#valerie stride

[beastieballin]

doodly doodlesss

[artseniccatnip]

various doodles :]]]

[shares-a-vest]

Steve looks up from his magazine, one of Keith’s many car subscriptions that he is gifted as leftovers, to find Dustin not not looking straight at him and fiddling with the same copy of Hello! Dolly he had picked up a solid ten minutes ago.

He is fairly certain he knows Dustin’s movie preferences. And they don’t include Barbara Streisand’s matchmaking through song and big hats.

Dustin turns away, revealing a backpack that now sports a gigantic Hellfire patch sewn onto the front pocket, courtesy of Robin and Eddie’s joint sewing endeavours.

“Henderson!” Steve calls, frowning.

Nothing. The kid might as well be twiddling his goddamn thumbs as he chances a glance over he shoulder, very obviously hearing him.

Steve snaps the magazine shut and rounds the counter to the musical section. But Dustin scampers away, setting a steady pace as he comically power walks down the split horror-comedy aisle in order to double back to the front of the store.

“Hey! What the hell, man?” Steve says, taking a few strides to get ahead of the kid so Dustin is blocked right between him and the front candy display, “What the hell is up with you?”

He probably sounds more accusatory than curious, judging by Dustin’s wide and panicked eyes. The boy shrugs and looks away.

Yeah, Dustin not talking and not blabbering away about anything, let alone whatever it is that’s up? Fucking weird.

Steve looks him over, examining his young friend’s movements as he shuffles on the spot and periodically scuffs his sneakers on the sun-faded green carpet.

“Um, uhhh...” Dustin hums after a long pause.

Still strangely incomprehensible for him – but it’s something, at least.

“What is it?” he asks, voice low as he searches for a shred of eye contact.

“Do you, I dunno... maybe...” Dustin trails off, gesturing in the air as a pair of nervous eyebrows disappear up under the Cubs cap Steve gifted him for Christmas 1984.

Not that Dustin cares about the Cubs – then or now.

Dustin slips his hands under his backpack straps and rocks on the spot as he continues prattling on.

“Do you wanna hang out on Sunday? I mean, if you don’t have a date or anything.”

The kid sticks out his bottom lip and rolls his eyes, not at all appearing as casual as he seems to want to be.

“Sure,” Steve shrugs, confused.

Jesus Christ, since when is this kid all nervous about hanging out?

“Steve,” Dustin sighs deeply, pinching his nose (good, back to his bratty, if a little exasperated, self), “Sunday is Father's Day.”

“Oh.”

He must have passed by the greeting card display at Melvad’s, over and over during every lunch break as he headed in for a can of soda and whatever non Family Video-sponsored candy Keith was craving.

It’s not like he had any reason to remember. His folks haven’t been home since the ‘earthquake’ and they almost never call. Hell, he has enough of a time conversing at any length when his mother does call, let alone asking her to put his father on the phone.

Not that he wants to talk to his non-college attending, barely-high school graduate son who works minimum wage retail and has no girlfriend, anyway.

Not that all of that matters much when Dustin is looking back at him with a rare sadness in his eyes.

“I mean, your dad isn’t home – obviously,” Dustin starts, though not quite as harsh as his usual barbs, “And Will spends the day with Hop now. Eddie and Wayne go fishing. And I would be going to visit my grandpa but he and Nanna went on a cruise. I think they went – ”

“Sure, buddy,” he blurts out, offering a pat on the shoulder to make up for inadvertently cutting the kid off. He pauses and frowns, “But what about your mom?”

Dustin shrugs, “She wants to have a girl’s day with Valerie.”

Ah, yes. Valerie Richardson, Claudia Henderson’s best friend and Hawkins’ biggest town gossip courtesy of her job as the receptionist at the doctor’s office. Steve can’t help but laugh – Valerie really knows her stuff.

“I’m assuming their girl’s day will involve a charcuterie board and wine?”

“Charcuterie,” Dustin mutters, beyond displeased at the thought of dips, fruit and water crackers – a far cry from his mother’s prized lasagne.

“Alright,” Steve announces, rubbing his hands together, “We’d better pick out some movies. I’m thinking we hit the arcade, then have a movie marathon over the cheesiest of pizzas...”

Dustin grins.

[disillusioneddanny]

Cat’s Cradle Part 1

Read part 2 here

Danny let out a yelp as Jazz dragged him out of his bed and looked at her wide eyed. “What is your problem?” He demanded, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“Jack and Maddie didn’t take you coming out as Phantom very well,” she said harshly. 

The halfa frowned and stumbled after his sister as her iron grip squeezed his wrist and bounded down the hallway. Just a few hours before Danny–with the help of his sister– had finally told his parents that he was Phantom. He had thought that they had taken the news pretty well. His father had stared at him with his usual dumbstruck expression while his mother’s eyes shone with that usual analytical glare as he told them. Maddie had thanked him for trusting them with the information and had told him that they would need some time to absorb everything that Danny had told them. “I mean all things considered, they took it well,” Danny mumbled, following Jazz down the stairs to the lab. 

“No, it didn’t go well. They pulled me aside and asked how long you’ve been brainwashing me. Danny it’s not safe, they’re planning on catching you when you aren’t paying attention and are going to experiment on you! They think you killed their son,” Jazz snapped harshly. “We’re enacting plan “oh shit”,” she said. Finally Danny woke up enough to truly take in everything going on around him. Jazz looked like she hadn’t slept all night. On her back was a large duffel bag, likely packed with everything Danny would need. In her free hand sat a Fenton Blaster. “I overheard them call the GIW. After they vivisect you they’re going to sell you to them. I already spoke to Sam and Tucker. Everything you need is in this bag.”

“Wait, wait!” Danny stammered, trying to keep up with his sister’s long strides. “I don’t want to leave! It’s my senior year and-”

“And it doesn’t matter Danny,” Jazz snapped, shoving her brother down the stairs quickly. The red head threw the duffel bag at Danny and marched over to the portal and opened it wide. “You have to go. Find CW or someone and tell them Amity is no longer safe and we can figure something out. You have a burner phone that Tucker already encrypted and it’s going to be okay. Just go.”

Danny’s core seemed to feel more frozen in his chest than it ever had before. “Jazz,” he said, holding back a sob. Jazz’s face crumpled as she wrapped her arms around her brother’s shoulders. 

“Little Brother, I love you so much. You’re going to be okay, I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to come back here. But when you’re safe, text me, call me I don’t care. I’ll come to you and we will never see them again. I go back to Harvard tomorrow and once I’m able to separate myself from Jack and Maddie I’ll let you know. I’m not risking your safety,” she said as her baby brother sobbed into her shoulder, fingers digging into her shoulder while he clung to her like she was his only life line. 

“I don’t want to,” he cried. “They’re my parents, they won’t hurt me-”

“Danny, they can and they will. Just go,” Jazz said, pulling away from her brother. “We will be okay here. Sam and Tucker are both ready for anything. We’ve already let Valerie know that Phantom will be gone.” Jazz smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind Danny’s ear. “Go, I love you, be safe, I’ll contact you when it’s safe, you’ll do the same.”

Danny nodded and wiped at his face. “I love you too,” he said and hugged her tight once more before he shifted into his ghost form and stepped through the portal feeling lost and aimless in a way that he had never felt before in his life. 

The halfa didn’t know how long he drifted in the realms. It could have been hours, days, months–fuck even years he wasn’t sure. But everything felt aimless and wrong. Danny didn’t have a home anymore–no he didn’t have a lair anymore. He didn’t have a haunt and there was something about it that just made his core feel hollow in a way that he had never felt before. He didn’t know what he was doing. Sure, he had his castle that he could stay at but it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t his. He had no real connection there aside from the fact that he ruled these realms. It wasn’t his lair, though, and it wasn’t his haunt. 

Ghosts had come and gone and tried to elicit some kind of response from the halfa, each one had failed and gone away grumbling to themselves. The baby was sad and none of them knew what to do to take care of him. While Danny was their High Prince until his teachers had decided he had learned enough to rule, he was still a baby in terms of being a ghost. Danny was the most powerful baby ghost they had ever seen but he was still a baby. Because of this, every ghost in the realm had the desire to do whatever they could to help him and nothing they were doing seemed to help. 

The poor ghosts were losing their minds trying to fix the poor halfa but they couldn’t do that when they didn’t know what was wrong. All they knew was that the portal to Amity Park had been closed permanently. Skulker had tried and failed to fight with the halfa. Ember had tried to get Danny to play guitar with her only for him to phase through her. Johnny 13 had tried to race him. Nothing worked. The only one who seemed to have any success was Spectra and that was simply because she was feeding off of the ghost’s sorrow until Kitty had run her off. 

It seemed as though their baby halfa was broken and no one had the pieces to put him back together. No one but Clockwork it seemed. Somehow the boy’s wandering had landed him at the entrance of Clockwork’s lair. 

The ancient floated out of the clock and gave the boy a sad look. “Oh, my poor boy. I’ve been waiting on you,” he said. Danny just let out a sniff and fell into the ghost’s arms and let out a sob. 

“I feel empty,” he mumbled into the ancient’s cloaks. “Something’s missing Clockwork.”

“It is your purpose,” Clockwork said softly. “You just had your entire obsession ripped away from you.”

“But it’s protection, I can still protect!” Danny said, scrunching the fabric in his hands tight. “Why do I feel this way?”

Clockwork smoothed the boy’s hair over soothingly as he led the boy into the large clock. “Your obsession was largely associated with protecting the people of Amity Park from danger. That is gone now. You will always have your obsession to protect and you are still doing that. You are protecting your subjects by letting your sister permanently close the portal. But now there is a part of you missing. You also are in dire need of a haunt and that is not somewhere within the realms.”

Danny pulled away from the ghost and wiped his face tiredly. “What do I do, then? How do I fix this?”

The ancient shifted into a baby and smiled. “I have been looking at the timelines and I think that I have an idea for you, Daniel,” he said, moving towards a large portal. Danny frowned but followed his mentor nonetheless. 

“What is it?”

“I have noticed that the ghosts here who once lived and then came to exist here have been getting restless. With the help of the Observants we learned that artifacts are being stolen, especially from the graves of our older ghosts. Would you be interested in collecting them and returning these items back to their graves?”

Danny perked up. “I can do that?”

“Of course, it’s causing distress within quite a few beings. These were things they were buried with, things that they miss dearly now that they have been separated from them. It is as though they have been separated from their own haunts just as you have since those items tether them to the world. With them being moved around, it is taking them away from their haunts,” Clockwork explained, showing a picture of a ghost aimlessly wading through the streets of a town, looking just as lost as Danny felt. “Artifacts are tethers for most ghosts. As a halfa you were slightly different as your tethers were more so the people in your town than physical objects. And since you are still half living, you are able to collect more things that mean something significant to you.”

“But ghosts can’t. And their artifacts being moved from their homes–it’s ripping them away from their haunts?” Danny whispered, core aching at the thought of others feeling the same loss that he was experiencing. Clockwork was right, he would make new connections in his human life. These ghosts would never be able to do that.

“In one timeline it seems that you did this by becoming a cat burglar,” Clockwork said, showing a picture of Danny in an all black costume as he snuck into a museum. “Would you be interested in doing it that way, become a bit of a criminal and let loose?”

“I can do that?” Danny asked, eyes wide as he watched a version of himself steal an artifact from the museum and disappear before anyone even noticed. 

“You spent a very long time being a hero, Daniel. You will always be a hero and protect your people, but in this version you become a bit more of a criminal. It seems you have a lot of fun in this city, as well. It seems to become your new haunt,” Clockwork said with a smile, shifting into his middle-aged self once again. 

“This would be amazing! Is it in the same dimension?” he asked, whole body vibrating in excitement at the prospect of not only helping his people but also getting to cause a little chaos. 

“It is. Now, have fun,” Clockwork said before pointing his staff at the halfa and sending him away without another word.

If you’re enjoying my work, buy me a coffee!

[theroyalthornoliachronicles]

La Flamme de Minuit Victorious at Prix de Thornolile

In a heart-stopping display of skill and speed, La Flamme de Minuit emerged triumphant in a gripping race during the highly anticipated Prix de Thornolie. The race, which unfolded over a five-furlong distance, captivated spectators and showcased a fierce battle between its top contenders, La Flamme de Minuit and Griffon Rouge.

Set against the picturesque backdrop of Thornolia's vibrant l'Hippodrome Épitoise de Thornolie, the event drew a crowd of enthusiastic onlookers, including Thornolia's esteemed famille royale. Monseigneur l'Épin, a distinguished figure in the equestrian world alongside his father, graced the occasion and presented the victorious horse with the inaugural Coupe de l'Épine d'Or, a trophy specially crafted for this prestigious race in celebration of its inclusion in Thornolia's first ever Saison.

La Flamme de Minuit, a majestic equine with a fiery spirit, proved its mettle under the expert guidance of trainer Francois Delacroix and the skilled jockey, Pierre Leblanc. The horse's exceptional speed, agility, and determination captivated the audience, who eagerly anticipated a thrilling showdown between the top contenders.

As the race commenced, the thundering hooves of La Flamme de Minuit and Griffon Rouge echoed across the racecourse, creating an rousing atmosphere. The two horses showcased their remarkable athleticism and unwavering spirit, engaging in a neck-and-neck battle that left spectators on the edge of their seats.

The five-furlong race unfolded with breathtaking intensity, as La Flamme de Minuit and Griffon Rouge pushed each other to their limits. The crowd roared with excitement as the horses charged towards the finish line, their determination and skill evident with every stride, but it was La Flamme de Minuit who surged forward around the last corner, galloping across the finish line and securing victory. Griffon Rouge, displaying remarkable tenacity, finished a close second, leaving spectators in awe of the fierce competition between these equine powerhouses.

Adding an extra layer of prestige to the occasion, Monseigneur l'Épin presented La Flamme de Minuit and Pierre Lablanc with the first-ever Coupe de l'Épine d'Or. The Monseigneur also looked to be in extremely high spirits, leaving many to wonder if more thrilling news is on the horizon. This magnificent trophy will forever serve as a testament to the horse's remarkable achievement, as well as an enduring symbol of Thornolia's rich equestrian heritage.

As the sun set and the crowds dispersed, the echoes of this thrilling five-furlong race lingered in the air. La Flamme de Minuit's remarkable victory in the Coupe de l'Épine d'Or will be remembered as a shining moment in Thornolia's racing history—an exemplification of the unwavering spirit and indomitable strength of these magnificent creatures.

And let us not forget our Monseigneur's endeavours to find a wife during this inaugural saison. With the upcoming bal masqué in honour of his upcoming birthday in mere days, many wonder if he will soon be making an announcement. Though should we? He's been far too indecisive, and it may be a bit hard to believe he's made any sort of decision, though we believe it safe to say that it does appear to be between Mademoiselle Aubert and Mademoiselle Valery. Today's event left many questioning the Monseigneur's motives once more, but we suppose only time will tell.

Previous | Beginning | Next

[muiitoloko]

The Art of Parenting

Summary: Art dealer Lionel Shahbandar’s comfortable life is disrupted when his past catches up with him in the form of a daughter, leading to an uncomfortable journey into parenthood.

Pairing: Lionel Shahbandar & Daughter! Reader

Warnings: Emotional Distress, Parental Abandonment, Alcohol Use, Child Neglect, Angst.

Author's Notes: I've been working on this for a while, and it feels so good to finally share it with everyone. I hope you all enjoy it!

Also read on Ao3

Lionel Shahbandar, lounging in his opulent mansion adorned with priceless art and luxurious furnishings, was in the final stages of preparing for another day of wheeling and dealing in the art world. The persistent ringing of the doorbell shattered the calm, causing Lionel to sigh irritably. With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, he tossed aside the newspaper he’d been perusing and sauntered towards the door, his demeanor exuding a mix of annoyance and curiosity.

Opening the grand door with a flourish, Lionel found himself face to face with a stunning blonde woman. Her icy blue eyes glinted with a mix of determination and impatience, her lips set in a firm line. The child by her side, a girl of about five, clung to her hand, her wide eyes darting around the lavish surroundings.

Lionel's lips curled into a slow, appreciative smile, his baritone voice dropping into a purr as he leaned casually against the doorframe. “Well, hello there, pretty thing,” he drawled, his eyes flicking over her with a practiced ease.

The woman’s response was immediate and dismissive. She rolled her eyes with a derisive snort and pushed past him, the child in tow. “Get out of my way, Lionel,” she snapped, striding into the foyer as if she owned the place.

Taken aback by her audacity, Lionel straightened, his expression shifting to one of indignation. “Excuse me, who the hell are you?” he demanded, his gaze narrowing as he followed her into the mansion.

The woman spun around, fixing him with a glare that could cut glass. “Have you already forgotten me?” she retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Typical. I shouldn’t be surprised, given your penchant for one-night stands.”

Lionel’s eyes widened in shock, his mind racing as he scrutinized her more closely. Her face, now framed by high cheekbones and plumped lips, bore the unmistakable signs of plastic surgery. But it was the exaggerated curves, particularly her large, unnatural breasts, that triggered a spark of recognition.

“Oh my God,” Lionel muttered, his voice laced with a mix of disbelief and amusement. “I know who you are.”

The woman crossed her arms over her chest, arching an eyebrow as a smirk played on her lips. “Surprise,” she said dryly, her gaze challenging him to put the pieces together.

Lionel’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly for a moment, his mind reeling. “Valerie?” he finally managed, his voice a mix of astonishment and incredulity. “What happened to you? And why are you here?”

Valerie’s eyes flashed with a mix of irritation and a hint of satisfaction. “Oh, don’t act so shocked,” she replied, her tone cool and edged with bitterness. “It’s been years, Lionel. You think you can just have your fun and then forget all about the women you leave in your wake?”

Lionel’s brows furrowed as he struggled to process the whirlwind of emotions and memories flooding back. “What do you want, Valerie?” he asked, his voice losing its earlier confidence, replaced by a wary edge.

Valerie’s glare hardened as she reached into her bag, pulling out a smaller, well-worn backpack. She tossed it at Lionel’s feet with a sneer. “Here. Take care of your daughter.”

Lionel’s eyes followed the bag, then snapped up to the child standing beside Valerie. He chuckled derisively, shaking his head as if to clear some fog of misunderstanding. “My daughter? No, no, there must be some mistake. I don’t have children.”

Valerie rolled her eyes, her patience visibly fraying. “Her name is [Your Name],” she said coldly, pointing to the little girl, who looked up at Lionel with wide, innocent eyes. “And she’s our daughter. You didn’t even remember my face, let alone anything about our past.”

Lionel’s confident façade cracked, his features contorting into a mixture of disbelief and irritation. “You’re joking,” he said, a forced laugh escaping him. “This is some kind of sick prank, right? There’s no way—”

Valerie cut him off with a dismissive wave. “Oh, grow up, Lionel! She’s four. You do the math. We had a thing, and then you vanished, as usual.”

Lionel’s brow furrowed deeply, his baritone voice hardening with a defensive edge. “I don’t do children, Valerie. Never wanted them, never will. So whatever game you’re playing, take it somewhere else.”

Valerie’s eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a cold smile. “Too bad, Lionel. I’ve been taking care of [Your Name] for four years, and now it’s your turn. I need a break, and my new boyfriend and I are traveling for a month. You’re going to step up for once in your life.”

Lionel’s gaze flicked between Valerie and the little girl, his annoyance morphing into outright defiance. “Absolutely not. You can’t just dump her on me like this. Take her with you.”

Valerie’s expression hardened into one of steely resolve. “Watch me.” She leaned down to you, her voice softening slightly but tinged with impatience. “Stay with Daddy, okay? I’ll be back in a month.”

You nodded hesitantly, clutching the blanket in your hand like a lifeline. Valerie just smiled, a cold, almost triumphant look in her eyes as she turned on her heel to leave. Lionel’s expression shifted from disbelief to panic as he reached out, his voice rising in desperation.

“Valerie, wait! You can’t just leave her here!” he called after her, stepping forward to block her path.

Valerie paused, her expression hardening as she met his gaze with a steely resolve. “I’m coming back in a month, Lionel,” she stated firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You’ll manage.”

Lionel’s face contorted with frustration. “I don’t know the first thing about taking care of children!” he protested, his baritone voice echoing through the grand foyer.

Valerie rolled her eyes, a smirk playing on her lips. “It’s easy,” she replied dismissively. “Feed her, bathe her. It’s like taking care of a dog. Besides, she’s easy to take care of. She doesn’t talk much.”

Lionel’s eyes flicked down to you, standing there quietly, your eyes wide and uncertain. The reality of the situation began to settle in, and he felt a wave of resentment rise within him. “Valerie, this is ridiculous. I can’t—”

But Valerie was already walking away, her heels clicking decisively against the marble floor. “See you in a month, Lionel,” she called over her shoulder, not bothering to turn around. “Good luck.”

The door closed behind her with a resolute thud, leaving Lionel standing there, staring after her in stunned silence. He looked down at you, his face a mask of irritation and confusion. You hugged your blanket tighter, feeling the weight of his gaze.

Lionel sighed heavily, running a hand through his meticulously styled hair. “Well, this is just perfect,” he muttered to himself, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “A child. Just what I needed.”

He turned away, gesturing for you to follow him. “Come on, then. Let’s figure out what to do with you,” he said, his voice lacking any warmth or enthusiasm. You followed him through the opulent mansion, your small footsteps echoing in the vast, marble hallways.

Lionel led you to a large sitting room, filled with priceless art and luxurious furnishings. He motioned for you to sit on one of the plush sofas, watching you with a mixture of annoyance and resignation. “So, what do you need? Food? Bath? What do kids even do at this hour?”

You remained silent, your eyes darting around the unfamiliar surroundings. Lionel sighed again, a deep, weary sound. “Right. You don’t talk much. Wonderful.”

He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of scotch, pouring himself a generous glass. “Guess we’ll just have to figure this out together, won’t we?” he said, taking a long sip of his drink. He looked at you over the rim of his glass, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “You’re not going to cause trouble, are you?”

You shook your head slowly, still clutching your blanket. Lionel seemed to relax slightly, though his irritation was still evident. “Good. Because the last thing I need is a child running around causing chaos.”

He sank into a chair opposite you, his posture exuding a mix of resignation and defiance. “Alright, here’s the deal,” he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “I’m not cut out for this whole parenting thing. But for the next month, you’ll be staying here. I’ll do my best to take care of you, but don’t expect me to be your father. Understood?”

You nodded again, your wide eyes never leaving his face. Lionel downed the rest of his drink, the liquid burning its way down his throat. “Great,” he muttered, setting the glass down with a thud. “This should be interesting.”

The two of you sat in silence, the weight of the situation settling over both of you like a heavy, oppressive cloud. Despite his outward bravado, Lionel couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in his gut. Taking care of a child was a responsibility he had never wanted, much less expected to be thrust upon him so abruptly.

Lionel set the glass down with a clink, the sound sharp against the quiet backdrop of his opulent sitting room. He leaned forward, his hooked nose casting a long shadow across his face in the dim light.

“Listen carefully,” he said, his baritone voice carrying a note of cold detachment. “There are going to be some ground rules while you’re here. Rule number one: You don’t call me ‘father.’ I’m not your father, and I don’t want to be. You’re only here for a month, and after that, I don’t want to know you. Got it?”

You nodded slowly, squeezing your blanket tighter against your chest, the softness a small comfort in this unfamiliar, intimidating place. Lionel’s eyes flicked to your hands clutching the blanket, his expression a mix of irritation and something close to disdain.

“Rule number two,” he continued, his tone growing firmer. “Don’t touch my things. This house is filled with valuable items, and I don’t need a child ruining them. Stay out of my way, and don’t go messing with anything you shouldn’t.”

You nodded again, your eyes wide and unblinking. The opulence of the room—the ornate vases, the priceless paintings—felt like a world entirely separate from your own, and the thought of disturbing anything filled you with a deep, abiding dread.

Lionel leaned back in his chair, studying you with a cold, calculating gaze. “And rule number three,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “When you grow up, don’t ever come looking for me. I don’t want children. I don’t want heirs. I’m not your father, and I’ll never be. If you ever try to contact me, I won’t help you. There will be no inheritance, no support. You mean nothing to me. Understood?”

You felt a tight knot forming in your chest, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a physical force. You nodded once more, the movement slow and deliberate, your small frame trembling slightly under the intensity of his gaze.

Lionel’s expression softened slightly, though not with kindness—more a resigned acceptance of the situation. “Good,” he muttered, standing up and straightening his expensive suit jacket. “Now that we’ve got that clear, we can get through this month without any trouble.”

He turned away, leaving you sitting there on the plush sofa, the grandeur of the mansion around you feeling cold and unwelcoming. As he walked towards the door, Lionel paused, glancing back at you with a mixture of annoyance and mild curiosity.

“Do you even talk?” he asked, his voice tinged with irritation.

You shook your head slowly, your eyes still wide with a mix of fear and uncertainty. Lionel sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Figures,” he muttered under his breath, before turning on his heel and striding out of the room.

The heavy door closed behind him with a resounding thud, leaving you alone in the vast, opulent sitting room. The silence was almost suffocating, broken only by the faint ticking of a nearby antique clock. You hugged your blanket tighter, your small body curling into the plush cushions of the sofa as you tried to process the harsh reality of your situation.

Lionel’s words echoed in your mind, their cold finality making it clear that you were nothing more than an unwelcome guest in his world. Despite the grandeur and luxury of your surroundings, the house felt more like a gilded cage, the ornate furnishings and priceless art a stark contrast to the cold indifference of the man who owned them.

As the minutes ticked by, you remained seated on the sofa, your wide eyes taking in the room around you, each luxurious detail a reminder of the vast gulf between you and Lionel. The blanket in your hands, worn and familiar, was the only comfort in this strange, unwelcoming place.

Despite the opulence and grandeur of Lionel Shahbandar’s mansion, the weight of his rules hung heavily in the air, casting a shadow over the lavish surroundings. You had a month to endure, a month of navigating the cold detachment of a man who wanted nothing to do with you. And as the reality of your new life settled in, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were completely, utterly alone in a world that seemed designed to keep you at a distance.

Lionel Shahbandar stood in his opulent office, the room a testament to his vast wealth and refined tastes. Antique furniture, priceless artwork, and a grand mahogany desk filled the space, but Lionel’s mind was too occupied to appreciate any of it. He was pacing, his phone pressed to his ear, his expression a mix of irritation and frustration.

“Pick up, Elizabeth,” he muttered under his breath, his baritone voice carrying a note of urgency. As the phone rang for the third time, he finally heard the familiar click of the line connecting.

“Good afternoon, Lionel,” came the voice on the other end, dripping with its usual blend of cheeky confidence. Elizabeth James, his personal assistant, never missed an opportunity to inject a bit of sass into their conversations. “What can I do for you this fine day? Need me to schedule another ‘business meeting’ at the Savoy?”

Lionel rolled his eyes, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Cut the sarcasm, Elizabeth,” he replied, his tone brusque. “I need you to find me a nanny.”

There was a brief pause, followed by a sharp intake of breath and a barely stifled laugh. “A nanny?” Elizabeth repeated, her voice brimming with incredulity. “Don’t tell me this is another one of your bizarre fetishes, Lionel.”

“No, it’s not a fetish!” Lionel snapped, rubbing his temple with his free hand. “I just found out I have a daughter. Her mother—an old fling—dumped her on my doorstep this morning and left, saying she’d be gone for a month. I need someone to look after the child.”

Elizabeth’s laughter faded, replaced by a tone of unsurprised amusement. “Well, well. I always suspected you’d have a few kids scattered around with the number of affairs you’ve had. I’m just shocked one finally showed up on your doorstep. Only took how many years?”

Lionel’s jaw tightened as he stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing in irritation. “I don’t want to discuss my past, Elizabeth. Just find a nanny. I don’t have time to deal with a child’s… nuisances.”

Elizabeth’s tone turned serious, carrying a hint of reproach. “Lionel, that’s your daughter you’re talking about. Show a little decency. It’s not her fault you were too busy bedding half of Europe to notice you had a kid.”

Lionel let out a sigh, his frustration evident. “I know, I know. But I’m not equipped for this. I need someone to take care of her properly. And make it quick.”

There was a rustling on the other end of the line, likely Elizabeth rifling through her files or pulling up her computer. “Finding a good nanny isn’t like ordering a new suit, Lionel,” she said with a touch of exasperation. “It’s going to take some time, especially one you won’t try to seduce the minute she walks through the door.”

Lionel’s scoff was audible, his expression twisting into a mix of defensiveness and reluctant acknowledgment. “Oh, please, Elizabeth. As if I can’t control myself.”

Elizabeth’s laugh was a sharp, knowing sound. “When it comes to women, Lionel, you’re about as restrained as a lion in a butcher shop. Remember the French maid incident?”

Lionel’s cheeks flushed slightly, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his features. “I never laid a hand on her,” he protested, his tone indignant. “Besides, she was—”

“Only because she slapped you before you could try anything,” Elizabeth interrupted, her voice cutting through his excuses. “And let’s not forget, I’ve been your assistant for longer than any other woman who’s worked for you.”

Lionel sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of resigned frustration. “Yes, and I’ve never tried anything with you.”

“Because I never let you,” Elizabeth countered smoothly. “That’s why I’ve lasted this long. Now, I’ll get started on finding a nanny, but it might take a few days. Meanwhile, try not to scare off your daughter. She’s probably terrified enough as it is.”

Lionel’s expression softened slightly, a rare note of vulnerability creeping into his voice. “Thanks, Elizabeth. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” she replied, her tone softening in kind. “Just remember, Lionel, this is your chance to be more than just an art-collecting Casanova. Try to make the most of it.”

As the call ended, Lionel sank into the leather chair behind his desk, the weight of the situation settling over him like a heavy cloak. His eyes drifted to a small photo on his desk—a rare personal touch in his otherwise meticulously curated office. It was a picture of him and his late mother, taken when he was a boy. Her warm, kind eyes looked out from the frame, a stark contrast to the cold indifference he had shown his own daughter just moments ago.

With a heavy sigh, Lionel leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ornate ceiling. He had always prided himself on his ability to navigate the complexities of the art world with ease, but this—this was an entirely different challenge. A challenge that required more than charm and a keen eye for detail. It required a heart he wasn’t sure he had.

For now, all he could do was wait for Elizabeth to find a suitable nanny. And try, in his own awkward, imperfect way, to bridge the chasm that separated him from the small, silent child who had suddenly become a part of his life.

Lionel, already feeling the weight of his newfound responsibility pressing down on him, decided there was no point in delaying the inevitable. After all, the best way to handle an uncomfortable situation was to dive in headfirst. He stood up, brushing invisible lint from his finely tailored suit, and made his way over to where you sat quietly on the plush sofa.

“Alright,” Lionel said, his baritone voice attempting a semblance of authority. He hesitated for a moment before awkwardly bending down to pick you up. You clutched your blanket tighter, your wide eyes staring up at him with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

As he hoisted you into his arms, Lionel couldn’t help but notice how light you were, how small. It was a foreign sensation, having a child in his care, and he navigated the experience with the grace of a bull in a china shop. He carried you out of the sitting room, down the grand hallway adorned with priceless art, and out to the front entrance where his sleek black Mercedes was parked.

With a mixture of impatience and determination, Lionel strapped you into the backseat, fumbling slightly with the seatbelt. “There we go,” he muttered under his breath, stepping back to admire his handiwork with a small, self-satisfied nod. “Safe and sound.”

Lionel climbed into the driver’s seat, the leather creaking softly under his weight. He pulled out his phone, shooting a quick text to Elizabeth as he started the engine: “Taking the kid to the office. Have a nanny ready.”

The drive to his company was tense, the silence only broken by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional honk from the bustling London streets. Lionel glanced at you through the rearview mirror, your small figure looking even more out of place against the backdrop of his luxurious car.

When they arrived at the company, Lionel parked and quickly made his way around to your side, unbuckling you with a brisk efficiency. “Come on,” he said, grabbing your hand abruptly. You stumbled slightly as he pulled you along, your small feet struggling to keep up with his hurried pace.

As they entered the grand foyer of his company, Lionel’s presence immediately drew attention. Employees exchanged curious glances, whispering behind their hands as they saw their normally composed boss striding in with a child in tow. Lionel ignored the stares, his jaw set with a mix of annoyance and resolve as he marched you to the elevator.

Inside the elevator, the silence was thick, punctuated only by the soft ding of the floors passing by. Lionel glanced down at you, your small hand still clutching the blanket as if it were a lifeline. He sighed, the weight of his decision settling heavily on his shoulders.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing the pristine floor of Lionel’s office. Elizabeth James, his ever-efficient personal assistant, was already waiting for them, her clipboard in hand. She greeted Lionel with her usual cheeky grin, but as soon as she saw you, her expression softened, and she quickly moved to your level, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Oh my God!” Elizabeth exclaimed, her tone a mix of delight and disbelief. “How could Lionel have produced something so beautiful?”

Lionel’s brows furrowed as he shot her a puzzled glance. “What’s that supposed to mean, Elizabeth?” he demanded, his voice carrying a note of defensive irritation. “Am I not capable of producing something beautiful?”

Elizabeth didn’t miss a beat. She looked Lionel up and down, her eyes twinkling with playful mischief. “Well, given your track record, Lionel, I’d say it’s a bit surprising,” she quipped. Before Lionel could retort, Elizabeth cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Yes, yes, you’re going to cut my salary. I’ve heard it all before.”

Ignoring Lionel’s growing annoyance, Elizabeth turned her attention back to you, her gaze softening as she knelt down to your level. “Hi there, sweetie,” she said gently, her tone warm and inviting. “Are you hungry?”

You nodded, your small hand clutching your blanket tighter as you stared up at her with wide, innocent eyes. Elizabeth’s smile widened, her heart clearly melting at your shy demeanor. “Let’s get you something to eat, then,” she said, scooping you up into her arms with an ease that contrasted sharply with Lionel’s earlier awkwardness.

As she carried you down the hallway, Elizabeth continued her gentle questioning. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

You remained silent, your fingers playing nervously with the edge of your blanket. Lionel, trailing slightly behind, answered for you, his tone laced with a mix of irritation and resignation. “Her name is [Your Name],” he said, his voice carrying a hint of defensiveness. “She doesn’t talk much. Her mother said she doesn’t speak, and I haven’t heard a word from her all morning.”

Elizabeth nodded, her gaze flicking between you and Lionel with a mixture of understanding and concern. “How old are you?” she asked softly, her voice filled with genuine curiosity and care.

You lifted your hand, showing her four little fingers, your eyes still wide with a mix of fear and uncertainty. Elizabeth’s expression softened even more, her heart clearly going out to you as she carried you towards the office kitchen. “Four years old,” she murmured, her tone a blend of amazement and empathy. “You’re a brave little girl, aren’t you?”

Lionel watched them go, a strange, unfamiliar tightness gripping his chest. For all his bravado and confidence, he felt woefully out of his depth. The reality of caring for a child, of being thrust into a role he had never wanted, was sinking in, and it was a far cry from the world of art deals and luxurious living he was accustomed to.

As he followed Elizabeth and you to the kitchen, Lionel couldn’t shake the feeling that his life had taken a sudden, unexpected turn. And as much as he resisted the idea, he couldn’t help but wonder if, perhaps, this was the beginning of something he was entirely unprepared for.

Elizabeth sat you down in the company’s cafeteria, placing you gently in a high-backed chair with an upholstered cushion. Lionel, still visibly irritated but more composed, took the seat beside you. As you settled in, clutching your blanket tightly, Elizabeth glanced at Lionel with a teasing smirk.

“Fancy a sandwich too, Lionel?” she asked, her tone light and knowing.

Lionel gave a reluctant nod, his usual confidence momentarily overshadowed by the situation. “Yes, I suppose I could use something to eat,” he muttered, running a hand through his meticulously styled hair.

Elizabeth quickly prepared two sandwiches, her hands moving with practiced efficiency. She handed one to you, her eyes warm with sympathy, and placed the other in front of Lionel, her expression a mixture of amusement and curiosity as she observed you both.

You and Lionel, seemingly unaware of each other’s actions, simultaneously began to peel the crust off your sandwiches. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. She found it fascinating that you, despite having never been raised by Lionel, shared his peculiar mannerisms.

As you nibbled on the crustless sandwich, Elizabeth couldn’t resist commenting. “You know, Lionel, it’s quite amusing watching the two of you. Like father, like daughter,” she said, her voice tinged with gentle irony.

Lionel glanced at you, then back at Elizabeth, a faint frown creasing his forehead. “I don’t see what’s so amusing,” he retorted, though a flicker of curiosity crossed his features. “She’s just eating a sandwich.”

Elizabeth chuckled softly, shaking her head. “It’s more than that, Lionel. You both have the same little quirks. It’s fascinating, really.”

Lionel’s eyes narrowed as he considered Elizabeth’s words, a mixture of annoyance and grudging acknowledgment in his gaze. He took a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. “I suppose it’s a coincidence,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “She hasn’t been around me long enough to pick up on my habits.”

Elizabeth leaned against the counter, her expression turning serious as she regarded Lionel. “Speaking of habits,” she said, her tone softening, “have you ever taken care of a child before, Lionel?”

Lionel scoffed, his expression hardening. “Of course not,” he replied with a dismissive wave. “I’ve never had any reason to. I’m not exactly the nurturing type.”

Elizabeth’s gaze sharpened, a hint of reproach in her eyes. “Well, it’s not something you can just order from a menu. It takes patience, understanding, and a bit of humility.”

Lionel’s jaw tightened, his irritation resurfacing. “I don’t need a lecture, Elizabeth,” he snapped, though his voice lacked its usual bite. “Just make sure she’s taken care of while I get back to work.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of amusement and challenge. “Oh, so now I’m a nanny too?” she asked, her tone laced with playful sarcasm. “I’ll need a raise for this, you know.”

Lionel rolled his eyes, his irritation evident. “Fine, whatever it takes,” he muttered, waving his hand dismissively. “Just make sure she doesn’t get into trouble.”

Elizabeth’s smile softened, her eyes lingering on you for a moment before she nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on her, Lionel. But remember, she’s not a problem to be managed. She’s a child, and she needs more than just supervision.”

Lionel’s expression flickered, a mixture of frustration and something softer, more uncertain, crossing his features. He stood up, straightening his suit jacket with a sharp tug. “I have work to do,” he said, his tone brusque. “Let me know if anything… comes up.”

As Lionel walked out of the cafeteria, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room, Elizabeth turned her attention back to you, her expression gentle and reassuring. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she said softly, her eyes warm with kindness. “We’ll figure this out together, okay?”

You nodded slowly, the unfamiliar surroundings and the daunting presence of Lionel fading slightly in the face of Elizabeth’s comforting smile. For the first time since arriving at the company, you felt a small flicker of hope, a glimmer of understanding that perhaps, amidst the uncertainty and unfamiliarity, there was someone who truly cared about you.

For the rest of the afternoon, Elizabeth kept a watchful eye on you, her mind abuzz with curiosity and concern. You weren’t like other children she’d encountered. You didn’t wander or explore, but instead, stayed precisely where she left you, quietly perched on the sofa in the company’s waiting room. Your eyes, wide and observant, were fixed on the large screen that displayed an overview of Lionel Shahbandar’s company, complete with images of Lionel in various poses of power and confidence.

The waiting room was a blend of modern elegance and understated luxury, designed to impress visitors with its sleek furnishings and high-tech amenities. The soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional murmur of conversations from passing employees provided a subdued background noise, but you seemed entirely absorbed in the screen, your small hands clutching your blanket with a sort of quiet determination.

Elizabeth observed you for a while, noting how you played with your blanket, twisting and smoothing its fabric in a silent, repetitive rhythm. She finally approached you, her footsteps soft against the polished floor, and crouched down to your level. “Sweetie, do you have any toys with you?” she asked gently, her tone warm and inviting.

You looked up at her, your expression one of mild confusion. Slowly, you pointed to your blanket, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. Elizabeth couldn’t help but chuckle softly, shaking her head. “No, not the blanket, darling. Toys. You know, things to play with.”

You blinked at her, your brows furrowing slightly in puzzlement. Elizabeth realized with a pang of sympathy that you might not have any toys at all. “Do you have any toys at home?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

You hesitated for a moment, then pointed to your blanket again, your small face earnest and serious. Elizabeth’s heart ached at the realization that your blanket was likely the only comfort you had known. Determined to remedy the situation, she straightened up and turned to the receptionist sitting at the sleek, modern desk nearby.

“Jessica,” Elizabeth called out, her voice carrying a note of firm authority. “I need you to go to the nearest toy store and pick up a few toys. Get four different ones—something soft, something educational, something for creativity, and something just for fun.”

Jessica, a young woman with neatly styled hair and a crisp uniform, looked up from her computer, her eyes wide with surprise. “But, Ms. James, I—”

Elizabeth cut her off with a sharp snap of her fingers, her gaze steely. “No buts, Jessica. Unless you’re looking to hand in your resignation, I suggest you move quickly. This is a priority.”

Jessica jumped to her feet, her face flushed with a mixture of apprehension and determination. “Yes, ma’am. Right away,” she stammered, hurrying out of the office with a speed that left no doubt about her urgency.

As Jessica disappeared through the glass doors, Elizabeth turned back to you, her expression softening once more. She sat down beside you on the sofa, her eyes kind and reassuring. “We’re going to get you some nice toys, okay?” she said gently. “Something to make you feel more at home.”

You nodded slowly, your eyes flickering with a hint of curiosity. The idea of having toys seemed almost foreign to you, but Elizabeth’s kindness made you feel a little more at ease.

As they waited, Elizabeth kept you company, her presence a comforting contrast to the overwhelming grandeur of Lionel’s office. She asked you simple questions about your favorite colors and animals, and although you responded mostly with nods and shakes of your head, she seemed genuinely interested in understanding you.

When Jessica finally returned, she was carrying several large shopping bags, her face flushed from the quick trip. Elizabeth took the bags from her with a nod of approval. “Good job, Jessica,” she said, her tone brisk but not unkind. “You can go back to your desk now.”

Jessica nodded, looking relieved to escape Elizabeth’s intense scrutiny. As she returned to her post, Elizabeth began to unpack the bags, revealing an assortment of toys that ranged from a plush teddy bear to a colorful set of building blocks. She arranged them carefully on the coffee table in front of you, her eyes twinkling with a mixture of pride and anticipation.

“Here we go,” Elizabeth said, her voice warm and encouraging. “Why don’t you take a look and see if there’s something you like?”

You looked at the toys, your expression a mix of wonder and hesitation. Tentatively, you reached out for the little stuffed lion, your small hands grasping its soft fur with a kind of wary curiosity. Elizabeth watched you with a pleased smile, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “A lion,” she murmured softly, more to herself than to you. “Definitely Lionel’s daughter.”

The lion was plush and comforting, its mane a bright yellow tuft that you found strangely soothing. You clutched it to your chest, your fingers tracing its soft seams, and for the first time since arriving in this strange new world, a tiny, hesitant smile flickered across your lips. Elizabeth’s own smile widened at the sight, a warmth spreading through her as she observed your tentative connection with the toy.

Leaving you to explore your new treasure, Elizabeth moved to the reception desk, where Jessica was already tapping away at her keyboard. “Jessica,” Elizabeth called, her voice carrying a note of authority but tempered with kindness. Jessica looked up, a mixture of apprehension and eagerness on her face.

“How much did you spend on the toys?” Elizabeth asked, pulling her wallet from her bag. Jessica quickly retrieved the receipt, her hands trembling slightly as she handed it over. Elizabeth glanced at the total, her expression thoughtful. She pulled out the exact amount in cash, along with a small bonus, and handed it to Jessica. “Good job,” she said, her tone firm but approving. “You did well. This should cover it.”

Jessica’s eyes widened in surprise and gratitude as she took the money. “Thank you, Ms. James,” she stammered, her voice filled with relief. Elizabeth nodded, her attention already drifting back to where you sat, cradling the stuffed lion.

Meanwhile, you continued to stare in wonder at the toy in your arms, your fingers brushing over its soft mane and down its plush back. The lion felt like a small piece of magic in an otherwise bewildering day, a tiny anchor in the overwhelming sea of opulence and unfamiliar faces.

As you clung to your new stuffed friend, the blanket still wrapped around you like a shield, a sense of calm began to settle over you. The toys spread out before you seemed to promise a world of possibilities, a small sanctuary within the grandeur of Lionel’s office. Elizabeth’s kind presence and the simple, comforting lion gave you a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty, a tiny spark of something resembling security in the daunting expanse of your new surroundings.

At the end of the day, Elizabeth carried you out of the building, her arms securely wrapped around you as she walked beside Lionel toward his sleek black Mercedes. Lionel strolled with an air of indifference, his eyes glued to his cell phone, occasionally glancing up to avoid obstacles but otherwise completely absorbed in his digital world.

As they approached the car, Elizabeth’s expression shifted from mild annoyance to stern determination. She cast a sideways glance at Lionel, who was nonchalantly typing away on his phone. “Lionel,” she began, her voice firm, “you need to take good care of her. She’s not just some inconvenience you can ignore. Take her straight home, give her a bath, and make sure she eats something. She’s been through enough for one day.”

Lionel didn’t even look up from his phone, waving his hand dismissively as if to shoo away an annoying fly. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his tone dismissive. “I’ll handle it. No need to worry, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth’s jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing in frustration. She reached the car and opened the backseat door, her gaze immediately falling on the conspicuous lack of a child seat. Her eyes widened in shock, her breath catching in her throat. “Lionel, are you out of your mind?” she demanded, her voice rising with incredulity. “There’s no car seat! Did you drive her here without one?”

Lionel finally looked up from his phone, his brows furrowing in genuine confusion. “A car seat? She was fine,” he replied, a touch of irritation creeping into his baritone voice. “What’s the big deal?”

Elizabeth’s face flushed with a mix of anger and disbelief. “The big deal is that it’s dangerous and irresponsible!” she snapped, her voice laced with barely contained fury. “Do you want her to get hurt? You can’t just put a child in the backseat without proper safety!”

Lionel rolled his eyes, his expression shifting to one of mild annoyance. “Alright, alright,” he grumbled, pocketing his phone and moving to inspect the backseat himself. “I’ll get one tomorrow. It’s not like I knew she’d show up today.”

Elizabeth shook her head, her frustration evident as she secured you as best she could in the backseat, her hands gentle but firm. She looked up at Lionel, her eyes blazing with a mix of anger and concern. “You’re her father now, Lionel, whether you like it or not. You need to start acting like it. Her safety is your responsibility.”

Lionel sighed, rubbing the bridge of his hooked nose as if to stave off a headache. “Fine, I’ll get the damn car seat,” he muttered, a note of reluctant acknowledgment in his voice. “Now, can we just get going?”

Elizabeth’s expression softened slightly, her eyes lingering on you as she closed the car door carefully. “Take care of her, Lionel,” she said quietly, her tone carrying a note of earnest pleading. “She needs you, even if she doesn’t say it.”

Lionel’s lips curled into a wry, almost self-mocking smile as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “I’ll do my best,” he replied, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced of his own words. He started the car, glancing back at you in the rearview mirror. “Ready to go, kid?”

You nodded silently, your eyes wide and somber, clutching your blanket and the plush lion tightly as the car pulled away from the curb. As the opulent office building receded into the distance, Lionel couldn’t help but feel the weight of Elizabeth’s words pressing down on him, mingling with his own reluctance and uncertainty about the daunting responsibility now thrust upon him.

As they drove through the busy London streets, Lionel’s mind churned with thoughts of the day’s events, the realization slowly sinking in that his life had irrevocably changed. The little girl in the backseat, silent and observant, was now a part of his world, whether he was ready for it or not. And for the first time in a long while, Lionel Shahbandar, the confident, womanizing art tycoon, felt a flicker of something unfamiliar—a sense of duty, tinged with a reluctant curiosity about the small, quiet presence that had unexpectedly entered his life.

Lionel Shahbandar stood in the doorway of the lavish bathroom, his hand resting on the ornate gold doorknob as he watched you splash timidly in the enormous claw-footed bathtub. The bathroom, like the rest of his mansion, was a testament to opulence—marble floors, intricate tile work, and a chandelier that glimmered overhead. He had filled the tub with warm water and a bit of lavender-scented soap, the bubbles rising like soft clouds around you.

“Can you manage on your own?” Lionel asked, his voice carrying a note of impatience. You nodded, clutching your blanket, which was now set aside on a chair nearby, and turned your attention to the bubbles, your small fingers poking and swirling them.

“Good,” Lionel muttered, half to himself, and walked out, leaving the door slightly ajar. He headed to your backpack, left earlier by Valerie, and rummaged through its contents with a scowl. The bag yielded a few well-worn clothes, two pairs of shoes, and a pacifier. Lionel held up the pacifier, his brows knitting together in a mixture of surprise and distaste. “A pacifier?” he grumbled under his breath, tossing it aside with a flick of his wrist. “Surely she doesn’t still use this.”

He picked out a pair of pajamas—simple and a bit too worn for his taste—and set them on the counter. He glanced back towards the bathroom, where you were splashing gently, your silhouette barely visible through the frosted glass door of the tub. With a resigned sigh, Lionel went downstairs to prepare dinner, deciding to throw together a simple meal—something easy and quick.

As he moved through the grand, marble-tiled kitchen, gathering ingredients, his phone buzzed on the counter. Lionel glanced at the screen, recognizing the number of a colleague he had been trying to win over for months. The notification was an invitation to meet at a nearby bar—a chance to finally close a long-awaited business deal. His eyes gleamed with the thrill of opportunity.

Lionel’s lips curled into a sly smile as he quickly typed a response, agreeing to meet. He tossed his phone aside and abandoned his half-prepared meal, the remnants of his culinary effort left scattered on the sleek granite countertop. Without missing a beat, he strode back upstairs, his footsteps echoing through the cavernous halls.

He found you still in the bathroom, now out of the tub and struggling to put on the pajamas he had picked out. Lionel’s initial annoyance softened slightly as he saw you fumbling with the unfamiliar clothing. He knelt beside you, his hands surprisingly gentle as he helped you into the pajamas, his movements swift and efficient. “There you go,” he murmured, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic note of patience. “Let’s get these on properly.”

Once you were dressed, Lionel retrieved the shoes from your backpack. They were scuffed and too small, but he slipped them onto your feet nonetheless. “We’re going out,” he said, his tone brisk and authoritative. “You need to behave.”

You glanced up at him, your eyes wide with a mixture of uncertainty and mild confusion. Your small hand pointed to your belly, a silent indication of hunger. Lionel’s brow furrowed briefly, a flicker of guilt passing over his features. He ignored it, standing up and scooping you into his arms. “We’ll eat later,” he said dismissively, carrying you out of the bathroom and down the stairs.

The cool evening air hit you as Lionel carried you out to the sleek black Mercedes. He strapped you into the backseat with an efficiency that belied his inexperience with children, his expression a mix of determination and impatience. “Remember,” he said, glancing back at you with a stern look, “no trouble. I have an important meeting.”

As the car sped through the bustling streets of London, Lionel’s mind was already racing ahead to the night’s events, the prospect of sealing the deal overshadowing the small, silent presence in the backseat. You stared out of the window, clutching your blanket and the plush lion tightly, the city lights flashing by in a blur. For Lionel, the night was another opportunity to secure his empire, but for you, it was just another bewildering chapter in the strange and unfamiliar world you had been thrust into.

The bar was a sleek, modern establishment, its dim lighting and polished décor exuding a sense of understated sophistication. Lionel parked the car and turned to you, his expression a mixture of irritation and reluctant resolve. “Stay close,” he ordered, unbuckling your seatbelt and lifting you out of the car. “And remember what I said about behaving.”

You nodded, clutching your blanket and the plush lion even tighter as he carried you into the bar. The hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses surrounded you, the unfamiliar sounds and sights making you cling to Lionel’s jacket with a mix of fear and uncertainty.

Lionel’s colleague, a slick, well-dressed man with a practiced smile, greeted him with a hearty laugh. “Lionel! Good to see you. And who’s this little one?” he asked, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow.

Lionel’s smile was tight, his grip on you firm as he responded. “Just a family matter,” he said smoothly, waving off the question. “Shall we discuss business?”

The colleague’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he nodded, leading Lionel to a secluded corner table. As they settled in, Lionel set you down beside him, his eyes narrowing in warning as he leaned in close. “Stay quiet,” he whispered, his tone sharp. “This is important.”

You nodded, your eyes wide and somber as you clung to your blanket and lion, your small frame tucked into the shadow of Lionel’s presence. The night wore on, the voices around you blurring into a low hum, and you sat quietly, the weight of Lionel’s expectations pressing down on you like a heavy, invisible cloak.

As the minutes ticked by in the bar, Lionel began to drink more heavily, one glass of scotch turning into two, then three. The business discussion quickly gave way to casual conversation and flirtation. Lionel’s colleague seemed equally relaxed, laughing and joking as the evening wore on. The waitresses, noticing Lionel’s change in demeanor, began to linger at the table, giggling and responding to his flirtatious remarks.

You sat silently beside Lionel, your small hands clutching the plush lion and your blanket. The noise of the music and the hum of conversation felt overwhelming, the unfamiliar sounds pressing in on you from all sides. Your stomach growled painfully, a sharp reminder that you hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your eyes darting between the plates of food being carried by waitresses and the bar counter where bowls of peanuts sat just out of reach.

Desperation gnawed at you, and you looked up at Lionel, your eyes wide and pleading. You poked his arm gently, pointing at your belly to indicate your hunger. Lionel, engrossed in his conversation with a young, attractive waitress, barely glanced your way. “Not now, kid,” he muttered, waving his hand dismissively. His attention quickly returned to the waitress, his baritone voice dropping to a flirtatious purr as he complimented her on her smile.

The pangs of hunger grew more intense, and tears welled up in your eyes as you realized Lionel wasn’t going to help you. The room seemed to grow louder, the clinking of glasses and the laughter around you becoming a cacophony that pressed against your ears. You felt a lump form in your throat, a mixture of fear and frustration bubbling up inside you.

Summoning all the courage you could muster, you slid off the chair, your small feet hitting the floor with a soft thud. You clutched your blanket and the plush lion tightly, the soft fur a small comfort amidst the chaos of the bar. Keeping your head down, you weaved through the crowd, your eyes scanning for any sign of food within reach.

People glanced at you as you passed, their curious gazes making you feel even smaller and more out of place. You ignored them, your focus solely on finding something to eat. The bar counter loomed ahead, the bowls of peanuts perched tantalizingly on top. You approached it, craning your neck to see the salty snacks just out of reach.

Determined, you stretched up on your tiptoes, your fingers straining towards the bowl. It was no use; the counter was too high, and your small frame couldn’t bridge the gap. Tears of frustration pricked at your eyes as you dropped back onto your heels, staring up at the peanuts with a mixture of longing and despair.

As you stood there, a waitress with a kind face noticed your struggle. She crouched down beside you, her eyes soft with understanding. “Are you hungry, sweetie?” she asked gently, her voice a soothing contrast to the noise around you.

You nodded, unable to speak, the ache in your stomach and the overwhelming noise rendering you mute. The waitress gave you a sympathetic smile and reached up, grabbing a handful of peanuts from the bowl. She placed them in a napkin and handed them to you, her eyes warm with kindness. “Here you go,” she said softly. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

You took the napkin with trembling hands, your eyes wide with gratitude. Clutching the peanuts and your blanket tightly, you nodded, managing a small, tearful smile. The waitress patted your head gently before standing up and returning to her work.

You found a quiet corner near the bar and sat down on the floor, your back against the wall. As you nibbled on the peanuts, the noise of the bar faded into the background, the small comfort of food easing the sharp ache in your stomach. You hugged your plush lion and your blanket close, the familiar textures grounding you amidst the overwhelming chaos.

Meanwhile, Lionel continued his flirtatious banter with the waitresses, his laughter echoing through the bar. He didn’t notice your absence, too absorbed in his own amusement and the thrill of the chase. His colleague occasionally glanced over, raising an eyebrow at Lionel’s antics but saying nothing. The night wore on, and Lionel’s attention remained firmly fixed on the women around him, his responsibilities forgotten in favor of fleeting pleasures.

You sat quietly in your corner, the peanuts a small solace in the overwhelming noise and confusion of the bar. The minutes stretched into hours, the night growing darker outside the bar’s windows. As you huddled there, alone and unnoticed, the weight of your situation settled heavily on your small shoulders, a stark reminder of the uncertain world you now found yourself in.

As the night wore on, you became increasingly sleepy. The chaos and noise of the bar had overwhelmed you, and the peanuts, while a small comfort, weren’t enough to stave off your exhaustion. With the plush lion clutched tightly in your arms, you laid your blanket on the floor and curled up on it, using it as an improvised pillow. You fell asleep quickly, your small body seeking solace amidst the confusion and noise, the softness of your blanket and lion the only anchors in this unfamiliar world.

Meanwhile, Lionel was fully absorbed in his flirtation. A waitress had made her way onto his lap, her laughter mingling with his own as they exchanged playful banter. His focus on her was intense, his usual sharp wit now softened by the haze of alcohol. His colleague, watching the spectacle with a bemused expression, eventually stood up and adjusted his tie, preparing to leave.

"I think I'm heading out, Lionel," the colleague announced, his voice cutting through the din of the bar. Lionel, his eyes still fixed on the waitress, waved him off with a dismissive gesture.

"Go on, then," Lionel replied, his baritone voice slurring slightly, "I’ll manage."

The colleague paused, his gaze shifting around the bar. "Didn't you come here with a child?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in concern.

Lionel froze, the realization hitting him like a splash of cold water. "Damn it," he muttered, his expression shifting from smug amusement to panicked frustration. He pushed the waitress off his lap unceremoniously, his movements clumsy and disoriented. "Where the hell is she?"

He stumbled to his feet, his eyes darting around the bar, the room spinning slightly as the effects of the alcohol clouded his vision. "Hey! Kid!" he called out, his voice loud and urgent, drawing a few curious glances from nearby patrons. "Where are you?"

Lionel staggered through the bar, his vision blurred as he scanned the crowded room. His heart pounded with a mixture of panic and annoyance, the realization that he had lost track of you adding to his frustration. He cursed under his breath, his eyes finally settling on your small figure curled up on the floor in a quiet corner, fast asleep on your makeshift pillow.

"Of all the places," Lionel grumbled, rolling his eyes as he stumbled toward you. "Didn’t I tell you to stay close?" His voice was a mixture of irritation and reluctant relief as he bent down, shaking your shoulder to wake you. "Hey, wake up. We’re leaving."

You stirred, your eyes fluttering open to the sight of Lionel’s scowling face. The noise and lights of the bar were disorienting, and you felt a wave of confusion and fear as he grabbed your hand roughly, dragging you to your feet. You clutched your blanket and lion tightly, your wide eyes blinking against the harsh lights.

Lionel pulled you toward the exit, his steps unsteady as he navigated the crowded bar. Just as you reached the door, a sudden barrage of flashing lights greeted you. Paparazzi, alerted to Lionel’s presence, had gathered outside, their cameras snapping furiously. The barrage of questions and flashing lights was overwhelming, the reporters shouting over one another in their eagerness to capture the scene.

"Lionel! Who’s the child?"

"Is she your daughter?"

"Care to explain, Mr. Shahbandar?"

The rapid-fire questions and bright flashes were disorienting, and you began to cry, the intensity of the moment too much for your young mind to process. The lights and noise were overwhelming, and you buried your face in your blanket, the plush lion clutched tightly in your arms as you sobbed.

Lionel swore loudly, his patience fraying under the scrutiny of the paparazzi. "Back off!" he snapped, his baritone voice laced with frustration. He scooped you up into his arms, his grip tight as he tried to shield you from the flashing cameras. "This is none of your damn business!"

The reporters pressed closer, their cameras clicking furiously as they tried to get a better shot. Lionel pushed through the throng, his irritation mounting with each step. He turned his back to the cameras, trying to shield you from the worst of the flashes, but it was clear that the situation was spiraling out of control.

"Get out of my way!" Lionel shouted, his voice rising in a rare display of anger. He elbowed his way through the crowd, his movements clumsy and erratic. You clung to him tightly, your small body trembling with fear as the bright lights and loud voices swirled around you.

Finally, Lionel managed to reach the car, fumbling with the keys as he struggled to unlock the door. He practically shoved you into the backseat, his own frustration boiling over as he climbed into the driver’s seat. The paparazzi continued to snap photos, their cameras pressing against the windows as Lionel started the engine with a snarl of irritation.

"Enough already!" he roared, slamming the car into gear and pulling away from the curb with a screech of tires. The flashes of the cameras faded into the distance as the car sped through the dark streets, the noise and chaos of the bar finally left behind.

Inside the car, you huddled in the backseat, your sobs quieting to soft hiccups as the city lights blurred past the windows. Lionel’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his jaw set with a mixture of anger and exasperation. The night’s events had spiraled far beyond his control, and the weight of the responsibility now thrust upon him was a burden he had never anticipated.

As the car sped through the night, Lionel glanced at you in the rearview mirror, your small form curled up in the backseat, clutching your blanket and lion. His expression softened slightly, a flicker of something resembling regret crossing his features. For all his bravado and confidence, the reality of his situation was beginning to sink in, and it was clear that his life, and yours, had been irrevocably changed.

Lionel woke up with a groan the next morning, the sunlight filtering through the heavy curtains of his opulent bedroom. His head pounded with the aftereffects of a night spent drinking, and he rubbed his temples, trying to fend off the pain. Just as he began to drift back into a fitful sleep, a sharp slap on his back jolted him awake.

“What the—” Lionel grumbled, turning to see Elizabeth standing over him, her eyes blazing with fury. She held a rolled-up magazine in her hand, her knuckles white with the intensity of her grip.

“Get up, you idiot!” Elizabeth snapped, landing another swat with the magazine on Lionel’s shoulder. “What the hell were you thinking, taking your daughter to a bar?”

Lionel winced, flinching away from the blows. “Ow, stop it!” he protested, trying to shield himself with the covers. “What’s your problem, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line as she continued to brandish the magazine. “My problem?” she echoed, her voice dripping with incredulity. “My problem is you, Lionel! You’re in every gossip rag in the country, and everyone’s speculating about who that little girl is!”

Lionel blinked, his hangover-clouded mind struggling to keep up. “How do you know about this?” he demanded, a note of genuine curiosity in his voice.

With a snarl of frustration, Elizabeth unfurled the magazine she had been hitting him with, thrusting it in his face. “Look!” she barked, her voice rising. “It’s everywhere! You, leaving the bar with [Your Name]. You’ve made a spectacle of yourself and her!”

Lionel squinted at the glossy pages, his eyes slowly focusing on the grainy photos of him stumbling out of the bar, carrying you in his arms. The paparazzi had captured the chaos in all its sordid detail: Lionel’s disheveled appearance, his slurred attempts to shield you from the cameras, your tear-streaked face buried in your blanket.

Elizabeth continued her tirade, her voice climbing higher with each accusation. “You’re in the tabloids, the morning news, every damn gossip show! People are speculating who she is, if she’s yours, and how on earth you thought it was a good idea to take a child to a bar!”

Lionel rolled his eyes, his annoyance eclipsing his guilt as he settled back against the pillows. “So what?” he muttered, waving a dismissive hand. “What’s one scandal on top of several? I’m already the bad boy of the art world. What’s another headline?”

Elizabeth’s face turned an alarming shade of red, her eyes flashing with barely contained rage. “You don’t get it, do you?” she hissed, grabbing his ear and twisting it sharply. Lionel yelped, trying to pull away from her iron grip.

“Alright, alright! Let go!” Lionel protested, his voice tinged with pain. “What do you want me to do?”

Elizabeth released his ear with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest as she fixed him with a steely glare. “You’re going to apologize, publicly,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “You’ll hold a press conference, admit you made a mistake, and apologize for taking your daughter to a bar. You need to set things right.”

Lionel’s hand rubbed his throbbing ear as he shot her a petulant look. “You must be joking,” he scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m not apologizing to anyone. They’ll just have to deal with it.”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and she leaned in, her face inches from his. “If you don’t fix this, Lionel, you’ll be dealing with a lot more than just gossip. This isn’t about you anymore. It’s about that little girl you’ve dragged into your mess.”

Lionel’s defiant gaze wavered, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. He opened his mouth to retort, but Elizabeth cut him off with a sharp gesture, pointing a finger at his chest. “You will apologize,” she repeated, her voice a low, fierce whisper. “Or so help me, I’ll quit, and you can deal with this disaster on your own.”

Lionel’s face twisted into a scowl, his usual bravado faltering under Elizabeth’s unwavering glare. “Fine,” he grumbled, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll do your stupid press conference. Happy now?”

Elizabeth’s expression softened slightly, though her eyes still blazed with determination. “Not until you actually follow through,” she replied, her voice firm but less harsh. “You need to start acting like a father, Lionel. [Your Name] deserves better.”

Lionel grumbled under his breath as he slid out of bed, his movements slow and reluctant. “Cutting your salary for this,” he muttered, a petulant note in his baritone voice as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

Elizabeth’s lips curled into a wry smile as she watched him. “You can try,” she shot back, her tone laced with dry humor. “But we both know you need me more than I need you.”

Lionel glared at her, but the sharp retort died on his lips as he realized the truth of her words. With a heavy sigh, he shuffled towards the bathroom, the weight of the day’s responsibilities pressing down on his shoulders.

As he splashed cold water on his face, Lionel stared at his reflection in the mirror, the sharp angles of his features softened by the morning light. The man who gazed back at him was a far cry from the confident, womanizing tycoon he prided himself on being. For the first time in a long while, Lionel felt a flicker of something unfamiliar—an uneasy blend of guilt, responsibility, and a reluctant resolve to set things right.

[bloodpen-to-paper]

Spider-man: Across the Spider-Verse Trailer Thoughts

Can I just start this post off by saying that I am totally normal? Over this movie? Perfectly reasonable in my level of hype and mentally well in every way? Mhm, trust me. Anyway, onto the blurbs!

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-Seems Miles is at his teenage rebellion stage

-Miles' teacher telling him he's not doing too well in Spanish in front of his Puerto Rican mother is an ouch (in that it's hilarious, but not for him. Sorry Miles)

-Seems there's gonna be a rift between Miles and his parents now that he's Spider-Man full time and very much keeping it secret from them; maybe this movie is where they find out?

-Across the Spider Verse seems to also have a core theme of Miles going against the grain and doing things his way, forging his own individual path for how he wants to do Spider-Man. Looking forward to seeing a more grown up Miles that is able to go further into his self-exploration now that he's reaching older teen/young adulthood.

-I think Gwen and Miles might get together this movie which... eh. Alright. No hate to the ship, but the first movie felt very platonic save for Miles liking her cause she's a pretty girl, and rip to cishet society but that ain't enough to sell me on a relationship. Maybe they'll get some development in this movie? Until possibly that I'm just gonna enjoy them as friends personally

-Apparently Oscar Isaac voices Miguel... Doctor Strange was not kidding when he said the multiverse got screwed in NWH

-Here we have Jessica Drew, Marvel's first (continuous) Spider-Woman! She looks awesome, and based on how often she appeared in the trailer, I'm assuming she will play a key role.

-I also suspect she will help push the narrative around ATSV's theme of parenthood, with Miles having issues with his own, and Peter becoming a father.

-Regarding the race change for Jessica, I earlier referred to her as the first "continuous" Spider-Woman, because she was the first woman to notably don the spidey title. However, the first official Spider-Woman was actually a one-off character named Valerie the Librarian. Originally, Valerie had no powers; she instead went around as a non-super helping Peter Parker's Spidey in any way she could. Spider Verse has always been by black people for black people, so it doesn't surprise me that they (allegedly) are honing back to Valerie, a black woman and the first official Spider-Woman, to base Jessica's appearance on. Goes to show the creators did their homework, which I'm pleased to see.

She is so beautiful ma'am please take my hand in marriage; also, she's pregnant! She is literally hero-ing while pregnant, which I've realized is not something we really see like... ever. Granted, because its dangerous, but Spider Verse has always made strides to give more diverse female representation, and a pregnant spidey mirroring pregnant working women seems to be next on their list. Happy to see it!

-We got Miguel O'Hara! Admittedly I'm not the most familiar with him, but one doesn't traverse Marvel comic fandom without having heard of this guy. Based on what I'm seeing in the trailer, he looks like a very fun character and I'm excited to know more

-"Don't even get me started on Doctor Strange and the little nerd back on Earth-199999." I am... so normal about the acknowledgment of the MCU in Spiderverse. The multiverse really is converging, which on a meta sense is something I absolutely love so I am very excited to see where the Marvel universe heads.

-Also people have been saying Feige stated the MCU was Earth-616 and Spider Verse went against that, which they're happy about, so if someone could fill me in on what happens in Earth-616 I'd appreciate it!

Peter's back! And he has a spider baby! From what I've seen this is Mayday Parker, daughter of Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson, and she does indeed get her father's spider abilities in the comics. Perhaps we'll see more of her in the future?...👀

Stab me, it would hurt less.

(Looks like Gwen's backstory is being explored more, which is a hooray moment, but its exploring her trauma, which is less hooray.)

And of course... the meme, made multiversal. (Is that fucking PS5 Spiderman)

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That's about it, very excited for this movie, also afraid, but mostly excited! See y'all when it drops!

[soleilceirinen]

Renaissance | teacher!Cillian Murphy x fem!Reader - Part 11

Summary: you are an Art History student in your last year at university. Cillian is your teacher. A/N: in this story Cillian is about 20 years older than the reader. Everything happens in an alternate universe where he is not an actor or famous, he doesn't have a wife or kids like in real life. English is not my first language, sorry if there are mistakes. MASTERLIST - Part 10

You finally found another apartment, you didn’t love it but it would have to work for a few months. It was a studio a street away from your university so you could literally fall from bed and be in class in less than five minutes, and it was cheaper than all the other options. But the building was old and the stairs smelled a bit like pee. 

Now you were in your empty apartment, waiting for the landlord to return the keys. It made you a little sad to see the apartment devoid of your things, as if you no longer recognized it as yours. For the past two days, you had packed all of your items and memories created over the previous three years into boxes, and had taken them to the new studio. Cillian offered to help you carry everything in his car, although you didn't have that much stuff either. 

After giving the keys to the landlord, you turned around and silently said goodbye to the apartment. Then you walked to the center of the city, where you lived from now on. 

The cold wind hurt your cheeks but the walk felt good to clear your mind. You had planned to spend the rest of the evening with Olivia and Valerie, so they could see your new place. They were waiting at one of the doors of the university when you saw them, from a distance you waved at them and they waved back. You could see Olivia jumping up and down with excitement.  Once you got to them, you hugged each other, as you always did. 

“Have you been waiting a long time?”

“Not really,” said Valerie, as she put her hands inside the pockets of her coat, “but let’s go, it’s cold here.”

“How far is it?” wondered Olivia, intertwining her arm with yours. 

“Not far at all, right on that street”, you pointed to the building and motioned them to walk in said direction. 

After a small house tour, since it was a studio there was not much to show, you all decided to order takeout. When the delivery guy rang the bell, you quickly played rock-paper-scissors and ended up losing, so it was your turn to go down to the door to pick up the order. You climbed the stairs to the second floor slowly, despite the unpleasant smell. Unfortunately, that was your new reality, so you might as well start getting used to it.

When you entered your house again you saw your friends whispering in front of the wall where you had placed the photographs and postcards. You left the bag on the table in front of the couch and glanced at them out of the corner of your eye as you went to the small kitchen area to get glasses and napkins.

“Dinner is ready”, you hummed. 

“Who is this?” Asked Valerie. 

 You looked at her completely lost, not knowing who she was referring to. “Who?” 

Then you realised what she meant. She was holding a polaroid in her hand and you didn’t need to look further to know that it was Cillian’s photograph. You felt your heart racing in your chest and an unpleasant feeling spreading through the palm of your hands. With two long strides, you reached Valerie and took the photograph from her hand. 

“It’s nobody”, you said quickly while Valerie stared at you with a questioning look. 

Beside her, Olivia tried to suppress a smile. 

“Are you fucking him?” asked Val, grabbing your arm. “Does he go to your class?”

“No!” You hissed. This wasn't how you wanted your friends to find out about you and Cillian. 

A series of images began to flash before your eyes, from your friends judging you for dating an older man who was also your teacher, to Cillian losing his job because of you, or you being expelled from the university.

“Why don't we have dinner and leave this conversation for another time?”, suggested Olivia, noticing your distress. 

“If she has a boyfriend we have the right to know, we are her friends”, complained Valerie. This bothered you, so you snapped at her. 

“It took you two years to tell us that you were dating Tom, you always want to know everything and you never tell us anything in return when we ask, so don't come with excuses now.” 

Valerie put a hand on her chest, looking offended. "I notice a certain tone of acrimony towards me and I don't like it at all, Y/N."

Olivia stood between you two, trying to calm things down. "Dinner is going to get cold."

You shook your head, feeling tears forming in your eyes. You didn't like arguing, much less with your friends. 

“It's not that, Valerie. I'm tired of you always digging for information. You always do the same thing, like when you make comments as if you were superior for studying a science degree instead of art. Don't you realise that the things you say hurt others?” You were telling her what you had kept inside for years, but once you started you couldn't stop. “And let me tell you one more thing, it hurt me a lot when you left me alone at the welcome party, and when you told me to stop being dramatic. A good friend does not leave another abandoned at a party, at least you could have texted me telling me that you were going home.”

After a pause, Valerie grabbed her coat and walked towards the door. 

“Where are you going?”

She turned around, avoiding looking at you at all costs. “I don't feel like I'm welcome here, I've heard enough so I'm leaving.” 

And with that, Valerie left slamming the door. Her footsteps echoed as she descended the stairs. You turned to Olivia, who had sat on the couch and was enjoying the food. 

“Do you think I’ve gone too far with what I said?”

She shrugged and swallowed before speaking. “I think you've had a lot of accumulated stress for a few weeks now and you haven't been able to hold it in any longer. You told her the truth and she left because he didn't like hearing it.” Oli patted the couch next to her for you to sit down. 

After dinner you stayed on the couch for a while watching a dating show on TV and commenting on the participants. Olivia caressed your wrist to get your attention.

“Y/N, the guy in the polaroid looks like your teacher. The one we saw in the restaurant that time. It's him, right?” 

You sighed and nodded. “His name is Cillian,” you admitted softly. Your friend hummed in response and bit her lip. 

“I don't know if I should tell you or if it's important to you, but Brad texted me the other day.” You met her eyes listening to what she had to say. “He asked me if you were dating anyone.”

“And what did you tell him?”

She wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes. "I told him to ask you himself. He also said that he saw you kissing someone in a car, or something like that.” 

“Didn’t he tell you who I was kissing?”, you asked under your breath. 

“No,” she shook her head, “but now I get an idea of who could be.” 

You didn’t try to deny it, Olivia wasn’t stupid. The two of you remained silent until the TV program ended and she prepared to leave. Your friend wrapped you in a tight hug that caught you off guard. "Don't worry, Y/N. Just be careful and have fun, if you need to talk, call or text me."

“Sure, thanks Oli.”

She smiled. “Also, next time you want to argue with Valerie, make sure I'm not there, okay?”

After tidying up a bit you went to bed although you were having a hard time falling asleep. You couldn’t stop thinking. Years ago, when you were still in high school, you all got along really well. Including Brad, Valerie and Olivia as well as others who went to study in other cities. 

It was hard to admit that in the span of a couple of months you had lost two of your oldest friends but maybe it was meant to happen one way or another. Likewise, your thing with Cillian couldn't remain hidden forever.

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Saturday everyone. I always forget Eric’s wife had a spot on the show. Every time I get to this episode its a reminder. Also fair warning he’s gonna make me extra feral in this one. He is in a suit and yummy street clothes in this episode. Gimme gimme all day. I blame Eric for all my reactions in this ep for how he looks haha This is also a shorter review like last time but good stuff in it none the less. Off we go.

2x16 The Overnight

We start off with our lovely ship at American Idol auditions. A guy is getting arrested giving out meth smoothies. Lucy has to go back for his backpack. As she does she gets roped into an audition because it has his audition sticker. I’m surprised there wasn’t a gif set of her singing. It's such a good scene. I did my quick made one above with my phone. But a really good set should be produced. We get to hear Melissa’s wonderful voice again. It's in a much better context this time. Not a soul crushing and depressing way. She chooses a song from Aretha Franklin. 'I never loved a man'. She CRUSHES it.

I hope she gets another opportunity to showcase her voice in the future. The ending of this cold open cracks me up so much. The judges are impressed by her audition. Ready to give her that coveted golden ticket. Lucy hears Tim’s voice and bolts LOL Him bringing her back to reality. Their 'No no no' is so damn funny as she runs towards Tim. I love it so much. Tim having no idea what just happened. Thinking she's just running behind for no reason. Such a great cold open.

I love this scene for quite a few reasons. First and most importantly we get Tim Bradford in a suit. Sweet baby James. What a visual to start off the episode with. I need more this is my life. He should go to court more often. Honestly should be illegal to be that damn fine. *fans self* Second I find it very sexy he donates blood so often. I mean of course he does. To quote Lucy. Most Tim Bradford thing I've ever heard heh Tim as a person is just so friggin attractive.

Lastly I adore Nyla giving him a hard time. Doesn't waste a second before calling him a machine LOL Tim's face in that third gif is too cute. He's commending her shot and only shakes his head. How far Tim and Nyla have come. Reached a playful joking stage I love it. You know Lucy is enjoying someone else giving Tim crap. The proud wifey smirk of hers when he gets tossed his ball. I love them.

Lucy is running the front desk since Tim is off at court. She meets a reporter Valerie Castillo from the Herald asking for public arrest reports. She is looking for a scoop on recent robberies at 5 star hotels. Asking if Lucy has heard about them? Lucy says no. Valerie goes on to say she is trying to get away from Hollywood stories. Do something more impactful. So she can be taken seriously as a journalist. Lucy being her empathetic self wants to help her out. Lets her know the reports she’s looking at don’t have enough info. Tells her she wants CAD reports instead. Valerie asks what those are?

Tim comes striding in with the answer. Looking like sex on a stick in that suit. Good lord he can wear the hell out of that thing. Look at that fit on him. Thank you to his tailor. *chef's kiss* But I digress…Tim is clearly not a fan of this woman and what she is asking of Lucy. His cop gut going off and not liking this interaction at all. Tim instantly distrusts her and doesn't hide it.

Does crack me up they wrote Ros in as a character he can’t stand LOL I’m sure they had fun with this. Tim clearly doesn’t like the media especially her paper. Says her paper has a bias against cops. She bites back ‘Like the bias you have against me?’ She’s not wrong ha Tim says that's cute but isn't buying what she's selling.

Tim tells Lucy to get those reports back from her ASAP. That they’re gonna hit the streets as soon as he’s changed. Ooh lord the way he unbuttons his jacket and barks out his instructions on the move. Mercy. It shouldn't be that hot and yet here I am always a puddle. Ever the model just as much walking away as he came in. My god he's attractive haha It's truly not fair. Valerie says Tim shouldn't talk to her like that. Lucy is bemused by this statement.

Says he's her T.O. and its just his style with a smile on her face. (We all know she loves his style heh) I do love how this scene finishes out. Valerie saying ‘If ass is a style...but he sure can wear a suit’. Indeed madam indeed. Then proceeds to watch him leave LOL Checking out her own husband as he exits the scene haha Cracks me up. He does look damn fine in that suit. I can not blame her.

Tim instantly tries to steer Lucy away from Valerie. Telling her she’s bad news. Saying reporters always have an agenda. Lucy tries to be snarky and replies 'To get truth? Sounds Horrible.' Tim continues on despite her snark and says they aren’t to be trusted. Lucy being her sunshine self wants to see the good in Valerie. That she’s doing this to help the victims of these robberies. Tim thinks she’s being naive with this woman. Lucy battles back he just doesn’t trust anyone. Well that’s not true. He most definitely trusts you Lucy. With his life. But she has earned it ten fold out of him which is why she has it.

I’m with Tim on this one.(No surprise there I know ) That trust is something to be earned. I am the same way. It’s not something I just hand out like candy either. You have to prove to me you are worthy of that trust. Once you're in you're gold but you have to earn it first. He knows how trusting Lucy is and he doesn't want her to get burned by this person. This is his way of watching her back and trying to protect her from a potential disaster. Lucy doesn't heed his warning and it shows in her sassy face she gives him above. Lucy is so sure she is the right one in this situation. Like she is humoring him by listening.

They get a report of this idiot trying to use his snake to get out of paying for his car repairs. He pulls it out as a threat and It backfires pretty badly. As he waves the snake it bites him... (Like I said an idiot) I adore Lucy taking command of this situation. Also her heart for any living creature. I’m not a snake girl myself but I do love her taking the snake's side over this guy’s haha

This is our marriage scene of the episode. Tim says EMTs won’t step foot in here till the snake is neutralized. Tim says he’ll flush it out and kill it. Lucy is against this plan and tells Tim he can’t kill it. Their banter in this scene is primo. He is sassy right back asking what are they gonna do? Snuggle it? LOL Lucy ignores his sassy jab as she hops down and decides to do something herself. Tim isn't a fan of this plan since the snake is venomous.

Tim looks very concerned as he watches her. The way he raises his gun ready to destroy this thing if it goes after her. I love his face as she talks to the snake. Calling it by it's name, telling it she isn't going to hurt it haha He is wondering what she’s going to do with this thing. Then is impressed af when she traps the snake in a tire. What a bad ass moment for her. Snake whisperer can now go on her list of skills on the job ha Lucy proudly walks back to him with the best reply ‘Not his fault his owner is an idiot.' LOL I love this.

Valerie catches Lucy on the way out for the night. Claims she got her story about a Murphy scam. Rich men hiring sex workers then the sex worker has a partner. They rob and steal from them. The victim can’t report the crime without copping to their own. Says she came by to thank Lucy with a drink. (Mmhmm....)

Lucy is hesitant and says she shouldn’t…. You know that cop gut of hers is telling her it's wrong. Valerie asks 'Is it cause Tim wouldn't approve?' Lucy looks behind her like she can sense Tim’s disapproval from afar. Valarie sweetens the pot telling her she can be her inside person. Lucy concedes and decides to go. This can only end badly Lucy….

They make it to the hotel and Lucy quickly realizes they’re not there for a just a drink. Valerie has tracked one of the women who’s been scamming these men. Lucy is upset and feels betrayed. Says she can’t arrest people on her own. She’s a rookie. Valerie notices the man being scammed is a big time movie producer. Says this will get her a killer story and her a high profile arrest. You can see the regret written all over Lucy’s face.

Lucy tells Valerie she is texting Tim. I love this. She knows she’s in over her head at this point. So she is going to reach for her lifeline. Tells Valerie as such letting her know she could get fired as a rookie. That she needs a senior officer on scene. Also she really needs him to rein this in TBH. This has gotten way out of hand and needs Tim to come help her.

Tim arrives and Lucy thanks him for coming. (Like he wasn’t going to come and bail his girl out.) Doesn’t even have to say I told you so. This entire moment is doing it for him really. Lucy doesn’t fight or deny the hot water she is in. Not even a little. Just says ‘I’m in trouble aren’t I?’ His sexy Mm-hmm will do just fine for her. You know she’s just so relieved he's there to get her out of this. To save her from herself in this moment. The way she looks at him like he is her saving grace. Makes my heart happy. Doesn't even care she is in trouble just relieved he is there. So much said in such a small scene.

He looks sinfully handsome in that denim jacket *oh my lord.* Valerie says she’ll write a story about Tim if he punishes Lucy for this. Lucy panics and tells her not to do that. Tim isn’t phased at all by her intimidation of a story. The cocky way he walks into the room. Takes control of the situation. Says the cup against the wall trick doesn’t work. You know Lucy is rooting him on while he does this. Tim makes a joke about there being an app for that. Valerie believes him cause he walks in so confident and says that so damn smoothly. She can't help but reply 'Really?'

The way he says ‘No’ to her LMAO I'm dying. He is having a little fun in this moment messing with her. I love this man so much. Why is he so damn attractive in this moment? I actually know why ha. He's protecting Lucy and trying to do damage control at the same time. Also by taking control back from Valerie, by putting this situation back in his court. Tim calls in backup to help them if the accomplice even shows up. Tells Valerie she’ll be far away from the action if it comes to that. Not gonna let her get her story after potentially endangering Lucy for it.

The accomplice ends up arriving and Valerie has a ‘See’ look on her face. Thinking she is validated in all she's done to this point. Getting to watch Tim in action and in street clothes? Don’t mind if I do. They’re about to go after the guy when they notice Valerie is missing. She’s gone out on the balcony to get a photo. Clearly back tracking on her 'Killer Story' that'll get her taken seriously for a paparazzi shot instead.

She ends up getting her shot on the balcony but slips and Tim has to rescue her. She is refusing to let go of her phone as she hangs on to the railing. Lucy tells her to let the damn thing go. The guy sees them rescue her and takes off. Tim gets her up and takes off after the guy. Leaving Lucy with Valerie while he does so. This is the last we see of our handsome hero him in this ep sadly. The accomplice ends up getting arrested by a grumpy and tired Lopez in the lobby of the hotel LOL

Lucy’s SL wraps up with Valerie signing her statement. I love Lucy telling her like it is. Letting her know how wrong it was to take advantage like she did. Lucy is inclined to trust people and it bit her in the ass this time. (What he was trying to protect her from.) Unfortunately for her Tim was right on this one. She did have an agenda. Tim didn’t rub it in her face but also didn’t say she wasn’t in trouble for it haha Lucy has a mic drop moment with her. Telling her instead of going for the serious story she sold her on she went for the cheap shot. Gets up and walks away from her. Boom. Once again not a ton to content but still enough goodies ❤️

That wraps up 2x16 for our ship. Thanks as always to you all for your likes/comments and reblogs. Forever appreciate them. Can't believe we're almost done with S2. 6 left to review in this one.

~~~~

Side notes- Non Chenford

Always enjoy Nyla’s SL’s. When I first watched this ep wanted her to her back with Donovan. But glad she didn't much better fit with James but we’ll meet him later down the road.

Wopez engagement ❤️ They so cute. I love them. Happy for Angela and Wes.

See you all in 2x17 :)

[notoverjoyed]

It's a two chapter special! Since the archive was down when I wanted to post yesterday I have more to share today. No warnings until the last chapter, so enjoy! Chapters 2 and 3 below the cut for those who prefer tumblr.

Chapter 2: Hunger

Vlad is anything but refreshed, even after going to bed early the night before. Without any appointments this morning, he might have even slept in if he hadn’t woken up feeling starved.

He rolled out of bed and stood up, then almost fell down to the floor as his head swam with hunger. Grabbing his headboard to steady himself and wait for his vision to settle, he thought back to the previous evening. He hadn’t drunk anything more than water, not that alcohol would affect his half ghost body, so why then, is he so weak upon waking. Mere hunger couldn’t do this, could it?

“I wonder,” he murmurs.

Vlad slowly gets dressed in more casual clothes than he typically would, not feeling up to even pants that need buttoning. Once he’s decent, he wanders unsteadily down to his basement lab. He has a hypothesis to test.

Normally he would phase into the lab, but he installed a cleverly hidden human entrance on the off chance he didn’t have access to his powers. He chooses this latter entrance today, as his powers seem just a bit less present than usual. If his hypothesis is correct, that issue should soon be remedied.

The human entrance to his lab is rather dusty, having not seen much traffic since Ms. Valerie gray had left his employ in rather dramatic fashion. Vlad notes absently that he should take the time to clean it more often. That's not his primary concern, however. What he’s really focused on is reaching the stores of pure ectoplasm he has squirreled away for research purposes.

Reaching the lab, he winces as the motion activated light turns on when he walks through the door, seeming much brighter than usual. Squinting against the stinging pain, he strides as quickly as he can to the shining steel cabinet where the ectoplasm is stored and entering a code on the attached key pad. His hands are shaky, and the pad flashes red. Vlad scowls, muttering curses under his breath.

Vlad breathes slowly in through his nose and out through his mouth, and puts his other hand on the cabinet to steady himself. He tries again, the pad flashes green, and the cabinet door pops open with a soft release of air.

He opens the cabinet wide to expose the clear glass tubes glowing a pure bright green. Each was identical to the one next to it, so he picked one up at random and considered it. He’d run all sorts of experiments using ectoplasm, but had never considered ingesting it before. What would it taste like, he wondered.

Vlad unscrews the cap to the tube of ectoplasm and sniffs deeply, then his stomach clenches in response. He stops himself before chugging it though. He isn’t so uncouth as to forgo a glass just because he’s absolutely starving for the green liquid. Finding a glass from a drinks cupboard he has hidden away for long nights in the lab, he pours about half the tube into the glass. He takes one sip, then a gulp, then drains the glass in one long drink.

Immediately he feels restored. He breathes deeply, then exhales in satisfaction. He pours the rest of the tube into the glass and downs it for good measure then transforms and flies out of the lab to go about his day, happy to have solved this little issue so easily.

The lights in his lab shut off after a few minutes. In the dark space, the cabinet door remains cracked open for green light to seep out eerily. It shines across the lab to illuminate the closed eyes of the clones he’d grown anew after Daniel and Danielle destroyed their predecessors all those months ago.

Over the next day or so, Vlad finds that a drink of ectoplasm every few hours seems to restore his energy and stop his weight loss, but doesn't seem to be helping him recover what weight he’s already lost. Moreover, it takes only a few days for the effect to diminish with each dose, and the length of any effectiveness decreasing at the same rate.

“Blast it all!” he curses breathlessly as he wakes once more feeling lightheaded and weak. Just as he had a few days before, he dresses quickly and stumbles down to his lab in human form. There must be something missing from the pure ectoplasm that his body requires to sustain him.

He spends endless hours in the lab testing the reaction of ectoplasm with various chemicals and processes, and studies each concoction as carefully as he’s able with trembling hands. Time after time, he returns to the cabinet storing his supply of ectoplasm. If the search for a cure to his hunger doesn’t bear fruit soon, he will run out of both ectoplasm and the time needed to acquire more.

. . .

Vlad scowls down at the beaker of bubbling ectoplasm in front of him. He is downright ravenous. His hunger has taken over his every waking moment, but nothing seems to satisfy him. The ectoplasm worked. But not well enough. No matter what recipe he concocts, the hunger remains

He hisses and bends slightly at the waist as his stomach cramps. A bubble of fluid jumps from the beaker as he slams a fist on the table, sizzling inches from his hands. Vlad doesn’t notice. Whatever hope he’d had of finding a scientific solution grows dimmer with every moment.

Finally, the latest round of cramping passes, and he straightens slowly. He carefully makes his way to the closest lab stool and settles on it heavily.

“What is left to do?” he grinds out through clenched teeth. Vlad casts his eyes around the lab, hoping to see an additive he hadn’t yet tried, or a process he hadn’t yet put the ectoplasm through.

It’s clearly not just ectoplasm he craves, but all attempts to find the missing element have failed. His gaze passes over the cloning tubes, then stutters back. The pale body of the clones seems to stare back at him through closed eyelids. Accusing, and laughing, he imagines, much like young Daniel himself.

Vlad’s stomach lurches, and he yanks his gaze away.

Chapter 3: Denial

The heavy wooden doors to Vlad’s mansion creak open slowly, and a head of curly dark hair peeks inside. The head belongs to Valerie Gray, dressed in street clothes rather than her red huntress suit.

“Mayor Masters?” Valerie calls out cautiously. Her voice echoes in the silence of the foyer.

She’d tried calling, but there was no answer, and no return phone call. Even before she learned what he was, she’d never call him herself, much less visit the man unless invited, but he had been completely missing for days.

He hadn’t been seen at city hall, or any of the restaurants where he schmoozes with other rich people in town. With no word from Vlad himself, the local news had even been speculating. There were three separate attacks on downtown by what looked like baby Kaiju, yet she’d heard Lance Thunder mention “Missing Mayor Masters” at least twice on the morning weather report.

She hardly likes the man after the way he manipulated her, but she had to check, if only to make sure he wasn’t up to some plot.

It takes less than a minute for Valerie to be thoroughly spooked by the atmosphere of the mansion, so she activates her suit and walks carefully forward.

The eerie feeling haunting her makes it feel like whole hours are passing, but the heads up display in her suit shows only minutes have passed. She’s just passing past what she thinks is the kitchen when she hears a clatter.

She shivers as her adrenaline spikes, then settles into a careful focus. Ever so carefully, she nudges the door open to let a sliver of warm light through. She pushes it further to see fully inside, and sighs with relief.

“Fucking Masters” she mutters just low enough so that her helmet’s mic can’t pick up her words.

“Hey Mr. Masters, are you … alright?” Her voice trails as she gets a better look at him. This isn’t the confident and well dressed mayor the public sees, nor is it the more calculating scientist she knows from his lab. He’s sitting slumped in a chair and looks like, to put it gently, a mess.

“Who-,” Vlad starts to say, then his eyes snap towards her.

“Ms. Gray,” he says as he pushes one hand through his sweaty hair to move it out of his face. He straightens up with a badly concealed wince and a hand firmly planted on the back of the chair. “What a surprise to see you. I thought after our last encounter.”

Valerie scowls, reminded just how much she despises the man’s actions against Dani. Still, he looks sickly enough to temper her anger. Not knowing how to respond, she takes a moment to look around the room, and her confusion turns into outright worry.

Even without seeing Vlad’s kitchen before, she knows it would normally be nothing but spotless like the rest of his mansion, if not tastelessly decorated in Packer’s memorabilia. Instead, the sink is full of days old dirty dishes, and nearly every surface has some kind of food item strewn across it.

Some of it for a while it seems, as flies are hovering over an open package of lunch meat, and those bananas have ripened far past brown into a wilted black. Now intensely grateful that her helmet has filters, she speaks.

“You’ve been missing for days,” she says, scanning Vlad’s face for any sign of realization. He stares back at her with a strange, hungry look on his face.

On top of that hunger, Vlad pastes a weak smile. “Ah,” he says, “Well, you see, I’ve been ill.” A pause follows that statement, and Vlad continues. “I suppose my secretary hasn’t scheduled the appropriate announcements? I may have to let her go, what an absentminded woman she is.”

As he speaks, he leans more heavily on the chair, like his body is screaming at him to sit down, but he stays standing.

“Oookay,” Valerie says carefully. “But what could even make you sick-,” she starts to reply, but Vlad cuts her off.

“You should go,” he says in a single rushed breath, almost pained. His head bobs with another deep breath. “It might be contagious.”

“But-” she starts again.

“Go!” he says, his eyes flashing red. There’s desperation in his voice, she notes. She finds herself backing away slowly, never taking her eyes off the man. He doesn’t look away from her either, and suddenly she realized she can’t recall him even blinking through their whole conversation.

His gaze is still locked with her as the door swings closed between them. Valerie stares at the wood of the door for half a moment, then turns and walks toward the nearest exit she knows of. Her gait is quick, almost a jog, as if her body is trying to run away.

]

She lets her suit fall away as she bursts through the outside door into the sunlight. She doesn’t look back.

. . .

Back down in the lab, Vlad shudders and drops his gaze from where Valerie had been standing. The spike in hunger at seeing her in her armor… He couldn’t explain it. He hungers for ectoplasm yes, but Ms. Gray was hardly the strongest source of it in his lab, not with the remnants of his experiments scattered around.

Staring at the floor, he considers what he knows. Ectoplasm alone is no cure for his hunger. No ectoplasm based mixture, tincture, reaction, or anything has solved the problem either. The only difference between the ectoplasm in the lab and the ectoplasm in Valerie’s suit is that she’s wearing it…

No. That’s not right. The suit he gave her had been modified by Technus, and is now bonded more closely than any mere set of armor. Much like the ectoplasm a ghost is made of, the ectoplasm of her suit is bonded to her very will.

Before even finishing that thought, he staggers to the door leading to where he stores living specimens for experimentation. Surely he has an ectoplasm contaminated rabbit to test a theory on.

. . .

Some time later, he stumbles back into the main lab. He lets his hand drop from the door without closing it behind him, but does leave a bloody hand print on the door. He doesn’t seem to notice. His… experiment went rather more quickly than he intended. Maybe this is his solution; ectoplasm bonded to a willing being. He’s no butcher, but he can make do.

. . .

Less than an hour later he knows he will never be a butcher. His hunger rages more fiercely than ever. He can’t even bring himself to curse as he curls over the table top. He stares mindlessly ahead, eyes boring into the closed eyes of the clones still lying so peacefully in their pods.

[countrymusiclover]

17 - Not His First Witch Lover

Princess Red Thief

Part 18

Tag list - just ask to be added @mystrey101 @melvia-ito @kmc1989 @tallrock35

Sliding into the booth on the opposite side of Rumple we had each of our children seated on either side with us.  Granny brought over two burgers and fries for us where I cut mine in half taking a big bite out of it.  “What - what are you doing?” 

“Sssh just watch.” He slowly raised his fingers in front of Robin’s face who lights up when he sees some of the French fries begin to fly up in the air. 

Valerie giggles, clapping her hand at the sight, making me smile brightly at her innocence. “Looks like our kiddos are in awe of magic just like I was when we first met.” 

“Yes, especially if I do this.” Rumple used magic, raising a fry in the air where I held my mouth and he flew the fry into my mouth laughing at me. “Eve, you are so adorable.” 

I used my own magic, launching one of my fries into his mouth and he smirked back at me. “You’re not the only magician around here.” 

The diner door opened and Regina strides up to our booth. “Gold. We need to talk.”

“Do we?” He mumbled under his breath. 

Granny sees the incoming altercation and intervenes. “Folks, I think I may need to close early. Uh, everybody out.”

“No. It’s okay. We’re civil.” Regina raised a hand in surrender. 

He shakes his head in annoyance. “Yeah, for now.  Everly, I assume you remember the woman whose curse nearly killed you when giving birth to our little babies.” 

“This is probably bad.  I should drop the kids off at their grandparents anyhow-“ I started to pick up Valerie in my arms getting ready to go until he tapped his fingers on the table. 

“No, no. Please, stay where you are. Whatever she has to say, won’t be a secret from you. Whatever she wants, she won’t get.”

“I’m actually coming about the one thing that might unite us.” Regina leans closer to his ear. 

He finally looked her in the eye. “And what on earth can that be?”

“Cora. She’s coming from our land. I need your help to stop her.”

He muttered under her breath avoiding my gaze. “But she was dead. You told me you saw the body.”

“Who’s Cora?” I questioned him not remembering every single person he had ever made deals with in the centuries he’s been alive. 

Rumple reached across the table once I had set Valerie back down by my side and he intertwined my hand in his own. “She’s her mother and my former lover.  I also taught her magic for a time.” 

“So we might be screwed.” 

He could sense my nerves squeezing my hand, sending me a brave face. “Don’t worry, princess.  I won’t let her ever come near you or our children.  You have my word.” 

“Apparently, you taught her well. She’s not, and she’s on her way. And I don’t think I need to remind you, how most unpleasant that would be for both of us.” She whispered to the Dark One. 

“For you. I can handle Cora.” He spoke towards the Evil Queen. 

Regina responds. “That’s not how she tells the story.”

He growled under his breath. “I won in the end.”

 “Maybe. But there’s a big difference this time. This time, you have someone you care about. This time, you have a weakness.” Regina shifted her gaze towards me and then between our two children. “You have three weaknesses actually.” 

The three of us headed to his shop after dropping the kids off with my parents.  Charming was waiting with Henry who was laying down on the cot in the back room. “So, Cora… She’s pretty powerful?” Henry asked, laying his blanket over his stomach. 

“Yes, but, uh, not as powerful as I am.” Rumple placed his hands on his cane. 

Regina scoffs. “Debatable.”

“Actually, no, it’s not.” Rumple scoffs back at her. 

Laying my head on his shoulder I reminded the queen of who she was talking to. “He’s literally called the Dark One in case you’ve forgotten.” She sent me a glare before Charming went to sit at the kids bedside. 

“You sure you’re okay to do this, kid?”

Henry nodded his head yes. “I was born to do this. I’m done reading about heroes. I want to be one.”

“Well, sometimes being one is knowing when not to run into the fire.” The prince reminds him. 

Henry kept a brave face. “I’ll be okay.”

“Look, whatever he faces in there, will be far less dangerous than what he’ll face if we fail.” Rumple told the Prince before him. 

Sparing him a terrified expression across my face I shivered at his words. “What exactly could stop this woman from killing me if she makes it to Storybrooke?” 

Henry attempted to reassure me. “I can do this,  Eve.”

“Get on with it. Fast.” Charming moved for Rumple to sit down. 

“Alright, Henry. Just relax. And soon, you’re going to drift off.”

Henry asks him.  “What do I tell them?”

 “Just listen to my bedtime story, and all will be clear.” My lover sits next to Henry’s bed and places his hand on Henry’s forehead. “Once upon a time, Snow White and Prince Charming needed to stun a very powerful magician, long enough to lock him up in a dark dungeon.” 

Henry sleepily mumbled. “That was you. They used Cinderella to trap you with a magic quill.”

Rumple moves his hand across Henry’s face, causing him to fall asleep. “Yes, indeed a quill. And yet, it wasn’t the quill itself, but the ink that captured the Dark One – harvested from the rarest species of squid, from the bottom of a bottomless ocean. Impossible to find, unless, you’re a mermaid… Or me. I happen to have a private supply. In my jail cell… That is where they will find it.”

“Come back safe, kid.” I whispered under my breath so concerned for Henry Mills. 

It was a few minutes before he shot awake and grabbed his arm where we saw deep marks that Rumple had to heal. Regina sat at his bedside eyeing his injured arm. “What caused this?”

“When you venture deeper into the Netherworld instead of away, there are risks. Someone woke Aurora before her soul was ready to return. The v*olence of that act tore her away and injured Henry. We’re lucky it wasn’t worse. He’s going to need some time to recover before he can be sent back.” Rumple explained, glancing at me briefly seeing the color on my face disappearing at the very thought of sending him back. 

“Out of the question.” Regina snapped. 

“Not a chance in hell. We’d be monsters to even consider risking his life again.” The prince actually agreed with the former evil queen. 

Rumple raised an index in a warning manner. “Careful with your tone, Charming. I understand your concern for the boy, but I know Cora. Without our help, Snow and Emma will soon be dead. And then… A true monster will be on her way to Storybrooke.” 

Regina ran a hand down her face. “ Aurora is gone. Why do we need to send Henry back to that fiery inferno with no one there to receive our message?”

“Because someone will be there.” Charming said with a hopeful tone. 

Regina made a face. “Who?”

“Snow.” He responded. 

Clasping my hand through Rumple’s hand smiling in the direction of the former prince. “True love must conquer all.” 

[beastieballin]

and then when i played beastieball again valerie had been redesigned and i was obsessed plus bonus audrey invading beastieworld

[nastylilchangeling]

Rival Pack for my Werewolves! I rolled dice to determine these people and this is what the dice gave me.

Valerie // Silent-Strides: Hunter-in-Darkness Elodoth (half-moon): the "Pack Mom". Will kick Derek to death ; 80s hair but is going grey ; Early pioneer of Nail-Claws ; In sales.

Zach // Mauled-A-Pack-Alone: Hunter-in-Darkness Elodoth (half-moon): "Nirvana's #1 Fan, Maybe". Proud of his 2 chin hairs ; Won a fight at school ; Freshie ; Val's son ; Thinks Milton is cool.

Beth // Ragged-Tears: Bone Shadow Cahalith (gibbous moon): "The Hippie". Still chubby as a wolf ; Pagan ; Doesn't need the glasses anymore (wears them anyway to avoid suspicion) ; Embroiders her own overalls. Her totem spirit is a sunflower. (We all love Beth.)

Milton // Snagged-By-The-Dust: Blood Talon Ithaeur (crescent moon): "I'm Not A Fuckin' Vamp!". Brother to Miles ; Older but smaller ; General failboy ; Has a walkman ; Horror fan ; Goth/Industrial/Metal fan.

Miles // Locks-Jaws: Blood Talon Rahu (full moon): "My Bro's A Fuckin' Vamp!". Brother to Milton ; Younger but larger ; Bouncer/security for clubs/venues ; Loves to mosh ; War-movies fan ; Punk/Rock/Metal fan.

Ernest // Drags-Below-Ground: Iron Master Irraka (new moon): the "Pack Uncle". On the local HOA board ; Court recorder ; Had to drop out of law school due to being a werewolf ; Can't get a gf for the life of him ; Secondary income for the pack.

[elenatria]

I just came back from my Stellanspotting trip at the Ischia Film Festival and as I'm going through my files I'm filled with the memories of all my crazy Chernobyl-related trips of the past. It all comes back to me, how Alan Williams was the first Chernobyl cast member I ever met, how it all felt, and still makes me feel; the heroes, the villains. The crazy pairings.

So in my Alan Williams folder I come across this sceenshot from the Chernobyl script. That line was included in the scene, however if Alan Williams had uttered it twice ("anything", as mentioned in the original script) it would have had a different meaning. I've never been a fan of Chalery (or dubcon for that matter) but I know someone who was. We've drifted apart over the years, I don't know what fandom she is into now, but I hope she sees this just because now I understand, and wish I could have shared this with her when it mattered.

So here it is.

Charkov showers Valery with all kinds of threats, and when it's time to "read him his sentence", to tell him that his fate is going to be slow death and oblivion, he gloats: "It would be embarrassing to kill you now. And for what? Your testimony never happened, you never happened." He leans over Valery's ear, his voice nothing more than a lewd whisper. "But I can take it all back," he breathes with a dark smile. "You know I can, don't you, Valery? When we're back in Moscow I want you to report to me Monday evening. In my office at the Lubyanka."

Valery's face goes white as as sheet. "Report... report what?"

"You're not the one asking questions, Legasov," Charkov cuts him off. He gives him one last look and strides out of the kitchen.

That Monday, when Valery crosses Myasnitskaya Street with his gaze fixed on the massive building, its hundred glass eyes staring back at him, its old yellow bricks reeking of paranoia and torture and death, the sun has already set and the soft evening breeze, albeit July, chills him to the bone. He fills his lungs with the smell of the metropolis around him, the last air he will ever breathe, and enters the foyer. The receptionist has already been notified about his arrival, the guard is too ready to lead him to a discreet door on the third floor that no one would ever suspect to belong to the head of the KGB.

"It's just a door," Valery mutters to himself, his nerves tight as violin strings.

He knocks, and a cold compelling voice invites him in. A young employee with a side part and a freshly pressed suit, his back turned on the door, gives him a startled look over his shoulder and hastily gathers the papers scattered all over the Chairman's desk.

"I'll sign those later, Lyosha," Charkov decides and gives the young man a little smile.

Lyosha doesn't return the smile: he clutches the papers to his chest and leaves, giving Valery a curious side glance, as if someone as important as the deputy director of the Kurchatov institute has no business being there, in that remote half-lit room of the ancient headquarters of the KGB.

Charkov gets on his feet, straightens his tie and nods Valery towards a seat. As Valery sinks down, his back squeaking against old leather, he hears Charkov's footsteps behind him, the key turning twice with a dry click. He chokes on nothing. He wishes he could light a cigarette but there are no ashtrays in the office - not that he'd dare. He could use a swig of vodka but he remembers alcohol gives him chest burns. He's dying for fresh air but the windows are shut, the curtains drawn.

He's alone with a man who could shoot a bullet through his scull and have dinner with his wife afterwards.

Charkov walks back in front of him, sitting lazily on the desk, both hands in his pockets.

"Professor Legasov," he fakes a sigh crossing his legs, "what are we to do with you..."

Valery's tongue stiffens, his eyes glued to the floor. "I did as you asked," he mutters, "I came."

"Oh no," Charkov's face lights up with devilish amusement, "not yet."

Valery looks up, not sure if there's some sort of hidden meaning behind the words of the Chairman of the KGB. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do n__"

"Close your eyes," Charkov says. His voice has an unexpected softness to it.

"What__"

"Close. Your. Eyes."

Valery slides his eyes shut, knowing that this desk, those chairs, those drawn curtains could be the last objects he'd ever see before the barrel of a Makarov empties out in his brain. He wants to stop his hands from shaking, he wants to be brave and scream to the man placing both hands on the arms of his chair to get this over with, and just as he clasps his knees, ready to spring from his seat and fight for his life, the touch of lips against his own shuts him up completely, the hardened tip of a tongue takes his breath away as it pushes between his teeth, seeking to reach deeper.

[lizzy-frizzle]

I decided to write up a silly little Operator File, for if my arknights doctor OC was an operator instead

Operator Iremia: Incantation Medic

Basic Info [Code Name] Iremia [Gender] Female [Combat Experience] None [Place of Birth] Victoria [Date of Birth] May 5 [Race] Zalak [Height] 165cm [Infection Status] Medical tests have confirmed that no infection is present.

Physical Exam [Physical Strength] Normal [Mobility] Normal [Physical Resilience] Standard [Tactical Acumen] Standard [Combat Skill] Normal [Originium Arts Assimilation] Outstanding

Profile A contributing member of Rhine Lab’s Originium Art Section, Doctor Valerie decided to join Rhodes Island as operator Iremia due to personal differences with Rhine Lab’s goals. She’s made great strides while working under Dorothy Franks, and numerous life saving devices have been invented in her name. Aside from some memory issues, her knowledge of Originium should prove valuable at Rhodes Island.

Clinical Analysis Imaging tests reveal clear, normal outlines of internal organs, and no abnormal shadows have been detected. Originium granules have not been detected in the circulatory system and there is no sign of infection. At this time, this operator is believed to be uninfected.

[Cell-Originium Assimilation] 0% Operator Iremia shows no signs of Originium infections.

[Blood Originium-Crystal Density] 0.13u/L Operator Iremia deals often with Originium based experiments, but takes unusually excessive amounts of safety precautions. With the frequency and volume of these experiments, she should be monitored more regularly, however at this point we think it's unlikely she will get infected.

Archive File 1 When Iremia first joined Rhodes Island, she struggled to make friends. She’d often find herself eating alone in the cafeteria, or isolated in the labs performing all sorts of experiments. Some operators thought she was standoffish or rude. Though, after operator Dorothy joined, she started opening up more – thanks to Dorothy pulling her into conversations. This led to her befriending a number of other scientist and medical personnel – notably Rhine Lab operators and operator Weedy.

Archive File 2 Other operators have been coming to Iremia to change benign aspects of themselves, resulting in some files being inaccurate. It turns out that Iremia’s arts can alter people’s heights, weight, hair color, and various other physical aspects. Kal’tsit has issued a mandate that operators can no longer bother Iremia for these changes, as it has resulted in requiring to update approx. 200 files.

Kal’tsit, please send out a reminder, I’ve seen over a dozen operators with different -undyed- hair color this week. - Gavial

Archive File 3 Iremia has briefly discussed her desire for a cure to oripathy – chiefly her Mom. Iremia can still be found in her dorm crying over this subject, so please refrain from bringing it up unless she initiates.

Regardless her reasons, she has put more hours in the lab than Silence with regards to experiments and tests to further our understanding of the disease. This has led to infected operators finding Iremia to be genuine, and easy to confide in. However, this has also led to Iremia attending every infected operator’s cremation. This should be noted with regards to her mental health, and perhaps we should limit her access to them.

On top of all of this, Iremia has already found a way to slow minor infection rates to a surprising degree – though not effective against heavier infections. Even if it’s not a cure, this breakthrough has bolstered her confidence and mood substantially.

Archive File 4 Iremia has established several romantic relationships with other operators, so needless to say she’s adjusted to Rhodes Island. She’s been spotted making out with a number of others in hallway corners, and for some reason when this was brought up to Kal’tsit she seemed unsurprised, and unbothered. This has led to some operators starting betting pools on the exact number of partners Iremia has among Rhodes Island. The current highest bet is thirty operators.

Promotion Record ‘Eh? You want to know how I use my arts? Well...I just kinda...do it? I’m not sure what you were expecting...’

…

‘You want to know if I can take Originium out of people? No. I’ve tried...C-can we please drop this subject?’

…

‘My rings? They’re my own design! I made them at Rhine La-Oh, I might not be able to talk about them actually. I think Rhine Lab has the patent...’

[bunnyscar]

The Siliven's Request: Part 31

Kelsin walked slowly down the palace corridor, his mind full of the meeting from yesterday. They would meet again tonight to discuss more plans.

He paused by a window, gazing out at the shadowy palace garden. Though it was still midday, the trees blocked out most of the light, creating an atmosphere of gloom that seemed to enter inside and penetrate even Kelsin’s mind. Despite his support of Manas, Kelsin knew it would likely take a miracle for the plan to actually work. The queen was too powerful, her guards too many. Sara would ultimately be their best hope, if she could get the queen to forget names. Or if she could make the queen—

“Kelsin!” Kelsin turned slowly to see Ven striding towards him, a friendly smile on his face, yet one Kelsin knew was fake. He knew it well. That smile always meant trouble.

“Ven, what a surprise. Is the battle over already?” Kelsin said calmly.

“No, my sister Valerie is handling the troops at the moment. She can be dutiful when it’s required,” Ven said.

“You must have business back at home, then,” Kelsin said.

“Indeed, business with you,” Ven said, still wearing his smile, but a dangerous look entering his eyes.

Kelsin raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What business could you want with an old man like me?”

“Why did you come back here?” Ven asked coldly.

“I am too old to fight, and Chess and Fanny are too young. They were not learning anything by being in the battlefield either. As no one was paying attention to them, I deemed it best to bring them back here so they can continue their regular studies.”

“Oh really? I think there’s another reason.”

Kelsin responded mildly, “If you refer to my general dislike of war, you’d be correct. But you already knew that. There’s no need for you to come interrogate me about—“

“Don’t play dumb!” Ven suddenly hissed, a snarl disfiguring his face. “I know you’re up to something. You’re plotting with Manas, aren’t you?”

Kelsin widened his eyes in an expression of surprise. “Manas? The exile? Why would I have anything to do with him?”

“You said it yourself. You don’t like war. Even if you never openly oppose my mother, I know you don’t agree with her, nor did you like my father. You’re plotting against the queen, aren’t you?”

“You forget that she is my daughter. Even if I don’t see eye to eye with her, I’m not going to kill her for it. I’m not like your murderous brother,” Kelsin replied coldly.

Ven’s eyes narrowed. “Manas was with you when you left the war camp. I could sense it. I got that same feeling I had when I saw Manas in Fairen. He’s done something with my mind, messed up my memory. It’s all his fault. You’re hiding him, aren’t you?” Ven’s eyes blazed with murder and fury.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand you,” Kelsin said, keeping his voice steady. “What gives you the idea that I am hiding Mansas? What gain could I get from doing that?”

“Not going to tell me, huh? Guards!” Ven suddenly cried. Several soldiers appeared and surrounded Kelsin. “Take him to his room and lock him in. See he doesn’t come out or get any food or water until he’s ready to talk,” Ven said. The soldiers immediately obeyed, grabbing Kelsin by the arms and towing him away down the hall.

“Now then, Manas, what will you do when your right-hand man is taken away?” Ven muttered to himself, a sneer crossing his face.

“Manas! Manas!” Chess came hurrying into the cave, collapsing breathlessly in the middle of the group gathered there. It was the day after the Silivens had accepted Manas, and he had been discussing with a few of the them the route they would use to sneak into the castle.

“Grandpa has been captured!” Chess finally said, after catching his breath. There were fearful murmurs and glances between the Silivens. Manas frowned deeply. “I saw it—Ven suspects Grandpa of scheming with you to take down the queen, and so he locked Grandpa in his room and put guards at the door. He’s going to starve Grandpa...,” Chess panted.

“What should we do, Manas?” Sara asked anxiously. “Shouldn’t we go try to save him?”

One of the other Siliven shook his head. “That’s too dangerous! And now they suspect something’s up, we’ll never be able to succeed in attacking the palace!” The murmurings grew, until Manas raised a hand.

“We will go ahead with the attack. Even if Ven is preparing for an attack, he doesn’t know exactly what we’re planning. We will need to go sooner than we originally thought, though. Can you all be ready by tonight?” There was hesitation, but at last the Silivens nodded reluctantly.

Manas looked over the group. Some Siliven had green auras around them, indicating earth magic; one had purple, the sleeping magic; others had red for fire or yellow for light magic. There were three Siliven who had blue auras around them, indicating water magic, but none were as bright as Pim’s aura. His was a vibrating blue aura, larger and more vibrant than those around the others, a sign of a large amount of magic power. An idea entered Manas’ mind. “Pim, instead of coming with me and Sara to the throne room, I would like you to go with the three other Siliven who can use water magic. You four will go to the moat surrounding the palace and create a wall of water, so no one can get in or out of the palace. It will prevent reinforcements.”

“A wall of water! You mean you want us to use the whole moat? It’s not that easy to control that much water with magic, you know,” Pim protested.

“But you can do it,” Manas said quietly, gazing intently at Pim.

The young man hesitated, but finally he nodded and murmured an agreement. Manas continued, “The rest of you will go with the Overseer to fight the guards that try to follow us to the throne room. If possible, try to find the captain of the guards and force him to surrender.”

“Hmm, I don't know how easy that will be, but we'll do our best. Though, doesn’t this plan mean that it’ll be just you and Sara that go to the throne room?” the Overseer questioned.

“No. Chess will come with us.”

Chess looked up startled. “Me?”

Manas nodded. “We need at least one person who can use metal abilities, in an emergency. And you want to save Kelsin, don’t you?”

A determined look entered Chess’ eyes and he nodded. “Very well. We will meet in four hours. Go and get ready,” Manas said, dismissing the Siliven, who went away quickly and quietly. Manas sighed and clenched his hands. Four hours until it began. Four hours until either he was truly made king or all was lost. But before that, there was something he needed to do. Something he needed to tell Sara.

Link to Part 30: