’s heritage to Narnia, and would continue to use those traits throughout her reign.
✨ Taglist: @ginger-grimm@eddysocs@faerieroyal@daughter-of-melpomene @megandaisy9@misshiraethsworld @arrthurpendragon ✨
13 notes · View notes
sicparvismorrigan · 4 months
Text
Friendly Fire - Prologue
Ellie Thibodeaux holds arguably the worst job in Bridgehead City. She’s not a cook. She’s not even a cleaner. She’s the resident RDA psychiatrist, and her next assignment is helping the formerly deceased Project Phoenix come to terms with being brought back to life as an entirely different species.
Enter Colonel Miles Quaritch, the most reluctant, and most challenging patient she’s ever had the displeasure of treating.
James Cameron’s Avatar - The Way of Water (2022)
Recombinant Quaritch x ofc (currently professional/platonic, enemies/annoyances to friends, could be more) & Quaritch x Paz Socorro
Warnings: currently none
Tagging: If you want tagged for this series let me know! It is gonna be a longread, we all know how I LOVE a longread
Read on Ao3
Tumblr media
| Chapter 1
Prologue
Dead man walking!
That was what the RDA soldiers had yelled in her direction as she stepped off the Valkyrie onto Pandoran soil late last year.
She tried to walk proudly into the buildings of Bridgehead City, with her head held high and her back straight. It was easier in the lower gravity. Intimidation might work on greenhorns, but it wasn’t going to work on her.
She’d already been through more in her life than any of them would ever know.
“This better than Earth.” Ellie struggled to convince herself as she got used to breathing with an exopack for the first time. “It has to be.”
A second chance. A second life. Wasn’t that a saying amongst the natives? That you were born twice?
Ellie dug that. She’d take all the chances she could get.
Six years of cryosleep for this. She was guaranteed Paradise, back on Earth when she signed on with the RDA. Instead, all she ever saw of Pandora was infrastructure, concrete and steel.
None of the greenery, impossible colours and bioluminescence her orientation literature had promised. It was too dangerous, apparently. The local tribes were still referred to as hostiles. The RDA had tried, and failed, to tame Pandora.
Her world was brown, grey and that disgusting khaki green she had grown to hate. Same colour as the food she was served in the canteen every damn day.
Bridgehead was plenty hostile as it was.
She didn’t fit with the two main factions in Bridgehead. Not a soldier, neither a scientist.
A goddamn shrink. That was what everyone called her. Intellectuals and hired thugs alike. They didn’t think she was useful, or necessary. She didn’t study the native wildlife or know how to handle a gun. She didn’t speak Na’vi. Practically useless in survival situations.
“Tibbs!”
General Ardmore caught her attention after breakfast. Ellie didn’t like the older woman much, she was a textbook narcissist, but fortunately she wasn’t paid her generous annual salary to like people. That would cost you extra.
“Guess who woke up yesterday?”
Ellie silently stared at the name on the file in Ardmore’s hand. She’d heard the stories, which by now seemed more like legends passed down through the generations of human settlers. This particular soldier, and future patient of hers, was the one member of Project Phoenix she was least looking forward to meeting.
He had quite the reputation. Even from beyond the figurative grave.
“That’s right, sweetheart-“ Ardmore grinned widely at the pained expression on her face. “Colonel Miles Quaritch, back from the dead.”
***
Thanks for reading!
20 notes · View notes
nemo-in-wonderland · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
"Children sleeping, Snow is softly falling Dreams are calling, Like bells in the distance
We were dreamers, not so long ago But one by one, we all had to grow up
When it seems the magic slipped away We find it all again on Christmas Day
Believe in what your heart is saying Hear the melody that's playing There's no time to waste There's so much to celebrate
Believe in what you feel inside And give your dreams the wings to fly You have everything you need If you just believe
Trains move quickly, to their journey's end Destinations are where we begin again Ships go sailing, far across the sea Trusting starlight to get where they need to be When it seems that we have lost our way We find ourselves again on Christmas Day Believe in what your heart is saying Hear the melody that's playing There's no time to waste There's so much to celebrate Believe in what you feel inside And give your dreams the wings to fly You have everything you need If you just believe If you just believe If you just believe If you just believe Just believe Just believe"
"Believe" - Josh Groban
Tumblr media
Hi everyone!!
As you can see, I have finally managed to finish the artwork I started a while ago (and omgomgomomg, I also managed to finish it BEFORE the 25th, you have no idea how happy I am about it lolololol).
I can honestly admit this is probably one of my most successful artworks, in terms of how it turned out, and I am SO HAPPY that I managed to work on the background as I wished and that it somewhat turned out the way I wanted! May this be the first of a long series of complete artworks with proper colorful backgrounds!
I also was happy to try my hand at the 1840s garments for Jacob, Dottie and Emmett, and after researching for it, I can say that now it's probably one of my fave decades along with the 1810s, 1820s, 1870s and 1880s (yes, I love many decades, but I love the XIX century fashion to bits, so what did you expect of me?lololol).
But overall, this whole artwork was a TRUE JOY to work on, and I loved every single moment I spent planning it out, choosing the colours and what and how to do it.
And I adore the context of this artwork: Jacob and Dorothea and baby Emmett finally spending their first Christmas together, after all the sorrow and hardship they had to go through to create a future for all of them. It was a long journey, a solitary one, but they did it, and now they are finally spending the festivities together as a family, enjoying the gentle snow falling after a whole afternoon spent ice skating together.
Well, I hope you will like this just as much as I loved working on it!
HAPPY FESTIVITIES FROM THE STARRICK-FRYE FAMILY (and from myself too lolol).
--Nemo
128 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I redid my spidersona Rosa’s design to make it seem more retro and I forgot to upload it here. It took me forever to do but here again is Rosa Morena aka Tarantella!
Again she’s a spider woman from the retro futuristic Earth-5619 of Nueva Manahatta. It’s heavily inspired by the 1950s and 60s along with golden age superhero’s and atom punk! Her spider powers are also based on the Rose-Haired Tarantula and she also has plant-based powers too!
Tag List:
@fyeahmarvelocs @marvelocsdaily @marveloccommunity @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @allaboutocs
8 notes · View notes
illegalcerebral · 9 months
Text
Resources for OC Creators who can't draw
Hi all. I meant to do this at the start of the month so it was ready for OC Creator Bingo 2023, but things have been pretty full on. I just wanted to put together a list of doll makers, icons makers, picrew etc for those of us who can't draw but really wnat to make images of our OCs. They're also a very fun way to procrastinate when you don't want to write:
RPG Heroine Maker: Good For fantasy stories/settings. Some options for hair and skin including fantasy colours (I would like some darker natural tones though). Also includes extras like wings and horns and full customisation for clothes.
Charat Yoco Icon Maker: Anime/mange style. Not a lot of options for hair and skin colour
dress up, schmess up: by tumblr user @ummmmandy. Stunning full body maker with tons of options for hair styles and skin colours. It's also been updated to include hijabs. I made Idara here with this one.
Casual and Cozy Maker: Great for cottagecore or comfy vibes.
LGBTQ Pride Avatar Maker: I think this is a new one. Not a lot of hair or skin options yet but might be useful if you wnat your character holding up a pride flag.
Regency Scenery Maker: Good for historical fics with some beautiful backgrounds. Maker doesn't claim to be historically accurate (that's outside of my area of expertise, I just think it's gorgeous).
Vintage Western Maker: Also by @ummmmandy Great for making cowgirls.
Gothic Heroine Maker: Exactly what the title suggests! Very pretty art, I haven't explored this one fully yet!
I'm tagging some OC creators below (though I know a lot of you do your own art anyways) if that will be useful and please add some more!
@thechaoticfanartist @bloodieash @the-lastcall @mshrom@bardictales @endless-oc-creations @fattybattysblog @fleet-admiral-hiba @supermarine-silvally @spirit-animal-sisters-official@cecexwrites @dancingsunflowers-ocs @arrthurpendragon@marvul-imagines @dream-beyond-the-fantasy @morvantmortuary @sicparvismorrigan @juliaswickcrs @apollothe-sungod @moirei @guardiansofheroes @wordspin-shares@johnnmurphy @jinxsflame @starryeyes2000 @karimac @stanshollaand @smurphyse @reyskestis@starsandstormyseas  @originaliverse @reyofluke-ocs @ironverseocs @chickensarentcheap@susiesamurai @thecharmedburrowspn-files @caswrites @magicalmystery-muses @lovebarefootblonde
38 notes · View notes
the12thnightproject · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
Chapter 15: Mitsuhide POV - Mistake Compounded: (Surprise) Gacha Chapter - Mitsuhide's take on recent events.
All Chapters Archived on Ao3 
Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?
“The usual place?” Goro slung the unconscious priest over his shoulders as easily as if he were carrying a sack of rice from the fields. The man had been a farmer once, before the wars displaced his clan. Eventually, he found his way into Mitsuhide’s service, where his combination of brawn and quick intelligence made him a valuable operative, one willing to do tasks that Mitshide would hesitate to ask of Kyubei.
“No.” Mitsuhide found a handkerchief and swiped at a smear of blood on his knuckles. Normally, he preferred to use less physical methods when interrogating a prisoner. Emotional pressure – at least the sort that was his expertise - was generally more effective than torture. But the priest was creature of anger, who only understood violence, one whose family had condemned him to his church in the hopes that their God would do what a strict upbringing could not. “Arrange for him to be found outside a brothel. His more religious brethren will take care of him from there.”
The Nanban missionaries would be horrified; and eager to send him back west, or at the very least, to the Funai diocese in Nagasaki, where they could keep a closer eye on him. Such a man was counter with their evangelical mission.
“As you wish.” With that, the priest was hauled away, leaving only a puddle of urine where he had soiled himself during Mitsuhide’s interrogation.
Mitsuhide cleaned the mess himself – it would not do for the machiya’s storerooms to contain anything but the very best in spices and lacquerware. Blood and excrement would ruin the atmosphere.
As you wish. Odd how Goro’s respectful acceptance of Mitsuhide’s orders echoed uncomfortably with Kaya’s defiant use of the same phrase. Certainly, he would prefer her to be obedient – their task would be far easier – but he was finding her little rebellions and protests entertaining… at least until this evening when he had discovered that underneath her defiance was very real fear.
What was behind that terror (for it had indeed been terror)? What would it take for her to confide in him? Certainly, he did not require her to trust him, for that was not a thing offered even as easily as obedience (and Kaya was anything but that). However, if she ever did grant him her confidence, he would feel honored.
Mai had trusted him… Mai trusted too quickly.
It was with the spector of Mai in his head that he went to scrub the stains of this night off his body. After that…  perhaps he had earned the indulgence of enough wine to scrub his memories for a few hours.
Neither would be removed as easily as the stains from the floor.
Tumblr media
Respite had not been earned, nor given. The sliver of the moon was still in the sky when he heard the light tapping of feet, as Kaya crept down the stairs. Annoyed at the interruption to his solitude, he offered a challenge that ought to have sent her scurrying back to her room. “Couldn’t sleep? Or… were you interested in renegotiation?”
Even in the dim light of the staircase, he could see her scowl at him. Or perhaps he knew her enough to know that would be her automatic response to that suggestion. “Never mind. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow when you’re sober.”
Oddly, her statement made him want her company after all. The sake wasn’t working to ease his soul. Arguing with Kaya would at least be a distraction. He placed his cup on the desk, as much to prove to her that he was indeed sober, as to prove to himself the same. “I could drink twice this much and remain unaffected.”
She still seemed hesitant, and now that his eyes had adjusted more to the dimness on the stairs, he noticed she was shaking. “What is it?” He beckoned her closer. “I presume this is important.”
“I think it might be.” She threw herself onto the cushion, even at this hour a picture of vitality. Her hair was poking out of her ponytail in all directions – there was even a piece stuck to her cheek. Had she been crying? He pushed away the urge to brush it off her face and instead offered to share his drink. 
She shook her head. “I can’t. It gives me nightmares. Waking nightmares too. And, I already just had a sleeping one that woke me up.”
Ah. It was not a surprise that the events of this evening had affected her. Though trained by Akihira, it was clear that the man had not utilized her in any darker ventures. Mitsuhide imagined that if he had a daughter of his own, he would be much the same, and do his best to keep the girl in the light.
As for the priest, at least Mitsuhide could reassure Kaya that he would not trouble her in the future. “A nightmare about the priest? He will no longer be a factor.” The man had acted on impulse – spotting ‘Kyubei’ and Kaya at the shrine, he had taken a chance to be revenged upon the events of the auction. There was no connection between the priest and the disappearances of Hideyoshi, Mai and Aki. Of that, he was now certain.
“A different nightmare.” Three words. Words that made Kaya look small… and cold.
He noticed that she had fled her room without putting on her shoes… or even a yukata. He could see a vague outline of her body through the thin material of her night kimono. The latter observation had him speaking more honestly than intended. “If you’ve come to me to be soothed, I’m flattered.”  But the only comfort he had the right to offer was…. He took off his socks and passed them to her. “Don’t protest. I never feel extreme heat or cold.”
“Alright.” She slipped the socks onto her her feet. “I guess to explain the nightmare, I have to go back and explain why I don’t like boxes.”
Interesting. He would finally learn the reason for her terror of … “The palanquin.” This could potentially be a long conversation, so he poured himself another drink – an action he had cause to be grateful for when he heard her next words.
“Yes. Well. About five years ago, someone tried to kill me, or maybe just get rid of me – by locking me in a crate and leaving it in a warehouse.” Her hands were clenched into fists, knuckles white with tension.
The thought of someone locking a child - and five years ago, Kaya… no, she was Katsu… would hardly be past childhood - into a crate and abandoning her made him wish the culprit were before him right now. There would be no mercy, no attempt at emotional pressure. But that… was for another time. At the moment, he could offer the comfort of quiet logic. “The warehouse that currently belongs to Shojumaru.”
“Yes – that one. I don’t know if he owned it then though. The crate I was in got hidden under a heavy shipment of western muskets. I couldn’t get enough leverage to move the lid.”  She faltered in her story as the rest of her became as pale as her knuckles.
Before she fainted, Mitsuhide took hold of those trembling hands, willing to transfer a measure of detachment to her. “Katsu. Look at me. Breathe.”
She breathed.
He watched the rise and fall of her chest, until the breathing became easy, until her grip relaxed, until …
She pulled away.
Now Mitsuhide’s hands felt cold. He wrapped them around the sake bottle.
She took one last deep breath and continued. “While I was in there – before I realized I was trapped - I overheard a conversation between a foreign merchant and a man he called Motonari.”
Motonari?
It was the last name he’d expected to hear. The man was dead. Had been so for a long time. Too long ago to make that possible. “Five years ago? The only Motonari I can think of who would have been interested in and able to acquire a large shipment of weapons is Mouri Motonari, and he’s been dead for longer than that.”
Katsu shrugged, and the edge of her kimono slipped lower on her shoulder. “So were Kenshin and Shingen, and they’re still alive.”
“You’re suggesting Mouri Motonari is not dead. That’s… possible. The Mouri clan has been rather active of late. However…” It was an interesting avenue to pursue, but she could have told him this in the morning. Perhaps she had come out here indeed seeking comfort… seeking hi-
“The thing is - I think he’s Shojumaru. His voice. It’s been bothering me about him since we met.” Her words knocked the other avenue of thought out of his head. “Shojumaru was the man in the warehouse back then. The one that they called Motonari.”
Shojumaru is Motonari? It… should have come as more of a shock. After all, he had been certain that Shojumaru was hiding something… even the man’s name. Shojumaru. It was a child’s name. Many men discarded their childhood name when they came into leadership. Or repurposed it as he was even now with his own childhood name of ‘Juubei.’ “You are certain about this?” When she bristled in protest, of his questioning, he added, “I do not doubt your story, only what time does to the memory. As you say, it has been five years.”
“Five years of a memory that regularly appears in my nightmares. He could not have been aware that I was trapped in there. That was just a coincidence on his side.” Her voice was calmer, clear with certainty, and he found himself inclined to accept the story.
Inclined to accept it, and curious to know how she had been freed. “How did you escape?” She looked surprised at that – but the Shojumaru revelation could keep for a little while longer. What he needed to know now was how she had escaped that ordeal, and if anything from that escape was likely to interfere with their current task. Interfere more than need to avoid palanquins in the future. “It’s not such an unusual question – someone must have found you, for here you are, sitting with your feet in my socks.”
She glanced at her hands, a sure tell that she was considering lying to him… or avoiding the question somehow.  “A person heard me yelling later and rescued me.”
A ‘person.’
“A random passerby to a warehouse that was used by weapons smugglers.” He had a suspicion as to the identity of that ‘person.’ Would she finally tell him? Or even now would she hold back information that at this point was useless. “For if you had been rescued by Aki, you would have mentioned it. And let me digress to remind you that it’s as important to take note of what a person does not say, as it is to listen to what they do. Therefore, the name of your rescuer…?”
“I don’t actually know if those weapons were smuggled. It could have been a legal shipment….” He stared at her until her rambling prevarication reached a truthful response. “It was Kennyo.”
Finally. The truth was too late, far too late, and Kennyo was dead now. Even so, Mitsuhide was glad to have the gift of her honesty. “Ah. The reason for your stubbornness at the beginning of the summer is now revealed. Were you working or him?”
“What? Oh. No.” She sounded surprised enough at the question for him to accept her denial. “But I felt like I owed him for saving me, and that life debt weighed. And at the time you questioned me, I had no idea that he was anything but a travelling monk.”
That… he doubted, but it was also unlikely that Kennyo had told her what he was doing, or what he had planned. She might not have had direct knowledge, but she likely had had her suspicions. “Katsuko, you are far too smart to believe that.”
He noticed she had turned her attention to the teapot he had neglected to dump out earlier. Were this a true interrogation, he might have denied her a drink, or even taunted her with it. “It’s from this morning.”
She shrugged, so he poured poured her a cup, then laughed inwardly at the look on her face when she got a taste of it. I did warn you.  If he had been willing to stop the flow of her story, he might have put a kettle on the irori and boiled more water for fresh tea. “Kennyo.”
“He found me, pulled me out, and Aki caught up to us a little while later. Anyway, he took us back to his encampment, found some clothes for me, and… well, he hinted that he might some day come to ask me to repay him, or ask it of Aki.” She coughed, sipped more tea, and coughed again. “Forgetting that I had not seen him when I briefly crossed his path that night seemed like a harmless way to repay him.”
“Harmless. Did it occur to you that if we had been able to capture him at that point, then he would not be able to return and ask a favor?”  The expression on her face did not change, but clearly, she hadn’t thought of that. It spoke of a sense of honor. Misplaced in this particular instance, but honor just the same. “Never mind. Sometimes I forget how young you truly are.”
“Besides, there were so many people in the woods that night. I figured someone else must have seen him too, and if so, you were bound to figure things out without me.” That was an interesting statement, and suggested there might have been other people that she hadn’t mentioned seeing. Before he could call that out, she changed the direction of the conversation. “What do you plan to do about Shojumaru? Motonari.”
Until he could determine if Motonari had taken Hideyoshi and Mai and where he was likely to have taken them, there wasn’t much he could do. Yet.  With the access to the Mouri fleet, as well as merchant ships, he could be hiding them anywhere. He presumed that at some point the man planned to make a move – the task was to move there first. “Watch him. See if he makes a mistake. Find out if he has any weaknesses and exploit them. For the moment, de Sousa still seems to be a key here. Hideyoshi met with de Sousa. If I can prove a stronger connection between him and Motonari, it would give me a lever to press. If Motonari is involved, it makes the situation political. They could be hostages instead of slaves. If Motonari had… executed them… he would have taunted Nobunaga about that.”
And if Motonari has executed them, whatever hell he has been through in the past is nothing like he will face in the future. He wouldn’t wait for Nobunaga to determine a punishment. The Oda could have whatever was left of Motonari’s body.
“What are they like? Lord Hideyoshi and Lady Mai. What are they like?” Katsu’s voice startled him. He’d nearly forgotten she was in the room.
He poured himself another drink, allowing every drop of the sake to fall into the cup. “Hideyoshi is Nobunaga’s right hand man. He’s a good man… idealistic… devoted… passionate… honest. An all around pain in the ass.”
He didn’t know what Katsuko was expecting him to say, but it clearly hadn’t been that, for she suddenly laughed. He realized that he had never seen her smile before (true, he had not given her any reason to… not that that had ever stopped Mai). “You don’t smile very often.”
It was like getting a glimpse of a completely different person, one that he wanted to know as much as he wanted to know the Katsu who was capable of passionately arguing with him and the one who was terrified of boxes. That thought was rather terrifying in itself. He didn’t want to like her.
He couldn’t afford to.
Katsu covered her mouth. “Um… what? Should I?”
Nor could he afford for her to become self-conscious about her expressions. Her customary ‘neutral face’ was helpful in this line of work. “Dear me, no. Not if you don’t feel like it. It wasn’t meant as a criticism. For what is needed, your face is completely appropriate.”
“I don’t trust smilers. The man who tried to kill me was like that.” She rubbed her arms, and though he was aware that she had done so to comfort herself, the action again caused her kimono to slip, revealing more shoulder.
To avoid being further distracted, he pealed off his own outer robe and passed it to her. He didn’t need it, especially not now, while he warmed by her presence.
Katsu accepted the robe, and curled into it. She looked like a small child wearing her father’s clothing. “And… Lady Mai?”
What about Mai? His greatest weakness… his greatest regret. His greatest victory – one over himself, and his desires – for Mai and Hideyoshi were each half of the same. Light goes to light. “Completely devoted to Hideyoshi and his dreams. At a look, the two of them can enter a world where they are the only two inhabitants.” He lifted his cup, then noticed it was empty. “Hand me that bottle.”
She slid the bottle toward him. “It’s nice that they found each other.”
“He tried not to want her… but with Mai, that’s not possible.” That… was not something he should have revealed to Katsuko, but with any luck she would not think too deeply on the implications of that. Especially if he directed equal praise toward Hideyoshi. “He believed that Nobunaga wanted her for himself, and Hideyoshi is nothing if not self-sacrificing. The man would work himself until he dropped from exhaustion if no one stopped him. And then he would still find time to scold everyone else.”
He watched her burrow deeper into his kimono, feeling gratified that she found it a comfort. And… did she just sniff the sleeve and smile? He filed that away for future teasing. “Does he scold Mai too?”
“Sometimes. If she works too hard. He can’t help it. It’s in his nature to mother everyone. Though Mai at least can get him to rest.” A few weeks prior to their disappearance, Mai had organized something that she had called a ‘dinner party.’ She’d worked closely with Masamune to choose the foods, had decorated Hideyoshi’s manor for the occasion, and then over the course of the meal, had proceed to gently fuss so much over the guests (which had only been himself, Masamune, and Mitsunari) until Hideyoshi sat her down and made her eat too. She’d told him she didn’t need to relax, but that everyone else did, because she knew they were all working hard to build a better world. “Mai is the most idealistic person you will ever meet. Yet, as she much as passionately despises war, she’ll leap into any fight to defend her friends or an innocent bystander, or… even me.”
“I’m having trouble imagining that you ever needed to be defended.”  She leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands, as if waiting for the whole story. “Who dared?”
“I dared, in fact. I needed to appear to be working for Kennyo, and I carefully constructed matters to make myself look like a traitor. But Mai cut through the entire charade by refusing to believe I was guilty.” He’d never forget the sight of her, defiantly facing him in the dungeon, threatening to reveal his innocence to everyone unless he confided in Hideyoshi. “And the evidence of my guilt was overwhelming – I ought to know, I manufactured it myself. With my reputation, it would have been more than enough to condemn me. But she and Hideyoshi never doubted my innocence.”
There was a long moment of silence, while she appeared to think that over, her lips pursed in concentration. He directed his senses to the feel of the wine in his mouth, for he was becoming far too curious about how her mouth would feel under his. He’d almost banished that odd urge, only to be surprised when she did finally speak. “Well, to be honest, I would have a hard time accepting your guilt too. I mean, ok, I don’t like you, but anyone with eyes and a logically functioning brain can tell you’re loyal to the Oda.”
It was … not that same as Mai’s blind faith in him. Katsu was a creature of logic, and he was certain that were he to ask her what evidence she had used to reach that conclusion, she would tell him in detail. It was still gratifying that she had been able to put aside whatever resentment and rebellion she felt toward him to give him a fair trial in her mind. The, personal dislike, on the other hand…. “What a pity. I believe I have treated you perfectly well. I am a very likeable fellow. Although I suppose it’s flattering that you too would defend my innocence. Flattering. But foolish.” He tapped her on the nose… a gesture that he would give to a foolish child, to remind her who had the power in this room. To remind himself of that as well. “Have you forgotten that you’re my prisoner?”
Absently she rubbed her nose. Brushing away his touch? Or memorizing it? “Don’t worry. I think you’re capable of a great many morally grey things. But in service to a Nobunaga’s cause… not for personal gain.”
His thoughts returned to the blood and urine stains he’d cleaned out of the storeroom. “For this cause there must be someone willing to take on the burden of evil. And someone must be the light to my dark. That has always been Hideyoshi. It’s a delicate balance we make up – Nobunaga needs him, his honesty, as much he needs someone to carry out the missions that no one speaks about. Someone to interrogate--”
Interrogate… perhaps Katsu was more skilled at this than he had imagined. Had tonight been a ploy to discover his weaknesses? He took hold of her chin and looked directly in to a pair of defiant eyes. “Is that what this has been? An interrogation? Looking for a weakness in your captor?”
Her eyes stayed on his. “Always.”Then she shrugged. “Making conversation. Trying to chase away my own nightmares.”
Which had been the truth? Her defiance? Or the need for comfort? For the first time in a very long time, Mitsuhide couldn’t read someone. Maybe both had been true. Maybe neither. Either way, it was a signal to end this conversation. And a signal to return their … association to its prior transactional level. He did not need a friend. He did not need to drag another person into darkness with him.  “Have they been chased? For I know that if Hideyoshi were here at this moment, he would tell us both to go to bed now. And to clean our teeth first.”
Understanding his unspoken message, Katsu stood up.
Good. He would stay here, alone, in the dim light where he belonged.
But Kats-Kaya would not leave him even that. “He would be correct… in both. You should go to sleep… Lord Mitsuhide.”
Once again, time to remind her of her precarious position. Of her options. “Will you escort me to my bed? It’s not too late to renegotiate.”
She would refuse him, of course. She must. The other alternative was not thinkable.
“To your door.” Her voice, her posture echoed Kyubei’s. Kyubei, who was obedient, but was confident enough to speak his mind.
“Planning to take on Kyubei’s role?” That would be a workable compromise – a vassal whom he could count on to follow directives. He would be responsible for her, naturally, but there was no need to encourage a friendship.
With that in mind, he took her arm… and the feeling of her skin under his fingertips was like a drug in the blood, more potent than sake.
Over the course of the journey up the stairs, to the door to his room he concentrated only on putting one foot before the other, his own breathing, and not on her warm presence beside him. By the time he stepped inside his own room, where she, as planned, halted at the threshold, he had his pulse in check once again. He could return to thinking of her as Kaya.
He lightly pulled on her hair, then turned his back on her, even as she slid shut the door.
As he heard her footsteps fade away, heard her own door open and shut, he decided to spend as little time with her as possible. It ought to be simple enough to make her hate him again.
Tomorrow… he would ride to Azuchi, and discuss with Nobunaga what they had learned.
Perhaps he would even stay there for an extra day or two.
Tumblr media
@selenacosmic @bestbryn @lyds323 @akitsuneswife @tele86 @lorei-writes
17 notes · View notes
darsynia · 1 year
Text
Modern Mythology | Ch1
(Tony Stark/OC; soulmate AU pre-Ultron, in 3 parts)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
image from peakpx.com | gif from @anthonyed
Summary: Abigail Carson takes a chance on a second job as a courier in the hopes that it'll help her find her soulmate, whose words on her skin imply that he's signing for a package she delivers. When she hears the words spoken by Tony Stark, though, Abbi has second thoughts. She's practically a nobody!
Length: 3,974
MY MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER
Taglist: @starryeyes2000 @raith-way @arrthurpendragon, @starksbf
Tumblr media
Excerpt:
Abbi pulled out the small clipboard from her pocket, flipped to the blank back of the package acceptance template, and wrote a message on it, sideways, in large block letters.
‘I AM NOT YOUR SOULMATE IF I HAVEN’T SAID YOUR WORDS!’
She held it up for when he turned around from scaring away her ride back to work. It took a little while, because unbelievably, the taxi driver was congratulating Stark on such a momentous occasion. Finally, he hit the top of the taxi with his Iron Man gauntlet and the woman drove away. A black SUV pulled up in its place almost immediately. As soon as he saw her holding up the clipboard, Stark came over to read it, standing too close for her comfort.
Abbi made the mistake of watching his face as he read. He’d walked over with an amused confidence, but a wall of defensiveness seemed to rise up in his expression and he looked her right in her eyes as soon as he finished reading.
“What, the giant tower and superhero suit didn’t go in the ‘Pros’ column?”
Tumblr media
Chapter One: Goddess Observed
When Abigail’s mother pressed her to find her soulmate, Abbi had no idea that she’d learn that there was an underground courier culture in New York City. Her job at Vail & Nysa was great, even though she’d always wanted to finish her law degree, but there would be time for that someday. For now, being a paralegal was close enough, and it had unexpectedly opened up a secondary opportunity.
Apparently, there were levels of being a courier. Abbi had thought that she’d end up picking up and dropping off things in lobbies here and there on her way to work and on her lunch break. But as soon as she walked into the downtown office of You Send Me, the receptionist took one look at her professional clothing and sent her upstairs. There wasn’t a receptionist there, just a clipboard with names that had been blacked out as they were seen, it looked like. Hoping this wasn’t a secret first step to a fifty-step process of earning a job at Google she didn’t intend on taking, Abbi wrote down Abigail Carson and sat down to wait with her hands in her lap. Work had been a half day anyway, so she had the time to find out what kind of mysterious chance she might be given. 
It took almost a half hour. She (of course) didn’t check her watch, certain that that would be noticed. The longer she sat, the more Abbi was consumed with curiosity. As much as she could, though, she kept her green eyes trained on a spot on the wall in front of her, and tried not to touch the chignon her shoulder-length brown hair was styled into. Inside, her mind swirled with possibilities. Outside, she was the picture of a calm, collected young woman.
“Ms. Carson?” The speaker was an older woman garbed in rich purple and covered with jewelry. Sometimes Abbi really loved when New York City lived up to its mythos.
As it turned out, You Send Me had a higher-end courier business whose employees were hand-picked and mostly consisted of young women dressed as if for the boardroom or court. At its heart, Courier and Ives was, Mrs. Violet Walsingham told Abbi, a business trying to cater to companies who didn’t want a disruptive, enthusiastic young delivery person in street clothes bopping in to deliver something sensitive or vital in nature.
That was when Abbi asked point-blank if it was a disguised escort service. Mrs. Walsingham cackled and begged her to sign up, even if she only delivered packages once a week. She told Abbi that while yes, professional young women rarely had the chance to meet men outside their own office during work hours, and Courier and Ives did end up facilitating that sometimes, their reputation as a courier service was impeccable. 
Abbi showed the woman her soulmark, confessed her reasons for applying, and was told she was exactly the kind of young woman they were looking for.
Her mother was full of delight when Abbi told her about what happened. Demi Carson had lived an adventurous life, and she was always encouraging Abbi to live hers to the fullest as much as possible. Their family vacations were always to as exotic a location as they could afford, the schedule packed with anything that looked unique and challenging. They hadn’t always felt safe but they’d always had a good story to tell later.
Secretly, Abbi had always wondered if her mom had married Atticus Carson because his name was unique. Her father had been dour but loving, and any fights she’d ever observed had stemmed from a conflict of personalities. That conflict was embodied in Abbi herself in many ways-- she was adventurous but economical, free-spirited as much as possible while still grounded in the here and now. If it was within her budget and didn’t risk her future, Abigail Carson liked taking a chance on something exciting. 
Courier and Ives was right up her alley. She couldn’t wait to start.
Her biggest hope was that she’d run into her soulmate, who would be an up-and-coming executive type with a head for business and a heart for taking a few measured chances. Her biggest fear was that her soulmate would actually turn out to be a big-spender, big-risk type of guy whose lifestyle would fill her with the kind of dread she watched her father deal with when her mother was in one of her moods. Before they’d lost him to a heart attack, her father had told her he’d loved his life, and the only thing he would have changed was perhaps trying to temper his wife’s most grandiose tendencies. Abbi’s soulmark did imply that the speaker would be someone who wouldn’t ordinarily take deliveries, but she didn’t worry about that too much. If he was her soulmate, they were made for each other, and it would be worth it, just like her parents’ marriage was. They’d been soulmates too.
Tumblr media
By a month into the job, Abbi was starting to enjoy the excited rush she felt every time she walked up to a man to hand over a discreet package. Her soulmate words had turned a job that already let her observe various exclusive offices and meetings into an exciting chance at a new life! She got a message every few days, though today had been day four since her last one. When she stopped by on her lunch hour to pick it up, she was surprised to see that it was to Avengers Tower. 
The re-named Stark Tower was a different kind of ‘exclusive’ than the expensive, chic office spaces that Courier and Ives women were often sent to. There wasn’t just a chance at running into a wealthy executive there, but also bona-fide superheroes. It was a plum job, and Abbi was the newest employee. She asked Mrs. Walsingham if there had been a mistake.
“No mistake, sweetheart! We accepted delivery of this item from a confidential source and it needs to be run over to the tower. You’re the only one with availability in the next hour. If Minthe Lawson gives you grief about it, you come to me, got it?” The kindly old lady gave Abbi a once-over. “That gold-colored suit is absolutely stunning. One of Stark’s favorite colors, I hear!”
Inwardly, Abbi winced. Anthony Stark was one person she would be happy to miss seeing-- as handsome as he was, the man was a walking PR disaster. Reportedly, he’d been building some kind of robot army after his girlfriend and CEO of his company had left him a few months ago. Just being an unfamiliar young woman in his general proximity would probably be enough to get his attention nowadays, or so the tabloids said, much less wearing his favorite color. Her mother had bought her the suit jacket and miniskirt set, and always loved seeing her wearing it for work. There were few opportunities where she could wear it, because paralegals were to be seen and not heard, at her firm (and she preferred it that way), but today was a celebration for a successful win of the case she’d been working on, and Abbi had made an exception. The skirt was shorter than she was used to, too. 
Gritting her teeth, she left, hoping she’d get through Avengers Tower without running across its most famous resident. The object looked like a suitcase, but after the incident at Monaco Abbi knew that an object going to Stark Industries could be anything disguised as anything. Her credentials got her through the door just fine, and she was sent up to the 72nd floor to a conference room.
She tapped lightly on the door and it opened inward. Slowly, Abbi walked into the doorway, where she was faced with all of the Avengers, at least the ones she could recognize.
“Tony, a scared-looking delivery girl is here with the suitcase you had made for the scepter,” a man dressed all in black said. He smiled at her in a kindly sort of way, turning around to call for Stark again. On his back was an actual quiver full of arrows.
“Oh, that’s not necessary, I could probably give this to any one of you?” Abbi said desperately. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the card with the instructions. “Yes. Avengers or associated staff. I’ll just--” she turned to look for someone much more junior and less busy to hand the object off to.
“Found him,” the archer sing-songed.
Abbi stopped short. With a pasted-on smile, she turned around and was faced with Tony Stark. He was dressed in a band t-shirt and jeans, and he must have been laughing with one of the other people in the room before being called over, because his smile was bright, genuine, and devastating. Abbi had always thought he was handsome in magazine pictures, read articles that called him charismatic, but she’d never seen such clear evidence of the difference between a picture and a person before.
Tony Stark was magnetizing, and she’d only been around him for three seconds so far.
For his part, Stark seemed to find her interesting as well, which was disconcerting for Abbi. He leaned his head back and regarded her, the initial brilliant smile on his face morphing into an impressed, pleased look.
“I wonder where Violet keeps finding so many respectable young women,” he said under his breath. Then, over his shoulder to another man, he added, “You’d think she would run out, after a while.”
Abbi had been trained to be polite, gracious, even accommodating, but she felt objectified, and it made her actions a bit stiff. She held out the suitcase with a strained, silent smile. He gestured to the table beside him for her to set it down, his eyes narrowing just a touch in recognition of her attitude. Stark was a tech genius, yes, but he bucked their trend of being awkward and unskilled with women. He could tell she disapproved of him. Abbi felt her face flush at the subtle rebuke, and pulled out a small clipboard for his signature. Apologizing would just make things worse.
“You didn’t expect me to be the one to sign for this, did you?” he asked as he bent over the flat surface to scribble his signature.
Abbi’s grip on the clipboard failed on hearing her soulmark words. Her heart started pounding and she felt goosebumps rise on her arms. It was as if his words had loosened the cork that had been holding back all possible reactions to hearing her soulmate’s first words, and in a fluke of fate, she was feeling all of them at once. Horror, excitement, attraction, repulsion.
Stark reached out quickly to steady the clipboard with his other hand as he finished signing, looking up at her quizzically. 
If fate had decreed her soulmate was Tony Stark and she apologized for letting go, those would be the words written on his body somewhere. But what if it was a coincidence? Surely that phrase had been spoken before and would be again? Abbi dipped her head in a silent goodbye, pressed her lips together in case she accidentally said something, and turned to go, moving quickly to escape the situation.
“Hey, Cleopatra in the gold suit! Gonna need this.”
She stopped a foot from the elevator button, and Stark walked over to hand her the clipboard, looking a bit regretful to give it back, for some reason. Abbi took it, pulling out the side of her jacket to tuck it into the inside pocket. She felt dizzy, almost like she was observing herself from the outside, and some of that must have shown on her face.
“You all right? Here,” he said, reaching out to tap the button for the elevator. “Look at me,” Stark commanded, and she let out a quick breath to steady herself before lifting her eyes to his. “Green!” he said with a slow, pleased smile. Abbi had to fight back a feeling of pride, as if it should matter whether this man liked the color of her eyes. “Well, Emerald Eyes, you seem to be experiencing Superhero Swoon, which is understandable after being confronted with a room full of them. I’m happy to offer a manful shoulder should you so require?”
Abbi shook her head right as the elevator doors opened, offering an apologetic smile as she scurried inside.
“No name, not even for the review?”
She shook her head again.
“Silent rabbit mode it is, then. I’ll just have to have something else delivered. Until next time!” Stark said with an impish grin just as the doors closed.
“Oh my God, that did not just happen. Please tell me that did not just happen!” Abbi said out loud to the empty elevator, groaning. “It was a fluke. That’s what it was. It only counts if I say his words back, and I am not going to, because there’s no way in hell that Tony Stark is my soulmate. Nope!” A voice in her head that sounded an awful lot like her mother’s pointed out that he was wealthy, handsome, and a certified genius, but most importantly, not in any way boring! Abbi had quite a lot of experience ignoring her mother’s voice in her head, however. Where most women heard their mother’s voice criticizing them, hers was like the impulsive devil on her shoulder.
It was practically inconceivable that someone of Stark’s stature would be unbonded at his age anyway. And he’d just broken up with his long-term girlfriend. The man had clearly not been concerned with finding his soulmate and hadn’t been for years. As far as Abbi was concerned, if she was his soulmate, he never had to find out. She left the elevator, nodded to the front desk person, and walked outside. Her plan was to call a taxi and never set foot in the tower again.
She raised a hand for a taxi and saw one that had been idling at the corner a block away put on its turn signal. The driver waved at her, and Abbi waved back.
Suddenly, Iron Man came flying down from the top of the tower, landing on one knee in front of her before straightening up. The faceplate flipped up to show Tony Stark.
“So, funny thing about the elevators in my tower. They’re run by my AI, JARVIS, who likes to pass on any pertinent information spoken in his presence.” Stark’s brown eyes were bright, hopeful, and fixed on her. His demeanor was placating, holding out one hand as if begging her to stay put.
Abbi almost told him she was sorry but there was probably a mistake. Then she realized that if there wasn’t a mistake, those would be the words written on his body. He deserved better than that. He deserved a fancy celebrity soulmate, not a young woman looking at turning thirty with half of the goals she’d made at twenty still unfulfilled! So she shook her head at him and pointed at the taxi that pulled up right then.
To her immense frustration, Stark leaned over, mimed rolling down a window, and told the taxi driver that he and his soulmate were having a one-sided conversation, and to move on.
Abbi pulled out the small clipboard from her pocket, flipped to the blank back of the package acceptance template, and wrote a message on it, sideways, in large block letters.
I AM NOT YOUR SOULMATE IF I HAVEN’T SAID YOUR WORDS!
She held it up for when he turned around from scaring away her ride back to work. It took a little while, because unbelievably, the taxi driver was congratulating Stark on such a momentous occasion. Finally, he hit the top of the taxi with his Iron Man gauntlet and the woman drove away. A black SUV pulled up in its place almost immediately. As soon as he saw her holding up the clipboard, Stark came over to read it, standing too close for her comfort.
Abbi made the mistake of watching his face as he read. He’d walked over with an amused confidence, but a wall of defensiveness seemed to rise up in his expression and he looked her right in her eyes as soon as he finished reading.
“What, the giant tower and superhero suit didn’t go in the ‘Pros’ column?”
Something inside her twisted up to hear the vulnerability in his tone. She ruthlessly suppressed them. This man wasn’t for her. It just wasn’t possible. Abbi tried to flip to a new page, but the one she’d just written on came loose. He stopped the small, square note card from flying away by stepping on it, then Stark leaned over and picked it up.
“Would you believe this thing doesn’t have pockets? Back to the drawing board,” he joked. It was impossible not to laugh. “Got you,” he said softly. Even as she was writing another message for him, Stark reached out and rested his gauntleted hand on the clipboard, then took it from her entirely. He glanced at what she’d started writing (‘I need to get back to work and you just took my ride!’) and nodded. “I called one of my guys, he’ll drive you wherever you want, and I made him promise not to tell me where, even.”
Abbi looked up at him in surprise. The vulnerability and defensiveness were still there, but there was stubborn amusement in his expression now, as well.
“You still need to be convinced,” he said. Abbi shook her head and looked at her watch. The office party would start in twenty minutes, and Stark looked like he had twenty minutes’ worth of arguing in him. “Listen,” he said, stepping even closer.
She crossed her arms to put a little distance between them, but the action emphasized the small bit of cleavage her blouse showed, and she saw him notice that. There was definitely a heat between them, but she was willing to ignore it. The man probably had heat with everyone, honestly.
Stark pointed between the two of them as he started speaking again. “You doubt this soulmate thing is real, but that doubt is a point in your favor. Do you know how many women would fake my words if they knew what they were? And here you are, you could say anything, and that’s what they’d be. Embrace the power, Iris.” He paused, clearly saw her brows furrowed in confusion, and added, “I don’t know if soulmate words change, but please don’t turn mine into a question about Greek mythology. Iris, female messenger to the Gods.” He grinned. “Feel free to say, ‘Does that mean you think you are a god?’ because that would be badass. I’d be happy to give up my current soulmark if that’s what the new one was.”
Abbi shook her head. She felt lightheaded again, but instead of dizziness, it was a kind of excited anticipation. He obviously was convinced they were soulmates, and despite herself, she was influenced by that a little bit. Her practicality won out, though. She was going to be late for work, and he was a billionaire. The sun was not destined to fall in love with a fluorescent lightbulb! Abbi stepped back from Stark, sighed, and walked over to the car.
He opened the door and ushered her in. “This is Happy Hogan, he’ll take you to work. Happy, we agreed you wouldn’t tell me anything she said, right?”
“Right,” the round-faced man in the front seat said.
“His AI monitors the car, doesn’t it?” Abbi asked Hogan.
“It sure does,” Hogan said, grinning at Stark.
“Traitor,” Stark said. He shifted his gaze to Abbi, and she could see admiration in it. “I like smart women. Even ones smart enough to want to stay far away from me.”
Before she could react to that, he stepped back, shut the door, and activated his suit, flying straight up and out of her line of sight.
“I wish I could re-do this entire day,” Abbi sighed, throwing her head back in the seat and closing her eyes tightly.
“I get that a lot,” Hogan said sympathetically. “Where can I drive you?”
“My mother used to always answer, ‘Crazy,’ but I think that’s the location I am currently leaving at the moment. How about the Solow Building?”
True to his word, Hogan delivered her to her workplace and didn’t even ask her name. His only concession to the strangeness of the situation was when he pulled up to the building and then turned to speak to her.
“I know you’ve got to make up your own mind, here, but I would be eternally grateful if you would just do one thing for me.”
Abbi eyed him warily. “What?”
“I’ve heard of soulmate words changing in very rare situations. I’ve seen his, so I know what you’re supposed to say, but if you could change them to, I don’t know, ‘Happy says you’re a good guy, so I guess we’re doing this’ or something like that--”
“Unlock the door?”
“Fair enough.”
The rest of Abbi’s day passed so normally that she managed to pretend that nothing had happened, right up until she walked in the door and saw her mom. She looked like she was having a good, calm day. Not the kind of day where she needed to stress out about something that momentous and world-changing. Abbi did her best to deflect questions, made them leftovers from the day before, and checked to be sure that her mom had taken all the pills she needed to before heading to her room to study up on the next case she’d be working on.
“Something happened today, didn’t it?”
Abbi looked up to see her mom in her doorway. “What makes you say that?” she asked, putting a bookmark in the tome she’d been reading.
“You usually relax when you come home. You take off the masks you had to wear to get through the day. Today, you’re still wearing them.”
“Something so bizarre happened today that I’m still processing it. I’ll tell you when I figure it out, okay?” Abbi confessed.
“Well, don’t wait too long. Clock’s ticking!” Demi Carson said, laying a dramatic wrist on her own forehead.
“You know, some mothers take a diagnosis like yours seriously, just saying,” Abbi laughed. Her mother had never taken anything seriously in her life, not if she could help it. That didn’t mean she was being irresponsible about it, just irreverent. It was equal parts frustrating and uplifting, depending on the day. The jury was out for how today was going to feel. They had a few weeks before the scan to see if her current treatment was effective. Even if it was, Abbi was grateful she’d moved back in to care for her, despite the rather dramatic role-reversals that happened between them sometimes.
“Some mothers never took their children out of the country. Some mothers haven’t even tried marijuana. Some mothers have the decency to move to the suburbs when they get old. I’m not some mothers.”
“You are not old, go to bed.”
“Yes, dear.”
Tumblr media
Next chapter, Tony wages an all-out war to persuade Abbi that she should accept him as her soulmate.
62 notes · View notes
001-side · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
This is Mack Decouvyx
14 notes · View notes
Text
IT'S A DANGEROUS GAME
Prologue - The Accord
Tumblr media
“At the touch of your hand, At the sound of your voice, At the moment your eyes meet mine,
I am losing my mind, I am losing control, Full of feelings I can't define.
It's a sin with no name, Like a tiger to tame,
And though no one's to blame
It's a crime and a shame
And the angels proclaim It's a dangerous game… It's a dangerous game.. Such a dangerous game…”
'It's a Dangerous Game"- Jekyll & Hyde
Tumblr media
Luscinia cracked her eye open, hissing when a golden ray of sunlight coming from outside met her face.
She propped herself up on her elbows with a slow movement to look around the room, a cascade of her dark cobalt blue hair falling over one her face in a disorderly veil, her head throbbing with each pulse of her heart that, for some reason, was throbbing in her ears rather than her chest.
She shouldn’t have had all those Lestallum cocktails the night before. And she most definitely should have not accepted Libertus’ dare, damn him and his ability to get under her skin.
She knew that by accepting to play along, she was in for one hell of an hangover, the morning after, but she just couldn’t let him get away with all his idiotic insinuations about her and Nyx.
Didn’t matter that he was actually spot on in his thinking, for once in his life.
It was none of his business and that bet was still very much a matter of principle to her.
She never withdraw from a gamble. Never. Even if that meant waking up to a pounding headache, dryness in her throat and a grogginess that made her just want to put her phone on plane mode and hide in her bed for a whole week.
But, she thought, she didn’t have a whole week, not even if she wanted to.
And her last night of debauchery deserved to be celebrated in grand style.
Yeah. Her last night.
She turned her head -slowly, careful not to shake the bells that were already ringing incessantly in her skull- and the mouth of her stomach cramped almost painfully as she looked at the nightstand on her side of her bed.
Months and months of planning stood behind her, weighting on her like the sky on Atlas’ shoulders.
And after today, if all were to go according to her plan - and it had to go as she envisioned - she would have to forgo so much.
That was the way of the accord.
That was part of the price to pay, a price she herself had set up.
Rolling on her back with careful attention, she rubbed her eyes with all the intent of willing the grogginess away, when she suddenly felt a warm, callous hand caressing her cheek with tender care.
She turned just to see the young man lying in her bed, awake and looking at her with a warm twinkle in his blue eyes, accompanied by a mischievous smile on his lips.
“You are up, Sleeping Beauty,” Nyx murmured, his voice as soft as ever.
“Barely, and with every intention to go back to sleep, if this headache won’t kill me first.” she croaked back. ”Gods, I need a painkiller. How long have you been awake?”
“Long enough to discover that you snore whenever you are drunk,”
Luscinia snorted, giving a feeble slap to his bare shoulder.
“If it didn’t hurt so much, I would roll my eyes at you, Soldier Boy,”
Nyx laughed, dipping to catch her lips in a soft kiss.
“Want some coffee?” he murmured in between the kisses.
“Only if you make it. I won’t get out of this bed non even if Cor himself were to bust my door open and bring all the Crownsguard to drag me out of here, and sure as hell I won’t take the chance to just fall and make even more of a fool of myself more than I probably already did yesterday.” She murmured, expecting him to deny that something like that happened. When not a single word came from him, she turned to look at him, eyes wide. “Oh Gods, I did make a fool of myself yesterday, didn’t I?”
Nyx bit his lower lip, barely stifling a laughter.
“Does challenging every Kingsglaive at the the Chocobo’s Lounge to a duet at the Karaoke and fucking up all the lyrics count?”
“Fuck!” she hissed, wanting to hide her face in the pillow.
“You and Libertus did an “amazing” cover of “Love Shack”,”
“Bloody hell, I'm screwed”
“And when “YMCA” started, you managed to drag Tredd and Axis with you on the table,”
Luscinia muttered another curse, feeling her cheeks turning purple, as her brain started to work properly again and she was recalling all that had happened the previous night.
“I can’t help but feel that you are enjoying yourself thoroughly with this, Mr. Ulric,” she grumbled, poking his cheek as she tried to regain some composure.
Nyx chuckled at that, before speaking again.
“That's not even the best of it. In the end, I don’t know who cried more between you and Luche, with “My Heart Will Go On,””
Luscinia’s face blanched.
“Please, Nyx, tell me no one took a video,”
If her brother were to get his hand on any video of her drunk and singing all sort of songs - and badly at that, she was sure-, she would have to go directly to her father and ask to become an hermit.
Nyx bit his lip again, not even trying to hide his mirth, and Luscinia could not suppress a small shriek of frustration.
“Ok, that’s it! I won’t get out of this room ever again! Seal all the entrances of this apartment and LOCK ME IN!” she grumbled, covering her eyes with her bare arms.
But shame was not the only thing she wanted to hide. With each passing minute, sadness was starting to creep up, running its icy fingers to her throat with all the intention to grip to it mercilessly and choke her in her tears.
The morning was not even done yet, and she was already missing those moments with all her being.
“Drown everything, Cinna,” she thoughts, pursing her lips. “Drown everything.”
She heard Nyx chuckle again, his voice low in her ear and that felt like a jab to her heart.
Soft, fluttering kisses tickled her collarbone, following the line of her neck, his lips lingering on her pulse for a moment longer than normal before brushing her jaw with sensual sweetness.
“But, if it can be of consolation, you won the bet with Libertus,”
She gave him a small smile.
“Meager consolation. But I appreciate you tell him. Now I will never stop tormenting him with this.”
“That’s my girl,“ Nyx whispered between one kiss and the other. ”You know… your bet with Libertus got me thinking, yesterday night.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I know that when we started this whole arrangement together, you and I, we discussed with each other that we didn’t want any commitment, that what we are now would not go past this bedroom…but I wouldn’t mind cross the threshold with you and going “official”,”
“Official?” Luscinia asked, raising her arms to look at him, eyes wide. She didn’t like where the conversation was going. “What do you mean?”
“You and I, Luscinia…you know, making things official. Becoming more than just bedmates...becoming a couple. I think-“ he took a small deep breath, as if to find the right words. “I think I’m falling for you.”
Luscinia tensed at those words, her whole body turning rigid before she could stop herself. She was grateful for the darkness inside her room, the dusk dimming the fear that was written all over her face, because she realized that she was not able to put a mask of neutrality as she always did.
“You’d better not, Soldier Boy. Nothing good will come from that,” She just answered with a small nervous laughter. “I’m a difficult woman, and you know that with my work, I might disappear for months,” “ And nothing good would come from a broken woman that has sworn off love from her life. I am a broken empty cup,” she thought, lips quivering as she fended off memories that were coming uncalled for.
Nyx laughed, not catching the tension in her voice.
“What if I were not afraid by the challenge? What if we can make this work?”
Even in the sweet penumbra, she could see his gaze softening as he looked at her.
She could hear the hope in his voice.
“Oh No. No no no no,” she thought, pursing her lips, her jaw tensing to the point of pain. “He is serious.”
She felt her heart thundering in her chest at those words, blood flushing to her cheeks.
She had to call to all her strength of will to keep her breathing normal, to stop herself from allowing her thoughts to run wild.
He should have never said that.
It should have never happened.
It was supposed to be something simple, between them.
They had agreed to that simplicity when they had found themselves wrapped in each other’s carnal embrace in a secluded corner of the Kingsglaive’s Headquarters, drunk on the concupiscent desire that had been brewing in the deepest part of their bodies for months after their first meeting together; the same desire that was to be the only thread they should have allowed to connect one to the other, a passion of the senses not murked by any emotion, if not lust.
She realized that she was holding her breath, as she looked at him, her thoughts frenzying like sharks that had just smelled blood in water.
Please, don’t give me that look.
I want you.
I want-
But I can’t give more.
I don’t have anything more to give.
I am No One. Broken. Empty.
I belong to Insomnia.
You belong to someone that can give you all the love that you need, Nyx.
Not a broken woman.
She swallowed hard, letting out another nervous laughter.
“We are both too hangover to discuss about this. Let’s drink some coffee, and once we are both sober again - completely sober - we will see.” She murmured, giving him a small kiss on the nose before plopping back on the pillow.
Nyx gave her a long look, but this time, his expression was absolutely undecipherable. Without adding a word, Luscinia felt the man putting back his boxer and standing up, closing the door behind him as he found his way to the kitchen.
Left alone with her own thoughts, Luscinia realized that she was gripping to the dark satin sheets as if her all life depended on that graps. Releasing them, She took deep breaths, hoping that it would help clear her mind completely and would give chase to that pestiferous sadness that was so unwelcome.
She knew he was disappointed in her response, probably confused - or worse - resentful about her trying to evade his question with her lukewarm excuse -because she knew he knew damn well that her hangover was just an excuse to postpone that discourse.
They were friends. They had been friends for years, and bed companions for a period almost as long….why wasn’t it enough for him?
And more importantly, how did she not catch a hint that his feelings for her were growing stronger in his heart?
And what about her feelings?
Oh Gods, she thought. No. No. Stop now, Luscinia.
She turned rigid again, shutting her eyes and her mind door, before she were to start threading in waters she had no intention of even taking a peak.
Even if she had feelings for him - and she stop herself from thinking about, even before she could entertain the possibility - she would never act on them.
There was too much at stake, for too many.
The Accord.
The Accord was all that mattered now.
She wished she could explain to him, because she knew that he would understand then, bound by honour and loyalty just like she was.
But she couldn’t.
And she wouldn’t.
Secrecy was second nature to her, and the one rule she never -ever- failed to follow, no matter the personal costs.
Her father himself had ingrained it into her since a young age; It was all she had known since she began working for Lucis’ Intelligence.
And yet, she hated that she had hurt him.
She hated it with all her being.
The lump in her throat threatened to choke her again, as a tear rolled down her cheek, wetting the pillow.
Yes, she definitely still had too much alcohol in her body.
She never cried.
Never.
She bit her lip until she tasted her own blood, knowing that her physical pain would subjugate the ache in her tired heart.
Ding.
A muffled ringing sound came from her nightstand, catching her attention.
A text.
Taking one last deep breath, Luscinia dried her eyes, before turning her entire focus to the message that had just arrived. She stretched over the bed and opened a secret drawer on the side of the nightstand, where a burner phone was hidden from sight just beneath an old file.
No number.
She didn't needed it, though.
The context made perfectly clear who the sender was.
“I accept. I expect the signed document to be delivered to me by you - in person - in Altissia. You know where. Don’t take too long, Mrs Chancellor.”
Luscinia’s eyes widened at those words, her sentimental woes momentarily set aside as her head started to spin so fast she was grateful to be already lying on her bed.
Cold blood rushed to her temples, as fear and gratification melted into one bubble of emotions that left her both elated and absolutely terrified.
It was done.
Dear Gods, it was done.
It was over. …
Oh Gods, it was truly over now.
“Calm yourself, Cinna,” she murmured, patting her cheeks to get back to her senses. “There is still work to do,”
Her mind was a cauldron of thoughts, bubbling away, threatening to boil over if she didn’t compose herself. But she needed to calm down. She couldn’t allow herself to dwell on every single thought that was threatening to break her even more than she already felt broken, lingering dreams and wishes that, now she knew, she would do well to lock under key and never open ever again.
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus on what she always did whenever she felt like spiraling: she put herself in motion and redirected her attention to the work ahead.
Quick as a whip, she jumped off her bed, and started to recover her stockings and clean underwear, before rushing to her her wardrobe and produce a freshly ironed pinstriped dress out of it.
She needed to hurry.
Once she was completely dressed, she took the same burner phone, she dialed the first number that came up in her recently called.
“Come on, pick up, pick up, pick up,” she murmured, starting to pace the room while brushing the knots out of her hair.
“Pavus?”
Luscinia smiled hearing her codename.
“Yes, it’s me. Thalassa, listen well: the Hatter has answered. I need you to bring the documents up to the Penthouse for the Master to see them. It needs to happen no later than tonight.”
A short silence followed. For a moment Luscinia thought that Thalassa had hung up on her.
“Dear Gods, you truly did it.” she heard her whisper under her breath. “Are you...are you alright?"
“It doesn't matter how I am feeling, Thalassa. I need you to focus: clear his schedule and bring him the documents. The entire file. Send me a thrill once he is alone at the Penthouse and I will take care of the rest.”
“Copy that.”
The phone went silent once more.
Luscinia reread the text again and again, and each time she felt a cold shiver run up her back. She could almost hear his voice, pronouncing those words.
“Luscinia? Is everything alright?” she heard Nyx calling her. “I heard you talking at the phone,” She turned to look at the man, and her heart dropped, sitting on her stomach like a sack of bricks. There was something so endearing in having him standing at the door, mussed unbraided hair, a cup of freshly brewed coffee in each hand, as he looked at her with worried eyes.
If they were a couple, would he do that everyday?
Each day waking her up with a kiss, like a princess of the fairytale of old? Spending the mornings in bed together and share what happened to each other at work? Planning a life together?
Her stomach gripped with the same ferocity as before.
Focus, Luscinia.
Let it all go.
Leave it all behind.
It’s all over now.
“Yeah,” she whispered with a small smile, grateful that she was finally able to put her mask again. “Something came up at work and I’m needed at the Citadel.”
He nodded, his blue eyes turning sad.
“ 'Was kinda hoping we could spend the day together, today. But work is work,” he murmured, and with a melancholic smile, he offered her the warm mug. “You better drink this first, then. You’ll need the all the caffeine you can get,”
Luscinia barely managed to muster a feeble “thanks” as she took the coffee and drank it all in one go, uncaring that it burnt her tongue.
It was dark and bitter and strong as a slap across the face.
Altissia’s finest espresso, with just a dash of cinnamon and cloves that brought out the toasty flavour.
She looked at him, heart fluttering in her chest.
He always remembered how she liked her coffee.
He always remembered to put it in her favourite Moguri mug, the one with the broken pom pom.
Ever since she had told him the first time they had slept together.
Please, don’t do this to me, Nyx. She thought, trying to keep her lips from quivering.
Please.
I beg you.
“Will I see you again soon?” he asked, and Luscinia couldn’t ignore the hopeful tone in his voice.
She shook her head, offering another sad smile in return as an apology for breaking that hope.
“I don't know," she murmured in all earnest. "It might take me a few hours or all day, and if they decide to give me the assignment, it will take longer than that. You know how it is by now.”
He nodded, his face turning in a mask of solemnity.
He indeed knew.
“Go then. I wouldn’t want your superiors to give you some flak for being late. We will talk more about us-“ but he stopped himself, as if to ponder his next words. “We will talk again once you are back,”
Luscinia called upon herself all her considerable strength of will to maintain a neutral expression.
But it was too much even for her.
She brought one hand behind his neck, caressing his dark hair and tiptoeing, she planted a long sweet kiss on his cheek, uncaring about the bristles of his 5 O’clock. She kept her eyes shut, terrified that if she was to meet his gaze again, she would not be able to block the tears that were pounding behind her eyelids.
It was her silent apology for not having an answer for him.
Her silent “thank you” for all that he had done for her in all those years.
Her silent goodbye to all that could have been.
“Take care, Soldier Boy, ” she whispered against his skin, inhaling his cologne once last time before dashing outside the door, without looking back.
Be safe.
*****
“Come on, come on, come on,” Luscinia grumbled, tapping her foot with impatience as the elevator sped up toward the last floors of the Citadel.
She had waited all day for Thalassa’s call to arrive, all day spent pacing around town like a ghost, trying to find a distraction among all the memories that were weaved in all the places where she had hang out through out all her life, ever since she had joined the Royal family.
She had wandered aimlessly, letting her feet bring her around without stopping anywhere for more than a few minutes, terrified that the call of home might overwhelm her and make regret her decisions.
Terrified that, if she were to catch even a glimpse of something that might remind her of Nyx, she might be tempted to turn on her heels and go back to her apartment, running from her duties.
No.
Never.
“The Accord is all that matters. Insomnia is all that matters. It’s all that will matter.” she war repeating to herself even now, muttering under her breath, in her solitary ride in the elevator.
The small chime of the elevator’s bell brought her focus back on the task in front of her. She was at the last floor.
The Penthouse.
“It’s showtime.” she murmured.
She squared her shoulders and straightened her back, tilting her chin with certitude. Her face smoothed, almost transforming under her iron will as she canceled all traces of any sentiment she might have hold earlier, molding instead a mask of absolute inscrutability.
Taking a deep breath - the deepest one she could muster - she pressed the button that would bring her to the King.
The doors opened in front of her with a silent swish, welcoming her to the antechamber where armchair of soft leather were disposed elegantly for the visitors that were to wait before being received by His Majesty.
It was completely empty now, but she had expected that much, considering the time of the evening.
“Sire?” Luscinia called, her voice echoing against the tall wall of the King’s studio.
A small pang of melancholy came knocking on her heart’s doors as she found her way to the main room where the King held his private correspondence.
It had been years since she last entered that studio, years since she had to rely a news of that magnitude. She always left the reports in Thalassa’s safe hands, the only one she trusted to deliver any document that needed discretion and confidentiality, knowing that she would do the job quick and well.
Not this time.
The Accord was her brainchild.
This time, it fell on her to speak with the King.
She saw him, seated at his desk as per usual whenever his duty required him to partake in bureaucratic affairs. His hands were clasped together against his lips, his green eyes focused on the thick report sitting in front him as he combed through the sentences with meticulous attention.
Luscinia narrowed her eyes, and immediately recognized the file that the King was studying.
She felt her heart flutter, as a cold realization -a final awareness that her plan had come to its final stage- seeped through her vein like ice.
She had moved all the pieces, prepared the chessboard with painstaking finesse.
It was now or never.
He had to agree to the Accord.
He had to.
“All that staring and concentrating will give you more wrinkles than a crumpled piece of paper, Sire,” she said, raising her voice just enough to catch his attention.
King Regis looked up from the papers, the tense mask around his eyes not leaving him despite Luscinia’s attempt to bring some levity to the almost saturnine atmosphere.
He didn’t move, didn’t do anything to make her understand his mood of thoughts. He just kept staring at her with such keen attention, she felt as if he could see right to her bones.
Finally, he waved his hand, silently signaling her to approach.
Luscinia did as she was told, still not daring to utter a word until the King spoke first.
For a moment, she saw a shift in the man’s posture: his shoulders slumped just a little, his back not as straight as it had been a few seconds earlier, almost as if another weight had been placed on his already fatigued shoulders.
He was tired, she could see it in every little movement he made.
The King sighed, as if to confirm Luscinia’s intuition. He still held his silence, but now his weary eyes were looking at the young woman with resignation.
Luscinia returned the look with a neutral one of her own, almost feigning ignorance as to why she had been summoned.
But she knew why he had called upon her and she would not be the one to start that conversation.
Another minute ticked by, in the perfect still air of the studio.
Then, the King finally spoke, breaking the silence.
“What have you done, child?”
His voice, despite the tiredness of its tone, had a hidden sharpness in its words.
Was it anger, for having acted in the darkness? Resentment, for having chosen without consulting him first?
Or perhaps…was it worriment for his own blood?
Luscinia stood perfectly still, hand clasped behind her back, not allowing any emotion to trespass the barrier she had risen as she cleared her voice to respond with solemnity.
“What was needed for Insomnia and Lucis. I only had the welfare of this kingdom and the security of its citizens in mind, Sire. You yourself have imparted me with this lesson since you welcomed me to the Citadel. I am a Daughter of Insomnia and our Kingdom’s main Ambassador. My life’s only purpose is to serve the good people of this Kingdom by any mean necessary.”
Regis sighed, leaning against the back of his leather chair, bringing a hand over his eyes.
“What reason did you have to act in secret, going as far as to act behind your King’s back, without his knowledge?”
Luscinia maintained her air of neutrality, ignoring the sudden uneasiness that had started to crept into her chest.
“Despite having been advised the contrary -and believe me about this, Sire, I have been advised to not act as I did- I deemed secrecy necessary and acted accordingly. It was my own work, and the responsibility for it - for good or worse- is mine alone. I knew that you would have not…considered my point, if I were to come to you with this proposal. I needed time to gather enough evidences so that you could see the benefits we are to harvest, once you are to lend me your support.”
King Regis moved his hand from his eyes and raised his eyebrows, and gave the woman a long look.
“And whose support were you looking for, Cinna? The King…or your father?”
Luscinia pursed her lips, jaw tensing at the sound of her childhood nickname.
So, now he was wearing the Father’s mask.
She always found it was easier to deal with him as her King rather than her dad.
Much less complicated, with far less emotions involved and to deal with - something Luscinia always dreaded.
She let the question hang between them for moments that seemed to tick by as slow as hours.
In the end, she decided to play his game.
She unclasped her hands and slumped her shoulders ever so slightly, allowing her posture to relax. She even allowed her voice to turn softer - a daughter’s voice.
“Both. I need you to warrant me your support, Papa, both as my King and as my father. Did you read my report?”
Regis pursed his lips, brows furrowing as his attention was brought once more to the thick pile of documents sitting in front of him.
If Luscinia didn’t knew him any better, she could think that he looked almost forlorn.
“I did. In its entirety.” A sour smile graced his lips. “I must admit, Luscinia, I was impressed with how meticulous it was. It must have taken you weeks to gather all the data and verify their credibility.”
“Months,” she confessed in a whisper, rolling her eyes. “The Chancellor has the tendency to be erratic and hard to locate, when he puts his mind at it. He made my job much harder than it needed to be.”
Regis raised from his chair, helping himself with the cane that was always at his disposal, and slowly made his way toward Luscinia, his eyes never leaving hers.
Despite his stern expression, she could see something else hiding there as well: fear.
It was enough to take her aback: he had never showed fear to her. Not once.
“You are playing a dangerous game, Luscinia. The man seems to act like a fool, a buffoon strolling around without a purpose, but there is a reason he has been Chancellor for so long.” He murmured, allowing his worry to seep through his words. “Aldercapt relies on him in ways that extend way past his office’s duties.”
They exchanged a knowingly look.
“Then you know why I acted in secrecy and came to you when all that was needed was your signature to formalize this accord. The Empire is almost at our gate. It has devoured almost all of our territories. It’s planning to take over Insomnia as well, and they won’t stop until they do. I know you can keep the peace a while longer with the Wall-“ she stopped, her jaw tensing at the thought and its implications, trying to push the sadness down, locked away with all that was already under key in her heart. It was no time for sentimentalism. “-But regardless of this, Father, we need to act quickly. This could be the best compromise to at least stall the attack the Empire is planning and give us the time to actually work from the inside.”
Regis’ lips stretched in a wide smile, that hid none of his feelings for the stubborn woman in front of him. Sometimes it felt like looking in a mirror.
“Is that…a smile of pride, Sire?” Luscinia asked, amused.
“I have always been proud of you, daughter.” He murmured with kind voice. “ You have given me reasons aplenty. You know, perhaps…perhaps I should have been more forward and express my pride more openly. Maybe you would have had no reason to actually go behind my back to strike this agreement. However, I must admit that now my pride for you is overshadowed by a far greater concern for your own safety.”
The dark-haired woman tensed at his praise. She never knew how to respond to those affection, especially when that validation came from her father. While she never doubted his love, she was not always sure about his esteem toward her.
Hearing those words made her feel more more like an awkward adolescent rather than the self-assured woman she was.
So, she just cleared her voice, offering the King a somewhat embarrassed smile, redirecting the conversation on the matter at hand.
“Uh…No-no need to fret nor concern yourself over me, Father. I know what I am doing. Besides, I have been fending off for myself for as long as I can remember. You told me that it was the reason why you assigned me to Intelligence. I will get through this as well. We all be far safer and richer for it,”
The Kings frowned, his lips tightly pursed at her words.
“The Chancellor will never trust you, but will expect...the fulfilment of duties from you, may the Gods curse him a thousand times," he spat out the word as if they were poison in his mouth, and before he could stop himself, her wrapped his daughter in a hug. "You will be alone, constantly surveyed, all your correspondence monitored and possibly censored; Whenever you decide to travel, you will be followed around under the excuse of being escorted, and they will not allow you to be back to Insomnia alone - if they even will allow you to come back to us.” The King’s eyes filled with profound pain at the thought. “Cinna… you will be a prisoner in all but name. You will be a nightingale in a cage.”
Luscinia’s smile softened at his worry.
“You shouldn’t have read me that story so often as a child,” she joked, allowing herself to bring one hand to her father’s arm to comfort him. “You needn’t worry, Father. I haven’t earned being called “The Escapist” for nothing. Besides… I am not afraid of what they will do to me. I will fulfill my duties, whatever they might be. Considering what we know about their intention - their real intention - I just hope that this will help buy some time to you…and to Noctis,”
It was Regis’ turn to return the soft smile.
“You had been a good sister to your brother.”
She shrugged, shaking her head with sadness.
“Not good enough. If I could do more for him, I would. I truly would. But this is all I can do for him, to try and keep him safe. My gift to him. I will be the most loyal subject to him when he will become King, although I hope this won’t happen for a long time still. I will be his eyes and ears in the Empire. But until then, this is all I can do to protect my home and my family. Grant me the support needed to go through with this, Father.” She took his hands in hers, her gaze as resolute as it always was. “Trust in me.”
Regis sighed, his chest feeling constricted in a grip of guilt and worry, as he lowered his head.
Without another word, he walked back to his desk, each step feeling as heavy as if lead had been attached to his limbs, dragging him against the floor.
He sat back and took his pen, stopping his hand from the slight tremor that ran through his fingers.
He looked at his daughter one last time, and all he could see was the young child that would always come in his office and shyly asked to be read her bedtime stories, the child whose curious eyes would try and read whatever document he had on his desk because, all she wanted, was to help her papa with his homework.
How those years had flew by so fast, he still didn’t know.
How that bashfulness had transformed in steel resilience, he didn’t know either.
Yet it was all there, in the confident woman that stood tall and proud in front of him: a woman that loved her family to the point of sneak behind her father’s and king’s back, to strike an accord that would put chains to her hands.
He sighed one last time.
Then, with steady hand, he apposed his signature on the document in front of him, just beneath where his own daughter’s signature stood.
The official finalization of the Accord: Insomnia’s proposal of the arranged marriage between Chancelor Ardyn Izunia and Ambassador Luscinia Lucis Caelum, Daughter of Insomnia.
Tumblr media
Bloody hell, I am done.
Don't ask me what happened or how I managed to finish the Prologue of this, because I myself am still wondering about it.
I just found myself thinking about my handsome bastard, and before I knew it, here I was pouring down word after word, while also making a moodboard banner for it .
But omg I am invested in this now.
INVESTED I SAY.
Well, I hope you will like this. <3
Sorry about the angst though.
It will happen again lololol.
--Nemo
26 notes · View notes
smurphyse · 11 months
Text
Somebody to Love | Eddie Munson
Smurph's Masterlist | Zero to Hero Masterlist
Warnings: dream walking, bed sharing, mentions of past abuse, so many 80s song lyrics
Summary: You and Eddie make up after your fight. Later, he convinces you to share the bed with him, leading to a revelation
Tumblr media
Eddie struggles to get anything done with this damned cane. The pain is unlike anything he's ever felt, and Zero still won't tell him where her grow patch is, so not even weed is going to help him. It’s gotten worse since she stomped off to the woods, and after finding out she was controlling it for him, he was hoping she'd come back sooner than later.
He felt bad for upsetting her earlier, though he still wasn’t sure what he did. Screech refuses to talk to him any more, so here he is stumbling around the kitchen trying to make her something to eat. The lights still haven't turned back on, but luckily he still has his lighter and the gas stove.
She's been gone for hours, but for some reason Clem has decided to keep him company. Or maybe she was keeping an eye on him, he wasn't entirely sure. 
Tumblr media
Eddie found some of the same ingredients she'd been using for breakfast in the fridge, so he decided to save them since the power still wasn't on. Igniting the gas, he lit the flame and started cooking potatoes and peppers with some olive oil and spices he hoped would taste good together. 
Since Eddie lived mostly on Honey Combs and Spaghettios, he didn't know anything about cooking. Hopefully this was at least palatable or Zero would take some pity on him. 
Clem's tail thumps on the floor as he pushes the food around on the skillet. Eddie makes a face at her, "So, do you talk or nah?"
More tail wagging. No reply. 
"Am I even making this right?" 
She shakes her head this time. It's… weird, talking to this thing that looks so much like the monsters that ate his insides. After a bit of her following him around, Eddie was getting used to this shadow. She was even kinda cute, even though sitting her head came up to his shoulders. 
"Will she at least appreciate the effort?"
Now she nods. Eddie chuckles a bit, "Thanks, Clem. That makes me feel better."
The fairy lights suddenly come to life and the radio starts to play. Clem lets out a happy yelp just before the door opens and Zero walks through. Scratches litter her legs and arms, stray branches stuck in her messy ponytail. She looks exhausted.
"Oh my god," she groans, pinching her nose tightly between her fingers. "What is that smell?"
Eddie sheepishly picks up the pan and shakes it, "I was making dinner."
Zero scoffs and pads over to him. The pan jerks out of his hand and into hers. With a frown, she inspects it, then angles it toward Clem. "Would you eat this?"
Clem shakes her head, so Zero makes her way to the trash can and dumps his badly made food inside. 
“So, where’d you go?” Eddie asks, his hands buzzing with anxiety. 
“I was in a tree.”
Huh. Okay, then. "Explains the sticks in your hair." This weird girl gets weirder every day.
"I, uh, I thought I'd try to make what you did for breakfast this morning. I thought you'd be hungry when you came back."
Zero set the pan in the sink before leaning on her hip and cocking her brow at him, "Why didn't you just heat up what I made?"
"Oh, I ate that." Eddie stuffs his hands in his pockets and shrugs, "I'm sorry. I was starving and I didn't know when you were coming back."
"Did you throw it up?"
Now it was Eddie's turn to frown, "Uhm, no?"
"Good," Zero decides. Her gaze flicks down to his belly. "It means you're healing. That's good."
She trails off, biting her lip. Eddie squints as she tugs at the sleeves of her shirt. The lights flicker a bit as she frowns, but soon enough she steps forward, her fingertips reaching out to brush against his stomach. 
"Can I?"
Eddie nods, "Yeah, go ahead."
Zero leads him by his shirt to one of the armchairs she has set up in front of the fireplace, her free hand waving to produce a flame inside. She leans it back so his belly stretches for her inspection, then pushes up his shirt and Clem immediately bounds over to put her head in his lap. Her fingers are warm, making his stomach quiver with her light touch. Rough calloused fingertips graze the angry looking stitches and scars, but the pain eases as they pass.
"How am I lookin', doc?" Eddie asks nervously. He's starting to sweat from the tension in his shoulders, but he likes the feel of Zero's hands on him. It's comforting. She feels safe. 
"Like you're healing," she murmurs, but it has an edge to it, like she's not telling him everything. 
"You don't sound so sure."
Zero looks up at him with wide eyes, but quickly glances back down at his stitches. They're jagged and long, hurriedly put together as she pieced his body back into place. She smooths her palm until it's flat across him. 
"This is going to take time…" she says slowly, like she's scared of his reaction. "Longer than I think you want it to."
Eddie's heart drops, and he sits up on his elbows to watch her closely. "How long?"
"Months," she whispers. Her voice is wracked with pain. "There's a lot of damage. I'm doing what I can to manage your pain, but honestly if I wasn't here I think you'd die from the shock."
His lips part as his breath begins to pick up. It's like he's trying to breathe through a straw suddenly, his vision tunneling into a pinpoint until he can barely see. 
Warmth floods his cheeks, and when Eddie manages to blink he's staring into Zero's dark syrupy eyes. 
"But my friends…" he whispers tearfully, "my uncle Wayne. They think I’m dead. I can’t let them forget me."
"I'm sorry. The human body wasn't meant to survive things like this."
"Why can't you just come with me?" Eddie asks sharply, a strange anger taking over him. "Why won't you leave here?"
“You ask too many questions, Eddie,” Zero sighs. The bags under her eyes seem to darken with a weight he can’t see. “It frustrates me.”
Zero's hands fall from his face, and Eddie wishes he was brave enough to pull them back. She takes a deep breath, "I want to tell you something."
"What is it?"
Zero sighs and points to his forehead, "I can't… I'm not good at talking about this stuff. I haven't talked this much in years. I have to show you."
Eddie squints suspiciously at her, "Show me?"
"You don't like it when I go inside your head, but…" Zero taps his temple lightly, “It’s a memory.”
Eddie has to think about it for a moment. As much as he wants to learn more about Zero and her powers, she frightens him. She’s likely stronger than he can even imagine. After seeing what she showed him last time even with him fighting her, what would happen if he willingly gave his mind over to her?
Biting the inside of his cheek, he watches the exhausted look on her face. Her gaze is almost pleading, tired beyond belief. Finally, he opens his mouth and asks, “Are you this tired because you’re healing me or because of something else?”
Her jaw opens slightly in shock, lips stammering silently as she thinks of how to answer. Zero shrugs, “It’s complicated.”
“Will it hurt?”
“The memory?” He nods. Zero shrugs again, “You’ll feel what I felt.”
“And how did it feel?”
She swallows thickly but never looks away, “It was excruciating, but I survived. So will you.”
Eddie groans, "Fuck, fine. Excruciate me."
"Quit whining," she scoffs, but before Eddie can give a snappy reply everything goes black. 
The warmth from the Haven disappears in one fell swoop, replaced by a bitter cutting chill. The wind whips his hair, jerking at the scalp with its power. The world comes slowly into focus, and Eddie realizes he's on his knees. 
In the Upside Down. 
Before him stands a creature he'd only seen in drawings that Dustin showed him. Ones the Byers kid drew. With a massive angular head and six legs, Eddie trembles in terror as the sky booms and shatters around him. It's the Mind Flayer, and it's every bit as horrifying in person. 
"Mara!" he calls, a pleading scream. Only it's not Eddie's voice, it's Zero's coming from his own mouth. "Do it now!"
This is her memory, and he's living it as her. 
I'm sorry, a voice molds through his mind. 
The skyscraper of a monster lashes out, and Zero does nothing to stop it. No surprise flows through her as a vicious vine impales her stomach. She doesn't even look down, just keeps her eyes trained on the Mind Flayer.
Blinding pain like he felt when the first demabat began eating into his belly bursts through his veins. Heat flashes through him, so hot his limbs go cold. It's as though he's being ripped in two, but Zero doesn’t even flinch. Her body jerks forward as the vine rips itself from her middle, and Zero collapses onto the ground. 
Sticky wet blood pools into the ground beneath him in waves. His face presses into the dirt while the life drains from him. He knew from experience that Zero could have healed herself, but she refuses now. She was dying and it was her choice. 
A cold hand grips his shoulder, turning him achingly onto his back. Eddie finds himself staring into the eyes of Vecna, the ice blue eyes of Henry Creel himself. 
"Not so fast, little sister," that rumbling horrible voice boomed. His claws reached to grab his hair to hold him up, "I can't have you dying on me."
"Henry, please," Zero's voice pleads from his - her - lips. Blood spurts from his mouth as he coughs wetly. "I can't live like this anymore. I can't keep fighting you…"
Henry's face morphs from Vecna to who he was before, and Zero groans in fear. He smiles down at him, soft and sweet as he brushes back Eddie's hair. He can feel Zero's pain, both physical and emotional. She was right. 
It's excruciating. 
"You can't leave me, Zero. You're all I have left," he whispers, and somehow this monster's voice is laced with pain. "Big brothers protect their sisters. I won't let anyone hurt you, not even yourself."
Henry presses his palm to the gaping wound in his chest, and Zero's voice screams out in agony. It's a horrible sound, one he'll never forget, accompanied by tears and the sticky sound of gurgling blood. 
"Start healing," he commands softly. "Now."
Eddie's head shakes, "No. Just let me go. Please, Henry."
Henry sighs, and in a flash he reaches out toward the Mind Flayer. A biting scream rips its way through his mind, and Zero's voice calls out in return. 
"Stop! You're hurting her!" 
"Heal yourself!" he snarls back, his face angling with rage. The creature screeches once more, its giant body trembling to the ground. "I'll keep hurting her, and I'll keep hurting you."
Something ignites inside his chest, and Eddie feels the blood flow begin to staunch. Like his own wounds, it'll take time, but she begins the process anyway. 
"There you go, don’t be afraid," Henry coos. The Mind Flayer goes quiet in his head, and Henry pulls his claws from the wound. "Try and stay very still. It will all be over soon."
He drops Eddie to the ground, and the screeching of the Mind Flayer stops. Henry gazes down at him with what at first glance seems like sympathy, but he knows better even though in that moment Zero didn't. 
"I can't lose you, Zero. You can't leave me," he says softly, his voice full of pleading hope. "I need you, sister."
"I just… I just want to rest," Zero spits out, her lips soaked with blood. "I'm so tired, Henry, please."
"And you can, so long as you do what I say," Henry tells her. It sends a shiver up her spine, watching him kneel beside her broken body once more. 
Hope flickers in her chest, a sliver of a spark that could easily die with the rush of the wind. Henry cups her cheeks in his hands, his thumbs brushing her temples in an attempt to soothe. 
"Promise you won't leave me," he whispers, and Eddie can feel the moment Zero's love for this man morphs with her fear. It's…traumatic, two people bonded through violence. "And I'll give you whatever you want. You can make your home here, make another Haven in my Darkness…
"You can go to the real world when you need, but you have to come back. Live out your days growing plants and vegetables, reading your books." Henry smiles, and Eddie feels as Zero smiles shakily back at the thought. "I'll keep you safe, just don't leave me, sister."
"You'll keep me safe…" 
"Nobody will ever hurt you here. I won't let them."
Eddie's chin wobbles as Zero gathers the courage to say this out loud, "Papa?"
"Never. If he opens a gate, I'll make him wish he hadn't," Henry tells her, his voice going hard and deadly. "I'll punish anyone who comes inside, anyone who threatens my sweet sister."
Eddie’s head nods, but this is wrong. It's so fucked up and Henry is lying to Zero in a way she doesn't know. His hands come up to cover Henry's on her face as she tearfully squeaks out. 
"I won't leave you, Henry. I promise."
Suddenly Eddie is looking back into the eyes of Zero herself, gasping as her hold on his mind loosened until it was gone. He stares wild eyed at her as he catches his breath, but hers are dead, haunted. 
“I can’t leave because I promised not to,” Zero whispers, looking somehow empty and full at the same time. “I’m safe here. He’s the only one who ever protected me, even when he hurt me. He makes sure I’m safe here.”
"He…he lied to you," Eddie pants incredulously, "Not everyone who he hurt came through the gates. I didn't come here to hurt you, Zero. I came here to kill Henry."
Zero turns away and stands, heading into the kitchen. Her shoulders hang, her jaw tight. The lights flicker as she starts cooking dinner to replace the one he'd tried to make. 
"I appreciate you trying to cook," she says, pulling out some veggies to chop. "Next time just let me do it."
"Zero-," he begins, struggling to get out of the chair, but she holds out a hand to stop him. 
"I don't want to talk about this any more. Can we just…eat dinner and go to bed?"
Eddie wants nothing more than to tell her everything he knows, but so much of it is second hand… He's more than likely going to have to wait until she takes him home. Maybe he can get her to at least meet Eleven again. But to do that he needs to be on her good side…and alive. 
He taps the cane on the hardwood, nodding to himself, "I have a condition."
Zero scoffs and leans on one hip while she glares at him. It seems to be her go-to move. "What?"
"You have to sleep. In the bed." Eddie waves the cane toward the bedroom. "I'll take the couch."
"The last thing you need with internal injuries is back pain from that piece of shit," she tells him. "I'll be fine."
Eddie looks back toward the bed, then at the couch. It's a queen, and it belongs to her after all, but his mouth opens before he can think better of it. 
"Sleep with me."
Zero's eyebrows almost hit her hairline, but a coy smile plays at her lips as she watches him struggle to backpedal. 
"I just- I meant," Eddie stutters. His face flushes deep and hot, and he rubs a hand across the back of his neck and points to the bed again with the cane. "I meant… share the bed. A compromise, right? It's yours after all, you should sleep in it."
Zero eyes him for a second, and the amusement is clear as he stands there embarrassed. 
"Fine, but I sleep closest to the door," she decides. Zero turns back to the stove and waves a spatula over her shoulder. "And I don't want your morning wood pressing into my back tomorrow, either."
"Yeah, fair."
They eat on the porch, watching the sun go down. Clem seems to have become attached to Eddie, sitting next to his chair and resting her head on his foot while he's eating. Screech stays at a distance, but his eyeless gaze never leaves Eddie.
 Zero's cooking is amazing, mouth watering even though he finally realizes she doesn't eat any meat. When he asks her about it she chalks it up to it being a difficult supply to keep fresh here. What she's built here… it is amazing. The massive garden alone is impressive, but the remodel to the cabin and the pond make this her home. Eddie sees why this is her Haven, her place filled with books and puzzles and small things to keep Zero happy in a prison of her own making. If only she would listen to him. She could be happy somewhere else in the real world.
He decided to stop asking her questions. The lights were flickering too much for his liking. 
After working on the puzzle late into the night, Zero took Eddie's hand and led him back to the bedroom, careful to slow down for him and his cane trailing behind her. 
Eddie goes to sit down and slide into his side, but Zero points at his jeans, "Don't you sleep in your underwear?"
"Well, yeah," he stammers, frowning to himself. Eddie motions toward her, "I didn't wanna assume you'd… be okay with that."
"Eddie, how many times do I have to tell you that I've seen you naked?" Zero smirks, standing before him looking much too hot in her panties and flannel combo. "It literally doesn't matter."
"Fine," he snaps back, working at his fly. Eddie toes off his boots and pushes down his pants, waving his arms at her like an asshole as he steps out of them. For good measure he even takes his shirt off and tosses it at her, and Zero just catches it with a small smile as he clambers onto the bed. 
Her warmth bleeds into his side under the covers, their hips pressed together. The back of her hand is just out of reach from his, and if he twitches he'll be touching that too. It's a strange urge, to intertwine his fingers with hers. 
Settling into the pillows, he finds himself looking up at the stained glass she has dangling from the window. The plant doesn't reflect much now, just a glint of moonlight from the Haven, and Eddie points up at it. 
"Where'd you get this from?" He knows she hates his questions, but she's much more amenable if they're not about her powers or past. 
Zero smiles softly, her fingers reaching up even though she won't touch it. "A swap meet."
Eddie turns his head on the pillow to grin at her, "You go to swap meets? No kidding."
"You've been to one?"
"Oh, yeah," Eddie drawls with a chuckle. "My mom, she, uh, she loved ‘em. She used to make necklaces and we'd sell them out of the back of our van. She took me to them all the time. I think she'd like you."
Zero's knuckle bumps the back of his hand as her voice softens to a whisper, "Why's that?"
"She was a weirdo too."
"Was?"
The smile quickly fades from his cheeks with her question. Now he knows how she feels when he does this. His chest is suddenly quite hollow and too full all at the same time. 
Eddie licks his lips and forces his voice not to shake as he replies, "I don't remember much. She died when I was pretty young, but she was a hippie chick. Long curly hair, feathers everywhere… just trying to find a place she fit. We lived in the van, in communes, and in shelters sometimes."
"She didn't really know who she was, but," he trails off, staring up at the ceiling with faraway eyes. "She was always my mom. She always took care of me."
She says nothing for a moment, chewing on his words as he avoids her gaze. Zero nods out of the corner of his eye and decides to look at the ceiling too. 
"My mom liked swap meets, too. We found a lot of plants there. She was a botanist."
Eddie squints, "A… what?"
"She studied plants," Zero laughs lightly, "She taught me all about them. What they need, how they grow…"
Zero bumps his hand again, "She'd like you, too."
Eddie's smile creeps its way back across his face, "Why's that?"
"She always asked me questions. All the time like it was her job. I don't remember much about her. She died when I was young, too."
Eddie finds himself nudging her back, "What do you remember?"
"Well," she says quietly, with a soft grin playing along her lips. "I remember that she was so smart, and she was always teaching me something… she liked to dance in the kitchen…"
Zero waves a hand as a laugh bubbles from her chest, "She liked to make fun of my Papa and how buttoned up he always was. She loved music… all sorts, and…"
She took a deep breath, seemingly lost in a pool of her memory. Zero's voice trembled with painful longing as she said barely above a whisper, "The day she died was the last time anyone called me by my real name."
If Eddie's attention wasn't caught before it surely was now. He gets up on his elbows to gaze at her in the moonlight. Tears glisten over her eyes as they trail the slats of wood above them. Eddie had never thought of that before…that she had a life before the lab… and a name that was hers and not a number. 
"What is your name?" he asks softly, but Zero chuckles bitterly. 
"It doesn't matter. She died a long time ago." She swallows thickly and does that shrug that always accompanies her pain. "I haven’t been that me in a long time."
"Zero-."
"Goodnight, Eddie," she says firmly, turning on her side and away from him. 
Eddie watches her back, the way her shoulders tremble ever so slightly. It's all he can do not to wrap his arms around her so she doesn't feel so alone, but Zero seems to like being alone.
"Goodnight, Zero."
Tumblr media
I wake the next morning to hazy sunlight pouring through the windows. It's a strange weighty feeling. I haven't slept deeply in a long time, and for the first time in years I find myself rested. 
Eddie's snoring softly in my ear, his nose pressed against my neck. I stiffen as I notice him, but his embrace melts me. It's like a cocoon, safe and warm. His hair tickles where it's tangled into my collar, his arms wrapped tightly around me. 
I eye his rings, revel in the rare feeling of another body pressed against my own. His hug the other day was the first real human touch I've had in so long, and a shock of fear runs through my belly as I realize that I don't want to get out of this bed when every day for the last eleven years I've gotten up without a backward glance. 
It's later than I normally wake. I can tell by the way the sun is hitting the walls, probably six in the morning. The music is even silent, and still the Haven stands. I'm safe even without the constant noise and lights. It doesn't even feel as dark without the fairy lights. I keep them on all the time so I don't feel like I'm back out in the Darkness, so I don’t have to think of my life before I created the Haven.
Sure enough, his morning wood presses insistently against my backside. His attraction to me is obvious, and if I let myself I'd admit I like the look of Eddie Munson too. It's just because I've never been this close to a man for this long…and I haven't had sex in some time as well. 
That's gotta be it, right?
Eddie squeezes me tightly, nuzzling behind my ear. I find myself holding my breath, fearful of breaking this spell, ruining the moment. His thumb rubs circles into my forearm, a soft groan escaping his lips and landing hotly on my neck. 
His eyelashes flutter against my skin, and my eyes clamp shut as he begins to stir. I don't know why I'm pretending to still be asleep, but something just feels wrong about being the first to let go. 
"Oh, shit," he murmurs, his hips immediately pulling away. Eddie slowly untangles himself from me, sweetly careful not to jostle the bed. 
He scoots to the end, clattering a bit for his cane before getting a good grip on it. His hand lands on my bare ankle, wide palm giving me a soft squeeze. He makes a small hmm before he lets go and stands. I hear him pick up his clothes, grunting with some pain, then letting out a deep breath. My eyes don’t open again until I hear the bathroom door shut, and I’m alone again. 
Sitting up slowly, the bed has no allure for me anymore. It left the same moment Eddie’s arms did. The chill that surrounds me seems colder somehow than normal, like the warmth of the covers clung to his shoulders and followed him out of the room.
I decide to get started on breakfast instead, padding quietly in the kitchen. The lights flip on as I enter, the radio picking up music so I don’t feel quite so alone and empty by myself. 
Can anybody find me somebody to love? Pours through the speakers. I turn to glare at the damned thing, cursing my own brain for pulling this song from the ether. Each morning I get up I die a little. Can barely stand on my feet.
“As much as I hate most of your music,” Eddie’s voice pops up behind me, making me jump. The dishes in the cabinets clatter and shake with my surprise, dying down as I turn to spot him lingering in the doorway. “This is a great song.”
“You should,” I reply, hastily plastering a smile on my face to cover up my embarrassment. “Queen rocks.”
Eddie scoffs, “You keep telling yourself that.”
Eddie sidles up beside me, leaning against the counter with a queer look on his face. His eyes are playful as he watches me, but by now I know Eddie's 'question time' look. 
"So," he begins. He crosses his arms over his chest, flicking one of his hands out. "Your name… we gonna talk about that?"
"I told you last night I didn't want to talk about it," I tell him, pushing the food around the pan. The peppers sizzle throughout my small cabin, filling up with the scent of breakfast. 
Ooh, somebody, please. Can anybody find me somebody to love?
"Uh, no. You rolled over and said, 'Goodnight, Eddie,' and went to sleep," he snarks back at me. A playful smile breaks out across his cheeks as he shrugs. "Which would be fine if we'd just had sex, but we didn't."
I open my mouth to make a joke about his boner, but he cuts me off, "Anyway, I've made an executive decision that you don't have to tell me your name."
My mouth snaps shut and I squint as Eddie chuckles, "I'm gonna guess it. I’m gonna be spending a few months here. Might as well have some fun with it, right?"
"Oh for the love of-."
"Betsy? No, Buela." Eddie's eyebrows raise as I shake my head. "It's Buela, isn't it?"
I can't help the laugh that bubbles from my chest, "No, it's not Buela."
“Irene? Mmm, too seductive,” he frowns. Eddie rubs his jaw with his knuckles before throwing up his hands, “I’ll get it, just you wait and see.”
“Are you done?” 
Eddie taps the counter, watching me for a moment. I watch back, unyielding as ever. He’ll cave, and soon enough he does. “Yeah, I’m done… Katrine.”
“Wrong again,” I tell him. I focus back on the food, using my powers to pour us both coffee from the carafe. Eddie toasts the air when he grabs his cup, but I decide to ignore that odd mannerism. 
“What’s the plan for today, Nina?” he asks, wiggling his brows again with the hope that he’s correct. He’s not. 
“First, breakfast. Then, I’ll check your stitches and we’ll do some physical therapy again,” I decide. It’s the regimen I’ve come up with for now. It’ll change depending on Eddie’s progress. He already looks bored, his eyes glazing over. “How’s that sound?” “Yeah, sweetheart, that’s fine,” he mutters into his coffee cup. He doesn’t seem to notice the pet name he threw out into the ocean between us, but I did. 
Sweetheart. He said it without much thought, like he said it all the time. Maybe he does to his girls in the real world. The tightness in my cheeks turns hot as I focus on cooking instead of looking at his big doe eyes.
I just gotta get out of this prison cell. Someday I'm gonna be free, Lord
“You wanna do a new puzzle tonight?” he asks, and it’s so domestic it constricts my chest. I haven’t done puzzles this much with anyone since my mother died. I forgot how much it meant to me.
“Do you like doing puzzles? We don’t have to.”
“Oh, I love ‘em,” Eddie smirks. “Wayne and I do them all the time. It’s fun.”
“Okay,” I say shyly, biting my lip harshly. I don’t like the way I’m feeling right now. If I get used to him here, it’ll be that much harder to give him to Henry.
“Hey, Kitty?” 
I glare up at him, smiling just enough to let him know I wasn’t getting irritated. This was actually kind of fun. “Yes, Edward?”
“Uh, it’s Eddie,” he glares back, just as playful. I laugh and he does too, but then Eddie points at the peppers in the pan. “I think those are cooked.”
“Shit,” I snap, pulling it off the burner. Sure enough, they’re burned beyond rescue. I angle it toward him. “I’m… showing you what not to do.”
Can anybody…
Eddie chuckles, “Sure thing, Clea.”
Find me…
“Fuck off, Munson.” 
Somebody to love.
Tumblr media
Smurph's Masterlist | Zero to Hero Masterlist
Notes: *Sigh* I love bed sharing... I'd really appreciate your comments on this story! I have been feeling pretty self conscious about this one lately and it would mean a lot if you let me know your thoughts on it.
Tumblr media
@tlclick73 @theloser007 @sadbitchfangirl @chaoticcancer  @harrys-tittie @assassinsasha23 @spacedoutdaydreamer @legendarytrashcopeclipse @notahappystan @kbakery
62 notes · View notes
saiilorstars · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
✩☽ Maleny Rowan & Bonnie Bennett ✩☾
In Mystic Falls, there are hardly any trustworthy people. Everyone wants to kill witches, whether it’s humans, vampires and even werewolves. A thousand year old witch cursed to die until the end of Time and the young witch who has only recently discovered her powers become each other’s confidants despite the battles going on around them. Others say they shouldn’t be friends, they shouldn’t even be acquaintances. One witch comes from the Originals’ time, while the other sides with the doppelganger targeted by the former. They should be against each other. 
But a witch always takes care of their own. 
That’s Maleny’s number one rule and it’s the rule she teaches Bonnie. Maleny helps Bonnie reach her potential as a witch, liberating Bonnie from the rules that their kind bounds them to. In turn, Bonnie helps Maleny see the world beyond the eyes of the Originals. There’s more than just curses, magic and vampirism. There’s life to live even when everything can seem bleak. There’s beautiful chaos that only best friends can do. Nonsense drinking, stupid conversations at midnight, plans that can only end badly, and uncontrollable laughter at the weirdest situations. The witch who’s been alive for a thousand years has not lived at all and the young witch of Mystic Falls has yet to meet someone who fully understands her magical side and dares to defy the “norm” that modern-day witches live by.
- From Maleny’s AU Fic (coming soon)
Maleny’s Masterlist
Taglist: @ocappreciationtag​​ @arrthurpendragon​ @anotherunreadblog​ @transformerfan97​ @stareyedplanet​ @foxesandmagic​​​
If you’d like to be a part of this OC’s work/edits, let me know!
54 notes · View notes
dancingsunflowers-ocs · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝙊𝘾 𝙉𝙀𝙒 𝙔𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙎 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙇𝙇𝙀𝙉𝙂𝙀 2023: 𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘚𝘪𝘹: 𝘐𝘯 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘕𝘦𝘸
Let's not do out with the old, but we could certainly do in with the new. For day six, introduce a brand new oc or story you hope to be your newest muse for 2024.
𝙆𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙧𝙖 𝙃𝙖𝙬𝙠𝙚 {𝙒𝙚𝙙𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝘼𝙙𝙙𝙖𝙢𝙨 𝙭 𝙊𝘾}
-Genderfluid and Queer
-Wereowl
-Carries a moon necklace
-Inspiring Artist and Musician
𝙇𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚 {𝙀𝙣𝙞𝙙 𝙎𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙭 𝙊𝘾}
-Fairy
-Loves to bake and craft
-Carries an acorn necklace
-Asexual and Bisexual
-Kindness is ✨ Magic ✨
✨ Taglist: @carmens-garden @eddysocs @faerieroyal @daughter-of-melpomene @megandaisy9 @misshiraethsworld @arrthurpendragon ✨
15 notes · View notes
Text
Prompt-oween Day 16
@occreatorexchange
Prompt: Shopping for costumes with a child.
Fandom: Doctor Who/The Sarah Jane Adventures
Characters: OCs David and Molly Yates
Rating: G
Word Count: 1239
Summary: David takes Molly shopping for a Halloween costume.
“Come on, Daddy!  Let’s go!”
David groaned as Molly dragged him into Spirit Halloween.  It was that time again.  He hated it.  So, of course, his daughter would love the holiday.
Molly’s blue eyes would always grow wide with wonder at all the decorations and costumes on display.  Unfortunately for him, what attracted her attention the most were either on the expensive side or things that he didn’t approve of for a child of her age.
She was eyeing the Queen Amidala costume.  Molly had fallen in love with Star Wars quite early on.  David took her to see the new movie back in May, after quite a bit of begging.  Molly immediately clicked with the Amidala character.
David saw the price tag.  He grimaced.  Of course, the movie being a box office hit would ensure price gouging on Halloween costumes.  “It’s a bit much, love.  Why don’t we see if they’ve got any other Star Wars costumes.”
Molly pouted at first.  Then David could see an idea forming in her head.
At that moment, a sales associate stopped in front of them.  “Hi, welcome to Spirit Halloween.  Can I help you find something?”
“Can I be a Jedi?” Molly asked, eyes bright with hope.
He frowned.  “I’m sorry, but all the Jedi costumes are for boys and men.”
“But that’s stupid!”  Molly stomped her foot in outrage.  “There’s plenty of girl Jedi!  Leia Organa Solo.  Mara Jade.  Jaina Solo.  Adi Gallia.  Depa Billaba.  Tenel Ka.  Tahiri Veila.  Yaddle.”
The associate was dumbstruck.  “Uh, I haven’t heard of most of those characters.”
“Not my fault you’ve never opened a book,” Molly retorted.
David frowned.  “Molly!  Don’t be rude.”  He apologized to the young man.  “Do you have any Princess Leia costumes?”
The associate went to look for some.  David looked down at his daughter.  “Care to explain your behavior?”
Molly sighed.  “I’m sorry, Daddy.  But it’s not fair!  The boys get to be anybody they want.  Sometimes, I don’t want to be a princess.  And they never have all the cool girl characters.  Why?”
It was David’s turn to sigh.  How was he supposed to explain sexism and marketing to a five-year-old?  “You’re right, it’s not fair.  And not everyone is going to know about the characters you like because they don’t read the same books.  Keep up that behavior and I won’t take you trick or treating.  Nor will I let you wear a costume at school.  Do you understand?”
Molly nods.  The sales associate returned.  “I’m sorry but we don’t have any Leia costumes in her size.”
“Got any Star Trek?” she asks.
He looked at her, hesitant.
David knew he was afraid that Molly would blow up at him again.  “Let me guess, only Kirk and Spock.  No Lieutenant Uhura or Nurse Chapel.”
“None for little girls, no,” the associate confirmed.
“Right, thanks.  We’ll continue looking,” David dismissed him.  He looks down at Molly, placing a hand on her head.  “Got any other ideas?”
Molly pursed her lips as she thought.  She glanced around at some of the costumes.  Then she broke out in a smile.  “Uh-huh.”
David lifted an eyebrow.  “Well, you gonna tell me?”
“I wanna be a Spice Girl!”  Molly throws her fists in the air.  “‘Every boy and every girl / Spice up your life!’”
David blinked.  That was not what he was expecting.  “Molls, while I’m glad you’re showing some interest in something from England,” he started.
“I want to be Posh!” she interrupted him.
He had tried to let her down gently.  “No, you’re not going to be Victoria Beckham.  If I let you be any of them, it would be Sporty.  At least, most of her is covered up,” he muttered to himself.
“I get to be Mel C?!  Yes, she’s my next favorite!”  Molly started dancing around in celebration.
David covered his face, groaning.  Then he crouched down to put his hands on her shoulders.  “Molly, no.  Stop, stop.”  Once he got her to stop, she stared up at him, confused.  “No, sweetheart, you misunderstood me.  You can’t be Posh or Sporty, or any of them.  No Spice Girls.  You’re too young.”
Molly visibly wilted.
David hated seeing her like that.  But she had to learn that when he set limits and rules, he was doing so for her benefit and she had to follow them.  David caressed her cheek.   “Come on, I know you have another idea.  Let’s hear it then.”
She bit her lip.  If he didn’t like her last one, he probably wouldn’t like this one.  “Can I be Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas?  They have the costume.  I saw it.”
Another frown.  “And when did you see that?  I didn’t say that you could.”
“But Daddy, it’s Disney!” Molly protested.  “You said that Disney movies are okay.”
David lifted a finger.  “No, I said that most Disney movies are okay.  The Nightmare Before Christmas is not one of them.”
“But it’s not scary!”
“Molly, enough!  We’re not doing this here,” David warned her.  He stood up and guided his daughter to a rack of costumes.  After a cursory glance, David took off two outfits.  “Last chance.  “You want a costume, pick one: black cat or ladybug.”
***
It was just before five in the evening when David and Molly joined some of the kids and parents in their apartment building.  David was glad that he decided to go trick-or-treating with a group this year.  It was safer for all of the children.  It made the event less hectic for him.  And it was better for both he and Molly to socialize with people their own age.
By the fifth house, the kids were wired and already had more than enough candy in their bags.  The sixth house had run out of candy from previous trick-or-treaters.  But instead of having them leave, the homeowner had the children wait on the porch while he grabbed another bag from the kitchen.  The parents and kids chatted amongst themselves.
But David tuned it all out.  He watched as Molly was having the time of her life.  He wasn’t sure if she would.  Things had been a bit tense after the costume debacle.  Molly had been quiet and withdrawn from him, staying in her room.  David had decided against dismissing the babysitters who he suspected were letting her watch those movies, but had firm conversations with them about the rules.
Molly had always struggled with socialization.  David sometimes worried that his little girl would never make friends.  At least, none her own age.  She was her usual bright, inquisitive self around him, his dad, and the babysitters.  But put her near other children and she hung back or played by herself.  Until now.  She was talking quite animatedly to a girl and boy dressed as a witch and wizard.  She was all smiles, twirling around in her black velvet and mesh dress, her pinned-on cat tail swishing about.  It warmed his heart to see Molly so comfortable.  He snapped a few photos to commemorate the occasion.
Molly caught him taking pictures.  She gave a big smile and ran to him.  David barely had time to catch her as she launched herself at him.  “You look beautiful.  Cutest cat I’ve ever seen.  You seem to be having fun.”
“I am, Daddy,” Molly told him.
David hugs her, kissing the top of her head.  “I am so glad to hear that, sweetheart.”
Tumblr media
6 notes · View notes