#Luciana's Tears

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 18

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: happy weekend.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“How do you like it?” Luciana asks as she spins you to face the mirror.

Your eyes round at your own reflection. You can’t help but lean forward to get a better look at yourself. You never had a haircut like this. Nothing more than the discount trims that were often worse than not just growing it out or your at-home hack job.

“Wow,” is all you can utter.

“I hope that’s a good wow,” she chimes.

“Uh, yes, yes,” you sit back and tear your eyes from the mirror. “Thank you, it’s–”

“Oh, aren’t you so lovely!” Frigga interrupts as her heels click across the salon, “oh, it’s so wonderful. Look at you!”

Before you can react, the chair’s turning again. Frigga sweeps your hands away from under the cape and pulls you to your feet. Luciana moves to undo the long black shroud and swipes it away from your body, littering more hair onto the floor.

“Just a moment,” Luciana girds and brushes the stray bits from the back of your shirt, “there we are.”

“I must say, darling, you are even more stunning than I thought,” she keeps a hold of your right hand, “oh, Eliana, El!” She tweets across the salon, “what about makeup? Hm? Nothing too heavy, maybe a lip and some mascara–”

The platinum blond chuckles, endeared by her demanding client. You see where Laufeyson inherited that; the way the command rather than ask. You could never.

“I’ll take the little fawn,” Eliana agrees, “I have just the thing in mind.” She approaches on her long slender legs, “she has perfect colouring.”

You can’t help but preen at the compliments. You’re not used to them yet, you doubt them. These women are all so put together and gorgeous, surely they’re just being nice. You’re so much the opposite, your like a novelty; a doll for them to dress up.

“Sit,” Eliana points to another chair, “just relax, honey, I’ll take care of you.”

Frigga lets you go and you obey. You climb up into the chair and gasp as the back reclines. Eliana starts by swabbing your face with a cool liquid then pats it dry. Next, she applies a fragrant moisturizer. Her touch is relaxing but strange. You’re not used to anyone touching you.

You close your eyes as she sets to her work. She explains that she’s applying some liner and how to get a little wing at the end. She says you should keep it thin and subtly, then has you check your first eye in the mirror.

“You see, a nice brown, or grey is all you need, black is so harsh,” she shows you the pencil she used.

“Oh, thanks,” you murmur.

“Let’s even that out,” she nudges you back again and you appease her.

As she draws on your other eyelid, you hear a subtle buzz, followed by Frigga’s shrill greeting. She apologises to someone unseen before she carries on her call, heels tapping further and further away. You can hardly focus between her, Eliana’s directions, and the chatter all around you.

“Mmhmm, yes we were thinking of the Garden…” Frigga trails off as the door rings then swiftly blocks out her conversation.

“Mascara, look up,” Eliana directs, again, you obey. There’s nothing else you can do.

As nice as it all is, the hair, the makeup, and all her lovely plans, you can’t help but be embarrassed. Frigga, and Mr. Laufeyson, know you can’t afford all this. It doesn’t feel as much like kindness as it does condescension. As if they are the blessed elite giving you, a noone, with all their privileges. 

It’s not a kind gesture, but a statement. You’re so far below them, you don’t even know what you don’t have. If you are to be anywhere near them, you have to fit their mold.

🧹

After the salon, Frigga drags you down the shopping strip. You shy away from the gleaming windows and the faceless mannequins in their luxurious outfits. You couldn’t wear any of it. It wouldn’t look right. Anyone would know in an instant that you don’t belong.

Inside the first shop, you make yourself as small as you can, crossing one arm to cling to the other, folding your shoulders in. You’re frightened of brushing against anything or knocking over that hand display with all the jewelry on it. As you pass a mirror, you nearly trip. You forget for a moment that it’s you staring back.

You shake your head and back away. You don’t like that feeling. You don’t recognize yourself. Even if you never really loved the girl looking back, she was familiar.

“Darling,” Frigga gives you a start as she nears, “how about this? Hm? It’s absolutely adorable.”

She holds up a purple dress; almost like an overall but more refined with three buttons along the right side. She has a plain white blouse behind it. It’s lovely but you don’t know if you like the length. You don’t think you’ve worn a skirt since grade school.

“Oh, it’s… nice.”

“Come on, try it on,” she pleads, “it would look so good on you, darling. With your figure.”

You gulp and blink, looking down at yourself. What figure? The boxy button-up and straight-legged tweed don’t betray much of that. Your body is your body; it’s just there.

“I’ll try,” you relent. It wouldn’t be polite to say no.

“Alright, you take this to a dressing room and I’ll find some shoes,” she shoves the hangers at you, “excuse me,” she turns and waves to the associate who greeted you on entry, “yes, please, she needs a room.”

The woman with ginger curls approaches and you hand over your, or rather, Frigga’s picks. Her name tag reminds you of her introduction; Celia. She guides you into the back to a large room lined with curtained stalls. She takes you to one and hangs the clothing within. You thank her quietly and turn to stare at the lilac fabric.

You sigh and pull the curtain shut. You strip away reluctantly. It’s all so surreal, you don’t want to believe it. You’re wary of the unusual good luck, the unearned generosity. Why would Mr. Laufeyson agree to this? And why would Frigga want to spend time with you, a maid wearing a title beyond her means?

“Darling, are you ready?” Frigga calls through as her heels tap out her arrival.

“Almost,” you call back, shimmying into the purple overall as you try not to rumble the sleeves of the blouse. 

You refuse to look at yourself before you face the curtain and brace yourself. You step out as Frigga waits patiently, sitting on one of the leather poufs with a pair of white loafer flats in her lap, little silver bows clasped by the toe.

“Oh my,” she gasps as she rises, “oh darling, that’s… that becomes you. Oh,” she nears and hands you the shoes, “put these on then. Let’s see the whole look.”

Like most things in life, you let her bowl you over. You just go along with what you’re told. You go through the motions numbly, waiting for it to be over.

You bend to slip into the shoes one at a time. Once you stand, she ushers you around to face the mirror. She squeezes your shoulders before playing with your hair, setting you straights as she stands behind you.

“Look at you, darling,” she purrs. 

You falter as you see the woman staring back at you. That’s you! You can hardly see yourself under it all. You press your hands to the skirt, wishing for a few more inches, and squeak the soles on the floor as you shift awkwardly in the stiff leather.

“This is it. It suits you so well. Sharp collars, cinched here,” she touches your waist, “I think we have a good start.”

“Um, thanks, but er…”

“You can wear that out. It’s a lovely outfit for lunch,” she insists, “but I’m thinking a few boucle jackets, some matching skirts, a splash of pastel,” she rambles on dreamily, “pearls, of course, maybe some rose gold…”

Your brow pinches over your nose. You don’t know what to do. You can’t say no and even if you were brave enough to, you don’t think she’d hear you. She’s like her son, that way. She only sees what she wants and there’s no denying her.

“Oh, thank you so much for humouring me,” she drawls, “you know, ever since the divorce, I’ve been terribly lonely.” You’re startled by her sudden shift. You blink at her, “my own daughter was never one for the shops, at least, not with me but Sif… she… well, c’est la vie.”

“I… I’m sorry.”

“Why? Oh, don’t apologise, it is me who should,” she laughs at herself as she leads you back into the shop room, “to you and your own mother. I have accosted her daughter!”

You nod and seal your lips. You feel the pluck in your chest. You distract yourself with a nearby dress; it’s beige and boring.

“I hate to overstep but Loki did mention your father is sick. I’m certain it can’t be easy,” she hums, “it never is. You and your mother–”

“My mother…” you pipe up, voice cracking. You shake off the wave of dizziness and sigh, “my mother is dead.”

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry,” she touches her chest, “dear me, I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have–”

“I’m not upset. I never knew her,” you shrug and move on to a more colourful dress. “Just me and dad.”

“Well, it’s nice you have each other,” she says.

“Yeah,” you agree dully.

She’s quiet as she browses beside you, sifting through hangers. Tension ripples between you. Neither of you know what to say.

“How about this?” She holds up a satin blouse in a dainty shade of rose, “it would compliment your complexion.”

“Um, sure,” you let the thickness in the air slake away, “I… I’m not picky.”

“Oh, darling, you are too agreeable,” she teases, “you best not let my son play on that. He could always hear a no or two, yes?”

You nod, uncertain what she means. He’s your boss, you don’t tell him no. He doesn’t ask for your input. He just says and you do. That’s why you’re here. He needed a toy to give his mother, and you’re playing along.

🧹

The restaurant is just as resplendent and upscale as the shops. You try to keep stride with Frigga as she struts up to the open doors, a hostess standing behind a podium just outside as the sunlight beams down in a mid-afternoon haze. She smiles at the elder blonde as she greets her with enthusiasm.

“Good afternoon, we were hoping for a table outside,” Frigga declares.

“For two?” The hostess asks as she looks down at the tablet in front of her.

“A bigger table, please, we have someone joining us,” she answers.

“Great, we can fit you in,” the woman assures and waves you through the small gate of the patio. 

She takes you to a table near the colourful flower beds and offers the drink menu. Frigga thanks her and sits as you mimic her. You do your best not to fidget despite the persistent displacement zinging through your nerves. She browses the menu and taps her groomed fingernail on the table.

“Is it too early for Zinfandel?” She wonders.

“Oh, I don’t… know,” you put your own menu down, content with a glass of cranberry juice.

“Or perhaps a white?” 

You shrug. You don’t drink. You never have and never really thought of trying it. You rub your cheek and look around, squirming at the other diners in their carefree conversations. What are you doing here?

A new server approaches and takes your orders. Frigga gets her wine and you murmur your request for a glass of juice. You hand over the menus and she checks her slender golden watch.

“Mm, I did say two,” she tuts and takes out her phone.

It’s almost amusing to see someone disappointed in Mr. Laufeyson. To be on the other side of the table. You’re not the one rushing to meet a deadline for once. You twiddle your hands in your lap and peer around at the din.

A table of women sit with cocktails and green salads, gabbing loudly. They are probably your age. Friends. Something you never had. Probably never will.

“Mother,” a voice proclaims across the patio and you wince. It’s familiar but not the timbre you expected. Maybe it’s a coincidence.

“There you are,” Frigga stands and you turn to look over your shoulder at the burly blond. Oh.

You rise too, not wanting to seem rude. Thor hugs his mother and kisses the top of her head, “I was caught behind an accident,” he explains, “oh,” he faces you, “and who… it is the little maid!” He takes you by the shoulders and you flinch as he bends to kiss your cheek, “you remember me, yes?”

You can only nod as you wriggle out of his grip. You resist the urge to wipe your cheek.

“Maid! Do not call her that,” Frigga chides as she sits.

You lower yourself back to your seat. Thor drags out the chair next to you and you try not to show your discomfort. He is almost too wide for the seat as his thigh presses to yours.

“I never got a name, you know? Brother hides everything away,” he sniffs, “so forgive me,” he leans as he tries to look you in the face, “a proper introduction is in order; I am Thor, you recall, hm?”

You nod again and eke out your name. He offers his large hand and you hesitate to take it. You won’t be rude though. His grip swallows your hand up, tight and unyielding. When he finally releases you, you let out a slow breath and stare at the table.

“Speaking of,” Frigga remarks, “he is late.”

“Not surprising, he can hardly be bothered to leave his cave,” Thor scoffs, “what a nice colour.”

He touches the button on your dress and you squeeze your legs together, trying to sidle away without being obvious.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

“Oh, we had a wonderful day shopping,” Frigga supplies, “she’s so sweet.”

“Ah, yes, I’m certain father will be happy to hear you had a spree,” Thor chortles.

“What he doesn’t know…” Frigga giggles.

The server returns and sets down the stemmed glass of dark wine and your juice. Thor orders rye as you lean forward to sip, the tangy flavour tautens your cheeks. You feel your chair shift and sit back, only to meet the curl of his fingers on the back rest. He doesn’t draw away, his leg splaying wider to touch yours again.

“So we are waiting on him?” Thor challenges and slaps his stomach with his other hand, “I’m starving.”

“We’ll give him another ten,” Frigga girds, “perhaps he is also stuck in traffic.”

“Not to worry,” Thor booms, “we can have fun without him, eh. Probably more.”

“Oh, don’t,” Frigga reproaches, “this is supposed to be a nice family meal, you will not start with him again.”

“It wasn’t me. He’s the one who stormed out–”

“Enough,” she interjects, “we are moving past it.”

“I’ve moved on,” Thor insists, “mother, really, I am not the one who keeps picking fights.”

“Mmm,” Frigga purses her lips, “nor do you discourage them.”

“Me?” Thor feigns innocence, his fingertips brushing the back of your collar, “I only said hello and he went out of his mind.”

“Um,” you sit forward, knocking the table slightly, “er, I… is there a bathroom?”

“Oh, yes, darling,” Frigga turns to you as if only then recalling your presence, “just through the front door to the right.”

“Thank you,” you stand, “sorry, uh, excuse me.”

You turn and scurry off, clutching the sides of the dress to keep it from riding up. Once you get inside, you roll your shoulders, trying to shake off the sensation of his touch. You reach back to tug at your collar.

It’s peculiar to think, but you hope Mr. Laufeyson gets there soon.

[nerywen]

Proctor Luciana's journal

Vol 4

... When I reached the Throne Aligned, I found Sotha Sil sitting on the stairs leading to his seat of power. He didn't even look up.

"I know why you're here," he said.

I was so naive then, I smiled and rushed toward him like a child. "Good!" I cried. "We have to move quickly. Marius is near to passing."

But Sotha Sil didn't stand up. He didn't even look me in the eye. "I am sorry," he said. "I cannot give you what you seek."

I stumbled over my words, trying to understand what he was saying. I just repeated myself like an idiot, thinking perhaps that he hadn't heard me. "Marius is dying. We have to get back to him as soon as possible!"

He stood up and pursed his lips before speaking. "I'm sorry," was his only reply.

Seht approached, placed a brass hand on my shoulder and said,

I looked up and there were tears in his eyes.

I felt a great rage rise up within me. I reached for my hammer, and lifted it above my head just before Seht whispered a banishing word and sent me hurtling back toward the surface.

Marius died two days later. Sotha Sil remains in the Cogitum Centralis to this day.

The other apostles offered the same trite consolations I used to give to the grieving parents of men who died under my command in the Imperial Legion. "It was his time." "He lived a good and honorable life." On and on. But in my heart, I will never forgive Sotha Sil. Never. I will remain a proctor of the apostles. I will always safeguard the city I love, and uphold the laws and traditions of the order. But my adoration for the Clockwork God has shriveled and starved.

[freesia-writes]

Ch 34: Attack

Master List ~~ Previous Chapter ~~ WC: 3.4k Fanart by @autistic-artistech!!

Hunter slipped silently through the door of Lyra’s cottage, knife in one hand to brace his blaster in the other as he scanned the hallway, sharp eyes moving constantly. He stepped slowly, avoiding the creaky spots of the wooden floor that he didn’t realize he’d memorized. As he peeked around the corner to the main room, he froze, dumbstruck.

Lyra was tied to a chair in the middle of her own living room, tears on her cheeks illuminated by the glow of her fireplace, and Luciana loomed above her with a menacing glare. 

“Where is it?” she hissed, fist clenched at her side. As she turned, a rush of adrenaline pumped through Hunter’s veins as he spotted a blaster in her other hand. 

“I told you I don’t have it,” Lyra whimpered.

“First you said the evidence was in the safe. Then there was no safe. Now you’re saying someone else has it. You think I don’t know who? You’re stalling, and I’m sick of it!”

Lyra remained silent, eyes tightly shut in hopeless despair.

“Hunter’s not coming to save you,” Luciana taunted with smug satisfaction. Her beautiful features were contorted into rage, her typically bright smile twisted in a sinister grin. “He’s going to be busy for quite a while. You’re going to talk one way or the other, so stop wasting time. If you don’t have the evidence, where is your daughter?”

Pain and fear emanated from Lyra’s helpless form.

“Where is your daughter?” Luciana demanded. “I know you went to find her on Keytoll. Then you two both ‘died’, or so you led them to believe, until you showed up here. So where is she?”

A minute shake of the head was the only response. 

Luciana slapped her across the face. 

“Where’s Breslin?!” she screamed, poking the blaster closer. Lyra slowly raised her head, finally meeting Luciana’s blazing eyes with her own, and took a shuddering breath. A sudden stillness settled over her, and her voice was low as she spoke with clarity and conviction.

“I’ll never tell you.”

“Agh!” Luciana yelled in frustration, lowering the blaster to her side and clawing at the ropes to free Lyra from the chair before yanking her to her feet with a sharp tug on her bicep. “Get up! You’re going to take me to her or I’m going to start shooting you to pieces little by little!” She pushed her forward sharply toward the hallway where Hunter was watching, tense and ready. As he leaned out slightly, hoping to de-escalate the situation, both women spotten him with a gasp. 

“Oh, babe, you’re supposed to be enjoying your massage,” Luciana taunted, her voice now sickly sweet. 

“Give me the blaster,” he said, his own fixed on her above his knife. 

“Afraid I can’t do that, sweetheart.” She let out a disconcertingly sinister giggle, then jerked Lyra back toward her, looping an arm around her shoulders to brace her against her chest. She lifted the blaster to Lyra’s temple, pressing it into the skin beside her tightly-clenched eyes. “Your pathetic girlfriend here has something for me.”

“We don’t need to do it this way,” Hunter said smoothly. He was the perfect voice of reason, completely unfazed with effortless stability, but his sharp eyes were on her like a hawk. “Let her go and we’ll sort it out.”

“You know I don’t like being told what to do,” Luciana taunted, squeezing Lyra more tightly and shoving her a step forward. “Now get out of the way or I’ll make you.”

“Hey,” Hunter said softly, not looking away from Luciana. The warmth in his tone coaxed Lyra to open her eyes, finding his stoic face immediately. “I know you can make me. You threw me over your shoulder at the farmer’s market,” he said quietly, eyes darting for a split second to Lyra before returning to the threat. “When we were promoting the self defense workshop where we taught how to get out of holds.”

He saw Lyra tense, and he could have staggered beneath the sheer wave of panic that radiated from her. He could feel it all – her hesitation, her terror, her disbelief, and the single flicker of hope that signaled her intent. Slowly nodding his head, he began calculating his shot. 

“Cute. Too bad this sorry bag of bones didn’t–”

Lyra released her knees and dropped her full weight without warning. Luciana’s arm smacked her chin as she fell, but she was on the floor in an instant. Hunter moved immediately.

A blue flash of light. 

Luciana dropped. 

Lyra gasped. 

A second passed.

Hunter emerged from the hallway, sheathing his knife and holstering the blaster. He took Luciana’s from where it had landed beside her motionless form and set it on the table behind him as he quickly kneeled in front of Lyra, whose body wracked with involuntary trembles. 

“You alright?” he asked. A ridiculous question.

“No.”

A flicker of a smile touched his face. “I mean, are you hurt anywhere? Did she do anything else to you?”

“No,” came the small reply. She rubbed her arms where they’d been tied, then clasped her hands together in front of her, pressing her lips to them as she tried and failed to regain her composure, unable to meet his eyes.

He waited for a moment, awkwardly hovering on his knees, and reached out a tentative hand to touch her arm. Lyra finally looked at him, innumerable emotions flying across her face, and her clumsy rush to collapse into his arms knocked him onto his butt, legs splayed to keep his balance. He shifted his back against the wall, slowly opening his arms around her as she tucked herself into a pathetic little ball and she dissolved into tears against him.

He rested his face against the top of her head and remained silent, mind racing and body buzzing. Her familiar floral scent slipped into his awareness, its subtle sweetness a stark contrast to the sorrow and fear and alarm radiating from her. He took a deep breath, silently inviting her to do the same as he emanated security and calm, and he felt the slightest bit of tension subside.

They sat that way for a while, Lyra doing her best to reign in the sobs that wracked her body, yet Hunter could sense the outpouring of grief that seemed not only about Luciana’s attack, but about everything. He acknowledged the ache in his own chest as he felt her cold body nestled against him, and tendrils of warmth and yearning drifting up from deep in his core. He hugged her closer, turning to rest his lips against her hair, and closed his eyes. 

He would be there as long as she needed. 

.

Artwork by @autistic-artistech -- go love on it HERE! And shout out to @noblelightfighter for mentioning the self-defense move of dropping to the ground coming in handy later (because I changed this scene and added it based on that genius comment, LOL).

.

Minutes ticked by, punctuated only by the occasional shudder or sniff from Lyra where she’d nestled into his front. Eventually, she settled enough to push away and sit up, wiping her eyes and refusing to meet his gaze.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, picking herself up and offering him a hand, which he took and nimbly climbed to his feet. She slowly returned the chair to its place at the dining table, then stood still, arms hanging at her sides as she stared blankly at the floor.

“You’re okay,” he said softly, approaching with hands slightly out to his sides. “Want to sit?“ He beckoned toward the couch. She nodded and set herself in the middle of it, still in a daze. He was inexplicably drawn to her, feelings of compassion and protectiveness swelling in his chest, and sat tentatively beside her as she leaned forward to bury her face in her hands.

“What a mess,” she lamented. “I am so sorry to have dragged you into all of it.“

“Yeah…” he said, anxious at how his own potentially ill-timed attempt at humor would be received. “You should have warned me.”

A laugh burst out of her at the ridiculousness of it all, forcing its way past the heavy layers of shock and surprising her as it came out. She looked up at him, the lines in her face seeming to deepen, and he stretched an arm across the back of the couch behind her as a gentle invitation. A moment of hesitation held her back, as though she were deciding if she were worthy of his sympathy or not, but eventually she nestled against his side with a visible release of tension.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she admitted, turning her face away in shame. “I wish I’d done things differently. I really screwed everything up.”

“We both did.”

The fact rested heavily between them, weaving together common threads of trust and preservation that they’d relied upon their entire lives. Hunter sighed. 

“There’s a bounty hunter on my floor,” Lyra noted, staring at Luciana’s unconscious form. Hunter followed her glance, shaking his head in disbelief. How had he been fooled so completely? The entire thing felt like an odd sort of nightmare, and in the vulnerability of the current moment, adrenaline having flooded both of them entirely, he was floored by the depth of his desire to “return to normal”. But what was normal? As he pulled Lyra a little closer, feeling her heart beating against his ribcage, a sense of longing steadily grew stronger as all the ill-fitted stresses of the last few months began to fade.

“She’s a bounty hunter?” he said, returning to the issue at hand.

“Apparently. She snuck into my house and wrestled me into the chair, demanding that damn evidence I had from so long ago. I panicked… I didn’t know what to do. I tried to stall her but she was getting crazy… Then I remembered that little button you gave me, for Omega originally… So I told her it was the release for a safe, and she pressed it, but when she started looking for the safe, she knew I had lied.”

“She was hired to get that old stuff from you?”

“Yeah. She tracked me here… years ago! It was terrifying that she was here all along, but apparently she was waiting for me to lead her to Breslin, because the bounty for both of us was much larger.”

“So she tracked you to Keytoll and tried to have you captured there…” he began to put the pieces together.

“Yes,” she sighed, reaching an arm around the front of his waist as though she needed all the comfort he was willing to offer. “Sorry, is this too much?” She suddenly realized her actions and sat up in a moment of alarm. 

“No,” said Hunter quietly, and grateful relief emanated from her as she resumed her position, prompting a wave of fondness within him as well. “That explains why she was so affected when she saw you here again, if she thought you two were dead…”

“Mmhmm,” she said sadly. “She reported it back to that nasty politician’s office to try to get her reward again, but apparently their patience was gone. She had to deliver or “she’d be next” or something. So the pressure was on, but she was desperate to get Breslin too.”

“She told you all this?”

“She was ranting like a crazy person when she first tied me up,” Lyra shuddered. “Angry at having to wait so long, scared of their threats, obsessed with getting what she  was ‘owed’… Ugh.” She trembled, still thoroughly shaken, and Hunter rubbed a soothing hand up and down her back.

“I suppose I was just a way to get information about you,” he muttered, but she picked herself up a bit and shook her head. 

“She could have done that easily, I would think. You were just a treat along the way.” A pathetic breathy chuckle was the best she could do, and he resisted the urge to groan aloud. 

“According to the ladies in your office, I’m more of a ‘snack’, whatever that means.”

“Food metaphors are usually positive.”

“As they should be.”

He was struck by the effortless way they settled into one another, although what would have been playful banter still felt hollow and fake, as though they were trying to recover some semblance of normalcy after a giant plot twist that definitely no one saw coming. At the same time, he didn’t want it to be fake. He found himself pining for the quiet connection, the leisurely enjoyment of the simple things in life. A ribbon of fear laced itself around his heart as he wondered if it was something they ever could have again, and the thought moved him to speak after a long silence.

“I’m a clone,” he blurted out, the fortifications around his own secrets beginning to crumble as he considered how she had truly bared her soul over and over now. Lyra opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, waiting patiently. “I was created in a lab during the war. Genetically modified and enhanced. Part of Clone Force 99. My brothers are clones too.”

“But you’re all so different,” she said.

“We were engineered with various specialties,” he explained, feeling an increasing lightness as he opened up. “We were sent on missions throughout the war, and after Order 66, we had to fend for ourselves… Find a new way to live in a changing galaxy.”

He continued on, pouring out his past as a peace offering between them. He shared about Omega. About Tech. About Crosshair. About Tantiss. All of it. By the time he finished, he was choking back his own tears at the sheer weight of all that they’d been through, and he clenched his jaw, swallowing hard.

Lyra rested against him in silence, having given him little squeezes of support at poignant moments in his story. When he stopped and remained quiet, she sat up slowly, observing his sharp features conflicted with a myriad of emotions. The depth of the concern and empathy on her face tugged at his heartstrings, and when she tentatively lifted a shaky hand to graze his cheek with the backs of her fingers, he let his eyes close for a second. She pulled away, sitting back to rub her face before dropping her hands with an exhausted stare at the flickering flames in the hearth.

“So what do we do now?” Her question hung heavily between them, as though they stood at an intersection of paths.

“Good question.”

She sighed. It was late, the glow from the planet’s moons barely penetrating the thick cloud cover, and Lyra glanced helplessly around the room as though it would give her the answer.

“What about her?” she finally asked, fear touching her face as she looked at Luciana. 

Hunter shifted slightly to free his blaster from its holster, flicking a switch on the side and raising it at the motionless pile on the ground. 

“Wait! Hunter! No!” Lyra yelled in utter panic. 

“It’s set to stun,” he reassured her, showing her the gun as though she were familiar with its components. “It’ll keep her out til morning at least.” 

With a cringe of trepidation from Lyra, he pointed it back at Luciana, flashing a few rays of the bright blue light over her body. 

“So now I’m supposed to sleep, after all that, with her in my house?” 

“She’s not waking up anytime soon,” he confirmed.

“Yeah… But still.” She twisted her hands anxiously. “I mean, I don’t think I can sleep anyway. But I also feel like I could collapse right here.”

“Mmm,” Hunter nodded. “Pretty normal response to shock.” 

Lyra stared at Luciana, gaze growing distant as she tried to have any coherent thought but just felt completely drained. She shifted in her seat, casting a sideways glance at Hunter’s knees, then slowly lifted her eyes to his face. 

“Will… Will you stay?” she asked, voice small and vulnerable. Again his chest filled with protectiveness. He hadn’t realized quite how emasculated he’d felt for the last few months, and it was deeply affirming to be reminded of his own strength and capability. “I’m sorry,” she continued. “I don’t want to be a burden. I could help you carry her to the local jail instead…” She was grasping for options, and he resisted the urge to chuckle at the mental image. 

“I could carry her myself,” he reminded her, the shadow of a smile on his lips. “But I’ll sleep here on the couch and keep an eye on her.”

“I feel bad asking anything of you,” Lyra admitted, shrinking beneath her own self-hate for all that had transpired. “I don’t deserve it, Hunter. You should be free to live your life without all this… chaos. You’ve had more than your share, and I only make it worse.”

He waited for a moment, tendrils of pity swirling around the deep affection he felt, and then responded as soothingly as he was able. His words carried more weight than he’d anticipated as he spoke them aloud.

“I’ll stay.”

She nodded, eyes glistening.

Lyra decided to try to sleep, murmuring her sheepish thanks again and bringing a little smirk to Hunter’s face as he heard the lock on her bedroom door click once she was inside. She came right back out though, moving quickly as though embarrassed at her own forgetfulness, and offered him the softest, fluffiest blanket she owned before retreating to her room again.

Hunter laid down on the couch, pulling the cover around himself until it felt as though he were wrapped in a warm hug. Everything about this place was cozy to him. But he furrowed his brow at Luciana, his mind gearing up to strategize about every possible way to deal with that whole situation. He was surprised at how little he actually felt as he reflected on their time together, especially in comparison to the profound sense of emptiness and hurt that had burdened him since Keytoll. Granted, he’d had a lot more time to put down roots with Lyra… 

None of it mattered now, though. Part of him felt insulted while other parts felt relieved, and beneath it all there was a chasm cracking open as he ruminated on the fact that he’d been so thoroughly fooled. The exhaustion was beginning to settle deep in his bones, and he tucked his head against the armrest, angling it toward Luciana’s motionless body. He forced his eyes closed, other senses working overtime in hypervigilant rebellion against the sleep he so desperately craved. It would likely be a long night.

* * * 

The first light of dawn was peeking through the windows when Hunter woke with a start, a wave of apprehension sending goosebumps across his skin. His eyes flew to where Luciana had been laying, relieved to see that nothing had changed. And yet something was different. Tuning in to everything he could sense, his pulse echoed in his ears as he waited. Something was about to happen. 

The beams of light through Lyra’s gauzy curtains were brightening at too fast a rate for a typical sunrise, and he noticed wispy tendrils dancing through them. An odd sensation gripped him, the same sort he’d experienced beneath the waterfall, and the light developed that same bluish-green hue as it streamed toward Luciana. He sat up, reaching for his weapons as he watched like a hawk. Her body was bathed in the blue light, the delicate curls fluttering across before reaching her head, where they came together and swirled around before disappearing into her body, and he saw her sides rise and fall in a deep breath. 

His hand tensed on the blaster hidden at his side.

Luciana stirred, rolling onto her stomach and pushing herself up to a seated position. Rubbing her eyes, she looked blearily around the room with a quiet groan as she stretched stiff muscles from being crumpled in the same position for so long. When her eyes landed on Hunter, a sheepish smile curved her rosy cheeks. 

“Well hi,” she said in the cutesy voice she used to endear herself to people. 

Hunter nodded, watching her every move. 

“I guess that was quite a night,” she giggled, running her fingers through her red curls to smooth them into place. “I probably should have led with this, or maybe I did, but I’m Luci.”

.

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[artem-wing-wife]

LUCIANA'S KINKTOBER MASTERLIST 2023

[ HOYOVERSE GAMES •Tears of Themis •Genshin •HSR ]

[ WILL ONLY BE WRITING FOR 20 DAYS BECAUSE I HAVE COLLEGE STARTING SOON ]

WEEK 1: TEARS OF THEMIS

Day 1: Artem Wing ~•Office Sex

Day 2: Luke Pearce ~•Praise

Day 3: Marius Von Hagen ~•Dirty Talk

Day 4: Vyn Richter ~•Submissive/Dominant

Day 5: Rosa [X female] ~•Cunnilingus

Day 6: Artem Wing ~•Cockwarming

Day 7: FREE DAY

WEEK 2: HONKAI STAR RAIL

Day 8: Jing Yuan ~•Daddy Kink

Day 9: Danheng+Danheng IL ~•Threesome

Day 10: Kafblade ~•Hate sex

Day 11: Kafka ~•Humiliation

Day 12: Himeko ~•Mommy Kink

Day 13: Starch ~•Fingering

Day 14: FREE DAY

WEEK 3: GENSHIN IMPACT

Day 15: Chilumi ~•First Time

Day 16: Scaramona ~•Car sex

Day 17: Beiguang ~•Face Sitting

Day 18: Haikaveh ~•Breeding ft. A/B/O

Day 19: Cynonari ~•Blow job

[samoankpoper21]

Hello! I was wondering if you can do a part 2 of the duke gojo fic if you haven't already

ASDFJKL 😭 THANK YOU SO MUCH 😭 I AM SO HONORED BY THIS REQUEST 😭 I hope this satiates your palate/meets your expectations 😭 Enjoy~!!

Word Count: 1103 ib: @gojonanami

Weaving in and out of sleep you recalled bits and pieces of the events that transpired: the handsome cerulean eyed stranger carrying you bridal style announcing his intent to marry you, the audible gasps filling the ballroom. You found yourself nuzzling deeper into this man's warmth, his scent lulling you to sleep, calming you.

"Emperor Yaga! If I may?" the stoic man lifted his hand causing all commotion to come to a halt. Your father and stepmother were busy chatting when they looked up and saw the white haired warrior carrying you. His gaze was focused, unwavering, determined. "What is this Duke Gojo?"

"I have come to announce that I have found a bride!" Emperor Yaga peered at your sleeping form jesting, "Surely you didn't knock your bride unconscious." a few sly chuckles escaping from faceless lips. Satoru smirked retorting with, "On the contrary. I am merely following the royal decree that you set out for me." The ballroom began to slowly come to life, murmurings of concern filling the air.

"If I may Emperor Yaga." Yaga turned to his right to see your father's silhouette emerge from the crowd. "Marquess Hamilton." Yaga's voice boomed causing your father to flinch. "Greetings to the star of Novaland." Your father shakily offered. "What is so heavy on your mind that is causing you to step forward?"

"It's just that...she's my daughter and I would not want her to marry a ruthless man as he." Satoru's grip on you tightened, turning to face your father, his blue eyes glowing. "Marquess Hamilton, you have no right to interfere with matters pertaining to me."

"But your grace-"

"Are you bold enough to disobey a royal decree from the emperor himself?"

"No your grace."

"Then it's settled. I will be taking your daughter as my bride and there will be no objections." Satoru bowed to Yaga before storming off, your father collapsing on the floor; pitiful gazes and words of sympathy being tossed his way. "That poor man." "What a pitiful thing." "He's really done it now." "His daughter may as well be pronounced dead." "He's only a marquess and he dared to confront Duke Gojo? Ha! What a joke." Your father was physically shaken out of his reverie when your stepmother Marilyn hissed in his ear, "What are you doing?! Isn't this what you wanted? Stand up! You're making yourself look like a fool ." His head turned to look at her, his expression blank, tears falling from his eyes. "Luciana?" Marilyn froze. He trudged past her. Maybe this is Luciana's karma for the way that I've neglected our daughter. Luciana, I'm so sorry.

Sunlight poured through the curtains causing you to groan. You peeled your eyes open and saw an unfamiliar ceiling, white with gold trimmings. You shot up, your hand instinctively flew to your head, trying to quell the dizziness. Where am I? Was I that drunk that I snuck into a random nobleman's bedroom? Your thoughts were interrupted when the door opened and you saw the handsome man from the previous night holding a glass of water, smiling. "Oh good you're up!"

"Wha-?"

"Drink this." You cautiously took the glass, eyeing the clear contents. "It's just water. I didn't poison it." You took a sip and my gods the water tasted like heaven. "Thank you." you meekly offered. A beat of silence passed when you broke it saying, "If I may be so forward but what am I doing here?"

"You really are a peculiar one you know that? Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Most people, upon being kidnapped, asks 'who are you' first." Kidnapped? Satoru watched as the wheels in your head were turning. For the first time he was scared, scared that once you knew of his identity that you would fear and turn away from him. "You are right kind sire but I beg to differ."

"Pardon?"

"I have not been kidnapped." Satoru smirked asking, "Why are you so confident that you have not been kidnapped?"

"The scenery. I woke up in a bed, the ceiling lined with gold, a stranger greeting me kindly. If you're a bandit you're a horrible one."

"What if I'm a kind, vindictive bandit?"

"That would be highly impossible. A vindictive bandit against a marquess' daughter will gain nothing. I come from a low sovereignty."

"What if," Gojo hesitated. He took a deep breath, his murmuring almost a whisper. "I'm a monster? A monster whose hellbent on war?" He didn't want to lift his head, he already knew the reaction he would receive. Reluctantly he met your eyes and was surprised by the steadiness in your gaze. "Duke Gojo?" He swallowed as a reply. "You're Duke Gojo?"

"Yes." The bone in his jaw clenched, your head tilting to the side. You studied his sharp jawline and nose, long eyelashes, his head turned away from you. Out of compulsion your hand gently took his face turning him to look at you. "Why do you look so sad your grace?"

"I will understand if you would like to leave-"

"Leave? Where to?"

"To get a divorce." Huh?? Divorce? "Your grace, if I may be so forward but what the heavens are you talking about?" Satoru's big shaky hands gently held yours. "Yesterday at the banquet you and I were on the balcony. You confided in me that your father Marquess Hamilton and stepmother were trying to expand their sovereign; their end goal having you marry me. At first I thought you were going to run away, as others so often have done so in the past. But you did something...remarkable. You defended my honor, wanting to hear my side of the story. That's when you collapsed and I professed to the Emperor and the rest of the ballroom my intentions of marrying you." He locked eyes with you again. "No one has ever stood by my side unless it was out of obligation or fear. You are the first, the only one, who was willing...and that is why I believe I have fallen for you Y/N." For the first time, the great Duke Gojo Satoru seemed meek. You wanted to hold this man, comfort him. You grabbed his face pulling him towards you and placed a kiss on his forehead. His eyes grew big, his cheeks, ears, and neck turning crimson. "Y-Y/N! What are you doing?!" You leaned forward causing your foreheads to touch. "I do not regret becoming your wife." You placed another kiss to his forehead cradling him, bringing him closer. "I am here. I see you."

[beatricebidelaire]

With a grand gesture, Officer Luciana stepped off the platform, clunked to the back of the room, and dragged a frightened-looking man out of a folding chair. He was dressed in a rumpled suit with a large rip across the shoulder, and a pair of shiny silver handcuffs.

“But I’m not Count Olaf!” the man cried. “My name is Jacques, and—”

“But lots of people have only one eyebrow,” Jacques cried, “and I have this tattoo as part of my job.”

“I’m not a villain!” Jacques said frantically. “I work for the volunteer—”

Jacques gave the children a grateful smile, but Officer Luciana turned around and clunked over to where the Baudelaires were standing.

“But I’m innocent!” the man on the platform cried. “Please listen to me, I beg of you! I’m not Count Olaf! My name is Jacques!” He turned to the three siblings, who could see he had tears in his eyes. “Oh, Baudelaires,” he said, “I am so relieved to see that you are alive. Your parents—” “That’s enough out of you,” Officer Luciana said, clasping her white-gloved hand over Jacques’s mouth.

J's description in tvv always kills me. "frightened-looking" "frantically" "cried" "tears in his eyes". he was frightened. desperate. in tears. it's just ...... so much. this is the first time the readers see J and it's in one of his worst moments.

in fact, it's not only one of his worse moments. it's also arguably his only on-screen moments. (when i say on-screen, i don't actually mean on screen, i guess, since i'm talking about the books, but you get what i mean). like sure, we get other details later, through occasional mentions/memories/flashbacks from others. we read his letters in tua, and there's the vfd meeting script. but he doesn't directly appear in the sense he appeared in tvv. those really were the only moments. even in atwq he didn't show up.

aside from tvv where he does show up, where he does appear, everywhere else he's more just, talked about / in flashbacks. quigley mentioned him. his siblings mentioned him. widdershins mentioned him. we saw his letters - but not himself directly - in tua. to quigley his this sort of mysterious image, someone who quigley learned some stuff from but also didn't really tell him much directly bc he was busy. in atwq he does not appear, and also wasn't mentioned by ghede when she listed what other apprentices of lemony's era were doing at that time - making him seem even more mysterious.

in his letters we found he and lemony have similar writing styles in some way, he also signs thing "with all due respect". he writes stuff like "i hope that this package reaches you safely, and that you are safe when it reaches you, and that i will be safe in making sure this package will reach you in safety, in a safe manner, and in a safe." or "but we have not been under normal circumstances for quite some time. for instance, currently i am under sixty feet of water, rather than under normal circumstances."

he says "please pass the brandy" in response to lemony's words during the vfd meeting.

he has this .... sort of dry humor of his own. sharp-witted. plays with word usage the way lemony did. he seems mysterious and stays in the shadow a lot, from the way we learned so few things about him in atwq. the atwq profile card of lemony covering his face but jacques in silhouette always gets me.

but then, J - mysterious, ambiguous, lurking in the shadows, quiet, dry-humor - his only, actually appearing physically moment was in tvv: and he was frightened. and frantic. one of his worst moments. and this absolutely kills me. and lemony described all that, too.

[lucianasbentley]

closed starter for @owenxbentley location: their home

Luciana was trying her hardest not to cry as Gabby screamed. After she was born, she had a rough time sleeping and at first, they all thought it was just normal newborn behavior, but as the weeks progressed, it was getting worse and after trial and error, the baby was diagnosed with colic. Lucy didn't know what to do, not having experienced this with Rowan, and she kept feeling like she was doing everything wrong. It was really getting to her and as Gabby kept crying, it only made it worse. She knew Owen was working and didn't want to bother him except nothing she was trying was working so she walked into his office with a screaming Gabby in her arms and tears lined her eyes. "Help me. Please."

[angel-with-paper-wings]

God’s Punishment

This is a fanfic piece for Day 4 of DGE POTO 2024, the Luciana-themed week hosted by @lapsusophobia!

Summary: Luciana gets her first period. The two men living in the house react in opposite ways.

Rating/Warnings: rated T, descriptions of menstruation, blood, references to Christianity/Catholicism, period-typical misogyny, body shame, implied transmasc!Erik (if you squint)

When Luciana awoke that sweaty summer morning, she knew something was wrong. Her legs shifted beneath the sheets, and she paused when she felt a strange dampness between her thighs. A deluge of shame swept into her mind all at once; had she really wet the bed? At thirteen years old, she felt sure she would have grown out of such a habit by now.

She quickly jumped out of bed and ran her hands over the sheets, but to her surprise, they were dry. Her face contorted into a confused frown as she pulled the chamber pot out from under her bed. With shaking hands, she gathered up the skirt of her nightgown and glanced down, unprepared for the dreadful sight that awaited her.

Blood. She had never seen so much blood. It trickled in a dark red streak down the inside of her thigh. Her wide eyes watched it slowly trail the length of her leg, over the bone of her ankle, oozing into a thick scarlet droplet onto the smooth wooden floor.

A scream of horror finally escaped her throat. She seemed rooted to the spot, afraid to touch it or spread the mess any further. After a moment, she heard the low rumble of her father’s footsteps stomping towards her door like thunder. Giovanni burst in, half-dressed and eyes blazing. “What in Christ’s name are you screaming about?”

Luciana turned around and stared at him in wordless fear. Her palms pressed the skirt flat against her thighs, failing to hide the growing splotch of red staining the pale fabric of her nightgown.

She watched her father’s eyes narrow in recognition, his lips grimacing in disgust. “Ah…it’s just that.”

“What?” she whispered, breathless with panic. “Father, what’s happening to me? You knew this would happen?”

“Of course I knew this would happen, child. It has happened to all of you…all four of you…”

The disdain in his voice when he spoke of her and her sisters was all too familiar. “What is it?” she squeaked.

His fist clenched at his side and he bit his lip, clearly struggling to explain. “It’s God’s punishment. For Eve’s original sin, women bleed every month and suffer during childbirth.”

His words made Luciana shudder. “Every month?”

Giovanni gave an exasperated sigh and shook his head. He waved his hand as he turned to leave her bedroom. “Clean yourself up. Do not soil any more of your clothing, do you hear me?”

After he moved from her doorway, Luciana continued to stand in shock for several moments. His words sunk in like knives in her flesh. Every month…this would happen every month. Three times each season, she would wake up to a river of blood flowing from her like the Nile in a plagued Egypt. It sounded like a nightmare—a nightmare made real.

Eventually, her shaky legs carried her to the washroom. She poured water into the basin and dipped a cloth into it, before slowly beginning to wipe up the trail of sticky red from her leg. After this task was done, she paused for a moment and considered what else to do. Frustrated tears stung in her eyes as she attempted to staunch the flow of blood, but every time she tried a new tiny splotch would appear on the cloth.

How could no one have told her about this? Did everyone know this was coming except for her? She figured her sisters must have suffered the same thing, and her mother too, though she could not be sure. She knew her father had the answer, but she couldn’t ask him. He hated it when she spoke of her mother, and Luciana hated thinking about her. To think that she was somehow similar to that woman, even in this strange bodily way, filled her with shame.

Shame. The poison pulsed through her body and turned her stomach. Throughout her life, she had always felt ashamed of herself in some way, but now this dark red stain made it visible to everyone else. She had to hide it—that’s the only way she could convince herself she was not feeling it. No one must see this curse on her body.

Especially not him.

Just the thought of him, that boy, seeing her covered in her own blood made her quiver in mortification. She quickly removed her soiled nightgown and placed it in the bathtub. She went to her small wardrobe and grabbed a pair of drawers and a gown for the day and carried them back into the washroom. By this time, blood was seeping through the cloth she had been using to clean herself, so she chucked it into the bathtub with a harsh yell. She found a new cloth and positioned it carefully within her drawers, before pulling on the rest of the clothes. Examining herself in the mirror, she adjusted her skirts one more time before walking stiffly down the stairs.

A sigh of relief left her chest when she saw that the boy was not in the kitchen; she figured he was in the basement working on his bizarre inventions, or perhaps already hard at work on her father’s buildsite. Happy to not have him as a distraction, she quickly got to work preparing breakfast as usual. The water for the coffee was halfway boiled and she was just cutting the bread for toast, when she felt a stabbing pain in her belly. She grimaced and dropped the knife, moving her hand to her abdomen. “Ow!” she yelped.

After a few seconds, the pain passed and she blinked away the tears at the edges of her eyes. She looked down at her own belly in offended shock. So not only was there blood, but there was pain, too? Why was she being punished for something Eve did? She wasn’t there in Eden, she didn’t eat that stupid apple!

These thoughts bounced around in her head, until a sharp whistling broke through. She whipped her head to the screaming kettle sitting on the stove, and she quickly removed it from the heat. She set the coffee to infuse, when she heard a soft shuffle behind her. She turned around, and almost spilled the coffee in surprise.

The boy loomed over her like the void of night. He stood a full meter away from her, but it still somehow felt too close. Luciana placed a hand over her chest and let out a frazzled sigh. “You could at least warn me,” she groaned.

His golden eyes flickered like nervous candles within the black cloth mask. After a moment, they glanced away from her and toward the countertop beside her. She followed his gaze, and saw the plate of toast and fruit she had already prepared. Understanding his wordless request, she picked it up and held it out to him.

His long bony fingers grasped the plate. She was about to turn around, when she heard a soft mumble: “Thank you.”

Even that tiny phrase, said in his voice, sent a chill up her spine. It wasn’t a bad or scary kind of chill, it was somehow…warm? She looked all the way up his gangly form to his amber eyes again. “You’re welcome.”

The boy stared at her a second longer, not blinking and not moving. Suddenly, she saw his eyes glance down to her lower belly, where she had just felt that sting of pain. Her face burned, and she folded her hands in front of her to cover the spot at the top of her skirts. At this, he finally looked away and trotted out the door without another sound.

She felt her heart racing in the back of her throat. Oh god, had he heard her exclamation of pain? Did he think something was wrong with her? He better not tell her father, or else he may send for a doctor and give her all kinds of nasty medicines or cut her open and rip out little bits of her.

To prevent the panic from seeping in, Luciana inhaled deeply and went back to preparing breakfast for her father. She set the finished plate and coffee on the table, then started on the dough for a fresh loaf of bread to go with lunch. As she worked, she could not stop her thoughts from wandering back to the skinny young shadow that had just vanished from the kitchen.

She didn’t know what to make of that strange boy…that Erik. From the first moment she met him, she knew he was different, everyone knew he was different. He always looked ill, with his pasty skin and sunken eyes. His arms were so thin that from a distance she mistook them for raw bone, and his fingers seemed as fragile as flower stems. And yet, she had seen those arms lift whole loads of bricks without struggle and those fingers carve shapes out of solid marble for hours on end. No wonder Father loves him, she thought bitterly.

He was amazing, yet he remained an enigma to everyone, even Giovanni. That mask seemed to be molded to his face, immobile as the marble he occasionally carved into columns and balustrades. Besides the sight of his wiry forearms when he rolled up his sleeves, he did not allow even the smallest glimpse at the body beneath his clothes, but that only seemed to encourage her curiosity. Often, she wondered what it would be like if he lifted his shirt, and she could glimpse his insides twisting around or his heart beating between the valleys of his ribs. Perhaps he really was a skeleton, and those clothes were the only things keeping all his bones together.

But he never took off his shirt…that was another thing that made him different from all the other men that worked on her father’s buildsite. Even on the hottest days, when the other men’s bare backs gleaned with sweat in the burning sun, his body remained as covered as his face.

But his voice. She had never heard him say more than two words at one time—mostly his simple “si, Signor” to her father—but even these filled up her soul like a good meal. Even in her dreams she could not escape that voice. She used to follow him around for hours, pestering him with questions about his work in the hope of hearing the smallest word, the slightest sound. He could make a sigh of annoyance sound beautiful. But he hardly ever responded with anything more than silence, or a shake or nod of his head if she was lucky. But she couldn’t even enjoy these small victories, before her father was yelling at her to leave the boy to his work.

Was it so wrong to be curious? To her father, yes. All she could do was hope that Erik did not think as lowly of her inquisitiveness as Giovanni did.

When she was done cleaning the kitchen and preparing the ingredients for lunch, Luciana wiped her hands on her apron before hanging it up. She supposed she should start on the laundry now, and that was when she remembered the bloody cloth and nightgown she had thrown into her bathtub. She groaned in frustration as she trudged up the stairs; how was she ever going to get those stains out?

She pushed open the door to her bedroom, and suddenly she stopped in her tracks. Sitting at the foot of her bed was a bucket, a bar of soap, and a towel. She was certain those things had not been there when she left her room not an hour earlier.

Luciana glanced behind her shoulder at the empty hallway, before stepping into her room and closing the door. She walked across the room and eyed the objects, and she noticed that there were a few more things inside the bucket. Kneeling down, she reached in and examined the strange array of items: several identical strips of clean cloth, a few bundles of herbs tied with string, a small jar containing a light-colored powder, and a few recipes written in a sloppy, hurried hand. Upon closer inspection, these recipes seemed to be for teas and tinctures to specifically help with pain. 

If this was a trick meant to puzzle her, it was certainly working. Where did all of this come from? She had just recently grown out of the concept of fairies sneaking into mortals’ houses and leaving them gifts, but she could feel her mind reverting back to that childish fantasy. She supposed she could wonder about such things while she got started on the laundry; she wouldn’t let those damn bloodstains set.

She picked up the bucket and towel and carried them with her into the washroom. Setting them down on the floor, she then retrieved the soap and did a quick double take. Attached to the bar of soap was another small note, written in the same messy scrawl as the recipes:

Cold water works best.

Luciana stared down at the odd message for only a moment, before ripping it off of the soap. She filled the bucket with water and dunked in the soap before adding her nightgown and the cloth. She swirled them around for a moment before reaching inside the water and beginning to fiercely scrub at the bloodstains.

So this was what womanhood was…

[erosjournal]

heres the mini fic based off of this post. i cannot find the og scene from the show, but its called scorpion, its on paramount + and its the very end of season 3 episode 7 (an episode abt voting). btw almost all of this text is word for word, heres a link to the script (the woman is literally a genius mechanic who was abandoned by parents as a child)

[background context : juliette and luciana are finally able to get married, which they’ve been planning to do since luciana’s pregnant (through a sperm donor or divine conceiving) they are in their early 20’s and were really excited. luciana went to the hospital while juliette went on a mini quest. once she’s back, she noticed somethinf was off.]

Juliette: “I’ve talked to the Oracles, I should be free of quests for a while. We can settle down, get married and have a kid now!”

Luciana: *Clearly upset, and starts taking apart a crib, not speaking*

Juliette: “Why are you taking this apart?”

Luciana: *Takes a shaky breath* “I’m not pregnant.”

Juliette: *Surprised* “What happened at the doctor’s?”

Luciana: *Puts tools down* “My blood test was a false positive caused by cadmium poisoning.” *Another shaky breath* “From working on those solar panels.”

Juliette: *Realizing* “That would explain your morning sickness and late menstrual cycle.” *Watches Luciana continue to take apart the crib* “It's okay to be upset.”

Luciana: “I’m not.”

Juliette: “It’s okay to be upset, Luci.”

Luciana: *Keeps working on crib, shaking as she speaks* “You know, when I was, uh, in elementary school, I was jealous of the other kids. Because their parents waited outside to take them home, and I walked to the orphanage by myself.” *Looks up, tearing up* “I was looking forward to waiting outside for somebody.” *Struggles on a piece and hits it in frustration*

Juliette: “Hey, hey, hey!” *Rushes over to comfort Luciana* “Hey, come here, listen to me. We love each other. We're gonna have a family. You're gonna wait outside a school and you're gonna build a crib and you're gonna share tools with whatever baby is lucky enough to have you as their mom. It'll happen when the time is right. It is gonna happen.”

Luciana: *Tearing up* “I just need to be alone now.”

Juliette: “Okay.” *Stands back, and glances at the ground* “First, I never got the answer that I was looking for the first time.” *Gets down on one knee, popping out a box with a ring thats in the shape of a nut* “And I don't have a song, but I've carried this ring with me every day--“

Luciana: “Yes.”

Juliette: *Goes to hug Luciana*

[helloalycia]

unrequited // alicia clark

summary: after reuniting with Alicia after presuming her dead, you can’t help but think back to the last thing you said to her: that you’re in love with her.

warning/s: mentions of injury, blood and obvs the usual that comes with writing anything ftwd. also sad gay angst.

author's note: a lil one shot set in s7 that i wrote a while ago and finally got 'round to editing! it's set about the time after Morgan finds Alicia after the nuclear explosion (is that what it was? i can't even remember lol). It's been so long since i watched it so i can't even remember who the predominant characters in this part are, so apologies if it's incorrect! hope you enjoy anyway haha.

also another shameless plug but i've almost finished fully publishing my original fiction book titled 'Evie' on Wattpad so do check that out if you're into gay mermaids, pining and angst 👀

masterlist / wattpad

"It's called being efficient," I said with a hint of pride at my handiwork, but Sarah disagreed.

"It's called wasting time."

"Well, next time you happen to tear your favourite shirt, don't go asking for my help," I said to her lightheartedly, continuing to sew up a hole in my socks.

"We'll see," she mumbled, before leaving me be at the kitchen counter.

I chewed on my lip as I finished threading the needle through the hole, pulling the fabric together and tying it off. It was arguably pointless to some, but with everything going on outside the submarine that we were all seeking refuge in, I couldn't exactly go and pick up some new socks when my current ones ripped. So, why not put an old skill to practice?

After pulling my newly-repaired socks and shoes on my feet, I was about to head to my room when I heard a knocking coming from down the hall. Pausing, I listened again and realised someone was at the entry hole at the top of the ladder.

"Someone open up! It's me, Morgan!" a voice called from above when I approached the ladder.

"Oh, shit," I mumbled to myself, before calling out to him, "I'm coming, Morgan, one sec!"

"Great, thank you!" he said gratefully.

"Guys, Morgan's back!" I shouted down the hall, whilst rushing to climb the ladder.

Morgan had gone out two days ago with Grace and the baby, Mo, to seek help from Strand at his tower because Mo was sick and nobody knew what to do. Luciana, Daniel, Charlie, Sarah and I were left behind to hold down the fort, but we hadn't heard anything from him since. Naturally, we worried, but couldn't risk leaving when we promised to stay put until he returned. That, and it wasn't safe to leave without enough gas masks for us all.

But he was finally back! And as I unlatched the door above me, I prayed that everybody was okay, especially Mo.

"Morgan," I called with relief when I saw his face looking down at me. "C'mon, you were gone for so long, we were worried!"

He smiled a little, but it didn't reach his eyes, and that's when I realised things couldn't have gone well.

Knowing I had a million questions but he needed to come inside first, I jumped off the ladder and waited at the bottom to help. The others had joined me in the hallway, the lot of us anticipating what Morgan had to share.

He climbed down the ladder first and I began to help him, growing concerned when I noticed the dried blood and dirt in his clothes.

"Where's Grace? The baby?" Sarah pressed when she noticed the lack of the others. "Mo-Mo, what happened?"

"Strand took them," he said with regret, accepting my help off the ladder. His eyes followed up it, and I realised a stranger was following down after him – some girl.

"What?!" Sarah snapped, eyes widened, and everybody collectively gasped at the news.

"I managed to find an old friend, however," he continued, as I was about to lend a hand to the stranger.

Only, when she accepted my hand and jumped off the last few rungs of the ladder, my breath caught in my throat. It was Alicia, the girl who I'd presumed long gone, or even dead.

"Y/N," she exhaled, just as surprised as I was, before immediately pulling me in for a hug.

I hugged her loosely at first, oblivious to the excited comments from the others at the sight of their dear friend, and then I closed my eyes and tightened my hold, afraid to let go.

"You're here," she said with disbelief, before pulling away to meet my eyes. Hers were tired and dull, but momentarily bright as they met mine. "I mean, Morgan said you were but I didn't– I–"

When she didn't know what to say, I found my words. "I didn't know if you were alive. I was so worried, Alicia, I thought–" And then the shock faded, replaced by a nauseating guilt. "I wanted to look for you, but–"

"It wasn't safe," she finished for me, not the slightest bit offended. "I know, Y/N, I know."

I frowned, eyes flickering between hers, my heart thumping louder than ever at the mere sight of her. She was alive. She was back. She was okay.

After everybody became reacquainted with Alicia, and Morgan shared the news about Mo and Grace – Strand had taken them in, offering to 'help', but had tried to kill Morgan in the process – I went to the kitchen to get some food for them both. They'd also shared everything they'd been through after Strand stole Grace and Mo, including almost dying because of his men, getting caught up with some infected and declaring war on Strand, so it made sense as to why they both looked like they'd been through hell and back.

"Here," I said once I'd plated and warmed up some canned soup for them both, before adding for Alicia's sake, "this is all we have."

"It's perfect, thanks," she said with a nod, before digging in immediately.

Morgan nodded gratefully before doing the same. I cleaned up the mess I'd made as they were eating, before dismissing myself so I could sort out a sleeping space for Alicia. It didn't take long to find her an unoccupied bunk, and with Luciana's help, we put out some fresh sheets and found some clean clothes for Alicia. I could barely believe she was here still, having reluctantly accepted that I may never see her again, not so soon anyway.

Once I returned to the kitchen, Morgan was no longer there, but Alicia was still sat there finishing her soup.

"Hey, Luci and I have sorted out a space for you to get some sleep," I said, unsure why I suddenly felt awkward around her. "We've left some clean clothes on the bed for you, as well."

Alicia looked up, nodding, before taking the last slurp of her soup and wiping her mouth. She stood up from her stool, pausing and clutching the counter tightly for a moment.

"Hey," I started with concern, recognising she looked dizzy, and stepped forward to help, but she raised her hand to stop me.

"I'm fine," she said with a clipped tone, eyes closed as she took a deep breath.

"You don't look well," I commented, eyes scanning her face. Dark circles plagued her eyes and she was still clammy, something I thought was temporary because of the rush of the day, but clearly I was mistaken.

"Is it that obvious?" she snapped quietly, before exhaling sharply and opening her eyes, though avoiding mine.

"Sorry, I just–" I wasn't sure why she was suddenly moody, but I wanted to help somehow. "Do you need medicine? We don't have much, but I'm sure–"

"No, it won't work," she cut me off, before pushing her weight off the counter and onto her feet.

"What?"

Shaking her head, she sat back down on the stool for support. "It doesn't matter. Just give me a minute."

I nodded, though I couldn't help but worry. This wasn't the same girl I'd last seen before she was taken from us by Teddy, the homicidal maniac who believed he was a god. No, this Alicia was worn out, exhausted and sick. Something was wrong and I hated that I didn't know why. But not as much as I hated that she'd been left with him and his crazed cultist followers all alone.

"I can get you some water," I offered, wanting to do something, but she shook her head.

"I'm fine."

"Right... well, d'you wanna take your shoes off? I'm sure you've been on your feet all day, it might help."

"No, thanks."

The longer she had her head in her hand, clutching at her forehead with her eyes closed, the more I didn't know what to do.

"Can I take your gloves off you? Maybe get some air to your hands?" I asked, noticing she hadn't removed them when she was eating. "Anything, Alicia, I–"

"I said I'm fine," she repeated firmly, before wincing at the way it came out.

I pursed my lips, nodding awkwardly. A quiet followed soon after and I wasn't sure how to fill it. The last time we had spoke, before Teddy had taken her... it hadn't been ideal. I was certain I'd ruined everything between us when I told her the truth about how I felt – that I was in love with her – and accepted that I might have lost her forever when she never told me what she thought because of the Teddy incident that occurred afterwards. But now she was back and things were awkward and the giant elephant in the room wasn't helping.

"I'm really glad you're okay," she suddenly spoke, voice soft but weighted with gratitude. "That you got out with the others." 

"I'm sorry I couldn't get to you," I said, taking a seat on the stool beside her. "It all happened so quickly, with Teddy taking you. We were running out of time and we didn't know where to go and–"

"I'm glad you didn't go after me," she interrupted, looking up at me. "It wouldn't have been safe. They would have killed you if you tried anything, and if you didn't find me, the explosion would have. You were right to get out when you could."

Just because she said it didn't make me feel any better. Leaving Alicia behind was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do and I was certain I'd live with my regrets forever, even now that she was back with me.

"What happened, Alicia?" I asked. "Where were you?"

She exhaled tiredly, like the answer wasn't so easy. And when she began to tell me what, I realised it wasn't. She spoke of the moment Teddy took her, revealing his plans to blow everything up and keep his followers safe in a bunker that she was locked in with no escape. She told me about how she tried to escape, how they wouldn't let her, about Will, someone who tried to help her and was now dead because of Strand. And the the biggest surprise of all was when she revealed that she'd been bitten when she tried to escape, an infected leaving its mark on her arm, and how she had to saw off her own forearm to survive.

None of it seemed to phase her as she shared it, but I found myself tearing up at all of it. Naturally, my eyes fell to her arm when she told me, but they were both covered by forearm-length gloves.

"The fever won't leave," she explained, and it was beginning to make sense why she looked the way she did, pale and sweaty and exhausted. "The infection is killing me, Y/N."

"No," I muttered, refusing to believe it, because how was that fair? How could she have to go through all of that because some psychopath stole her away and tried to enforce his sick fantasies on her?

Alicia tugged off her glove, revealing a metal cast with a bone in it and a sharp knife at the end, all attached as a sleeve on her actual arm. I was speechless when I saw it, eyes unable to take in what I was seeing.

"Yeah, that's kind of how Morgan reacted, too," she said once she noticed my expression, sounding neither offended or annoyed.

"Alicia, I'm so sorry all of that happened to you," I said, finding my words as she replaced her glove.

The thought of her having to undergo all of that trauma by herself hurt, but she was the strongest person I knew. If she could do all of that, she could beat a little fever.

"Don't be sorry," she said. "It was better me than any of you."

I frowned, resisting the urge to hold her hand. "You don't know that that's what's making you sick. It could be something else."

"I do," she said patiently. "The infection was slowed down, but not gone entirely."

"But you could've got to it in time," I said hopefully.

"Y/N, I've tried everything," she lashed out, before swallowing hard and lowering her voice. "It won't go away. I'm dying."

I clenched my jaw, frustrated at the situation and refusing to give up just because she said so. "No. I don't think you are."

"Whatever."

She was bitter, avoiding my eyes and clearly peeved at my optimism. I stood up suddenly, earning her attention.

"You're not dying," I told her with certainty. "Not after everything. Not if I can help it."

"Uh-huh," she played along as if to avoid an argument, but I didn't let it bait me.

It was just a fever. We could break it. I truly believed we could.

The next day, a few of the others had gone out on a supply run, leaving Luciana, Daniel and I to stay back and keep an eye on Alicia, even if she didn't know it. Her fever wasn't letting up, even with the medication we gave her, and she was currently napping in her bunk per our instructions after she almost passed out at lunch.

It was my turn to watch her, so I was sat on a stool by the bottom bunk where she was currently fast asleep. A book was in my hand, an attempt to distract me and give her a little space, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't stealing glances at her every now and then. Eventually, her eyes began to flutter and her movement made me put my book down.

"Hey," I said gently, not wanting to startle her.

She blinked tiredly, eyes distant and confused. "Are the others back yet?"

"Not yet. How d'you sleep?"

She breathed out slowly, lifting both hands to rub her eyes, only to realise her mistake when one of them was missing. She'd removed her metal cast before going to sleep, along with her gloves. With a quiet sigh, she nodded to the opposite side of the room.

"Can you pass me my arm, please?" she asked, sitting up and swinging her legs over the edge of the bunk.

"You don't have to wear that in here if you don't want to," I reminded her, noticing she didn't answer my previous question. "It's just us."

"I do," she said dismissively, before nodding to her amputated arm. "It's ugly. The arm makes me feel normal. Like I once was."

As I got up to grab it, along with her gloves, I said, "You may think that, but I think it's just a part of you, and no part of you could ever be ugly, Alicia."

She froze at my words, jaw tensing slightly, and I realised I'd said too much. My intention was never to make her feel uncomfortable – quite the opposite actually – but judging from her reaction, I had.

"But my opinion doesn't mean anything," I added, hoping to ease the situation, "so here." I handed her the arm and gloves before deciding to leave, knowing it would be for the best.

As I was, she finally spoke up from behind me, stopping me in my tracks. "I can't give you what you want."

Turning around slowly, I met her unreadable gaze. "I didn't ask for anything."

She licked her lips, looking down at her hand. "What you said, the last time we saw each other... I can't..."

"I didn't ask for anything," I repeated, interrupting her. "And I already know. Your silence at the time said it all."

It wasn't easy to forget the look of disbelief she gave me once I'd said the words – I love you, Alicia – and the silence that followed after my declaration. She never told me what she thought or felt, but it was obvious enough.

I swallowed thickly, hoping my sadness wasn't showing. "You were my friend long before anything else, so I was only hoping to treat you as such. If that's too weird for you, then I'll step back."

When she didn't reply, nor look up at me, my insides shrivelled a little.

"For the record," I added defensively, "I didn't want anything from you. I've only ever been honest with you."

Again, she didn't answer, and I took that as an answer in itself and turned to leave. I knew she didn't feel the same as I – her silence spoke volumes – but it still made my heart crumble a little, hearing her finally admit it or imply it or whatever the hell that was just then.

Since Alicia and I's awkward encounter, I knew it was probably best to keep my distance and only converse when we needed to. Personally, I could live with only being her friend, but she didn't want that and I wasn't going to force myself on her. She was fair to want that, even if she'd gone about it in the wrong way. So, I stayed away.

Instead, I focused my energy on helping Luciana help Daniel, who was forgetting things slowly with time. He believed his daughter, Ofelia, was still alive and out there, so it was a struggle keeping him in the sub where it was safe. That, and creating a plan to get Grace and Mo back whilst simultaneously stopping Strand was keeping everyone busy.

It was a few days later when Alicia had left, following a lead on where this 'PADRE' person or place could be – according to Morgan, anyway. It wasn't like she'd said anything to me before she left. I didn't even know she'd gone until Morgan let everyone know afterwards.

She wasn't well, her fever only getting worse over the past few days, and the last thing she should have been doing was going outside all alone, chasing a lead that might not even exist. But it wasn't my business, I suppose, and she wouldn't have listened to my protests anyway.

As much as I pretended I didn't care, I did. And my concern only worsened when Alicia finally returned to us, though not by choice. It was Morgan who had brought her back after searching for her because she was gone too long. He'd found her unconscious and could barely carry her back to the submarine without needing extra hands. My heart had fallen into my gut when I saw her out of it, dark eyes closed and highly contrasting her pale skin.

Immediately jumping into action, I helped Morgan take her to her bunk, taking off her socks, shoes and jacket. She would have cursed me out or dropped some passive aggressive comment, but I also removed her gloves and arm, needing to get some fresh air to her skin. She was burning up, hair glued to her forehead, and my heart was shrinking the longer I watched her.

"You're gonna be okay," I whispered to her, even though she couldn't hear a thing. "You've got to be."

My fingers pushed her damp curls behind her ear, the sweat beading on her skin. She was too hot, but the cold cloth I was dabbing seemed to cool her down a little.

If things hadn't gotten so messed up between us – if I hadn't confessed my damn feelings to her – then maybe she would have trusted me enough to come with her to find whatever PADRE was. I couldn't have cared less about it, but at least I could have been there to make sure she was taking care of herself. We were so close at one point, as thick as thieves, and now she wanted nothing to do with me. I hated it.

But more importantly, I hated myself for being selfish for one moment, because it had cost me my friendship with her.

I stayed with her for a while, replacing the cold towel and dabbing her skin to bring down her temperature. My worry wouldn't let me leave her side, not whilst she was like this. But as soon as I saw her green eyes flicker open with confusion, I knew she'd want me gone.

"Morgan?" I called, standing up and putting the towel to the side. "She's awake!"

He was in the room in no time, just as concerned as I, and sighed with relief when he saw her fully waking up. I moved past him, giving him no chance to ask what was what, and left to go somewhere else.

I went to my bunk in another room, grateful nobody was there to see my disheartened self. At least she was okay. Morgan would make sure of it.

Busying myself with folding some washed clothes, trying to distract myself from the impending doom that seemed to be following us wherever we went, I almost didn't hear the knock on my open door.

"Yes?" I spun around, then paused, surprised to see Alicia standing there.

"Hey," she said quietly, voice hoarse.

"Hey," I murmured, still surprised that she was talking to me. "I'm glad you're up, but maybe you should rest."

She didn't look the best still, especially as she leaned against the door for support. But if she heard me say anything, she didn't let on. Her eyes were focused on the floor, distracted, and then she finally looked up, startled gaze meeting mine.

"You have to forgive me," she said suddenly, desperately. "For lying to you. For pushing you away. For making you feel worse."

My brows furrowed. "What?"

She began to frown, eyes watering. "I might be dying. And I know it's selfish, especially after everything, but I miss you, Y/N. And I've loved you this whole time, but you deserve better."

My eyes widened at her confession. This was the last thing I expected to hear, especially with the silent treatment and distance we'd shared these past few days.

"Say something, please," she pleaded.

I swallowed hard, looking around as if the answer would be right there. "I... I don't know what to say."

She tensed her jaw with uncertainty, waiting.

I took a moment, finding the right words to say. Calmly, I said, "If this is all true–"

"It is," she cut me off instantly, and I stared at her, unmoving.

"Why are you telling me now?" I asked. "What's changed?"

She sighed, ashamed. "The closer I get to dying, the worse I feel and the more scared I become."

"Alicia, you're not dying," I said sternly, sick of hearing it, but she only winced slightly in response and I knew she didn't believe me.

"I am," she said with finality, making me frown. "And I thought that pushing you away would be what was fair. It still is, for you." Inhaling sharply, she avoided my eyes. "I'll be gone and it's not fair to tell you how I feel when that'll happen, but I can't help it. If I'm only here for so long, I... I want it to be with you." Her eyes crept back to mine, glistening with unshed tears. "I don't want to go knowing that I didn't have to be alone in the end. That I pushed you away."

My heart was full as I watched her, her own heart on her sleeve, expression full of embarrassment, shame and guilt. It made sense what she was saying, but I only wished she hadn't thought like that.

"Firstly," I started, approaching her, "you're not dying, so quit saying that. Secondly, I'm gonna help you. This isn't it, okay?" I followed her eyes, refusing to let her break contact. "But no more stupid walkabouts without help. Thirdly, the fact that you thought pushing me away would be fair to me is insane. In case you didn't hear me the last time, I'm in love with you. Have been for a long. Why the hell would you think I'd just get over you like that? That I wouldn't forgive you?"

"But I was horrible," she reminded me. "I disregarded your feelings."

I looked down, holding out my hand. She placed hers in mine reluctantly, and I squeezed it gently to show her I meant what I was saying.

"You're not now," I told her. "And I would have had you in my life as a friend, an enemy, even a stranger, rather than not at all. You could literally tell me you hate me and I'd still be here. Guess that's what love does, right?"

When I looked up, her eyes were on mine, a tear having slipped out. Her lips were trembling and it broke my heart.

"Come here," I said, tugging her close, and she fell right into me, hugging me tight.

I fought back my own tears as I wrapped my arms around her, grateful to have her back. It was just my luck that she loved me, too.

After a moment, I tried to pull apart, but she stopped me, immediately pressing her lips to mine in a sloppy, desperate, teary kiss. I closed my eyes, kissing her back whilst letting her lean on me for support. When we pulled apart, I cupped her face and wiped her tears away with my thumbs, not wanting her to be so upset anymore. I leaned in, pressing a brief kiss to her lips, the butterflies in my stomach almost lifting me off the ground. Any other instance and I would have been too caught up in the fact that she liked me, too, but her well-being was my biggest concern right now.

"I'm sorry," she said, barely a whisper.

"You don't need to apologise," I told her, before letting go of her face and taking her hand. "You do need to rest though. C'mon."

I half expected her to protest, but she let me take her back to her bunk. I didn't leave her side as she lay back down, a relieved sigh escaping her lips. Stroking my fingers in her hair, I was glad to see her eyes closing contently, appreciating the momentary peace.

"I promise I'm gonna fix this," I said with conviction. "You're going to get better."

"But if I don't–"

"No buts," I stopped her. "You will."

She opened her eyes slowly, an almost childlike wonder in them, both desperate and hopeful. Those were the same eyes I'd fallen in love with over the years, the same eyes I'd once avoided because I was too scared to admit how I felt. Never did I believe I'd end up here.

She nodded at my words and I'd almost forgotten I'd spoken because of how distracted I got. I pressed a tender kiss to her forehead and continued to stroke her hair, watching her eyes close yet again.

I wasn't going to lose her, not now that I had her back.

[obsxssedwithstuff]

Marshmallows

(angst/hurt fanfic, no happy ending, listen to Nick cave and the bad seeds - O children)

They were somewhere in Colorado, clearing a store whose size they’d underestimated. No matter how many wasted they killed, the growling didn’t stop and more came.

Nick had just opened a door when he got swarmed by the undead inside. He stabbed one, then another, blood blood blood. It was everywhere, on his face, his hands, arms, shirt, everything. Teeth clicked at him, accompanied by a low snarling. They tried to bite him, his arms, his body. He twisted and turned, shoving, stabbing.

Troy ran to save him from two aisles over. Shooting them in the head one after the other, his full focus on Nick, not noticing the infected creeping up behind him.

Two pulled him to the ground from behind, he stumbled and fell backwards, landing on his backside as another clung to his leg, and though he shot them in time and the adrenaline kept him and Nick both safe from getting torn apart once again, Nick couldn’t help but worry.

“Troy?!” he rushed over to him, still sitting on the ground and started frantically checking for bites, the arms, the legs. And his waist.

When Nick slowed his panicked movements Troy noticed what looked like bite marks in his friend’s shirt. “Nick,” he carefully lifted the shirt to reveal a bite, which he’d rather not have seen. “You too,” Nick sighed, leaning back to sit on the ground opposite to Troy. They just sat there in that empty store, thinking.

After a while, Troy made a disgusted face and shook his head, “I’m not dying like that” his voice cracked, “I’m not letting you die like that.” And he reached a for his gun, lowering his head so that Nick wouldn’t see the tears welling in his eyes.

He wasn’t afraid of dying back at the ranch, but now he would’ve liked to spend so much more time with this newfound freedom, with Nick.

Before Troy could say the next thing Nick got up wincing, stretched out his hand, “well, we’re not dead yet,” and cocked his head to the side with a light smile, “still got things to do.”

That evening they sat around a fire at the top of a mountain and watched the sunset. The smell of marshmallows engulfed them in a certain sweetness and neither would’ve imagined the apocalypse could be this good.

It wasn’t ideal and neither was really hungry but the sun’s red and golden light, the cool breeze and the slight splashing of the nearby stream made for a beauty they wouldn’t have appreciated before.

They sat next to each other while Troy turned his marshmallow over the flames, “Love.”

“What?”

“Have you ever been in love, Nicky?”

“I don’t know, maybe” and he thought back to Luciana, and to Gloria. “I think so, it’s hard to know.”

Troy looked at his marshmallow intently, “what’s it like?”

“Well, it’s not universal but… for starters, you like being around them and…”

“you value their life over yours?” Troy quickly added.

“Yeah. Yeah… you’d- you’d do anything for them. I think that’s the essence of love,” he looked at Troy, who was shivering some, still roasting his marshmallow but already preparing the next one with his clumsy left hand. Nick noticed how he’d occasionally miss the bag or stick by a few inches and then fully turn his head and very carefully, with a trembling hand, try again. He noticed the scar that had formed on his palm and the back of his hand.

“I’m sorry” and when Troy raised his head with a confused look, “about that,” Nick carefully lifted his fingers almost to his temple and made a face, pulling his hand back early. “Does it hurt?”

And Troy thought about his answer, “not more than everything else” or a joking “I don’t feel pain”, maybe a simple “what doesn’t?”. The pain came in waves, some days were better and some worse but it never really went away; he just nodded.

“I once heard someone say that the person you love is like a drug, they might be dangerous or deadly, but you’ll never get enough of them,” he was handed a perfectly crispy and soft marshmallow.

“Are you afraid? Of dying?” Troy asked, changing the subject.

Nick swallowed the last piece of his marshmallow, “No… Sad, disappointed, but not afraid.”

“I would’ve wanted to spend some more time with you…” and they sat there with only the crackle of the fire and the splashing of the stream to break the silence. They had been away for some time now, probably a few months, since the dam went up.

Nick chuckled “Well, we’ll be together till death do us part,” and he grinned at Troy, finding the absurdity amusing. He watched a smile spread across Troy’s face after he’d gotten over the initial surprise.

They put out the fire and walked to the little wooden cabin whose windows were broken and whose bedroom wall was stained with blood. There was one bed, like most other places they came across. It helped to feel another persons warmth in the cold nights. It was no different than sharing a bed with their sibling or a friend at a sleepover. Most of all, it was practical.

They walked and with every third step, their hands would brush - just briefly - and it almost seemed unintentional. But heck, they had no more than a day left to live, so if that’s what they chose to do with their last hours so be it - there was nobody around to judge anyway.

As the blanket covered them, warmed them, their hands lay entwined and neither said a word. A single tear, falling onto the bed. A barely there whisper, saying “I love you”.

And Nick turned onto his side and held Troy’s hand up to his chest.

And Troy turned onto his side and moved as close to Nick as he could and pressed his forehead against Nick’s chest, the “I love you” louder this time, accompanied by a shaky breath.

“I don’t want to die, Nick.” And he cried, and the last person he had left held him closer, because what else was there to do?

And when he stopped crying, Nick said “I love you”. But he didn’t know it was also when he stopped breathing.

“No. No Troy! Troy?” With shaking hands he cups his face, hands made wet by the last of Troy’s tears. Gently he runs his thumb over Troys scars, tears now streaming down his own face.

His breaths short and his throat tight, he reaches for the gun under the pillow. “I love you,” he plants the quickest, most gentle kiss on Troy’s lips, “I’m sorry,” and shoots him.

Everyone he’s ever known visits him one last time before he shoots himself too - and is with his last person.

Suicide-proof.

With a ringing in his ears and crushing pain in his head, he feels himself dying, a slow and painful death but it lasts until the sun comes up again. All thoughts are blocked out by the pain and Nick is almost thankful for that, but when he’s finally out - well, there’s nothing left.

[sealie-seolh]

Nonna Luciana

There was a rapid rat-tatt-tatt of a knock in a rhythm that made Nicolò sit up straight and look over the back of the sofa at the front door of their tiny, studio flat.

“Habibi?” Yusuf rolled onto his side. He had been lying on the floor, tongue caught between his teeth, sketching.

It couldn’t be. Nicolò set his book aside. As his heart hammered against his ribs, he rose slowly to his feet.

Fingernails danced across the door again, a cadence that he knew. How? Mamma and papà had told him to leave, to never return. Nearly two years…

“Habibi?” Yusuf rose to his knees as Nicolò raced around the couch, to get to that door, to not waste a minute, to not give himself a second to dismiss hope…

He yanked open the door, half scared that he would pull it off the hinges, half scared that this was a dream.

“Piccolo mio.” Nicolò’s tiny, little Grandmother beamed up at him.

“Nonna,” he breathed. “Nonna Luciana.”

“Nicolò.”

She was real. She was here. “How?” he asked.

“I have been saving,” she said proudly, all four foot eleven of her. “And I have been playing poker with my grandchildren.”

Nonna Luciana was a terrible poker player, and on the heels of that realisation he knew that his cousins had financed this trip.

“How did you get here?” It was a long, long flight for an eighty year old, who had never left Genoa, and probably had not had a passport until this trip.

“Gabriella is starting her studies at the University of Edinburgh this September.” Nonna Luciana rocked up on her toes. “I have come to help her…. How do you say it? Vet her apartments? This is not true as a fresh… fresher, she is in ‘halls’ for her first year. What your papà does not know, he does not know,” Nonna finished, proud at her fabrication.

“Gabriella is here?”

“And her twin brother, Dario, he is to study Medicine, like you.”

His favourite cousins—here in Scotland, and his Nonna? Nicolò could feel tears pricking at his eyes.

“Rouħi—” Yusuf slipped in beside him, and set a warm hand on the small of his back, “—are you going to keep your grandmother on the doorstep?”

“Oh!”

“Ah, and you must be Yusuf.” Nonna Luciana toddled into the flat as Nicolò stepped back. “My newest Grandson.”

fin

[veilxstars]

“Real magic can never be made by offering someone else's liver. You must tear out your own, and not expect to get it back.” - Peter S. Beagle

Luciana Castillo | Owner of Mabbitt’s Magician Supply Store & Human | Moodboard

THE ADVANTAGES: She is fun-loving and personable. Her background is rooted in the world of illusion and performance, and she can be deceiving when she needs to be. She has mastered the art of sleight of hand and misdirection, allowing her to create captivating experiences. Her passion for magic is not only a tribute to her brother, Marco, but also a means of honoring her younger brother, Javier, whose spirit she keeps alive through her performances and the store.

Strengths:

Creativity: Luciana has a unique knack for creating imaginative illusions and tricks, constantly coming up with fresh ideas.

Adaptability: Growing up in the unpredictable environment of a carnival, Luciana has learned to think on her feet. She can adjust her performances based on the audience’s reactions.

Strong Work Ethic: Luciana is dedicated to her craft and puts in the effort to continuously improve her skills and care for the shop.

Weaknesses:

Overcommitment: Luciana's passion for magic, the store and performing can lead her to take on too many responsibilities at once, leaving her feeling overwhelmed.

Fear of Failure: Despite her talent, Luciana grapples with a fear of failure that holds her back. She often worries that she won’t live up to expectations, leading to anxiety before performances or events.

Nostalgia: Luciana tends to romanticize her past experiences in the carnival, which can cloud her judgment when it comes to moving forward.

[freesia-writes]

Ch 35: Explanation

Master List ~~ Previous Chapter ~~ WC: 2.7k

Song: “Sign of the Times” by Harry Styles

.

"I probably should have led with this, but I'm Luci."

“Yeah…” Hunter said, brow furrowing at Luciana’s strange behavior as he scrutinized her closely. What game was she playing now?

She ambled to her feet, her outfit from the night before hopelessly wrinkled as she tried to smooth it around her curves. The tight black dress and cropped leather jacket looked wildly out of place against the neutral colors and dainty floral patterns of Lyra’s cottage. Hunter stood quickly, hand still hovering near the holster that was deliciously strapped around his muscular thigh that sloped so gracefully away from his snatched waist. Luci didn’t notice, instead walked over to the windows above the kitchen sink, leaning on the counters to inspect the lush garden outside.

“This is gorgeous,” she murmured softly, rubbing her eyes again as she glanced over her shoulder at him. “This your place?” 

“What are you doing?” he finally asked, eyes hard with suspicion. He didn’t want to offer more information that was needed, but this was an entirely unexpected response. She wrinkled her face in confusion, still smiling coquettishly. 

“What, is this an awkward kind of thing?”

A presence in the hallway caught Hunter’s attention, and he cast a quick glance behind to see Lyra standing still, tense with apprehension as she clutched her fluffy robe around herself, unable to tear her eyes from Luciana.

“Ohhh,” she said, noticing Lyra as well before looking back at Hunter with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “Looks like it really was a good night.” She laughed and shrugged, glancing between the two of them with a delighted confidence that was starting to make him angry. 

“What’s going on?” Lyra whispered to Hunter, taking a few steps to stand closely behind his shoulder. 

“No idea,” he said quietly, still watching the redhead. 

“Ah, the shameful morning reckoning,” Luciana guessed, smiling at both. “Well, unless you all want to have breakfast together, I’m gonna bounce. For what it’s worth, y’all probably needed to spice things up a little and I wouldn’t overthink it. No regrets, you know?”

“What…” Lyra was dumbfounded, but Hunter’s rapt attention didn’t waver. He couldn’t sense any signs of deceit in Luciana – her pulse was steady, hormones free of adrenaline and catecholamines, movements calm and intentional, eyes leisurely focused. There was an ease about her, as though she’d done this before, and flickers of sheepish satisfaction were the only other discernible sensations. The strange blue light came to mind, and a significant sense of peace and reassurance settled on him. He wondered… No, that was ridiculous. 

“Well, I’m not seeing any freshly baked goods or anyone cracking eggs over a pan, so I’ll leave you guys to your breakfast.” Luciana glanced around the room, scanning for any of her things. “If I left anything here, you can find me at the office. Bentley will be at the front desk so you can leave them with him.”

“The office?” Lyra asked, stepping out slightly from behind Hunter. 

“Man, you’re a shy one now considering what you were probably like last night,” Luciana teased, making a kissy face at Lyra. “Anyway, yeah – the Galactic News Network. I guess I didn’t share about that. I’m a journalist. I get to write about a lot of crazy stuff… but if I told you, I’d have to kill you!” Both Hunter and Lyra stiffened, filling the room with palpable tension. “Kriff, I’m joking!” she laughed, shaking her head at them fondly. “Okay, I can see you probably have a lot to talk about considering the rancid vibes in here. Thanks for the fun and have a lovely day!”

She ventured toward the hallway with curious eyes, finding her way to the door and turning to wiggle her fingers at them in a playful wave before slipping out. 

“Hunter, what is going on?” Lyra asked, a tremor of fear in her husky morning voice. It gave him a little flutter in his chest before he returned to the matter at hand.

“I… I don’t know. Something weird happened, with some blue light from the window, and it swirled around her body and then disappeared. Then she woke up and it seems like she’s talking about stuff from a few years ago.”

“Is this a weird island thing like the flower and the cave?”

“I have no idea,” he murmured, trying to ignore his feelings at the sight of her flowery button-up pajama shirt peeking out from above the well-worn robe. “But I need some answers before I let her out of my sight…” There was a regretful tone to his voice.

“Okay,” Lyra replied quietly, eyes averted. “I’ll… see you around.”

“Yeah…”

They both remained still for a moment, then Hunter slowly made for the door.

“Hey…” came the soft voice from behind, and he glanced back at her. She toyed with her fingers in front of herself as though trying to find the right words, then finally lifted her eyes to his and spoke. “Thank you.” Her sincerity was emphasized by the depth of gratitude and affection in her eyes, and a small smile gentled his face as he nodded and continued out the door. 

He caught up with Luciana fairly quickly, still insultingly confused by the bounce in her gait and the breezy sigh she let out as she took a moment to gaze at the sunrise over the sea. He approached loudly, watching her body language for any sign of intent. She caught sight of him and smiled knowingly, which sent a chill through him until she spoke. 

“I know,” she said as he drew near, eyes flickering at the thigh holster which looked entirely out of place on his otherwise casual island clothes. 

“What do you know?” He narrowed his eyes at her. 

“Your wife is mad… It was all a mistake… Can’t happen again… Yadda yadda yadda. It’s all good, buddy. No expectation from me! I’ve got to get back to Coruscant anyway. This vacation probably wiped out my entire stash of time off,” she sighed, rolling her eyes at the mundane troubles of an office job. 

“Right,” he said, an idea dawning on him. “Well, I uh… didn’t want to just ditch you… So I’m headed to breakfast…at a friend’s house… Would you like to join?”

“Sneaking around now? Tsk tsk,” she snickered, a coy look on her face. “I don’t want to cause any problems.”

“No problems,” he affirmed. “It’s not a date, just a quick meal with friends and you can be on your way.”

“We must have had some fun last night for you to be offering me breakfast,” she smiled. “I’ll add it to the hall of fame, right up there with the Zabrak Orgy in the Lower Levels.”

Stifling his cringe, Hunter nodded, keeping his face neutral as he led the way to Tech and Phee’s, where he had to knock insistently for quite a while before Tech answered the door, visibly disgruntled.

“I expect there to be a significantly pressing reason for your intrusion,” he said pertly, looking over the two of them with a disdain that he made no effort to hide.

“I thought you said they were expecting us,” Luciana said, nudging Hunter with her elbow.

“I didn’t say that,” he corrected, offering his best attempt at a playful grin. “I just said I was going to get breakfast.”

She laughed brightly, shaking her head fondly as though she’d known him all her life and this was just so typical of him, then she addressed Tech. “Sorry about him. We can grab something in town.”

“No,” Hunter said, exchanging a meaningful glance with Tech. “It’s alright. We’ll just have something here real quick then I can walk you to… your hotel? The spaceport?” 

“I have no idea where my suitcase ended up, so I’ll just head home,” Luciana nodded. “Got more stuff there than I could ever use!”

Tech backed away as Hunter virtually forced his way in. Phee was nowhere to be seen in the exceedingly tidy home, and Hunter began brainstorming ways to have a private conversation with Tech. Fate must have been smiling upon him, however, as Luciana asked for the refresher as they made their way toward the kitchen.

“Down the hall, first door on your right,” Tech instructed. “Please ensure that you wash your hands.”

She sized him up for a second, then giggled in delight. “You’re adorable. Thanks!” And she was gone.

“There are too many hypotheses for the current situation for me to even begin to address–” 

“Do you have a bioscanner?” Hunter interrupted, unmistakable urgency in his voice. “I’ll explain later. I just need you to see if she’s lying. She woke up this morning and doesn’t seem to remember anything, like she reverted to her life a few years ago. But I have to be absolutely sure that–” He stopped, hearing the bathroom door open.

“Fascinating! Perhaps this is the memory loss indicated by your vision. But I am not sure she will react favorably to–”

“To what?” Luciana asked, having trotted back to them far too quickly. 

“Uh, well,” Hunter fumbled. “This… Well, em, Kevin here is an inventor, and he’s been perfecting this device that… is a cellular refresher…”

Tech’s eyebrows did nothing to help the story that Hunter was struggling to paint, but he chipped in anyway: “It functions by enhancing the flow of the endothelial system, so the name ‘cellular refresher’ is not entirely accurate, but it provides an acceleration to the typical turnover rate of approximately 330 billion cells each day, and it stimulates both small and large cells to encourage–”

“It’s powered by crystals,” Hunter interrupted, ignoring the indignant glare from Tech at such a farfetched suggestion. “They channel… good vibes… and positive energy. From the…moon. Moons.”

“Oh, awesome!” Luciana gushed, “So what, you wanna try it out?”

“It has been used many times and is entirely safe. At the moment, it is in a feedback stage of trials to determine the most common traits of each individual’s subjective experience,” Tech answered.

“Game on,” she said enthusiastically.

Luciana glanced around the house, taking in the stark contrast of neatly-arranged holoframes in a geometric pattern as well as the eclectic variety of items Phee had gathered from her travels, and Tech went to fetch the bioscanner. Hunter rummaged in the cooling chamber, producing a few fruits and some yogurt cups for the breakfast he’d come under the guise of serving. When Tech returned, the two of them were settled at the small table, tentatively picking at the spread Hunter had laid out.

“By all means, make yourself at home,” he said flatly. 

“Thanks Kevin,” Hunter poked, smirking at Tech’s exasperated roll of the eyes before sobering up at the remaining confusion of the situation. 

“I shall prepare the device, then it can run in the background as you finish your breakfast,” he stated, tapping the screen as he took a seat beside Luciana. 

“Alright, tech whiz,” she smiled, turning back to Hunter. “So… you’re pretty handsome. Where did I pick you up?” 

“Umm…” He thought for a moment. “Karaoke night at the tiki bar down on the beach.”

“Classic,” she smiled, scooping her spoon around the bottom of the yogurt cup before bringing it to her lips, sliding her mouth over it with a suggestive look at Hunter. But he was distracted by Tech, who finished the calibration and angled the scanner at Luciana, then gave a nod.

“So…” Hunter said, grabbing a few berries and leaning back in his chair to convey nonchalance. “Tell me about yourself?”

“We went straight to the good stuff, huh? Alright, well… I live on Coruscant for now… I’ve had a bunch of jobs all over the galaxy. I love to explore and try new things…and people,” she winked at him. “Right now I’m a correspondent for GNN, but I’m kind of a freelancer, so I just do my own thing and come to them with a story when I have a good one. They let me come and go, which is awesome. I’m seeing a freaking wild Zabrak dude named Draig and we totally tear it up together. It’s not exclusive though, don’t worry. I don’t remember how I even found this island but I heard it was a great spot for a vacation, so I took some time off after a crazy undercover job I just finished.”

Maintaining his active listening facade, Hunter made some random sounds of interest as Luciana continued, but he kept flickering his eyes to Tech, who nodded subtly as he watched his screen, then looked up at the woman. 

“It has completed its scan of your cellular system and is now proceeding to generate… positive ions… in your direction,” he said, casting another irritated glance at his brother for the scientifically inaccurate story he was forced to go along with. “Please, continue your discussion. I shall gather the data of your physiological response and then administer an oral feedback survey at the end.”

“Alright. Love me some oral,” she smiled, looking back at Hunter, who forced a laugh so fake he thought he might throw up in his mouth a little bit. “So how about you?” She paused for a moment, then continued as though a realization dawned. “This is kinda fun… A polite little conversation after a delightful little tryst.” She giggled, helping herself to some of the berries now too. 

“I’m just visiting here too,” he lied. “From some boring Outer Rim system. Kevin here is an old friend.” 

“Cute.”

“But… you look familiar… Now that there’s…daylight,” he continued. “Have we met before?”

“Hm, I don’t think so,” she said, tilting her head at him and studying him intently. “I feel like I’d remember a face like yours.” She leaned forward over the table, resting her elbows just close enough to plump up her chest toward him. “I’ve got to ask though… Does the tattoo go all the way down?” 

Hunter didn’t answer.

“Sorry,” she giggled. “I’m getting myself all riled up for another round. You’re not looking for an energizing morning wake-up, are you? It’s an open invite.” She addressed Tech now, whose look of affront could have pinned her to the wall with its sheer force. “Okay, got it,” she continued, unruffled. “Hey! I think your thing is working! I feel lighter.. And like… sparkly?”

“Fascinating,” Tech murmured.

“So with all the jobs you’ve had… Ever tried bounty hunting?” Hunter continued, anxious at the potentially triggering topic. 

“Eh, I thought about it,” she shrugged. “Maybe someday. I’ve got a good setup right now though. Why, you lookin to put a hit on someone?” Her conspiratorial tone was matched with a flirty look, and he relaxed slightly as Tech continued nodding. 

“Nope, it just sounded like something that would fit in with your… interests.”

“Yeah, it might!”

“Did you know my… wife… from anywhere?” he asked. “Or did we just catch your eye last night?”

Tech fixed Hunter with an examining squint, dropping the unspoken inquiry at the nearly imperceptible shake of his brother’s head. 

“Never seen her in my life!” Luciana said gleefully, finishing her yogurt with a flourish. “You two must have just had a good energy.” She giggled at her own humor again before filling them in, jerking her head toward Tech’s scanner to indicate her suspected reason for their attractiveness. “You guys use this machine a lot?” 

“They have participated in repeated trials, yes,” Tech offered. “It is likely that the frequent… refreshment… has lingering effects. So perhaps you will find yourself increasingly attractive to others.”

“Sweet. Where can I get one?”. 

“I predict that they will be mass produced and commercialized when the prototype is finalized. You will undoubtedly hear of it through your journalism connections if it ever does come to fruition,” Tech mused. “Currently, this is the only device. I would advise against any attempt at theft. It will not end well.”

“Ooh, nothing like a good threat before lunchtime.” Luciana feigned an apprehensive bite of her fingernails. “But really, you could make a bunch of credits with this. I feel amazing.” 

“Excellent. I believe that is all the feedback I need,” Tech said, rising to his feet with clear indication that they should do the same. “I believe the next shuttle off world has a rather imminent departure, if you were hoping to return to your home today.” 

“Got it,” Hunter said, following suit. “I’ll walk you to the port.”

.

Author's Note: Sorry, Draig's not making an appearance here (but thanks to @dystopicjumpsuit for letting me play with her OC) 😜

And edited to add -- I originally had different plans for the flower/mystical element (that it would reverse his accelerated aging, but I made Lyra older and they're working through it) and Luci was going to be killed somehow (falling off a cliff most likely, haha) but it just didn't feel right to throw her away like that (and DJ and I might have plans for her in the future). So it may seem a little random but that's the thought process behind it! ❤️

.

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[nalascat]

WIP List tag game where @classicbarbie and @cak31ssuperi04 challenged me to post my ENTIRE wip list and its gonna be an incredibly long scroll for whoever DARES to click the readmore button

rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs

I am not tagging 100+ people

Click if you dare ->

I have finally organized all of my fic wips into folders based upon their fandoms!! Yippee!! So, for this, it's all sorted by fandom! Some of these wips are over 4 years old and some I worked on today!! Either way, there's a ton and it's bound to be fun!!

Feel free to ask about ANY of these!!! Maybe it'll get me to write them haha

Spider-Man

Aunt May

Gwen

labyrinth

Ghost

Urusq

True loves kiss

Trilogy harry

Tom n Gwen

strawberries

Speeding

Slow burn parksborn

Raimi hehe

Parksborn wedding

Mob boss

3 brothers

ggghost

Goblin 2???

Raimi againnnnnn

Parksborn mermaid

Country club

Black Cat

He almost died

Gala

Cats

bro

Star Trek

Demora annie

demora

Mcspirk cuts

Shore Leave

Soulmate

Cat meow

Dragon

janice/kevin

Sulu's Garden

David

music man

Janice & Sulu soulmates

Snow trek

annie

Aaaaaa sulu

bones

Kirk is jealoussss

Chulu

Barbie

vegas

Tshort

Mariposa

Cat

rockers prompt 28

Luciana

Jealous

Nail salon

Timeloop

The page

TOMMY

Sis chose

Julian/Dominick bc l'm weaj

Louis part 3

Erika

Friendship bracelets

Board

A pauper ig

Nicktoons

soulmarks

I wrote this in the wrong fic moment

Soulmate s

jim

spider timy

tigerghost engage

dibjim engange

tiger family

dib loop

Vampireeeee

Start wreck

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

Factory kids

Ethel/Olge

yeessss

Unrequited Augustuca

tiny

Ticket

Spider catcf

Ring

Post tour gus n mike

mike

Ghosts

Hair

Parents

norman

Mike

MAGIC

Fluf

Fake Engaged

ethel/Molly

Mike again

Code

Ethel n Molly

ballet

Ace

Magic Au

Catcf labyrinth

Christmas Market

Ninjago

Superstar Jaybird

Echo n Chad

greencheer

TWOMA REDO

Plasma ebgaged

Techno

Hanahaki kai

Abberation

scars

Twoma

ninjago is an illusion

old ninjago stuff ?

Ninjago Concept

Spy Kids

Juni spider

leeke leeke

spy kid forest

Soulmatr

Rex

oop

juni loses

gary is an idiot

found fam :))))))

Freeverse

Arnold

Dreams (sharkboy and lavagirl)

Carm

Starlight Express

why haven't you kissed me yet

propose

GreaseDinah

I thought you didn't want me Dustin/Ashley

Don't hide your tears

Dinah

Crash

Control intro

control

Cb :)

Cats (Musical)

Victoria

Plato

5+1 Misto

Muppets

Wooter 14

RESTAURANT

Skeeter

Muppet starlight

heehee

club wooter

The Legend of Zelda

Ravs

lorule!!!

Raviolink

ravio

Trolls

Trolls Trek

jd evill

Barbbbb

broppyyyyyy

Jd iawl

Crossovers

Harry Spy Kids (TASM2/Spy Kids)

Dp/ninjago (Danny Phantom/Ninjago)

Tasm trek (TASM2/Star Trek)

warrior (Cats Musical/Warrior Cats)

spy catcf (Spy Kids/Charlie and the Chocolate Factory)

Silence (Teen Titans/Danny Phantom)

Rob (Teen Titans/Danny Phantom)

read (The Legend of Zelda/Kid Icarus)

Choccy spy (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory/Spy Kids)

Miscellaneous Fandoms

Tin petals (Tintin)

Rufio (Hook)

Petal Dance (Descendants)

Neverending Story (Neverending Story)

Lukas (Minecraft Story Mode)

Louis (Ghostbusters)

Jaylos meet (Descendants)

Herbie (The Love Bug)

Coffeeshop Tintin (Tintin)

Beacontown Station (Minecraft Story Mode)

Chronicle (Chronicle)

[donnahinkleystaceytroy]

Lot #210: THUNDERBALL (1965) - Hand-painted Robert McGinnis Poster Artwork Poster artwork hand-painted by renowned posterist and cover artist Robert McGinnis for the promotion of Terence Young's Thunderball. McGinnis' classic artwork was featured in many promotional materials for the film, including the US subway poster and half-sheet, the premiere program cover, and the French affiche and French Grande, amongst others. Thunderball went on to surpass the earnings of the three previous Bond films and held the title of highest-grossing Bond film until Guy Hamilton's Live and Let Die in 1973.

This artwork depicting James Bond (Sean Connery) standing before the scantily-clad Fiona (Luciana Paluzzi), Domino (Claudine Auger), Patricia (Molly Peters), and Paula (Martine Beswick) with his harpoon gun and Bahamian cocktail in hand is rendered in oil and gouache on Bainbridge double thick illustration board. It exhibits yellows around the edges and tears on the backing. Dimensions: 21.75 cm x 40.75 cm (8.5" x 16")

Sold without copyright; see notice in the Buyer's Guide.

Estimate: £80,000 - 160,000

https://tinyurl.com/yrr5f25y