#first luciana

[foreveranevilregal]

Shocked and betrayed by the last two episodes of Top Chef.

[ashvalentine16]

Acquired Lucy in my first multiple Signal Search segment

[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.

[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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[vintagerpg]

Just, absolutely delirious. Abyss of Hallucinations Volume 2 (2023) builds on the first volume and embraces ever more chaos.

There’s more detail here on what you might find in the hexes of the Abyss, which goes a long way toward making the whole thing feel cohesive (though no less feverish). Significant time is spent on the Skidoo Inn and the concept of anti-puzzles and unsolving, which I understand but also can not quite explain. You need to unsolve a puzzle to leave the Inn and that’s a pretty good teaching tool for how brain-hurty the Abyss is in general. Chaos. Just embrace Chaos.

We also have more creatures, illustrated by the enragingly talented David Hoskins. These entities look obnoxiously good, as if he plucked them from my own subconscious somehow and put them in this book to mock me. Himog in particular tickles at the archetypes that possibly lurk in all our brains, in a way similar to the Breton illustrations of the Goetic demons. The other art is great too, but Hoskins is just a killer with a pen.

This volume came in a box, big enough to put both your Hallucinations, a Zine of Lies and also contains a sticker and poster of the Mega Therion illustration, which is very nice. The lid is silk screened by Luciana Lupe Vasconcelos and has a funny etched pattern in the paper that I find unsettling given everything else that is going on here.

I believe there is a third and final volume in the works. I must prepare myself.

[decadentias]

VICTORIA IS SET TO MARRY the man her parents had chosen, fixated to abide by her duties. It's the right thing to do, even though her heart is already spoken for. Taken by this very woman begging for her not to go through the marriage. The wedding will happen in a few days, and all the preparations are in place. The only thing left to do is for her to walk down the aisle and marry him. But with her plea, her resolve wavers. "I don't want to but I can't go against their wishes." She doesn't think she's dauntless enough to actually fight for what she wants.

open to: w/nb (21+) plot: your muse is destined to marry a man of high society. only problem is, they've fallen for their scullery maid, etc.

"please don't marry him," it's the first time she's said it. not beaten around the bush. the idea of having to watch them with a man so unworthy has her skin crawling, enough for her to have to make the point. of course, it has nothing to do with the way her skin tingles the moment their breath hits it. or the fact she finds herself searching for them in every, single place - even if finding them is impossible. "he doesn't deserve you. he never will."

[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

[neppys-lil-hub]

Gotham's Newest...hero?

A fanfiction about the newest member in the Bat Family! Luciana Soto has had a...strange life, but it takes a turn for the worst when villains attack her school, Gotham University, and things just spiral from there.

This fic is for fun, it will avoid the "adopted by Batman" trope (sorry), and it does center on a queer women of color! Characters that will get plenty of attention (because of my personal bias) are Stephanie Brown and Cassandra Cain, but you will see most other Bat Family members and even guest DC characters in certain moments.

This is not a crack/joke story, or a short fic, it is a full blown story with a big character arc, a unique villain, and more!

Enjoy~!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1: I took a bullet for a clown

(4654 words)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So where will you go for the summer?”

“Hm? I’m sorry, what?” Luciana asked, her gaze returning to her best friend, Stephanie Brown. Stephanie was a pretty girl, with white skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes. She was wearing her signature purple hoodie. Today was their lazy day. The one time a week neither had classes and both forced themselves to put homework on hold. Simply to hang out. 

“Oh, I’m going to stay here and take two summer classes,” Luciana said easily, taking a bite of her food. The restaurant they were in was attached to Gotham University, their school, and eating on the outside patio together made this Luciana’s favorite spot. 

“Again?” Stephanie asked, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you want to see your family?”

“Oh, they understand it,” Luciana replied dismissively. “I’m the first in my family to go to college! The faster I graduate, the faster I can make actual money, and the faster I can help them.”

Luciana was an American-Colombian girl, a child of immigrants. Stephanie had heard the story a million times: How they had trekked from Colombia to Mexico with nothing, waited nearly a year to be allowed in, and then worked odd jobs to pay for the travel to New Jersey. Luciana herself had been born only a few months after they had entered the country, by luck not design, and had put her family on the path to citizenship.  

“Sure, but are you even enjoying college? You’re here for free, Luz, on a scholarship! Don’t you think you should…relax a little?”

Perhaps it was unfair but Luciana always got annoyed when Stephanie pointed this out. It had always felt like a privileged idea to the Latina. Choosing play over her studies. She couldn’t afford to do that. Not when her family was counting on her success. Not after every day they had endured to get her here. But that wasn’t Stephanie’s fault, and in truth Luciana knew her friend was right and wasn’t just being privileged or ignorant. She really cared and Luciana really was a bit obsessed with her studies. 

“I’m relaxing. Right now. With you,” Luciana said with an annoyed voice. “Besides, I have no friends back home, and you live here in Gotham.”

“Fine!” Stephanie said, slamming a hand down on the table. “Then as your friend here, I will ensure this is the BEST! SUMMER! EVER! Even with your classes going on.”

“Oh gods…please don’t,” Luciana groaned, hiding her face in her hands. Stephanie had always been free-spirited, humorous, and adventurous—the opposite of the naive, dutiful, workaholic Luciana. 

“Oh come on! We could do so many things. You can drive, right? We could go to the beach, the boardwalk, Cape May, the theater, the movies-” Stephanie kept rattling off a list of wonderfully distracting activities for the summer, still standing in front of the table as she babbled off. Luciana couldn't help but sigh, her eyes softening as she watched her friend get excited.

Then Luciana heard an explosion. She only had a moment to think What? Before the shockwave sent her, Stephanie, and the other people eating around them to the ground. Glass broke. Tables flipped. Food fell on top of innocent students. People began screaming all around them. Luciana’s heart was racing as she looked up, first seeing that Stephanie was on the ground but alright, and then looking around. Next to the restaurant was a grass-covered quad, and across the quad, there was a new, large, smoking hole. A van began to drive off the street and across the grass, sending panicked students running in all directions. It was covered with pink and green graffiti, with faces drawn on the sides, and random words like “hi!” and “Robber Mobile!” painted on too.

“Everybody out! Down the street!” Luciana yelled, just as men and women with guns and white masks began climbing out. She pushed herself up and grabbed the girl beside her, easily lifting her. “Go down the street! Call the cops! Don’t stop!”

Then she grabbed the next. And the next. Others started to recover from the blast themselves, some running away down the street as well, many simply looked around in shock, and more watched the criminals pull out the van and walk into the building across from them.

“Come on! GET UP! DOWN THE STREET!” Luciana yelled over the chaos, her voice clear and firm. More students seemed to come out of their daze. Finally, as the patio appeared empty, Luciana turned to Stephanie. “We need to-”

Her heart leaped out of her chest. Stephanie was gone. So was her stuff. The criminals were across the quad and in another building, not threatening them. But it seemed Stephanie had just run. Without grabbing Luciana or even making sure she was ok. The Latina felt a lump form in her throat, but gunshots rang out and brought her back to the present. She hit the deck and covered her head, looking up for the culprits. More gunshots rang out from the building the criminals had entered. Too far to threaten Luciana but surely there were more students there. 

“Fuck…” Luciana muttered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

Luciana stood up and dashed inside the restaurant and towards the school. Her adrenaline was skyrocketing, her jaw clenched, and she was more afraid than she'd ever felt before. She made her way through the halls, looking to evacuate any students or (gods forbid) any wounded. As she sprinted out of the restaurant she first noticed the alarms weren’t on, so she pulled the closest fire alarm she could find. The ringing began to sound out through the building. Not just this one but any attached buildings as well. The food court, the sciences building, and the engineering department. They’d all start heading outside if they hadn’t already.

“Help!”

Without a second thought, the young woman was on the run again. She went down a hallway and towards the voice calling for help. She was quick to spot the victim- A black girl younger than her sitting among the glass of a broken window. She had small bleeding cuts over her and a nasty bruise. 

“Hey, I’m here! It’s ok, come on,” Luciana started. “I got you, si? Vamos.”

“I- I can’t- I-”

Luciana had never seen someone go into shock but she assumed this must be it. At least it was similar to what she had seen in movies. Without hesitation or talk she closed the distance, her tactical boots crunching on the glass, and lifted the girl. She grunted but the girl was skinny and, thankfully, Luciana had always been strong. She carried her a few feet away and set her down away from the glass, looking over her.

“Hey, it’s ok. I’m gonna help you, yeah? And then you’ll be safe,” Luciana said in a soft and reassuring voice, gently looking over the girl, pulling her arms out to see if they were injured, and looking over at her back. 

“H-H-Harley Quinn,” she sobbed, her face a mess of tears. “They- they shot into the roof. They-”

“Did she say where she was going?” The Latina asked, ripping off a piece of her white linen button-up and tying it around a particularly nasty gash on the girl's arm. She knew she had to keep a level head. The girl would stay calm and anything she learned she could tell the police. 

“The Applied Physics Lab,” the poor girl said, watching as Luciana tied a knot with the fabric from her shirt. 

“Ok, cool,” Luciana said. Her major didn’t require her to go to that lab. She had no clue what a supervillain could want with it. “Well, if someone like Harley Quinn is here, we need to go.” She offered the injured girl a hand, standing up. “Yeah?”

The girl watched Luciana for a few moments, who smiled reassuringly, and then slowly took her savior's hand. Luciana was quick to pull her up and guide her by the shoulder, walking briskly towards the restaurant and the outside. The girl she was helping still seemed in shock and not all there as Luciana kept a vigilant eye out, checking every corner and constantly behind them. When they turned a corner, nearly at the restaurant, that’s when both girls heard a gruff voice.

“Stop!” A woman ordered. Luciana heard a distinctive Click! of a gun’s safety going off. “Don’t move!”

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” Luciana reassured. The girl she was helping froze completely, eyes wide with fear. “Just follow my lead, si? Come on.”

“Turn around slowly,” the voice ordered. Luciana nodded, still guiding her rescue by the shoulder until both of them had turned to face one of the criminals attacking the school. A woman dressed in all black, with a white mask, and an AR-15. She was flanked by two men sporting the same gear. 

“Seriously, there’s only these two?” One of the men asked. 

“Taking hostages was an afterthought- She didn’t think there’d be a safe to crack,” the other sighed.

“Zip it, both of you,” the woman said, giving her new hostages a nod. “Alright, we don’t want to hurt anyone else. You listen to what we say and everyone will be fine. Do you understand?” 

“Yes,” Luciana answered for both of them, but the student she was helping began to panic. Her breath was quickening and she swallowed hard. Her eyes looked around as if she was getting ready to bolt. Luciana squeezed her shoulder in warning.

“Alright, they’re going to approach you and cuff you. Don’t fucking move,” the woman warned. She then gave her partners a nod. 

The two men began to approach. They let their rifles hang off their shoulders as they both took out handcuffs. One approaching Luciana and one approaching the other girl. Then things started going wrong.

“Wait!” Luciana yelled, feeling the student she was holding move. 

The girl ran. The woman aimed her rifle, ready to fire. One man seemed ready to grab the student and the other was still about to grab Luciana. The Latina moved as if time had slowed down, as if she could react at a higher speed, although everything only took a few moments. She grabbed the man about to cuff her by the balls and throat, surprising him greatly, and as he made a choking sound she pushed him into the woman. She cursed and raised her rifle, firing at the roof as both of them fell to the ground. The third criminal grabbed Luciana from behind, forgetting the escaping student when he heard his partners struggling, and Luciana screamed angrily as she felt her arms get pinned to her sides. She made a loud growl, almost like an animal, and slammed her foot into his. He cried out in pain as she pushed back with all her weight and knocked them both to the floor.

“Fucking grab her, there’s no one else!” The woman ordered. 

“Get the fuck away from me!” Luciana yelled back, pulling one arm free from his loosened grip. She punched him in the face once, twice, three times and he finally let go.

“Don’t shoot her!” The woman ordered again, stopping the man next to her who had raised his rifle. That was a mistake. Clued into the fact they’d no longer shoot Luciana did the most logical thing: She ran. 

Sprinting had never been her forte. She had loved cross country. She loved tests of endurance. But at this moment, filled with adrenaline and panic, she may as well have been the Flash. She thought of nothing but pushing her legs to move faster and faster, arms swinging tightly beside her, tight breaths forcing their way out of her lungs. She quickly began to outpace the slower criminals, her shirt flapping in the wind. Luciana ignored any corners and turns, focused solely on going as far as she could without stopping. She passed a sign that said “Applied Physics Lab.”

Wait, wasn’t that where the criminals had gone? Was Luciana’s last thought before a wooden bat appeared from around the corner and swung full force. She didn’t even have the time to cry out before it hit her, stopping her dead in her tracks and knocking her flat on her back. Pain exploded in her head and her vision went dark, white spots dancing in the void. 

“I knew you guys were useless!” An oddly cheery female voice said, with a Brooklyn accent. A hand grabbed Luciana by the hair, forcing her to sit up. The student cried out in pain, blinking her eyes repeatedly. “I heard you shooting and came to check it out. Didn’t I tell you not to kill these poor kids?” 

“One of them ran,” the woman’s voice answered as she caught up, panting from the chase and leaning on her knees. Luciana heard the footsteps of the men catching up after her. “I reacted. But no one got shot! It’s all good.” 

“Ugh…” Luciana groaned, her vision slowly coming back. She could hardly think with the throbbing in her head. She blinked again to see the blurry version of Harley Quinn. Pale skin, blond hair tied into two pigtails, the tips of one dyed pink and the other blue. She was wearing boots, knee high socks, shorts, a tiny top, and fingerless gloves. All of it was red and black but coordinated so the color jumped from side to side in a spotted color scheme.

“Oh, you’re ok,” Harley Quinn chided. “I might not be the physical kind of doctor but I promise it’s just a concussion. Now, I need ya, but if you’re good I’ll make sure to give you to the police. Deal?”

“Maldito puta de mierda,” Luciana muttered quietly, weakly grabbing Harley’s wrist with both her hands and vainly attempting to tug her off. The hit had completely sent her body out of whack. It was like punching someone in a dream and having no strength at all, or being a flimsy marionette.Frustrating. Weak. And feeling not in control.

“I’m gonna take whatever that was as a yes!” Harley cheered. “You two: Grab her. Don’t let her run off again. The safe will be open soon.”

“If the safe’s not gonna take awhile then why did we need a hostage at all?” One of the men asked as both of them grabbed Luciana. The woman pulled her arms back and cuffed them together. 

“It’s called insurance, duh,” Harley replied, walking away. 

The three thugs, with Luciana cuffed and in tow, followed Harley deeper into the Applied Physics Lab. She groaned loudly, her head hanging and her feet dragging, as they took her. They went all the way to the end of the hallway where another two lackeys were kneeling in front of a wall. Luciana looked up as the group stopped walking, seeing the two were working on a safe. Or, seeing a blurry image of two figures curled over a piece of wall.

“What’s in there anyways boss? It’s gotta be worth a lot of money to raid this place in broad daylight, with all the kids,” one of the men asked.

“Do I pay you to talk or get the job done?” Harley asked, tapping her foot impatiently as the lock of the safe was slowly fiddled with. 

She’s hiding something, a small voice in the back of Luciana’s head said. She’s hiding something.

“Harley…Quinn…” Luciana groaned, each word making her head pound. 

“Hm? You’re still awake? Gosh, you’ve gotta feel terrible!” Harley said with a grin. Luciana frowned as she watched. Her words were humorous, cruel even, but her face…it held the tiniest bit of concern.

“Why don’t you tell them the truth?” Luciana said through gritted teeth, each word was a battle.

“Excuse me?” Harley asked, immediately narrowing her eyes in annoyance. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on, deflecting from the guy’s question? Tell them what’s in the safe.”

The two men working on the safe did not stop, but one did look over his shoulder. The other three watched Harley carefully. Luciana had realized they had not been briefed on Harley’s prize. 

“Well? What are we risking so much for?” The woman, who Luciana had pegged as the ring leader by now, insisted. “You promised this score would get us paid.”

“Oh shut up! What would this brat know about anything? You’re gonna get cold feet with me because she’s running her mouth?” Harley demanded. She leaned back, crossing her arms and giving her hired help a judgemental look. But Luciana could hear the tension in her voice. She saw how Harley was still gripping her bat. 

“You know, word on the street is you’ve gone soft,” the armed woman said. “And I thought it was weird when you worried about hurting the kids here. No sneaking around. Letting most of them get away.” She pulled out a pistol and held it against Luciana’s head. “What’s in the fucking safe? Tell me, and we’ll keep going like nothin’ happened.”

“Hey!” Harley barked, her frown replaced with an angry look. “I’m paying you good money. Don’t do that to her.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit! Luciana thought, her wide and panicked eyes meeting Harley’s. She had intended to cause issues for Harley, if she could, in an attempt to at least buy time. But she hadn’t meant to risk herself further. 

“Then tell us what’s in the goddamned safe,” the thug insisted. She clicked the safety off and Luciana’s heart skipped a beat. This lady did not care. She’d shoot her. Kill her in cold blood. 

“Ugh…well, you’ve done it now kid,” Harley said, giving Luciana a pitiful look. She sighed. “Fine, fine, I’ll tell you.”

Before Harley could reveal the truth a loud Thunk! reverberated through the floor. Everyone turned to the two lockpickers to see they had opened the safe. The large metal door had fallen to the ground, cracking it. One of the lockpickers reached in. 

“Hey! I told you I’d grab it!” Harley complained.

“What is it?!” The woman yelled to her partner, still holding the gun to Luciana’s head. 

Before anyone could speak another word someone else joined the fray. Luciana caught from the periphery of her vision a flash of purple. The woman’s gun was hit out of her hand, clattering to the floor and away from Luciana’s head. Before Luciana could turn her head a series of grunts and blows could be heard. She managed to catch the woman who had threatened her collapsing onto the ground, unconscious. 

“So, you guys want to let the girl go? Or do you all want some of this?” Spoiler asked, her voice full of confidence. Luciana tilted her head, as confused as everyone else by her sudden appearance. 

She was wearing a skintight black bodysuit with a purple bat logo plastered to the chest. Purple boots, belts, gloves, and armor on the torso decorated her. Blonde hair spilled out from underneath the purple hood and sharp blue eyes took in the situation. The vigilante’s eyes met Luciana’s for a moment, her concern clear as day, and then she tensed. 

“Get the bat!” Harley yelled at her goons, grinning widely as Spoiler sprung into action. 

Luciana fell to the floor as Spoiler punched one of the men holding her, the other letting go to raise his rifle at the hero. This time she didn’t try to meddle or help. Luciana held her hands over her head as gunshots rang out, and the quieter sounds of melee combat followed. A second body thudded to the ground next to Luciana. Her head was still pounding from Harley’s blow and she couldn’t even think about getting to her feet. Of running. Instead, she finally looked up. 

Spoiler was left facing the two lockpickers, armed with rifles and knives, as well as Harley Quinn herself. The lockpickers had been smart enough to keep their distance, waiting for a shot and bagging whatever was in the safe, while the women fought in a deadly dance. Spoiler was aggressive and unrelenting, with no order to her blows. She punched, kicked, spun, and threw random objects as they appeared in her sight. Harley was just as unpredictable, giggling and smiling as she nimbly dodged the hero’s attacks, or simply deflected them with her bat. 

They’re not serious, the voice in the back of Luciana’s head said. 

What? 

Luciana narrowed her eyes, watching as Harley glanced at the two lockpickers. Spoiler threw another punch but hesitated for a fraction of a second. Almost intentionally. The villain took advantage to grab her wrist, spinning her into the wall between the other two thugs harshly. Luciana flinched. 

See? 

Luciana watched as Spoiler quickly recovered from the blow, beginning to fight the last two hugs. She was making short work of them. Harley chuckled and leaned down, grabbing the bag with the contents of the safe, which had been dropped. It was almost like that was rehearsed. Like they were…helping each other? It made no sense to Luciana. None at all. 

“No you don’t,” the woman, who had been knocked out earlier, said. Luciana looked to the left to see that thug get on her knees, hands scrambling to pick up her pistol. Spoiler was still finishing the other two thugs. Harley was walking away with her back turned. The woman picked up her weapon and in a split second Luciana reacted. 

Bang! 

What happened next became very unclear for Luciana. She heard Spoiler scream in anguish and found herself held in Harley’s arms. Her hands, on instinct, were clutching the new gunshot wound in her gut, pressing down weakly as if to stem the blood. Her vision blurred and her head was still pounding from earlier. Thinking became a nearly impossible task. 

“Luciana!” Spoiler yelled. Luciana found some small part of her mind wondering how the hero knew her name, but she couldn’t focus on that question. Spoiler’s hands clutched Luciana’s, pressing down painfully on the wound. “You’re going to be alright. You hear me? Hey?”

“Bats? We need a pick up now,” Harley said, tapping a communicator in her ear. 

They were working together. The realization gave Luciana great satisfaction. The voice in her head had been right. The way Spoiler and Harley’s fight had aroused her suspicion, how perfectly it had been working out for them both, Harley’s reluctance to admit what was in the safe, or to hurt anyone. She had been working with Spoiler. Luciana chuckled softly, groaning in pain.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey” Spoiler said, her voice impossibly soft. She cupped Luciana’s cheek in one hand. Blood stained it. “Don’t laugh. Don’t move. And don’t sleep, ok? Just stay calm. We’re going to get you out of her.”

“I knew Harley wasn’t bad,” Luciana said softly, her mind dizzy. All she could feel was herself slipping away, and that one bit of pride. If she had to get shot for someone at least it hadn’t been a super villain. Not really. 

The world seemed to fade to black. When Luciana regained consciousness she was in a car that was driving way too fast. Someone was sitting right behind her, holding Luciana securely in their arms, and red stained bandages were wrapped around the wounded girl’s torso. 

“What?” Luciana asked softly, her head rising from its slumped position. 

“Hey, are you still with us? Stay awake,” Spoiler’s voice said. She was the one holding Luciana upright in this car. “We’re going to get you help. We’re almost there.” She sounded anxious. Deathly afraid, even.

“Don’t feel bad,” Luciana pleaded. “This isn’t your fault.”

“No, Luci, don’t talk like that,” Spoiler said. “Shut up. You’re going to be fine.”

“It’s not your fault-”

Spoiler took a bottle of water; A large, black, metal one and poured it over Luciana’s head. Suddenly, the world became clearer. She could hear, see, and think better. She could feel her pain more. Luciana gasped and blinked several times, looking around the vehicle. She felt one arm hold her firmly as the other held the bottle to her lips.

“Drink,” Spoiler ordered. Luciana didn’t think twice as she grasped the bottle and desperately downed the rest of it, ignoring the droplets that spilled down her chin. She was just so thirsty. It almost felt like a lifeline- Keeping her aware. 

“Where are we going?!” Luciana asked, panicked. “I- Ugh!” The pain from her concussion (thank you, Harley) returned in full force as she moved. Spoiler pulled Luci back against her. 

“Someplace safe, ok? You don’t have to worry,” she promised. “We stemmed the bleeding. A doctor is going to fix you up. One we trust.”

“Wait, are you talking about, like, stitches?” Luciana asked, swallowing hard. “Or is the bullet still in me?”

“...”

“Is the bullet still in me or-”

“Yes, yes it is!” She replied quickly, a familiar tone of annoyance present in her reply. “But it’s ok, we’ve got you. Just keep calm and breathe.”

That familiar tone began to bother Luciana. She tried to look over her shoulder but her gut filled with pain, forcing her to look ahead. She looked down to see blood had leaked and stained her jeans and boots before she got bandaged. A lot of blood. She began to feel woozy at the sight. The effect of the water was short term. Her head was throbbing and her vision was going in and out.

“Hey, you ok? Try to stay awake. We’re almost there, yeah?” Spoiler said, her voice alarmed and full of worry. “Hurry up!”

“Trying!” A voice in front of Luciana and Spoiler called. The voice was awkward. Foreign. But not an accent Luciana herself recognized. She would have tried to take a look at the driver but then their destination came into view: Wayne Manor.

“What…?” Luciana murmured. Her vision was darkening. But why Wayne Manor? Wasn’t that out of the way? Surely, there were hospitals closer to Gotham University?

“It’s ok,” Spoiler reassured once more, her voice gentle. “It’s ok.”

“Ay no,” Luciana murmured, feeling herself losing consciousness. Her head fell back and her vision went dark. Before she lost all sense she felt the car going underground, entering a tunnel or something of the sort, and then she was out.

Finally, Luciana woke up one last time. Her eyes shot open and were looking up at a roof. She felt disoriented and lost. There was some sense that time had passed. Not just a few minutes but a long time. And gods did she have to pee. Her first thought was that she had blacked out. She wasn’t proud of it, but it happened. Sometimes she had too much to drink and woke up with no memories and Stephanie making her breakfast. 

“Ste-” She tried to call out, but her dry throat cracked and irritated, the name turning into a fit of coughing. She covered her mouth and sat up. Or at least she tried to. The pain in her lower right side shifted like a tight thread through her stomach and she groaned, laying back down. 

“Steph!” Luciana called out loudly, one arm shifting to cover her eyes from the light. What had happened, exactly? “STEPH!”

“She is not here,” a strange voice said. The same from the BatMobile. Luciana blinked in surprise and suddenly remembered the drive. The rush. The gunshot wound. 

“Que pasó?” Luciana murmured, lifting her head to look down at herself. Her heart skipped a beat.

An IV drip was inserted in her arm. She was wearing a hospital gown. She was clearly not in her college dorm. Her head had a pounding headache that she was just becoming conscious about, and her gut throbbed lightly. Her heart began racing as a figure stood up from a seat in a shadowed corner and walked into the light, revealing herself.

“Orphan?” Luciana asked, eyes widening. 

[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."

[cursecuelebre]

Roman Goddess Luciana of Childbirth and Light

Attributes:

Childbirth

Matrons (Married Women)

New borns

Midwifery

Soon - to - be Mothers

Virginity/Chasity

Celestial Light Moon and Sun

Light that which brings Newborns into life.

Fertility especially when it comes to women

Symbols:

Torches

The colors red, black, and white

Libyan Lotus trees or Nettle trees. Member of the Elm tree family. The trees are southern European species of nettle trees, the Romans just refer them to as Lotus trees.

I’ve read from a source that lady bugs or lady birds are sacred to her but I find just one source so take it with a gain of salt. Lady bugs is mostly associated with Freyja so I would imagine relating to fertility.

Titles and Epithets:

Luciana is the Goddess of light and childbirth and newborns. Her name is alone to be just be a goddess alone which is possibly she originated from a Sabine moon goddess. But her name itself can be a title like how “Hekate or Hekatos” is used not just for a name of a goddess. Her name Luciana can be derived from the Latin word “Lux” which is luminous and light also “Lucus” which means Groves I’ll explain in the next paragraph. I’ll put other names she was referred by but also what goddesses of which they took her name as an epithet/title.

- Noctiluca - Giving Light by Night

- Luna - Of The Moonlight

- Lucifera - Giver of Light

- Juno Lucina - Shining one. With this title there is more information about the worship of Luciana.

- Diana Lucina - Divine Queen

- Hekate Lucina - Hekate was also known to bear this title as a light bearer.

- Saint Lucia or Saint Lucy: It is theorised and not so uncommon of when goddesses or gods become saints after Christianisation a well known example is St Brigid once known before in pre-Christian Ireland as a Celtic goddess of the Hearth. Saint Lucia is said to be the Goddess of Luciana whose symbol is a torch as well.

General Information

During the early days of the Roman Empire Luciana was one of the first temples to be established. She is said to be originated from the tribe of Sabine whose role as a moon goddess. Her role within Roman religion was mostly documented as Juno Lucina which isn’t surprising since Juno is the goddess of marriage and motherhood and childbirth. Her temple was set on Cisipan Hill on a Grove. But a shrine to Luciana was built on Esquiline Hill around 373 BCE on March 1st. It was always set on a grove which was surrounded by Lotus trees or Nettle trees which was very sacred and celebrated by offering locks of hair from Vestal Virgins who acknowledge their vows of chastity and a choice to not become a mother.

When Luciana was invoked during childbirth for easy delivery and a healthy child to be born. Women would let their hair loose and untie any knots from their clothing in a way of sympathetic magic letting energy of the birth flow easily and without any complications. After the baby was delivered, the child would be brought to the goddess’s altar called Sellisternium (a altar dedicated to a goddess) along for a feast of celebration. Luciana is very much centered around all things pregnancy, newborns, fertility, she even is called a Saviour from infertility, She is in charge bringing Newborns into the light of the world, also grants Newborns safe passage.

Her festivals

Held on March 1st, the Roman new year also called Matronalia plus the anniversary of the temple’s founding. Where married women would be given money from their husbands to make an offering to Juno Luciana of Womanhood. They (Matrons) would general go to the temple make offerings on Esquiline Hill. Afterwards a festival of Family would began as the Matrons of the household would be a central figure with their husbands giving them gifts and Slaves would be served as well.

Editor’s Note:

It was brought up very importantly that Luciana is the Italian proper name but “Lucina” is the correct and proper spelling for the titles and epithets for Juno and Diana not Luciana. The difference is very hard to notice at first which I made that mistake, but thank you to the lovely user who made it known to me in the comments! Putting this here so that it’s a marking of update, I will retype the titles and such for the correction 💖

[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."

[freesia-writes]

Hunter Fic Master List

Want to join the tag list? Message me for a fresh Discord server invite or fill out the form here. COVER ART BY @pinkiemme!!

Family Dinner (2.5k words)

School (2.7k)

Boys at the Bar (2.2k)

A Shop Visit (2.2k)

A Heart to Heart (1.8k)

Hikes and Hurts (3.2k)

The Alignment (2.9k)

Further Developments (2.4k)

Storm on the Shore, Part 1 (2.6k)

Storm on the Shore, Part 2 (2k)

Farmer's Market (3.1k)

The Festival (3.2k)

The Gift (3.8k)

Blossoming (3.5k)

First Date (4.5k)

Foreign Contaminant (2.8k)

Graffiti (2.7k)

Beach Date (1.7k)

Montage (2.8)

Keytoll (2.6k)

Deceived (2.1k)

Departure (2.2k)

First Date, Take Two (2.7k)

Unmoored (2.2k)

Surrender and Dread (2.4k)

Confrontation (2.2k)

Reactivity (2.1k)

Party Hard and... (2.1k)

…Pay the Price (2.3k)

Wedding, Part 1 (2.8k)

Wedding, Part 2 (2.9k)

Disorientation (2.3k)

The Waterfall (3.4k)

Attack (3.4k)

Explanation (2.7k)

Clarification (2k)

Ceremony (2k)

Festival #2 (2.7k)

Finding Footing (3.3k)

Beach Date #2 (2.6k)

Cooking (2.6k)

Dancing (2.4k)

Settling (2.4k)

Full Circle (2.5k)

Fanart wish list (scenes to be drawn should they spark joy)

Enjoy a playlist with songs for each chapter

Artwork (links and credits below!!)

Hunter and Lyra on the Beach - by @amalthiaph

Hunter in the Cave - by @perfectlywingedcrusade

Family Dinner - by @nika6q

Hunter in the Kitchen - by @snotbuggle

Hunter's Butcher Shop - by @nika6q

Hunter and Lyra's dance - by @perfectlywingedcrusade

The Cave - by @the-little-moment

Hunter in a Rain Shower - by @the-little-moment

Hunter Tries Yoga - by @matookahitaki

Hunter in his Fancy Suit - by @marymunchkiin

Hunter and Lyra on a Fathier - by @ve-ti-ver

Hunter and Lyra - by @raevulsix

Tiki Bar with Luciana - by @clownbloody

Something To Be Revealed - by @clownbloody 😂

Hiking to the Waterfall - by @acryliccassetteart

It'll Be Okay - by @autistic-artistech

[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…

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Prized dinosaur fossil returned to Brazil after controversy

The one-of-a-kind specimen will be housed at a museum in Santana do Cariri, near where it was found.

This celebratory image shows Brazilian researchers and government officials gathered around a prized fossil of the dinosaur Ubirajara jubatus. The fossil, newly returned to Brazil from Germany, sparked an outcry in late 2020 after palaeontologists published a now-retracted paper1 about it. The 110-million-year-old specimen represents the first non-avian dinosaur to be found in South America with structures that seem to be precursors to feathers. None of the authors on the paper was from Brazil, and it was suggested that the removal of the fossil from the country was illegal. A campaign ensued to return the fossil from Germany, where it was being stored in a museum, as part of a movement denouncing colonialism in palaeontology. “I hope that this recognition by Germany will be an inspiration for other countries that hold, in unclear circumstances, other specimens of Brazilian palaeontological biodiversity,” said Luciana Santos, Brazil’s minister of science, technology and innovation, during a 12 June event in Brasilia at which the fossil was returned, following a long negotiation between countries. It will now be housed at the Plácido Cidade Nuvens Palaeontological Museum in Santana do Cariri, near where the fossil had been found.

Source.

[desertdollranch]

Luciana's visit to the American Girl Place store in Dallas, Texas!

She watched a game of tennis, got a bowl of Jeni's ice cream, patiently listened to Isabel Hoffman talk about the Spice Girls, had pancakes at a diner with Maryellen Larkin, got a cup of coffee, sang onstage, and rode first class in a luxury airline.