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guacamoleroll · 4 months

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𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖈𝖍𝖔 𝖔𝖋 𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖈𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖈 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖘 「𝔣𝔶𝔬𝔡𝔬𝔯 𝔡𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔢𝔳𝔰𝔨𝔶」 ༉‧₊˚

content. f!reader. implied breaking-and-entering, fireworks, metaphors about stars, soft!fyodor, he's secretly down-bad, he's also incredibly possessive. descriptions of moscow (red square, st. basil's cathedral), mentions of eastern european food (pirozhki), references to greek mythology (perseus and andromeda), jokes about greek incest. not proofread. 2.2k+ words.

author's note. starting the last of my fics for the year with the first bungou stray dogs character i've ever written for. thank you for such a lovely year! ࿐ ♡ ˚ .

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

synopsis. within the last minutes of the year, sitting underneath the stars, two lovers discuss the stories mapped within constellations. in themselves, they find that some tales are timeless.

"It's so lovely at this time of night."

You couldn't contain your astonishment as flurries coasted to the earth in silent swells, dusting the city in a sheen of sparkling white. With an outstretched hand, you gathered flakes into your palm, admiring them before they melted with the heat of your skin. The riverside stilled as you coasted along the sidewalk, frozen in thickening ice as parents ushered their children away from its tempting surface. Tourists clustered under trees, shivering in their thin hats and coats as they underestimated the spite of Russia's wind. But despite the chill, there was an unmistakable gaiety in the air, smiles strewn on glassy faces as they awaited the new year.

You tailed behind Fyodor as he sauntered forward with broad steps, unable to catch your breath as the basket of freshly baked pirozhki settled heavily in your stomach. Your eyelids threatened to close as exhaustion crept into the corners of your vision; journeying between museums, promenading through parks, and scowering various foods had taken a toll on your energy.

You groaned. "Do we have to go tonight?"

He merely chuckled, the velvety bass of his voice tracing goosebumps down your spine, easily distracting you from the fact that he hadn't answered your question. Your field of vision spiraled into a haze, thoughts shot far in the distance despite the frost attempting to rouse you, left unaware as an assured hand ushered you inside a concealed entrance to the luminous structure slumbering outside of Moscow's main square. You walked forward into the endless darkness, only to bump into something sturdy. Your fingers carded through the puffed fur of Fyodor's coat, tugging on its ends.

"Fyodor?"

With a click, the room was brought to life. The high-vaulted ceiling outstretched to reach the heavens above, walls embellished with intricate frescoes of ancient Abrahamic tales. Flares of resplendent color danced across the floor as moonlight met glass, casting waves of softened light upon your skin. A labyrinth of winding corridors hid in the shadows, prompting any curious wanderer into a trove of antediluvian alcoves and chapels.

Your jaw dropped, gawking at every deliberate component. "What is this place?"

"It was a cathedral erected in honor of Tsar Ivan the IV." His gloved hand puckered altar cloth between his gracile fingers, tracing the embroidery as his mind drifted elsewhere.

You hummed, racking your brain as it itched in anamnesis. "Wasn't that the terrible one?"

He was silent as he released the fabric from his fingers, but the self-satisfied smirk told you everything you needed to know. "Indeed. This place once brimmed with life, hosting religious gatherings and services for the denizens of this city." His boots snicked against the tile, the noise reverberating as it spun towards the ceiling. "It has been left as a relic of time."

You ever-so-delicately brushed your hand against one of the columns, not wishing to disturb the peace of stillness and rest that blanketed the cathedral.

"How marvelous."

Your attention went astray as Fyodor tinkered at a lock, the hinges of a thin door ricketing with unsettling squeaks as he stood aside, uncloaking a never-ending staircase to the unknown.

"After you."

Your muscles cramped with every step, dread buried deep in your gut as your vision remained impaired, the flashlight beam smattering inconclusive rays of light as it aimed at your back. It was almost like the architects had attempted to reach the clouds, their grandiose endeavor churning a flare in your back as you slumped against the wall, your lungs burning with every passing moment. Your spirit was invigorated at the sight of a door through the dime ire of light, basking in your relief as you stepped out the door, the crisp breeze of winter striking your skin as—!

"W-Woah!"

Your feet teetered over the ridge of the roof; only your ankles remained flimsily rooted onto solid paneling as your arms swung out to balance yourself. Fortunately for you, an arm wrapped around your waist, drawing you back against Fyodor's chest. A quick peek upward towards his impish expression revealed everything you needed to know.

"You must be careful, любимая."

Your breath was shuddery, inwardly wavering on whether to punch him or kiss him, the indecisiveness reigning victorious as you pointedly ignored the mellifluous lilt of his tone, hands binding to his arm as your gaze locked onto the ground several hundred feet below.

"Good lord, we're high," you muttered between pants.

His arms braced you further against his chest, leaning away from the perilous drop. "You're trembling." The tension in your grip eased at the sensation of a gentle kiss against the crown of your head. "You know I'd never let you fall, hm?"

"Right." You released the amalgam of tense breath that clawed at your throat, able to balance on your own two feet as you settled your view to the skies.

Your feet shuffled across the panels as you slogged onto a wider expanse of the roof, slumping against a wall as the tension evaporated out through your fingers, the nightmare of plummeting from the roof erased from your mind. However, you swallowed a yelp as the flashlight flickered off, leaving the both of you enshrouded in complete darkness—at least for a brief moment.

Clouds stacked in bunched within the stratosphere, mirroring fragments of light that bounced from below in a nebulose aurora. But despite the wonderment of their decadence, they lost their luster once the stars peaked through their fogged edges, the finite speckles scattered like freckles across the canvas of the heavens. They felt close enough to touch if only you reached out toward them, daring to do so. Your fingers trailed maps of these celestial bodies, finding a sense of peace in their familiar patterns.

"Are you familiar with Ovid's Metamorphoses?" Your voice pierced through the silence.

"I can't say I am."

You withheld the impulse to laugh—he had the entire compendium of books in his personal library. It would be a surprise if he hadn't at least skimmed them, but you decided to humor him this once, scooching closer to point towards a specific cluster of stars.

"Those are the constellations of Perseus, the son of Zeus, and Princess Andromeda, the daughter of King Cepheus and Queen Cassiopeia."

You took his silence as an encouragement to continue. "Perseus found Andromeda chained to a rock as a sacrifice to the sea monster, Cetus, by her parents in order to save her home." Your fingers drew out the character within the stars, a grin upturned on your lips as you envisioned the archaic tale in your mind. "It was told that he found her so beautiful that he slayed the monster, rescuing her before fighting against her uncle for her hand-in-marriage."

"Her uncle?" Fyodor mused.

Your nose scrunched in a grimace. "There's a lot of that in those stories, I'm afraid."

"The couple went on to live happily ever after—an extremely rare ending to most ancient stories."

"There is a simple explanation for that," he replied.

You snickered, already aware that your open-ended commentary would eventually lead to some thoughts from the infamously brilliant man.

His eyes rolled in return at your amusement, disregarding the tightness of his chest. "We hold onto ancient tragedies because they are a reflection of life. Nothing in our world is as simple as a happy ending." A vacant look ruled over his features, a familiar expression that often shielded his thoughts within the dark, contemplative hours of the night. "Most aspired heroes never reach their potential due to their blind devotion to selfish aspirations and goals."

"You're right," you sighed, hands balled against the corner of his cape in an attempt to thaw your frozen fingers. You wanted to say more, but it felt like your mouth was cotton-filled. So, instead, you returned your eyes to the sky.

"Sometimes, I wish I was a constellation." He looked at you. "Even with its flaws, this world is undoubtedly beautiful from above. I like to think the stars admire us just as much as we do them."

And he didn't say anything more; he didn't need to. Instead, he reigned you onto his lap, his coat shrouding your shoulders as he shared its warmth. You leaned into his embrace, basking in the flutter inside your chest.

"You're awfully cold, милая," he grumbled, his fingers mapping your frigid palms.

"Our roles are reversed now," you quipped. "I hope you think about this the next time you decide to stun me with your hands in the morning."

"I'm afraid I might forget," he whistled.

"You little—"

But you found your voice hidden underneath layers of crackling. You ogled as fireworks wiggled their way into the night sky, shimmering onto the city square, the towers of the Kremlin becomen heavenly statues as their structures temporarily glistened. Without a second thought, you grabbed onto his hands, giving them a squeeze with each pop. You were so attentive to the collections of radiant sparks that you didn't notice the eyes boring into your skin; Fyodor's gaze averted from the fireworks to contemplate the interlacement of your fingers.

He surmised you were to be his future the moment you had locked eyes for the first time—his destined, pre-ordained other half as he journeyed to actualize God's promised land. It wasn't a surprise that someone was fated to remain in his keep—another loyal follower, too intertwined in their own aspirations to connect to his cause without deliberate guidance.

But not you.

You may not have supported his cause with the devotion of his witless flock, but you understood it better than anyone. And most importantly, you understood him. You peered through his intricate plans and performative malice, reading into his cause as you unraveled his intentions. It had been an enticing cat-and-mouse game, the both of you constantly entangled in a mental match, intellect and morals clashing. He knew you were his perfect match from your analytic dexterity, but he had no idea that you would pull at the strings cast around his heart, ones he believed had been severed long ago.

His heart had never belonged to anyone or anything—his mind and will were forever devoted to his cause, but his heart hadn't beat since before he could even remember. The sudden constriction of his chest was so foreign.

You must've been quite the powerful woman to kickstart the heart of a demon, excavating a trove of humanity he had buried within himself with a simple glance of your eyes—and all without knowing, your gentle expression puncturing through his abstruse masquerades, somehow able to see everything except the turmoil that you left in the wake of your very touch.

He found himself less and less concerned about the echoed beat of his heart within the emptiness of his chest, too captivated by your smile as you beheld the heavens with a benevolent expression, savoring the burning red and gold sparks despite their dullness in comparison to you. In spite of himself, your everlasting happiness had become an intrinsic component in his plans.

You were made to remain at his side—not as a brainless devotee, but as his equal and often opposite. The world, so rotten yet somehow divine through your benevolent gaze, may try to pull you away, but he'd have no issue burning cities to their ashen roots if anyone dared attempt to pry you from his hold.

His lithe fingers outlined the constellations of every freckle and beauty mark, star patterns copied onto your skin as his touch drifted your attention from the flashes and flickers to him, your inquisitive eyes scanning his face as he remained unmoved.

"Федя?"

He shuddered with unparalleled delight at the euphonious sound of his mother language slipping like honey from your tongue, foreign to your lips yet dulcet all the same. Your bonniness beaconed him forward, a heat flowering in his once cavernous chest as he captured your lips, which were as soft as the powdered snow that glinted on your skin. His heavy breath tickled your nose, which crinkled in tandem with your eyes as you drew him in for another. Words became meaningless, his skin seared like static as your arms drew him closer, skin scorched from the cold of your hands against the nape of his neck.

He tucked your hair behind your ear, ensuring that your empyreal features weren't veiled further as flakes of snow flurried once more, your parted lips and shallow breath leaving him in a helpless state of complete limerence. He stirred as his hand brushed against your pulse, your own heart racing concertly with his.

You parted in bittersweet bliss, yearning imbued in your bones as your hands drifted towards one another to intertwine. His forehead rested against yours, your shared breath permeating in spirals within the open air as he peered into your hazy, glossed-over eyes.

His hand cupped your cheek, the frame to a divine masterpiece. "Ты согреваешь мою душу, мое нежное солнышко. Твоя красота вне всякого сравнения; твой разум безупречен." He had never looked at anyone like this before, his ire thawed by the brilliance of your tender gaze as if he had melted. "Я бесконечно благодарен, что Бог привел тебя ко мне."

And you laughed. "You know I don't understand anything you're saying, right?"

He kissed your forehead, concealing his smile as his lips pressed against your skin. "You will one day, солнышко. You will."

любимая = darling милая = dear федя = fedya ты согреваешь мою душу, мое нежное солнышко. твоя красота вне всякого сравнения; твой разум безупречен = you warm my soul, my gentle sun. your beauty is beyond comparison; your mind is beyond flaw. я бесконечно благодарен, что бог привел тебя ко мне = i am eternally grateful that god brought you to me. солнышко = sunshine

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @imhandicapableofmath @lovedazai @hauntedsol @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @squigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @miloofc @thesilvernight0wl @s1eepybunny @dazaisms @deepseafragments @justanotherjester @kotysluny @aureatchi

#muse's anthology ‧₊˚ ⋅#starring: fyodor .ೃ࿐#f!reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #fyodor bsd #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoevsky x reader

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aheathen-conceivably · 4 months

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It had felt surreal to make up her face and feel the thick fabric of a party dress on her skin. Then even more surreal to actually leave her room, get into Giorgio’s truck and drive out to the mesa to meet a family of strangers. The world seemed to blur and tunnel into a stream of noise as they walked through the ranch toward the smiling faces waiting to greet them.

On unsteady heels she stood behind her brother, Zelda, and Violette, leaning onto Gio’s arm as they introduced themselves: Abraham Hines, third generation rancher and Antoine’s new employer; Jessamine Hines, Abraham’s grandmother and lifelong resident of Strangerville; Mabel Hines, local cook and native of Chicago; and then finally, their children Adeline, William, and Lillie Mae Hines.

As they proceeded with the awkward machinations of first time introductions, Josephine smiled in the background. With envy she thought back to all the moments she had been able to bring a group together with a witty retort and a laugh. Instead she stayed quiet as they got acquainted, their comfort with one another growing with every word, until finally the child who had introduced himself as William went to Violette in a stream of happy chatter.

Although she looked up toward her parents quizzically, unsure of how exactly to interact with anyone her own age, his movement and the subsequent giggles that rippled amongst them seemed to finally bring the party together. Smiling and chatting, they retreated inside for dinner. The children walked off first, Violette’s reservations still palpable, and then Zelda, Jessamine, and Mabel as they engaged in easy conversation on the state of the schoolhouse as Antoine and Abraham chuckled together quietly at the success of their plans.

Even as their voices disappeared behind the wooden walls, Jo’s feet remained firmly planted on the desert sand. Take a breath, Josephine. Go inside. Speak like you used to. You know how to do this, you must. For Violette.

Yet her legs seemed unwilling to move, to fall in line and follow everyone else. She wanted to turn and run, to throw her red heels into a valley and disappear amongst the orange rocks. Maybe no one would find her out there. Maybe Violette would be fine with her mother and father; maybe these new friends were all any of them needed. Maybe they didn’t need her, maybe she could disappear, she could run….

But then Gio turned around, his eyes soft and worried as he searched her face and read her thoughts. He extended his hand and whispered words of reassurance that he’d be with her every step of the way, ready to start up the truck and run with her if she needed to. His hand on her shoulder seemingly held her in place as the buzzards circled and the desert called. Run, Josephine. Run. Run before it’s too late. But he lifted her face to his and nodded, pulling her toward the house and away from the desert.

Throughout dinner the merriment of the table seemed to come from the other side of a glass, the rich and abundant food a memory from her past and not a current reality. Through it all she told herself that she was doing it for Violette. She was smiling and speaking and simply existing for Violette. She couldn’t have said at what point in the night that determination began to shift in favor of herself or when the words and the faces moved past the glass and into her reality, enriching her soul rather than draining it.

Maybe it was Giorgio’s constant attentive gaze, or Violette’s growing smile and dwindling fear, or perhaps it was just being surrounded by laughing strangers again, buoying her from herself and the empty space she had found in the silent room. But little by little Josephine found that she was enjoying herself more and more. Perhaps more importantly, as forks clattered to the table and children began to play in the adjacent rooms, she could recognize the smile on her face and the tenor of her own voice as it spoke to others. For the first time in months, she felt like herself.

After Mabel had cleared the plates and returned to her seat next to Abraham, the room was filled with quieter, adult conversation carried along by scratchy music coming from the small radio. They sipped their coffee as they discussed the state of the town and employment, until Abraham cleared his throat and looked toward the parlor, where the children sat gathered near his grandmother’s feet. Satisfied that they were too engrossed in her story to hear him, he turned back to his guests.

“Now as I told Antoine, getting Violette enrolled at the schoolhouse shouldn't be any problem. There’s only a handful a’ black children in town, and most of their families been here too long for any efforts at segregation. Luckily this town’s got a long history of safe harbor since before the war, back when my granddad settled here, and barring any Texan influx it should stay that way. But with that new road running through town and the price of our crops tanking, you’ve got to forgive myself and anyone else for the cold welcome you might have gotten these last months.”

He paused for a moment to look at the photo over his shoulder before his eyes settled back on Antoine, “But I’m no stranger to the rest of this country. Neither me nor Mabel. I know what you must have dealt with down there, and we’ve got to stick together. You’ll make it here, all of you. I’ll try and make sure of it.”

His tone was imbued with such a warm note of certainty, brighter and more steady than anything any of them had heard since they arrived, that each one of them actually believed it, even Josephine.

#1931 #sims 4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 historical #sims 4 decades challenge #the darlingtons #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 story #1930s #Zelda darlington #Antoine Duplanchier #Josephine Duplanchier #Giorgio Mistretta #Violette darlington #Abraham Hines #William Hines

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w0lp3rtinger · 5 months

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Maria, Who Smiles as She Pulls the Lever

You know how this ends. Still, Shadow and Maria. Maria and Shadow. This was meant to be, if only for one glorious, beautiful moment. (Read on A03)

This has been a labor of mine for months.

Listen I’m a bit of a masochist and I may have been obsessed with rereading the ‘unedited’ version of Ann Frank’s diary and subsequently been up late listening to the isolated vocals for ‘Cancer’ by MCR a few too many nights in a row but even then, this has been boiling over in my brain for... ages.

So here we are.

This publication would not have been possible without some tremendous characters to whom I wish to give thanks.

@biolizardboils

@shadowsfascination

@killingthecringe

@bimboamyrose

@lambpaca

@mellow-elbow

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

Maria is from Earth. Sometimes she has to remind herself of this, so that the sterile steel of the ARK doesn’t become too comfortable.

“Dziadzio Gerald will fix you and keep you safe.” “He worked so hard to get this contract.” “You need to be brave.”

This is what she remembers more than the faces.

This is what all the letters keep saying until they stop coming.

Maria works hard to stay well. When she’s well, Grandpa’s there with her, laughing with her, telling her about the work he’s doing. Grandpa is a gentle man, with big calloused hands and wily eyes magnified behind coke bottle lenses.

But the sickness grows. Illuminated x-rays and CT scans seem to almost grow against the wall like strange mold. Silent. Deadly. Grandpa gone for weeks at a time, only to appear weary and quiet as he checks her vitals before giving her new medicine.

Of course he loves her, else he wouldn’t be doing all of this, but she wishes he’d be her grandfather a little bit more and her doctor a little bit less.

Maria, being told not to leave her room.

Why did the letters stop coming?

Maria, being poked and prodded and talked over, rather than talked to or talked with.

When did she start to feel so lonely?

Maria, growing up from a toddler to a child to a teen. The sterile steel world is home now. She doesn’t even remember what flowers smell like anymore. Once, she thought her favorite was poppies. Now, she clings to the idea, even though she can only recall them in their still, cold photos from the biology book on her nightstand.

Maybe that’s why she cries tears of joy when she first spots Abraham, with his sharp pressed trousers and his two-toned eyes. And of course, this scares him. And of course, Maria chases after him as best she can.

She so badly wants a friend.

But he’s younger than she is, he doesn’t want to play the same games. He throws tantrums that leave her with deep black bruises which take ages to heal. Still, it’s frustrating when Abe asks her why she hasn’t been able to play for months, and she turns to the nurse who gives no answer.

She’s never been sure what exactly is wrong with her. Nobody will explain.

They read a lot, and when they run out of books, they make their own.

And one day, when Dziadzio is doing a checkup, with all of the wires and sensors attached to her head when she’s in that big silver tube, she just starts talking. About nothing. About everything. About how little Abe is so annoying, but fun, like a baby brother, especially when they read his kid mysteries together, or when he tells her scary stories, like that of the three-eyed monster man he swears he saw with the goblin in the jar.

When Grandfather snaps at her to be silent, she’s shocked.

Then, she seethes.

Maria, with Abe’s story running through her head.

Maria, gritting her teeth as Abe now keeps insisting, gloating even, that he knows more than she does.

Maria, sitting up in bed one night with a growl, hands bunching the scratchy hospital quilt up in her fists.

The fabric crunches in her hands, and when she beats her palms against it, it crackles. He can be such a brat! She’ll show him! She’ll find the thing he was talking about!

Over-planning is key. There’s no way she can pull off the cool sneaking tactics she’s read about. Instead, she puts on three pairs of socks, both to keep her feet warm and to dull the sound of her footsteps. A few capsules of fish oil she’s supposed to take are broken open, and she’s on the floor, gritting her teeth against the pain in her knees as she rubs its contents all over the wheels of her IV poll, willing it to keep them from squeaking.

Maria creeps through the dark. The hum of the ARK, that constant white noise of her existence, can do nothing to drown out the pounding in her ears. Her lungs are burning as she measures her breaths, knuckles white against the IV poll she’s gripping as she shuffles along. The blackness stretches forever until, from around a closed door, she sees a faint green glow.

She licks her lips as she eyes the keypad at the door, tasting iron.

No matter.

There’s only one shot at getting this code right, but she’s got a pretty good guess as to what it is. And when the lock opens with a beep after she punches in the last letter of her name, she rolls her eyes.

She pretends not to notice the shaking of her hands.

Maria, who cannot help but gasp when she sees the strange dark thing floating in a tube of radioactive green goo, like something straight out of one of Abe’s stories.

No, it is Abe’s story. There is the jar goblin.

She found it.

And it opens an eye to look at her. One dark eye, wide and wild.

Panic swells within her.

Maria, quickly shutting the door, shuffling back to her room as fast as possible. She crawls into bed, but cannot sleep. In the morning, when she is pale and sweaty, when her feet are swollen and her hands stiff, Grandfather comes in only to tell her she’s bed-bound for two weeks.

She spends the time fixated on that single eye.

When Abe slips into her room with arms full of toys and books and crawls into bed, she can’t help but smirk. She has now seen his creature. Now the two of them must keep the secret.

And she knows Abe will keep it, because despite her complaining, Maria also knows he’s probably the best baby brother anyone could ask for.

But it’s not enough.

Maria, heart pounding and fingers tingling with adventure, even if she’s still recovering from her last escapade. She starts stashing away some of her anti-inflammatory medication, keeping it tucked in the bindings of one of her books that has come loose at the spine.

That dark thing in the tube, she wants to see it again.

Abe says in the false whisper of children that he once saw it move, says that he thinks it responds to people talking.

There’s only one way to find out if he’s right.

When she snatches a nearly empty bag of morphine from the pile on the nurse’s cart, Maria almost feels guilty... almost. Just when she’s about to confess, just when she’s about to give up, the faintest flame lights up within her.

She’s angry at the time taken from her. She’s angry at this bed, at this body, at these people who keep poking and prodding and talking at her.

Maria settles down on her pillow, feeling the bag squish underneath her head. She smiles when the nurse asks if she is comfortable, and she promises that she is.

Maria, creeping through the halls, the painkillers already in place and working. She’s slower this time, she knows she has to be, but when she gets to the room, there’s an impossible excitement that builds up within her and cannot be restrained. The door barely has time to close behind her before she’s at the tube. Leaning in, she places one hand on the glass, and the eye opens once more.

Its eyes are so dark. They don’t look black, but she can’t tell what colour they’re supposed to be.

“Hello,” she whispers, smiling. “You are a strange little thing, aren’t you.”

She spends the night slowly moving around the tube, taking it in. It makes sense now why Abe called it a goblin, but Maria is pretty sure that’s just because it’s just all wrinkly skin right now, like a very ugly baby. Still, it has such a soft face. Maria can’t help but hope that whatever skin, or feathers, or- or whatever, is soft. It should be soft.

She thinks she remembers what soft is.

Maria, alone the next day as she brushes her hair, cursing the knots and the burning in her eyes, remembering how Dziadzio promised her that he’d teach her how to braid it, but that was before, and this is now.

She’s stuck in her room again.

The pain isn’t as bad as last time, but it’s still pain.

She still can’t walk.

The rage inside of Maria blooms once more as she looks at her rat's nest of a brush, and she throws it against the opposite wall with a shriek.

With tears staining her cheeks, she falls asleep and dreams.

She dreams of having thick golden hair, the kind that frames the faces of the angles on the pendants she used to get from her one aunt. But suddenly, there in her mind, she sees the dark eyes of the ugly baby. They sparkle as though they’re full of starlight. When she leans in to have a better look, suddenly, she’s falling headfirst into the open and inky void between the ARK and the planet below. Her hair, her beautiful golden hair, it grows longer and longer until it turns into wings. She tries to fly to Earth, but it just keeps getting further away no matter how hard she reaches for it.

Maria, who screams at the professor when she’s told that she can’t see Abe anymore.

“He’s too rowdy,” he keeps saying, “It’s making you sicker.”

It doesn’t matter. She can see him clutching his father’s pant leg, acting as though the camouflage of the fatigues may hide him too, as she rages against the hands trying to hold her down. Her monitor is going wild. The IV poll is overturned. Maria keeps calling his name, keeps hoping he’ll run into the room, into her arms, but instead, little Abe’s father picks him up and leaves.

She stays awake and waits for him, but Abe never arrives. She does this for three straight days.

He never arrives.

Maria, silent in her own tube, the wires and sensors all over her, staring straight ahead. The lab tech tries to make small talk, but even if Maria wanted to answer, the professor tells them to shush.

“We have work to do,” he says, “We must preserve what we have as quickly as possible.”

As if he is talking about perishable groceries. Maria can feel her nails break in her palm as she balls her hands into fists.

One of the nurses does finally bring a card from Abe. It’s a drawing of the two of them playing in a field full of flowers, a bright sun overhead wreathed in birds. Maria smashes it into a ball and throws it in the trash.

Later that evening though, she stretches as far as she can to dig through the bin and find the card. She cries as she tries to smooth its creases. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, over and over, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Maria, being fitted for an oxygen tube. She hasn’t had to wear one of these in a while, and can’t help but fight the nurse a little. Over their muttered curses, Maria can hear the professor in the hallway talking to some looming shape she cannot make out.

“I’m hoping the gizoid will keep them distracted, but I’m not sure how much time that will buy us. Especially if this one dies on us like the others.”

And everything in her clenches.

Maria, pouring her IV nutrients into a spare commode in the closet.

Maria, stashing vitamins away in bent bookbindings.

Maria, sweat on her brow as she pictures that tiny creature all alone in that room, darkness closing in.

They will not die. They will not die. They will not die.

Maria, who gags when she combines her ill-gotten goods into a foul slurry. With one hand over her mouth, she takes deep breaths before pulling the commode out of the closet.

She’s slow. She’s careful. She’s thankful this thing has wheels that can lock and unlock, because she’s going to use it as a walker. There is no other option if she wants to carry all of this.

She squares her shoulders and slips out into the hallway.

She will not think about how much this is going to hurt tomorrow. There’s a job to do.

Maria, who punches her own name again into the keypad, who grits her teeth as she wheels herself over to the little baby in the tube.

Their eyes flicker open when she lays her hand atop the glass. What light was in their eyes from before is fading fast.

She will not let it see her fear.

“Hello, you.”

They blink, a slow, lazy movement. She can’t help but laugh a little.

“My name is Maria. Sorry I didn’t introduce myself sooner. Don’t suppose you can tell me your name, can you?”

Silence. They blink again.

“I heard you were sick, so I’ve brought some stuff that might make you better.” she says as she moves around the tube, looking. “It won’t taste good, but… ah!”

There are two large drums that hook into where the little thing floats silently, and they open when Maria presses a button on top. She can see the same green liquid, viscus and thick, as it is slapped about by a rotating filter.

There’s no way she can lift the commode up to pour everything in.

Maria, who stays there for well over an hour. She’s cupping the nutrients in her hands, letting it go through her fingers and into the vortex below.

She hasn’t prayed in a long time. Truthfully she’s not even sure a god would listen.

Instead, she just hopes.

She hopes the filter won’t suck all of her hard work away, hopes she doesn’t get caught, hopes that maybe, please, maybe, the ugly baby will live.

When she has to take a break, she closes the lid of the commode and sits there, watching those large eyes watch her back, and somehow, she finds the will to keep hoping.

Maybe she’ll find out what colour their eyes become, if this all goes right.

By the time Maria gets back to bed, it’s nearly morning. Her limbs ache, and she can’t eat breakfast, but she’s grinning from ear to ear.

Maria, writing letters back and forth with Abe for weeks through the nurse whose name she now knows is Eleni. Eleni, with dark eyes, and dark skin, and the darkest, curliest hair that Maria had ever seen in her life. She can’t help but feel a bit guilty that she’s never taken the time to get to know this woman. Eleni doesn’t care though. She waves a hand, “You have been sick, too sick for anything else, and you’ve only gotten sicker since they took that little boy away. You have nothing to apologize for.”

And Eleni says she comes from Apotos, and Eleni sighs wistfully about the way the breeze smelled coming in from the ocean, and Eleni talks with both hands about the way the sun burned into dusk over the olive groves near her home.

Eleni, Eleni, Eleni.

Maria repeats it, paying attention to the way her mouth and tongue and teeth come together around her name.

She feels so bad when she steals front the medcart now, but somehow, she thinks that Eleni would understand.

Perhaps that’s just to ease her conscience.

Maria, who feels a gloom call from the hallway.

“And how does Project Shadow proceed?”

There is no voice, and yet, the words cut the air like the imagined hiss of a very real gas leak. It conjures strange visions of swirling pitch behind Maria’s eyes.

Every hair she has left is on end.

A threat. It moves, it breathes, as a threat.

But then there is her grandfather’s familiar rumble of a voice, low and tumbled on his tombstone teeth. She’s almost grateful the speaker and the professor go further down the hall, away from her doorway, taking the murk with them.

That night, she holds her pillow tight and curls inward, as if her whole body can protect the name it dropped in the hallway, the name she now keeps tucked in her own mouth. She imagines spikes growing from her, like great big sharp spines, keeping them safe by filling the room to the point where that voice and its owner would never be able to get near them again.

Still, it haunts her.

“Are you Shadow?” she asks, standing at the tank as she dries her hands off on the skirts of her shift.

The baby is now covered in dark fur, rich and deep, with little curls in the quills atop their tiny head. There’s a little scarlet, too, starting to show from under the black almost like the faint fingers of a polar aurora as they stretch toward the equator. What makes her most excited though, are their eyes. They’re a livid red now, flecked with gold, wide and wild. When they tilt their head at her words, it’s hard not to imagine an actual glint of curiosity flashing in them.

She giggles. “I wasn’t sure at first if that was a good name for you. In fact, I had started a list of alternatives.”

Maria tilts her head opposite the way the little baby tilts theirs. After a moment, it adjusts to match her.

“Darkness is just darkness. I know the books and all try to make it out to be something bigger, but it’s not.” She shakes her head. “But the more I thought about it… well, maybe it is fitting. You can always turn to a shadow to find the light, you know. That’s sort of poetic. At least, I think so.”

Maria purses her lips against the tightness in her heart. When she rests her hand against her chin, bowing her head to think, they copy her.

She laughs, and the gloominess is dispelled.

And she keeps laughing every time she thinks about that moment, even if it hurts.

Maria, who keeps visiting the baby in the tube, though now she has to admit it looks less like a baby and more like a- well, she’s not sure. Her grandfather used to show her photographs and sketches of ancient artifacts from excavations on the Earth below, things that inspired him with his research.

Perhaps this is to look like that one thing in that mural he is so fond of.

Maria sneers. She knows the professor only likes that mural because he thinks the other figure depicted there in the ancient tilework is him.

How egotistical.

It doesn’t matter. What matters is that she will not let Shadow die.

There are nights where, with tears staining her cheeks, she falls asleep and dreams of Shadow, dreams of them growing the most beautiful dark curls, dreams of knowing how to braid so that she can teach them how to braid, dreams of being friends.

There are nights when she hears that murky whispering in her head though, and the dreams turn to nightmares.

Eyes, watching. Thoughts, hissing. A hunger unlike anything else, eating.

Maria, who in the morning wakes up and draws her and the tube baby dancing together on the backsides of used sticky notes. She can’t get the stars right. They always end up upside down. It doesn’t matter though. In this moment, all she thinks about is watching Shadow learn to crawl, to walk, to run, to dance. She wants to teach them how to dance. She wants to grab them and run through the halls to dance through the wide space of the observatory like she used to.

She wants them to dance for hours on end until they run out of breath and their feet are sore.

Maria hums a tune she heard Eleni singing.

She keeps humming even as she shreds the drawings to hide her dreams.

Maria, who finds one day she cannot hold the pencil. Her hands feel numb, fingers thick and fumbling. She keeps trying, but it doesn’t get any better no matter what she does, so she hides it. Everything becomes gross motor. Everything becomes careful. Her hands don’t need to be perfect in order to take what she needs, but she still needs to fit the part of perfect patient.

So she is patient.

But Maria can’t steal the used IV bags anymore, can’t cup her hands to move the slurry from the commode to the vats anymore. She has to change tactics.

Maria, who holds onto a shaky smile for her little friend as they watch her struggle to flip her sweater pocket inside out and shake the fat pills into the swirling tank water below.

“You’re getting so big,” she whispers, “I knew you could make it. I’m so proud of you, Shadow.”

Maria places a hand to the glass and watches amazed as they lift their own and try to press it against hers. They’re so close. They’re right there. Only a thin panel of glass separating their two palms.

And all the little hand-drawn, upside-down stars in her head alight.

But the empty days start to become longer, become worse.

These are the hours where she is too tired to think.

These are the moments when she can’t even cry.

The next time she sees the professor, it’s been ages. He’s smiling. She had almost forgotten what that looked like, but there he is, mustache twitching upwards as he throws his hands into the air.

“I have wonderful news,” Grandpa says as his big hands settle on her bony shoulders. “We have potentially found a cure.”

Maria can’t speak, let alone understand much of what is being said. That doesn’t matter. The professor just keeps talking about his latest medical advancements until Eleni comes in for the evening meds and tells him he has to leave.

There’s no letter from Abe this time.

She doesn’t sleep that night.

The rage boiling in her doesn’t let her rest.

Maria, watching the injection dissipate through her skin as it enters her bloodstream. There’s a golden glint to it, glittering like what she imagines fairy dust to glitter like, moving like what she imagines ambrosia to move like. Still, there’s something about it that stops her cold if she squints too hard. Maria takes measured breaths through her nose, expression blank, as the professor lectures the attending aids and scientists on what is happening.

Then, she recognizes it. That glowing pallor. Even if the red hue underneath it is vibrant and rich, and the golden glitter shines so invitingly, she would know that glow from anywhere.

All it takes is one attendant to point at her spiking heart rate and it all goes south fast.

She stares at her hands in the dark of the room when it’s all over. Her skin carries that light within it now, a soft radiance, and she swears to herself that if they hurt her friend, she will cut these hands of hers apart to return what was taken.

But the next day, she can pick up a pencil again.

She can talk again.

She hates it. Hates the professor, hates the nurses, hates the scientists and the attending aids and the way it takes the blood of her little friend to feel this alive again.

She hates herself.

It’s another month before the professor finally outfits Maria in an electric wheelchair. It’s not particularly fast, but it doesn’t need to be. He says he didn’t do it sooner because they didn’t see her as being strong enough. The professor laughs at this while he ruffles what is left of her hair. She’s been so good, he says. She’s gotten so much better.

Maria smiles to hide her gritted teeth.

She imagines the flesh of his hand between them.

She wants to see Shadow. Needs to see them. Every night in her mind she walks herself down the hallway. The pinpad appears on the ceiling of her room like a mirage, and she has found herself reaching out a hand to input her name.

How dare it be her name. How DARE he use her name in that way. Like this is even about her anymore.

But she must be on her best behavior, no matter what happens. She will do whatever they ask of her, smiling.

She’s worried they’ll take her new wheelchair away if she doesn’t, and she’s already figured out how to take the speed limiter off.

“You can say something if we’re pushing you too hard.” All the nurses say that. It’s the first thing out of everyone’s mouth when she slips up, and it loops like a broken record around the room.

But she just shakes her head and keeps on smiling.

In her dreams, she floats in space with her golden hair and golden wings and her little Shadow, where together they watch the ARK sail straight into the sun.

When did she become so angry?

It frightens her some days, but then pain sets in and she remembers.

They will not take everything from her. They might try, but they won’t succeed.

Maria, back in her wires, in her tube. She doesn’t even feel it when they push the needle into her anymore, her wrists and inner elbows pockmarked by the years spent watching a slow dripping life.

But now, she’s watching the life of her little friend, bagged and hooked up to her IV pole. Now, she’s watching that spark in their eye, distilled and packaged and scrubbed for her consummation, make its way down the tube.

She hates it. Get it out. Make it stop.

Stop.

But Maria is so, so tired.

Was this the moment to say they were pushing her too hard? Or had that moment passed? Or had it only been offered as a formality?

It had been so long since she had been here. She forgot how tight and lonely it is inside the tube, and she wonders if this is how Shadow feels all the time.

Where is her little friend? She wants to hold her little friend.

She doesn’t realize she fell asleep until she wakes with a start, back in her own room, in her bed. When she presses a hand to her eyes with a yawn, she hears something shift beside her.

There sits the professor, watching.

He’s not smiling.

“Maria, is there something you have to tell me?” He says, but the way he speaks has that coiling, hissing gloom within it.

She says no, and she says no as sweetly as she can, hiding the way her heart monitor starts to go faster by sitting up in bed and feigning dizziness. Normally, that works.

It doesn’t this time.

“Maria, I need you to tell me. What is the little creature you keep harping on about?”

She freezes at that.

What has she done? Did she say something in her sleep?

But again, she says no.

“You’re lying to me.”

How does he know?

Just an imaginary friend, nothing more.

“Maria, what have you done?”

It’s like he’s reading her thoughts.

It’s been lonely since they said she and Abe can’t play. Please, she’s tired. Please, go away.

Instead, he stands up, reaching for her with wide empty eyes.

Eleni saves the day just in time. “Doesn’t your granddaughter need rest, sir?” The words break across her teeth, as if she is shattering a glass in warning.

The professor doesn’t even react. He just stands there, still watching Maria. It takes Eleni using the call bell to get help from the aids to remove him, and even then, he turns his head to stare as he leaves.

It is the first time Maria has cried in a long time.

Eleni holds her. She puts Maria’s head to her chest and rocks softly, humming the song she loves so much in that voice she loves so much, smelling of something that makes her heart cave in around a black hole of hurt.

It’s Eleni who dries her tears and teaches her how to braid.

She takes sets of spare shoelaces from the nurse's supply room and spends hours with her, going over all sorts of different techniques. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she whispers everything like it’s a secret until all that fills Maria’s head is the soft sounds of her voice that roll over her brain like ocean waves.

Eleni lets Maria keep the shoelaces, and Maria stays up all night practicing to beat back the memory of how the professor looked at her.

Maria, weeks later, who sits up in bed when Abe walks in. It’s been- how long has it been? How much time has passed since she has seen him. He’s gotten taller, and his face has gained a sharp edge around the chin.

They stay there, watching one another. An aid tries to chip through the silence with a few surface-level pleasantries, but neither one of them give. Ultimately, the aid leaves.

Abe steps forward. “We need to get you out of here.”

How much can a voice change? And how severe can a person become? The boy standing before her now is no longer the baby brother she had loved. No, this person is a stranger, both the boy and the weight he seemed to carry about his shoulders.

Maria stays silent.

“Something bad is going to happen.” Abe walks closer, but stops short of the bed. He could reach out, he could sit down. Instead, he stands there, just a little over an arm's distance away.

Something bad has been happening. He just hasn’t been paying attention. Brat. Selfish brat. She wants to hug him and cry as much as she wants to beat him with her IV pole. Where has he been? Why did he stop writing?

Abe isn’t looking at her. His gaze is fixed on nothing over her shoulder as his hands slowly come up and twist their fingers into knots before him. “That thing the professor talks with, it’s been hanging around, and my dad’s been getting nervous. He’s been talking on the phone he’s not suppose to have. That’s bad.”

Maria grits her teeth, hands curling into fists in her sheets. Abe’s gaze finally shifts to hers, hard as stone.

“We have a plan. When we go to leave, I’ll come get you. You can’t tell anyone though, got it?”

She nods, and Abe leaves.

Jokes on him. She’ll already be gone.

Maria, braiding the laces over and over as cold fire certainty seeps into her bones. Abe might not have the patience to get many details in his stories right, but he did have a good sense of danger.

She looks at her hands. Perhaps it is just her imagination, but she swears she can still see her veins glowing faintly.

They’ll both be long gone.

It feels like every day is a day in eternity, waiting to see them again. She has nightmares of the light in her veins growing brighter as the light in their own eyes fade. Her friend shrivels before her, curling into a ball as their skin turns ashen. Eyes struggle to stay open, rolling under closing lids, breathing labored and heavy as they try to look for her and can’t.

Maria, drowning in her golden hair, screams and screams and screams.

Her hands still hurt when she wakes from visions of trying to break the glass.

But finally, she is well enough. Finally, she can be with her friend.

The braiding shoelaces in her hand shake, soaking in sweat, as she checks to make sure they are alright.

“I don’t know how well you can see,” she mutters as she knots the laces around the head support of a nearby office chair at the base of Shadow’s tube. “How’s that? Is that okay?”

When she looks up, she can’t help but smile. They’ve gotten so big. The colour along their arms and legs is a deep and healthy red, their eyes bright and alert.

Those quills, oh, those thick dark curls, just like Maria had dreamed, streaked through with that red.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, shaking her head. “I had hoped you’d be.”

Shadow bends down slowly in their tube, crouching toward the bottom to come closer to where Maria sits. It was then she noticed the faint eruption of white hairs coming in just under their collarbone, over their heart.

She smiles. “Still so full of surprises.”

It takes another two months for Shadow’s chest fur to come in. It’s a beautiful shock of white against the black, like a moon against the infinite sky.

Reflecting the light, pointing the way.

Maria imagines what it will feel like as she runs her fingers through the fresh peach fuzz on top of her head.

Shadow really is a poetic name.

Maria whispers their name over and over, placing it next to hers.

Shadow and Maria. Maria and Shadow. Say it often enough and it sounds like it’s meant to be true.

They are friends. It doesn’t matter that they’ve never held hands, or braided for each other, or danced.

Though she really wants to dance.

They are friends. She etches it into the wall behind her headboard with an errant safety pin just to see it somewhere that cannot be erased.

Maria and Shadow.

One day. One day. It’ll happen. Shadow will be strong enough to get out of the tube and they’ll do whatever they want forever.

But she’s out of time now.

There is screaming, and gunshots, and screaming, and bursting pressure valves, and screaming, and crying, and just so much screaming.

Maria, who leaves Abe in the care of Eleni, telling her of Abe and his father’s plan, telling Abe to take her and run, telling them both to be safe.

There’s so many tears. There’s so many grabbing hands.

The way Abe’s big eyes glow under the red lights, the way Eleni’s voice snaps when she screams her name.

Maria, rocketing down the hall as fast as she can. Even with the limiters removed from her wheelchair, she feels like she is moving in slow motion. The flashing lights throw strange shapes across her vision, things that make her jump away from the edges of hallways and peer around corners.

She hopes Abe and his dad will keep Eleni safe. She doesn’t want to think about what might happen if Abe’s father says no.

Maria’s wheelchair skids to a halt just outside the door. She measures her breathing as she stands to push her name into the pinpad. The thundering of boots is getting closer and closer.

They round the corner just as she slips in through the door. There’s no time to get back in the wheelchair and bring it inside.

“Shadow!” She’s gasping, stumbling towards the tank. “We’ve got to go!”

And Shadow looks at her, eyes blazing.

The inquisitive brow, the near ethereal calm they normally possess, is gone. Now, there is a panic in them, palpable and real as they spin in helpless circles. She watches them shake as she collapses atop the console.

Maria, pushing every button she can, throwing every switch. Lights start to flash. Somewhere, there is a high-pitched beeping, followed by a low-toned alarm. Nothing works. It’s all in lockdown.

They’re spinning faster.

There’s shouting from the other side of the door. More gunshots. Down a hallway, there is the sound like a bomb going off. Something roars.

She freezes at the horrid, strangled sound. What could have caused that? What has the professor really been doing?

Focus.

She strikes the glass with a snarl as she viciously tugs on the lever, but nothing budges.

She smacks the tube again. Something in her wrist cracks. It doesn’t matter. She clenches her hands and beats the glass.

Again.

She’s screaming.

Again.

She’s beating the glass with her firsts and screaming. Every atom of her being seems to burst into flame as the rage she’s worked so hard to keep in check bursts forth from her skin.

Again.

Her forehead is pressed to the cool glass, though it does nothing to dull the burning ache in her brain. Tears stream down her face, and she’s biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, when suddenly, she feels a thump.

Then there’s another thump, a rippling vibration, and Maria snaps to attention.

Shadow is hitting the glass. It’s gentle, but they’re doing it, eyes darting between two sets of fists under that perpetually knotted brow.

Maria, gasping, smiles.

“That’s it.” she says, “just like that!”

And she hits the tube with both hands, making sure Shadow can see her, making sure they can understand just how hard she’s trying.

“You can do it. I know you can. Come on, Shadow!”

There’s a pause. Something comes over Shadow’s face, an expression she doesn’t know the name for. As they rear back, she swears she sees a flash of that green glow in their eyes just before they slam the glass with clenched fists.

The tube does more than shatter, it explodes. Maria ducks just as water and glass go flying. Overhead the alarms reach a new frenzied pitch, then buzz, then break their speakers. Bulbs buzz brightly and burst.

It’s dark, save for a few errant lights on the edges of the room. As the last tinkling pieces settle on the floor, she looks up.

And there they are.

Finally.

Maria, grinning so hard it hurts. She watches them take their first breath, chest expanding as their eyes go wide, as their hands come up in front of them like they’re just now seeing them for the first time.

Finally.

Maria, laughing, sobbing, as she struggles to her feet, only to fall forward as she wraps her little Shadow in the tightest hug she can.

Finally.

He’s so gross. Slippery and soggy and damp. It doesn’t matter.

Maria and Shadow.

Shadow and Maria.

Together at last.

Maria, who wants to say so much, who wants to do so much, but there’s no time. There are soldiers outside, their guns still warm. They may think to check here. They may beat down the door to shoot her where she stands, and what is she doing?

Hanging off of her friend, her knees give out underneath her as her lungs struggle to catch the air. The room is spinning, but she feels Shadow’s arms come up and around her, she feels them hold her, hug her back.

Their quills are cold to the touch and smooth like laquer, but the fluff of their chest, damp as it is- she knew they would be soft, she knew it.

There’s another boom, closer this time. She holds Shadow tighter.

It’s getting so hard to see.

Maria, who tries to be brave, who takes a deep breath she cannot keep as she looks into her friend’s wide, innocent stare.

“There’s an escape pod room. I-I think I can figure out the way. If we get there, then we’re free.”

Her voice is a rough whisper, but swallowing just makes her throat hurt. Instead, she takes Shadow’s hand in hers and smiles as she points to the door.

Their first steps to the door are tottering, unsure ventures, and she cannot help but groan when she sees the broken remains of her wheelchair. But it’s fine. This is fine. Her knees are screaming. If only for just this moment, she wants to take it slow.

She’ll need her energy when they make a run for it.

Maria and Shadow, looking up and down the hallway. Shadow just stares, tightening and relaxing their grip on her hand. Though she would love to marvel at the feeling, her hair is standing on end as she listens with bated breath.

But no one is coming.

Maybe there is no one left.

Maria and Shadow, shuffling down the hall. It’s all small steps and furtive glances. The gunfire sounds further away now, moving toward the ARKs core. She swears she can feel the floor shake beneath her feet, and wonders if something has exploded below.

From the belly of the beast, she hears another roar and shivers.

“Left,” she says. It comes out as a croak.

Shadow just looks at her. Maria has to point, and then lead them down the hallway to the left, to get them to understand.

Maria and Shadow, wandering the halls. Neither say much. Truthfully, there’s nothing Maria can think of to say. Her whole body feels like it’s being shaken apart by her own frail bones

But her little friend’s hand feels so warm in hers.

She sees blood.

“Wait.”

Shadow looks at her again, at her hand tugging on their own. The growing pool of blood creeps closer, closer, closer to the tips of their bare toes against the steel.

They step back to her.

Maria licks her lips.

“Close your eyes.”

She tries to pantomime for Shadow to understand. It’s not working. All she accomplishes is that slow, lazy blink. Maria pulls them to her, turning them around as she rests her forearms on their shoulders and covers their eyes with her hands. She pushes lightly, and they walk forward.

Good. She can do this. She can do this.

Maria and Shadow, rounding the corner. The body is slumped against the wall closest to them. Maria’s mind played tricks, told her she surely knew them, but that grey hair and those wrinkles could have belonged to anyone. She swallows as she leads Shadow forward, wincing against the warmth as the blood soaks into her socks.

Focus

She doesn’t want to look at the body.

In the periphery of her vision, she sees the brackish red smattering their teeth.

Her eyes narrow on the center of Shadow’s quills.

She doesn’t remove her hands until they make it to the other side, down the hall, and around the corner. The bile in her throat burns, but her little friend will not see. They will not know.

Maria and Shadow, their hands slowly coming up to cover hers atop their eyes, and she pulls them away. As they look around, their gaze begins to drift towards their feet, towards the bloody footprints they have left behind them.

“Don’t!” The word snaps in her mouth like a firecracker.

Keep their eyes on her.

Maria catches their face in her hands. She turns them toward her, and maybe she is gripping too hard, and maybe they know something is wrong, but she smiles against her singed tongue anyway.

“It’s nothing. We have to keep going. Okay?”

She nods. After a moment, Shadow nods too, and Maria’s smile softens.

The hallway behind them collapses in a burst of fire.

Maria and Shadow, falling to the floor. Smoke and ash fill her lungs as her ears pop from the sudden change in pressure. She reaches for them, curls one arm about their thrashing head and the other around their body as she pulls them under her as best she can.

Not that she could shield them from much, but that will not stop her from trying.

It’s all too much. The burst of heat that throws her skirt about her knees, the sudden onrush of gunfire and popping flames. Her legs feel useless. They kick and fail and can gain no purchase against the steel, but she has to find something. If she doesn’t—

There’s that roar, louder, closer. Maria lifts her head just enough to see a soldier screaming as it pours bullets into something moving through the din.

She covers Shadow’s ears just before it gets to the soldier. The sound it makes–

She gags, looking away.

They have to run.

She can’t run.

She has to find a way.

Maria and Shadow, sliding slowly down their dangling piece of hallway. Maria reaches out to grab a piece of twisted rebar. She can feel the flesh of her hand prickle against the heat.

Her grip tightens.

They will not die here.

From seemingly nowhere, there are soldiers flooding their hallway. They’re yelling, pointing. One lifts their gun to aim.

She clutches Shadow tighter to her.

And in an instant, they’re gone.

The monster rises from the dark corner, trailing behind its arm that now lies embedded within the chest of the soldier. The man twitches like a puppet, limbs jerking as their head rolls back onto their shoulders, before being cast aside.

Pandemonium.

Gunfire and flames, explosions, sirens. It is too much. An errant bullet tears through her nightgown and on instinct she recoils, almost losing her grip.

Figure it out. She has to figure this out. She has to get them out.

“Shadow!” Maria looks at her little friend, uncovering his ears as she shifts her grip. “I need you to help me.”

They just stare, fear in every inch of their face.

“I need you to pull me up.”

Can they understand her? Do they know what she’s asking for?

She hoists her arm holding him as best as she is able, just a little, then pulls on the arm clinging to the rebar. Joints pop. Tendons strain.

She wants to cry so badly, but she will not. She will be brave. They have made it so far.

And against all odds, she sees the light of understanding come through the fear in Shadow’s eyes.

Shadow twists out of her grasp. They move in ways they shouldn’t, their body contorting as claws reach out and pierce the steel of the dangling hallway floor like it is made of cotton. Shadow doesn’t crawl. They scuttle. It’s the only word she can find to describe what she is witnessing. They scuttle like a bug up the floor and out of the hole back into the hallway.

Don’t think about it too hard.

And then their hands come down, red and black and clawed, but still such gentle palms, and with one movement, it grabs her own hand still clinging to the rebar and gives an almighty tug.

And she flies up-

(her shoulder dislocates)

- and out of the hole.

The impact against the floor forces the air from her, releases the sounds of pain she has kept locked tight for so long. She’s gasping, choking and coughing on tears.

“Damn it.” She curls in on herself, clutching her shoulder. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!”

Shadow and Maria, there on the floor.

Safe, but for how long?

Her little friend is crouched next to her, huddling over her, and through watering eyes, she realizes they are trying to shield her just as she did them. Their face is close, eyes etching a pattern into her skin as they rove across her.

They’re afraid.

For her, of her - doesn’t matter.

Maria takes her good arm, the one that can still move, and lifts it to pat Shadow’s face.

“Thank you,” she says softly. “You did such a good job, and you’re being so brave. I’m so proud of you.”

Their eyes soften.

But this moment cannot last.

Maria and Shadow, one dragging the other to their feet, stumbling down the hall. She swears they’re close to the escape pod room, but she can’t be sure. And then what? She not sure she’ll know how to work the controls. Nobody ever told her. Nobody ever thought Maria Robotnick, after all the attempts at saving her Grandfather has done over the years, would have to save herself, let alone her little friend.

Maria grits her teeth. Nobody ever thought she could do anything by herself, and here she is, not even able to walk alone.

Useless arm. Useless legs. Useless, useless. She was too slow. Deadweight walking. The sounds of gunfire behind them echoes through the hallway. She’s going to get them killed. She should have just told Shadow to leave. Maybe then it would have been her body slumped against the wall, her blood they would have to run through, but at least they could run.

But who saved Shadow in the first place?

She looked to her little friend, who looked back up at her with those wide, bright eyes.

Maria feels her heart beat in her chest. It vibrates in her fingertips, shakes the air in her lungs as she breathes.

She did. She saved them.

Her good hand grips Shadow’s shoulder.

“Right,” she whispers, pointing.

Shadow carefully steers them around the corner, and there stands the door she’s been looking for. The sign panel next to it is a little melted, the floor pockmarked with bullet holes from one level down, but it’s a door, and it looks like the power here is still on.

Shadow doesn’t have to worry about the raw-edged metal around the holes in the floor, but Maria does. She stands on her toes, ankles wobbling, as she opens the panel next to the door. A hand scanner, not a pin pad, stares back at her.

She breathes a sigh of relief as she places her hand atop the screen.

Shadow hisses.

Maria fumbles, turning around to see Shadow’s eyes wide, claws and teeth bared. No longer do they look like her sweet, soft friend. In this moment, they are alien. The sound coming from them – maybe it isn’t a hiss, maybe it’s something else– there’s a strange clicking in there somewhere- it echoes along the hallway, rolling like a rogue marble, only getting louder as it goes on.

Maria grabs him by the head, palm flat against his quills.

“Stop! Someone will-!”

She turns a little further, and there, turning back around down the hall, was a soldier.

Shadow’s hissing grows louder. Maria could feel their quills under her hand bristle and bite flesh. The soldier seemed frozen in place.

Then, the door opens.

Maria, grabbing Shadow and falling backwards through the opening, rolling out of the way as a shot rings out. The door closes behind them again and two deep dents break its sterile smoothness.

Shadow wriggles in her arms, teeth gnashing they try to break free. Maria clings to them tighter.

“Shh!” Maria doesn’t have a good grip. “Shh- it’s okay! We’re okay! Shadow, please!”

She pets them even though it hurts her hands. It’s the only thing she can think to do. For a moment, Shadow goes still. Their gaze flickers back to her, and Maria can see them recognize her once more.

The soldier beats his fist against it. “You need to open this door! If you don’t, I can’t guarantee your safety!”

Shadow’s hackles start to rise once more.

“Ignore him!” It comes out as a wail despite her best efforts, “Leave him alone, we’re almost out of here!”

“Open the door!”

“No!”

Maria and Shadow, one dragging the other. She’s doing her best but they’re being so stubborn, and she’s only got one working arm. Tears are rolling down her face as her knees scream in protest. She can see the last escape pod right there, in the middle of the room. And there, against the wall, that looks like the control panel. If she can figure it out, they’ll be out of here!

But Shadow is not making this easy. They want to fight, but there is no time to fight.

“Go!” Maria points to the open pod. “Go stand there! Now!”

Shadow won’t comply. It’s getting hard to touch them, let alone hold them. Their quills pierce her skin like needles.

With a snarl, Maria changes directions, moving for the escape pod with Shadow in tow. She has to push and shove to get them up and inside, but eventually, they get the message.

Behind her, there is a burst of gunfire, and then the door is forced open.

Maria’s hand hits the red button at the base of the escape pod faster than she can think. In an instant, the glass door comes down between her and Shadow. She can hear Shadow’s muffled screaming as she turns to face the gun.

“Stop!”

Maria blinks. She looks past the shaking barrel to the person holding it, watching as they seem to almost shrink as she makes eye contact with them through their visor.

They’re a boy, not much older than her. It’s obvious as soon as she sees it. They’re just a boy.

The gun jerks.

“Get away from there.” There’s a hard edge to his voice, a falsehood of control. He’s trying to be brave, just like she is.

She hears thumping behind her, the screaming getting louder. Maria is sure if she were to look, she would see Shadow pounding on the glass.

The boy cocks his gun and fires a shot just to the side of her, making her jump.

“I said get away from there!”

The lights in the room flicker

Something shifts deep within, and for a moment, Maria is outside of herself looking in, watching, knowing what is coming. The anger- that burning furious need to cry, to scream, to fight- in an instant, it is choked out by the crystalline peace that floods her soul.

She hasn’t prayed in a long time.

Maria, slowly reaching behind her and grabbing the lever labled ‘emergency’ at the base of the escape pod.

“Don’t do anything stupid!” The boy is yelling again, but that can’t hide the fact his gun is shaking in his hands.

She’s not even sure a god would listen, but it doesn’t matter.

Maria, slowly turning to Shadow to look one last time at the light in those wide, bright eyes. It’s as if the two of them are alone in the silent vacuum of space. Everything is cold. The view is clear.

Shadow and Maria. Maria and Shadow. This was meant to be, if only for one glorious, beautiful moment.

She hopes she’s been a good enough friend, hopes the escape pod does its job, hopes that maybe, please, maybe, Shadow will get to Earth, and live, and be happy.

Maria, who smiles as she pulls the lever.

75 notes · View notes

mochegato · 10 months

Text

Most Magical Place on Earth

Marinette observed the people jostling around her and Emma in barely contained chaos. If this was the size of the crowd this early, then paying for early admission to the Magic Kingdom was definitely worth it. It might be a bit insane at the moment, but she couldn’t imagine now much worse the chaos was going to get in half an hour.

A joyous cheer rose up through the crowd when they finally opened the gates and started scanning cards. Marinette giggled at the loud whoop Emma let out, not really sure why everyone was cheering, but excited to join in the ruckus. She kept a tight grasp on Emma’s hand as they made their way through the gates and onto Mainstreet, which was rather unnecessary since Emma had a vice grip on her hand so she could drag them down the street toward Cinderella’s castle.

Marinette heaved a bemused sigh as she focused on keeping them from either tripping or bumping into anyone, but she almost fell when Emma suddenly stopped and yanked her hand toward herself to get Marinette’s attention. “Maman! Maman! Look! He has a Thomas O’Malley shirt, Maman. Maman, it matches ours!”

Marinette looked over in the direction Emma was pointing, toward the man leisurely strolling next to them, his hands resting casually in his pockets, clearly in no rush, unlike the people bustling around them. Her eyes caught on the shirt stretched across his chest. She had to force herself to focus on the cat design on the shirt rather than the way his arms and chest bulged under the fabric.

After an inappropriately long period of time, she lightly cleared her throat and turned back to Emma with a smile. “He does. Good observation, kitten,” she praised and tried to encourage her to move forward, but Emma had other ideas.

Instead, she pulled Marinette toward the man and slowed down to match his pace. “Hey Mister! I really like your shirt. It matches mine!” She held out her Marie shirt for him to see. “Do you like Aristocats too?”

He blinked in surprise but grinned down at her. “I do. It was the first Disney movie I ever saw. Did you know it’s based on a real family of cats in Paris that inherited a butt… uhh…” he shot a Marinette an apologetic grimace, “bunch of money?” he recovered quickly.

Emma gasped, her eyes wide in wonder, missing Marinette’s snort at his lapse. “It is? That’s so cool. What happened to them? Can we visit them when we go home, Maman?” She jumped up and down in front of Marinette as she begged.

Marinette raised an eyebrow at her, but her lips quirked up in amusement. “New York is our home now, kitten. Remember?”

Emma deflated instantly. “Oh, right.” She looked down with a dramatic pout for just a second before looking back up, eyes bright again. “But what about when we visit Grandma and Grandpa and Aunt Alya and Uncle Nino and…”

Marinette chuckled and ran her finger along her jaw affectionately before bopping her nose. “Sorry, kitten. I don’t think we can. That was a long time ago, before even Maman was born. I don’t think we can visit them anymore.”

“Oh,” Emma pouted to the ground for a few seconds but soon turned back to the man with wide eyes. “Do you watch it a lot? It’s my favorite movie. Who’s your favorite character?”

“Oh, that’s hard,” he crossed his arms over his chest and stroked his chin as he pretended to think about it. Marinette had to force her attention forward rather than the way that move accentuated his biceps. “…but I think I like Thomas O’Malley.”

“Abraham DeLacey Giuseppe Casey,” Emma sang as loud as she could. “Thomas O’Malley, O’Malley the alley cat.”

He chuckled and smiled warmly at her, keeping his focus entirely on her and Marinette even as he shoved another man with black hair and blue eyes, who had been drawn over by Emma’s singing, ahead of them. “Good memory. Who’s your favorite?”

“Marie,” she answered instantly as she motioned to her shirt again. “I want to get a Marie stuffie while I’m here. Maman likes the mommy cat, see?” She pulled at Marinette’s shirt.

The man looked Marinette up and down once, eyes lingering on the cat on her shirt before realizing he was staring at her chest. “Sorry,” he chuckled and looked away quickly, a blush just dusting his cheeks. “She’s a good character too. Strong and supportive. A good mom,” he looked over at her kindly.

She smiled back at him and opened her mouth but before she could respond she was cut off by someone calling toward them. “Jaybird! Where’d you go?”

The man groaned and shook his head. “Sorry. My family. Big kids, the lot of them, except the kid, which is a problem actually.” He flashed them a brilliant smile. “Have fun, yeah?”

“Come on, Jay! We have to get to the Seven Dwarfs Mine ride before it gets too long!” one of them called.

He threw his head back with a groan. “More than I’m going to have.”

Marinette giggled and squeezed Emma’s hand to get her to meet her eyes and laugh too. “Good luck. Maybe we’ll see you around.”

He smiled back with a nod but before he could answer, another man grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back toward the family with a small smile and nod to Marinette and Emma.

Marinette snorted out a laugh at the Aristocats fan’s expression but waved. She watched his back for just a moment before looking back at Emma with a grin. “Ready, kitten?”

“Yeah! Come on, Maman!” She had pulled Marinette just a few steps before she gasped loudly. “Maman! Maman! We need a picture in front of Cinderella’s castle!”

“Okay. Okay, slow down,” she laughed despite doing nothing to slow Emma down in the slightest. They wove through the crowd until they found the perfect spot. They just had to wait a few minutes for the people in front of them, who also agreed it was the perfect spot, to get their pictures as well. The wait passed by quickly, with no complaining from Emma, which was a good sign for the rest of the day because this was likely the shortest wait they would have for the rest of the day.

It wasn’t until the last people cleared the spot that she realized the error of her plan. She had nobody to take a picture of the two of them. She just started to look for someone when Emma solved the issue for them. “M. O’Malley! M. O’Malley! Can you take a picture of us?”

The man froze crossing in front of them like he’d been caught but relaxed when he saw who it was. “Hey! Long time no see.”

Marinette smiled shyly at him. “Would you mind taking a picture of us? With the castle in the background?” She motioned toward the castle with her phone as if there were any question which castle she was referring to.

He shrugged. “Sure.” He took her phone with a teasing grin. “Trust me with your phone? This relationship is progressing quickly.”

She snorted but grinned back as she got herself and Emma into position. “No offense, I think we should slow this down. Maybe take a break for a bit to reevaluate.”

He snickered but quickly schooled his face. “It’s not you it’s me,” he agreed with a sage nod.

“No, it’s definitely you,” Marinette chirped.

He barked out a laugh at the wicked grin she shot him and looked down with an exaggerated grimace. “Not the first time I’ve heard that.” He looked back up with a grin to let her know he was joking. “Okay, you two ready?”

Marinette and Emma met each other’s eyes and nodded to each other then to him. “Ready,” they said together.

“Okay. One, two, three. Smile!” He took several pictures. Some at different angles and different zooms. “There you go,” he said as he handed the phone back to her. “Let me know if you want more or those don’t work for you. I don’t have a great eye, but they looked pretty perfect to me.”

Marinette smiled shyly again, her cheeks darkening slightly, and had to look away as she pocketed the phone. “Thank you. Would you like a picture?”

He looks up at the castle as if considering it for the first time and turned back to meet her eyes. “Sure. I guess I probably should since I’m here,” he said with a shrug.

She looked at him expectantly for a few seconds, keeping eye contact as her eyebrows rose with each passing second until they were almost at her hairline. When he still hadn’t moved, she snorted inelegantly, her face split into a brilliant grin. “Did you want a picture? With your phone or…”

“Oh! Right.” He looked down longer than strictly necessary when he grabbed his phone to let his cheeks cool down. By the time he looked up again, his cheeks were back to normal, or at least he was desperately hoping they had. Whatever progress he made by taking a breath was lost when their fingers brushed as he handed her his phone, the contact sending tingles through his fingers and up his arm.

She smiled softly at him for a second before it turned into a smirk. “Now we’re exchanging phones. This doesn’t feel like it’s slowing down.”

He barked out another laugh at the comment, caught completely off-guard, throwing his head back as he laughed. She grinned up at him from his phone. “Perfect,” she said quietly. She started to hand back the phone but stopped and looked around instead. “Do you want your family with you for one?”

He grabbed the phone gently, careful not to brush their fingers this time, it wasn’t good for his concentration. “Nah. They’re already past the castle.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” she gasped.

His heart twinged at the guilty look in her eyes, which he obviously couldn’t allow to stand. “Oh, that has nothing to do with you,” he assured her. “I left them there. Now starts the hide and seek portion of the trip,” he grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

“Ooohhh, I love hide and seek,” Emma popped up, bouncing in excitement at the idea. “Can we play too?”

“No!” Marinette exclaimed loudly. She cleared her throat lightly and took a breath before pasting on a smile. “Sweetie, remember what I said about walking around here?”

“Stay close to you. Hold your hand if I can. And always stay in your line of sight,” Emma replied lifelessly, like it was a mantra she’d had to repeat often.

Marinette got down on her knees and softly brushed Emma’s hair over her shoulder before settling her hands on Emma’s shoulders. “That’s right. Great job remembering. There’s a lot of people here, kitten, and it’s easy to get lost for real.”

Emma pouted but nodded in understanding. “Maybe you can help me hide later if you see me,” the man offered with a sympathetic smile. “My family is really good at hide and seek and I might need some help.”

“Yeah!” Emma grinned. “That sounds great. I’m a great helper.”

He suddenly lurched toward them, just barely stopping himself from bowling them both over when someone bumped into him without bothering to apologize or even acknowledge the hit. “Wow,” he grumbled, but quickly turned on a smile for Emma. “Guess they’re in a rush,” he chuckled.

“Must be trying to get to one of the rides before the lines get too long,” Marinette agreed, her voice intentionally light. She pulled Emma a bit closer to herself as she watched the other man walk away.

“Yeah, I guess I don’t blame them. The lines can get pretty long,” Jason nodded with a sigh. “I should probably get going myself.”

Emma’s eyes widened in excitement. “Are you going to get in line now?”

“Yeah, I’m doing TRON first,” he motioned vaguely toward the Tomorrowland portion of the park. “Get it out of the way before the line gets too long. I’ve been told it is extremely popular.”

“I wanted to do TRON first,” Emma pouted, exasperation clear in her voice, “but I’m not tall enough.” She huffed and roughly shoved the hair out of her face then crossed her arms over her chest for good measure.

“But,” Marinette cut in brightly, “we can check out the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad before that line gets too long.”

“Ooohhh. Let me know how it is,” he asked, matching Marinette’s brightness. “That’s on my list. I’ll be counting on you to know if it’s worth it.”

Emma immediately brightened and nodded solemnly. “I will.”

Marinette smiled proudly at her as she took her hand. Her smile softened as she looked up to meet his eyes. “Enjoy your day and thank you again.”

“Anytime,” he said warmly with a slow nod. He watched them as they walked away but called out to them just before they got too far away. “See you around!”

Marinette turned around while still walking, now backwards. “That appears to be a dangerous thing to say,” she warned with a giggle then turned with a nod and a wave.

He grinned at her back. “Not so dangerous,” he said quietly to himself.

><><><><><><><

“Hey! It’s Thomas O’Malley!”

Jason froze and a grin spread instantly on his lips as he looked around for the bubbly little girl, finally spotting her running toward him. He raised his eyes to find her mom trailing a bit behind her and couldn’t help the pride in his chest when she relaxed at seeing him. “Hey, Marie,” he chuckled. “How was Thunder Mountain?”

“Amazing,” she gushed. “And we did the Jungle Cruise! It was so fun. The driver was so funny!”

Marinette smiled. “It really was worth it… Thunder Mountain, I mean. Actually, the Jungle Cruise was a lot of fun too, but in a different way.” She shrugged and looked away, with a far away look in her eyes. “But then again, I have a very soft spot for puns, so I enjoyed the captain a lot. If they’re not your thing, it might be a miss for you.”

He groaned dramatically but there was a sparkle in his eyes. “I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it. My brother is a pun master. We can’t get him to stop. It might give me flashbacks.” Jason shuddered for Emma then mussed her hair. “Thanks for the review, kiddo. I’m heading to Thunder Mountain now. I may have to stop by the Cruise too.”

“I’ll tell you how Tom Seer Island is!” Emma chirped. “That’s where we’re heading now.”

“Tom Sawyer Island,” Marinette corrected with a chuckle.

Emma nodded sheepishly. “I’ll tell you how Tom Sawyer Island is,” she corrected quietly.

His face shifted to a serious look, and he crouched down in front of her to meet her eyes. “I wasn’t sure if I should go there so I’m counting on your insight.”

Her face split into a brilliant grin and she nodded. “Will do.” They gave each other curt, determined nods.

Marinette chuckled and took Emma’s hand. “It was good to see you again. Enjoy the ride! We have to get back into line,” she rolled her eyes but smiled.

Jason met her eyes with a smile. “And you,” he nodded.

“See you around,” she called over her shoulder with a wink.

Jason stared at her back for a few seconds. Finally, he chuckled to himself and shook his head before heading to the Big Thunder Mountain.

><><><><><><><

Jason looked around intently. Stephanie and Duke had just walked by and if they were there, the rest of the family was probably close by, he just wasn’t sure if they were at the end of the line or in the middle of it. They couldn’t have been leading, that was definitely Dick and Damian; Damian purely because Dick would be keeping him there.

He cautiously stood up and walked out from behind the display barrels and was almost knocked down when something attacked him. He held in the squawk of surprise until he saw who it was, then let it out louder than was realistic and fell over dramatically with her on top of him and his drink safely held to the side. “Thomas O’Malley! Thomas Sawyer Island was amazing! You should definitely go!” Emma crowed.

Jason grinned as he sat up. “Well, now I have to go. I always did fancy myself a pirate. Seems like somewhere I’d fit in.”

Marinette rushed up to him and immediately offered her hand to help him up, which made Jason chuckle internally. There was no way he wouldn’t take her down if he actually let her take his full weight. He took the hand anyway but pushed himself up with his other arm, keeping his drink secured and straight. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” she asked as she dusted off his back stopping herself just in time to prevent getting the grass off his finely toned behind. She almost jumped back pulling her hands to herself.

Jason waved her off. “Don’t worry about it. That was the nicest tackle I’ve gotten in a while.” He froze for a second then sent her a disarming smile. “Brothers,” he explained, partially truthfully. “They’re all a lot bigger… well, except for Damian.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “So, Tom Sawyer was fun?” he asked Emma.

She grimaced slightly. “It was fun with a kid, but speaking of fitting in, it might be a bit…” she motioned toward his shoulders and his height. “There’s some more confined areas.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “Got it.” He squatted down in front of Emma. “Well, you were right about Thunder Mountain. It was a lot of fun, so I trust you when you say it was great. For my part, I recommend these,” he held up a pineapple whip. “They are amazing!”

Emma gasped and looked up at Marinette with wide, hopeful eyes. “Can we, Maman?”

Marinette rolled her eyes but nodded with a smile. “We can get some before we wait in line for the princesses.”

“Yay!” Emma yelled as she fist pumped.

Marinette chuckled. “Thank you. And thank you for the…” she motioned to the ground where he’d fallen. “That was incredibly thoughtful. Actually, everything has been.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged, his gaze drifting to the ground. “No problem. It’s been fun for me. It’s what this place is supposed to be about, right?”

She nodded with a pleased smile. “And family. Speaking of which, how goes your game?”

He whipped his head around, eyes wide with panic. “Fuuuu… Oh! Almost forgot,” he corrected quickly. Once assured they were not around, his shoulders relaxed, and he gave her an easy smile. “So far so good. I saw a few of them just before you guys came over. Think I’m safe as long as I head that way,” he motioned the direction they were going. “Actually, that’s where the whips were. I can show you where to get them before I move on,” he offered.

Marinette smiled sweetly at the offer and nodded. “That sounds nice. Thank you.”

“Come on!” Emma urged. She grabbed both their hands and pulled them down the walkway, all of them laughing as they moved.

><><><><><><><

Marinette and Emma had just made it into Fairytale Hall when something collided with the wall next to them. Marinette pulled Emma behind her and eased into a defensive stance before she recognized the intruder, instantly relaxing her body. “M. O’Malley!” Emma cheered and gave him a hug while he was on the ground and therefore her height.

Marinette instantly checked through the stained-glass window for the source of his fleeing and spotted another black-haired, blue-eyed man searching the area. “Marie!” Jason cheered back. He quirked head to the side. “You changed.”

Emma twirled for him, letting the skirt of her Cinderella dress flare up. “I’m a princess!”

He snickered. “You certainly are. Duchess,” he nodded to Marinette with a charming smile.

She snorted but nodded back. “Thomas.” She looked back through the glass and accidentally met the gaze of the man. She instantly shifted her focus to the mice in the stained-glass and pointed to them for Emma. “Hey kitten, do you remember the names of the mice?” She lifted Emma up and pointed to the mice again. The man continued to watch them for just a few more seconds before continuing on. She let out a breath as Emma named off Cinderella’s mice. “Good job, kitten. You have such a good memory,” she praised as she set her down. “He’s moved on.”

Jason stood cautiously, making sure to keep out of direct line of the clear portions of the windows as he checked for any more family. Seeing no signs of them, he breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Marinette, but his breath caught again. Her face was lit up by the light through the stained-glass, like the sun was shining just for her, like she was a prism, drawing in all the world’s magic and refracting it back out in a shimmering, mesmerizing beauty.

“Thanks for that,” he managed to get out breathlessly until a thought occurred to him. “Mind if I hang out with you guys for a bit? That was Dick, the pun-lover. He’ll be at the head of the line. The others won’t be far behind. It would be a good idea to lay low for a while.”

Marinette snorted and shrugged. “Suit yourself but it’s likely at least another half an hour before we get to see the princesses.”

Jason slowly looked around and took in the line for the first time. “Wow, that’s dedication.”

“That’s just for Cinderella. There’s another line that’s just as long for Rapunzel,” she said quietly.

Jason turned his wide eyes to the line on the other side of the hall, tracing it from the front, which he couldn’t see back to the opposite side from them. “At least it’s not the same line.” He met her eyes with a grimace. “I may not wait with you for that one.”

Marinette snickered and bumped shoulders with him. “Can’t say I blame you.”

He smiled sappily down at her until Emma bumped into his thigh with her shoulder to get his attention. “But, that explains the costume change,” he said brightly.

“I’m wearing Cinderella’s dress and she’s going to be wearing Cinderella’s dress, because she’s Cinderella, so we’ll match!” She spun again for him causing him to chuckle.

“That makes sense,” he agreed and mussed up her hair again. “Couldn’t get your mom into one too?” he asked, his eyes sliding to Marinette with a teasing gaze.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “No.”

He snickered as they shuffled forward by a few feet. “So, we have a bit of time…”

“Maman and I have been playing hand clapping games while we wait,” Emma cut in, jumping up in front of him. “I can teach you some! They’re in French though because that’s what I learned them in.”

Jason nodded and mirrored her position. “And I can teach you an American one. My best friend’s daughter taught me one called Lemonade.” He looked up just before they started and caught Marinette watching them, a soft look in her eyes, and shot her a warm, charming smile.

><><><><><><><

Jason did not appreciate being as exposed as he was currently, but there was no way around it. The line for It’s a Small World stretched along one of the main walkways and there was no hiding. He contented himself by shrinking down as low as he could without looking odd enough to attract attention. The downside was it made it harder for Marie and Duchess, he really needed to learn their names the next time they ran into each other, which he was fairly confident would be any time now… or at least hoped it would be.

As if on cue, he heard a small cry rapidly coming at him. “M. O’Malley!” This time, he braced himself obviously, as if the forty-pound girl could move him since there was no room to fall over. He gave a loud ‘oof’ when she tackled his leg in a hug. He looked around quickly to make sure Duchess, he groaned internally again, he really needed to learn their names, knew where they were and relaxed when he saw her slowly making her way to them, a bemused smile on her lips.

“Marie!” he exclaimed patting her back while she still clung to his leg. “I know I say it's a small world, here, but this is ridiculous.”

Marinette stopped just short of him, on the other side of the chain for the line, with a groan, but Emma giggled hysterically. “That’s such a dad joke,” she eked out between giggles.

“Yes, definitely one Papa would have loved,” Marinette agreed quietly. She took a breath and smiled sweetly at him. “I swear we’re not following you.”

He smiled back at her for a few seconds until Emma tapped his arm. “You okay?” she asked, looking over his face very seriously. “You didn’t answer. It’s rude not to answer someone.”

He had to fight the smirk at her chastisement. “Sorry. Got lost for a second. Thanks for checking on me.” He turned back to Marinette. “You know, I think I’d be okay with it if you were. Honestly, at this point, it seems like fate or magic or something.”

Marinette hummed and eyed her purse. “Right, or something,” she mumbled.

“You need sunblock?” Emma offered. “Maman was spraying me when I saw you. If you’re having trouble focusing, it could be too much sun,” she noted sagely.

He snorted. “I’m pretty good. Thank you so much for watching out for me.”

Marinette quirked her head to the side studying his face. She reached out like she was going to feel his head but redirected her hand to smooth down Emma’s hair instead. “She might be right. I think you might be getting some sun. We have plenty of sunblock if you want some, but at least take this,” she insisted holding out a bottle of water to him. “We haven’t drunk from it at all yet, so it’s clean.”

“I don’t want to take your water,” he objected weakly.

She waved him off. “It’s nothing. Can’t have my ex passing out from dehydration. It’s not a good look. The local vigilantes would come looking for me. It would ruin our entire vacation.”

He froze as he reached out for the water but covered it with an awkward chuckle. “Local vigilantes? Are there vigilantes around here?"

Marinette shrugged and looked around. “Aren’t there in all the American east coast cities?”

He shook his head with a snort. “No, no there are not.” He opened his mouth to ask her about her assumption but was cut off by her sudden hiss “Get down!”

He ducked instantly, his eyes darting around. “That’s one of your brothers, isn’t it?” she asked quietly as she moved in front of him and started spraying Emma again. “The one from this morning?”

Jason moved just slightly to peek between the two of them and spotted Tim. “It is,” he confirmed and quickly ducked back out of sight, or at least as much as he could. He was far too exposed where he was and there was no wall to hide behind this time and he wouldn’t be able to dive through the people in line without disrupting them and attracting attention. He let out a light groan, just about ready to give it up, when he coughed instead.

The air was suddenly saturated with something making his eyes water and his lungs burn. He didn’t have to look far to find the source; Marinette. He half-snickered, half-coughed as she filled the air around them with aerosol sunblock, causing people to avoid their area, giving them a wide berth to avoid the burn.

He waited until Tim had moved on, coughing and waving his hand in front of his face as he passed them, before he stood up again. He looked back at Marinette impressed with her quick thinking. “That was brilliant!” he said in awe.

She grimaced and tucked the can away. “I don’t think the others agree with you,” she muttered, eyeing the people around them in line, who were also eyeing her disapprovingly.

He glowered at the people but softened his expression when he turned back to her. “Well then they would be wrong, because that was amazing.”

She smiled brightly at his praise. “I’m just glad we were able to help you hide.”

Emma gasped. “We helped you hide?”

“You did,” he confirmed. “You were terrific.” She beamed at his comment, looking up at her maman to make sure she heard and was proud too. Jason looked around to make sure there were no other family around then stared at the spot Tim had disappeared to. “Funny, I think that’s the third time I saw my, like ten, family members but I’m seeing you everywhere.”

Marinette blinked and looked down at her purse again. “Yeah… funny. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be sorry!” he insisted. He waved his hands disarmingly and shot her a radiant smile. “It’s not a bad thing. I’ve looked forward to seeing you between rides.” He looked down at Emma. “And getting your recommendations.”

“Ooohhh,” Emma perked up instantly, “M. O’Malley! You HAVE to do the Little Mermaid ride! It was amazing! It was so much fun!” Marinette shook her head behind Emma and mouthed ‘No, it wasn’t’. “Wasn’t it great, Maman?”

“Yep,” Marinette chirped with a bright smile for Emma but as soon as she turned around, she shook her head for Jason again.

Jason snickered. “Well, that sounds like a ride a pirate should investigate.”

Emma gasped. “That’s perfect! Because she’s a mermaid and lives in the sea and pirates sail on the seas.” She quirked her head to the side. “But you look more like Price Eric, not a pirate.”

Jason scoffed but puffed his chest slightly at Marinette’s appraising look. “I’m no prince, I can assure you. I’m more of a street rat.”

Emma furrowed her brow and shook her head. “No, you definitely don’t look like Aladdin.”

Marinette snorted but tried to hide it with a cough and waved her hand in front of her face as though it was a delayed reaction to the sunblock. Jason gasped dramatically before narrowing his eyes playfully. “You know, for a very short period, I had red hair so…” he motioned toward his shirt, “maybe I should have said street cat.”

Emma giggled hysterically for a minute. When she calmed down, she eyed him critically. “I don’t know if that would be good for you.”

“Emma!” Marinette gasped. “That was rude. You need to apologize right now.”

Emma’s face immediately fell. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Jason knelt down in front of her with a soft smile. “It’s okay. You were right. Trust me, it wasn’t a good time for anyone.”

He looked up and met Marinette’s eyes, getting lost again until the sound of a throat clearing behind him interrupted. Marinette blinked and let out a breath. “Come on, kitten. M. O’Malley needs to get going. We’re holding up the line.”

Jason let them get a step away before he stopped them and let the family go ahead of him in line. “It’s Jason. Jason Todd.” She turned back slightly startled but quickly smiled tenderly at him. “I figured you should probably start calling me by my real name at this point.”

Her smile widened and she stepped closer again. “Marinette Agreste and this is Emma.”

“Nice to meet you,” Emma chirped. “Well, not meet you because we’ve been talking all day, but it feels like meeting.”

“It does, you’re right,” he agreed. He met Marinette’s eyes as he spoke. “Those are beautiful names. It’s nice to meet you both. You could… join me, if you wanted. I mean, if fate’s going to keep throwing us together, we might as well embrace it. No use fighting fate.”

Marinette smiled for a second before shaking her head. “No, we couldn’t impose like that. I’m sure there are rides you want to go on that we can’t.”

“No, not really,” he assured her. “I think Tron is the only one Emma couldn’t ride, and I’ve already done that one. And really, it’s more about the experience than anything else. Unless you don’t…”

“Can we please Maman?” Emma begged, her eyes wide with hope.

Marinette pulled her lower lip between her teeth and shyly brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’d like that. I mean, we might as well. If you’re sure. We just had Space Mountain, the Buzz Lightyear ride, and visit Mickey and Minnie at the Town Square left on our list, then we were thinking about getting dinner somewhere, but if there were rides you wanted to go to or things you didn’t want to go to, we can adjust. The only things we definitely need to do are get dinner and buy a Marie stuffie,” she babbled.

“No, that sounds brilliant,” Jason interrupted with a smile and held up the chain for them. “I’d love to do all of that with you,” he continued as they stepped ahead of him in line.

Marinette smiled playfully and opened her mouth to respond but Emma bounced up between them. “Lemonade! Let’s do lemonade!” she cheered. Jason and Marinette chuckled at her enthusiasm, meeting eyes for a moment before he winked and got into position to play.

><><><><><><><

“There you are, Jaybird!” Dick exclaimed. He ran up to him and threw his arm over his shoulders. “We missed you all day! You missed so much fun.”

Jason grudgingly let Dick pull him closer but made a show of grumbling and scowling at him. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here. Just in time for the pool at the hotel or whatever.”

Dick grinned at him and clapped him on the back. “I’m going to hold you to that. We missed you all day. I’m going to keep you extra close tomorrow.”

Bruce patted him on the shoulder as he passed him. “We missed you today.” He looked around quickly and leaned in closer. “But I get it and am a bit jealous.” He patted him again before catching up to Dick and Damian.

“Soooo,” Tim drawled coming up next to him. “The woman go home then?” Jason froze, his eyes widened fractionally but he quickly schooled his expression. He opened his mouth but before he could ask what Tim was talking about, Tim continued. “I figure she must have if you’re back hanging out with us. The little girl did look pretty tired the last time I saw her. Adorable, but tired… which I assume is why you were carrying her,” he added. “Or so she could see the parade better. That spot on your shoulders was a pretty good vantage point.” His voice was smooth but his eyes were teasing and knowing, like he had something up on Jason.

Jason quickly eyed the other family members to see who else was giving them a knowing grin. “Don’t worry,” Tim chuckled. He looked around quickly as well to ensure the others’ attention was still elsewhere. “Nobody else saw. I managed to redirect them whenever we got close. Some easier than others. Hanging out right along the walkway was not the most helpful.”

Jason turned toward him, eyes wide in shock. That was not something he expected. He studied Tim closely as if he could see what he was up to. After a few moments he nodded to himself and turned back toward the exit. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Tim nodded curtly, his eyes still on the shop windows around them. “You going to see her again?”

Jason nodded. “That’s the plan. Emma, that’s the little girl, she wants to see ‘Harry Potter World’ tomorrow,” Jason smiled proudly as he thought of Emma telling him about the stories and quizzing him on different elements about the books and which house they would all be in. “Marinette really hates 3D rides and there are a bunch at Universal so I volunteered to go with them since I’d be there tomorrow anyway.”

A bemused smile spread on his lips. “She’s really upset she can’t go on the Velocicoaster. Emma, that is, not Marinette. Though she is too. That kid LOVES rollercoasters. She made us go on Space Mountain three times.”

“Made you, huh?” Tim teased.

“You haven’t seen her eyes when she’s begging… or Marinette’s when she’s happy. It’s like a spell.”

“Emma sounds like a little daredevil,” Tim nodded.

Jason grinned proudly. “She is. So is her mom. And brilliant too.”

“Wow, you’ve got it bad,” Tim scoffed and shot him a knowing glance and teasing smile. “So, you’re going to completely rearrange your schedule so you can go with them tomorrow.” It was a statement rather than a question.

“Yep.” Jason’s voice was proud, refusing to be embarrassed by the teasing. “You’d understand if you’d spent time with her.”

“Well, she was definitely beautiful,” Tim offered.

“Beautiful, funny, kind, smart, thoughtful,” Jason continued for him.

“Wow. What are you going to do when she goes home?” Tim asked carefully. He watched Jason from the corner of his eye. Jason was a romantic. Everyone knew that about him. He let his heart lead him, sometimes into dangerous territory.

“I’ll visit New York a lot more,” Jason answered without missing a beat. “It’s a short trip. Lots of work there.” Tim turned slowly to look at him, his eyes wide in shock. Dangerous and unverified territory apparently. “Relax,” Jason snorted. “I’m not going to move there next week… although I do have a safe house there…” he added slyly.

He watched Tim’s eyes, which had just started to return to normal size, widen again. They rapidly narrowed upon hearing Jason’s chuckle. “I’m just replacing our chill day, which let’s be honest was really a Steph and Dick shopping day, with something that will be objectively more fun.” He rolled his eyes at Tim’s skeptical look. “It’s been one day. I’m not going to rearrange my whole life after one day.”

“Really?” Tim asked suspiciously.

Jason huffed and rolled his eyes. It was like his family had no faith in him. “I’m not stupid. No.” He shrugged after a few steps. “I don’t think she would let me even if I wanted to. She wouldn’t shift her daughter’s world that much without being absolutely certain and I wouldn’t want her to either.”

“But she’s okay with you rearranging your entire vacation schedule?” He fixed him with a pointed look.

“She doesn’t know, otherwise, yeah, she would have a problem with it,” Jason growled. He was used to getting questioned by his family, but he wasn’t about to let them question a completely innocent and sweet woman who had done nothing to deserve it.

Tim studied him for a few moments before nodding and returning his attention ahead of them. “Good. Just… be careful, okay. For both of you.”

“All three,” Jason corrected.

“All three,” he amended easily. They walked in silence until they were past the Main Street Station and Tim broke the silence with a sigh. “I swear I’m not trying to be an ass. I just don’t want you jumping in too quickly.”

Jason pursed his lips with a huff. Well that just made it impossible to be mad, didn’t it? “I’ll be careful, but she’s magic, Timmy.” Tim’s eyebrows jumped to his hairline. “Not like that!” Jason groaned quickly. “I just meant…”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve done the whole love at first sight thing,” Tim waved him off, “I get it.”

Jason scoffed and pointedly refused to look at him, finding anything and everything else of interest. “Love,” he mocked. “Now who’s moving too fast.”

“Still you,” Tim teased. He patted Jason on the back before rushing up to walk with Duke.

Jason glowered at his back but then caught sight of a stuffed Marie in one of the stores and smiled softly. “Yeah,” he mused to himself. “Still me.”

#maribat #Jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2023 #Prompt - pirate

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chicinsilk · 3 months

Text

US Vogue February 1, 1960

Katherine Pastrie wears a dress and coat set with a printed match, both in floral Honan silk in blue, anthracite and pink. By Ben Zuckerman, Abraham fabric. Phoenix gray mist nylon stockings. Delman pumps. Hat by Christian Dior New York. Beautiful American lipstick: Victory Red, by Elizabeth Arden.

Katherine Pastrie porte un sensemble robe et manteau avec un accord imprimé, tous deux en soie Honan fleuri en bleu, anthracite, rose. Par Ben Zuckerman, tissu Abraham. Bas nylon brume grise de Phoenix. Escarpins Delman. Chapeau par Christian Dior New York. Beautiful American lipstick : Victory Red, par Elizabeth Arden.

Photo Karen Radkai vogue archive

#us vogue #february 1960 #fashion 60s #spring/summer #printemps/été #katherine pastrie #honan #ben zuckerman #abraham fabric #phoenix #delman #elizabeth arden #karen radkai #christian dior #christian dior new york

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sadslay · 1 year

Text

- PRIVACY⋆☆ 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

“yer commin’ with me tomorrow?” daryl asked as you both walked back to your house after running errands around alexandria all day.

you nodded before looking up at daryl as he began to light a cigarette. “m’sure.” you smiled weakly. “can i have the rest of the afternoon off then?” you asked, your smile slowly turning into a smirk.

“sure.” he shrugged. “i think carols makin’ dinner.” he added as you began to part ways. “and don-“

“don’t forget to be home by dark.” you smiled. “see ya at dinner!” you sang as you wandered off, earning a wave from daryl before he disappeared into the infirmary.

you spun around on the balls of your feet and began to head back to the gate. it was nearing the shift change which gave you a chance to slip out without being noticed. as you walked towards the gate you had noticed abraham walking a couple meter in front, ready to change with sasha. swiftly you managed to sneak past the pair, slipping between the gate before sneaking off into the near by tree line.

as you began to stepped through the overgrown forests that neighbored alexandria, you shoved your hand gun into the back of your jeans. the occasional walker would stumble towards you but with ease you managed to put them down before finding your go to spot. just as you went to sit down you heard a twig snap behind you. you quickly grabbed the gun that was tucked between your belt and the fabric of your jeans and pointed it in the direction of the noise.

“just me.” carl smiled, causing you to lower your gun as he continued to navigate his way through the bushes and foliage. “and ya forgot these.” he smirked, finally looking up to meet your eyes as he threw a backpack in your direction.

you let out a breath of relief as you tucked your gun away before beginning to shuffle through the bag. “i’ve got my own personal stash.” you grinned, pulling out a bag of carols cookies she had made yesterday.

“betcha it’s not as good as mine.” carl snickered as he sat down, leaning up against a rotting log. you plopped down by his side, taking a bite of the cookie before continuing to search through the bag. “hand it over.”

you continued to look through the bag, shuffling the the comics as you handed the half eaten cookie over to carl causing him to let out a weak laugh.

“i meant the bag.” he smiled. “but i will take that.” carl smiled smugly as he took the cookie out of your hand. after you had picked your comic book of choice you handed the bag over to carl. “how’s your morning with daryl?”

“alright.” you shrugged, not fully invested in your comic just yet. “we’re goin’ out on a run tomorrow morning.” you noted before turning the page.

carl nodded as he finally picked out a comic and dumped the bag beside him. “for how long?”

you shrugged, not really knowing all the details as daryl typically didn’t plan too far in advance. “maybe a couple’a days.”

carl looked over at you and noticed how uninterested you were in your comic. “wanna trade?” he asked.

you smiled before passed your comic to carl before taking the one he held out in his hand. you quickly began to get settled, getting comfortable on the ground as you continued to share a batch of carols cookies that carl had swiped. you were so involved in the comics the afternoon had disappeared. the sun was beginning to set, casting dark shadows in the tree line causing you to look up from your comic. you let go of your comic book and gently tapped carls knee causing him to look up, almost startled.

“suns startin’ to set.” you mumbled, turning to look at carl for the first time in a few hours. “we need to leave if we wanna make it outta here before dark.” you noted.

“i reckon i saw a shed maybe a mile back.” he suggested, closing his comic book. “we could just spend the night there and head back in the morning.” he shrugged beginning to pack up the small pile of comics sitting by his side.

“nuh uh.” you shook your head, beginning to pack up your things. “i promised daryl i’d be back before dark.” you mumbled, jumping to your feet and swinging your backpack over your shoulders before turning around to face carl. you extended your arms before shaking your hands, motioning for him to take your hands. “come on grimes, i’m not getting caught in the dark with you again.” you grinned.

furrowing his eyebrows, carl took your hands and jumped to his feet before slowly letting go of your hands. “hey, last time wasn’t my fault!” he whined.

“i’m not even going to dignify that with a response.” you giggled, bending down to pick up carls backpack before handing it to him.

carl frowned as he took the bag from your hand before beginning to walk off. “oh shut up.” he smirked.

your laugh faded into a smile as you began to walk through the overgrown weeds and grass. you put a little skip in your step to catch up with carl before returning your normal pace.

“wanna finish the comics back at mine?” he asked quietly, briefly looking at you before returning his focus back to the path in front of him.

“sure.” you shrugged. “ya know i think carols cooking some big dinner tonight. we could read more then.” you suggested. “which means we are probably going to run out of comics soon.” you laughed. “again.”

carl let out a breathy laugh before turning back to look at you once again. “i actually have a surprise for you.” he smirked, his casual wander turning into a jog.

“hey!” you smiled, beginning to run after him. “did you go out the wall without me?” you asked, a little short of breath.

“you were out here without me!” he teased.

together you both ran the rest of the way, unintentionally turning the trip back into a race. although the race briefly got put on hold when you had to sneak back inside the walls but as soon as those gates closed, it was back to pull speed running. neither of you could contain your laughs or giggles as you would playfully push or pull each other. as you both began to run in the general direction of carls house you were stopped by an all too familiar voice.

“y/n!” daryl called out, sounding a little annoyed as he stood in the middle of the street, cleaning his hands with a dirtied rag.

your laughing quickly faded as you stopped running to face daryl. “shit.” you mumbled under your breath as you realized it had gotten dark quicker then expected. “what?” you asked.

“thought i told yer to be back before dark?” he grumbled, shoving the rag in his back pocket.

you smiled weakly before looking back at carl finding him almost not being able to keep in his laughter. “i’m hangin’ out with carl.”

“come on.” he groaned.

“s’just for a few more hours.” carl laughed as he tried to reassure daryl of your plans.

daryl let out a grumble before beginning to wander off, presumably heading back home. you let out an exhausted sigh causing carl to face you. he looked just as disappointed as you, his smile quickly dropping as he realized this would be where you part ways for the day.

“guess i’ll see yer when i get back from the run.” you smiled weakly, beginning to walk backwards heading towards the house.

carl flashed you a quick smile, almost forgetting about the run you had planned with daryl. “i’ll see ya at the gate.” he grinned, spinning around on the heels of his feet before beginning the short walk back to his house which was only next door to you.

you let out a breathy laugh before following daryl back to your house, always keeping a few meters distance between the two of you. once you were inside you were quick to run past him, making your way up to your bedroom. after closing your bedroom door you dropped your backpack to the floor before flopping down onto your bed. just as you let out a deep breath, there was a knock at your door.

“what?” you grumbled, pulling yourself into an upright position.

“yer went outside the wall didn’t ya?” daryl asked blankly as he leant up against your door frame.

“i’m not a kid anymore daryl.” you laughed weakly, not entirely in the mood to get into an argument with him.

daryl looked at you, scanning your body for any injuries as you stared back blankly. “exactly.” he muttered, furrowing his eyebrows. “so why ya bein’ stupid.”

you stayed quiet, knowing that daryl was coming from a good place he just had trouble expressing it. you began to fiddle with the cuticles of your nails causing daryl to let out a sigh.

“dinner’ll be ready in a couple’a hours.” he noted before pulling your bedroom door closed.

it was never usually that easy to get daryl off of you back, especially when he had his suspicions of you going outside the walls. at first you though he might have left to go recruit carol and try make her give some boring lecture but after almost an hour no one came back to your room. you began to settle in, as you could smell carols cooking begin to flow through the house. you were sitting at the end of your bed, reading comics you had read a thousand times before trying to kill time, expecting carol to call out your name at any given moment.

your whole body tensed when you heard rustling coming from outside your bedroom window. quickly jumping up from your bed, throwing the comic on the bed before hovering your hand over your knife that was safely secured in hits pouch hanging off of your belt. you wandered over to the window and peered outside to find an all too familiar face climbing up the white trellis that lined the walls of your house. you pushed up the window and rested your elbows on the window ledge.

“look at you.” you smiled. “workin’ up a sweat.” you teased causing carl to briefly look up at you with a smirk plastered on his lips.

“shut up.” he laughed, turning his focus back to the trellis.

“what happened to seeing me in the morning?”

“i was bored.” he shrugged, struggling a little as he continued climb up the side of your house. “and.” he sang. “i never got to give you the surprise.”

you took a few steps back as he began to climb through the window, his hat falling off in the process. you had noticed his hair was a little damp, causing a few strands to stick to his forehead. as carl stood up, you picked up his hat before patting it back onto his head.

“i forgot about your surprise.” you laughed as you watched carl straighten up his clothes before standing upright.

“yup!” he smiled, pulling a comic book out from his back pocket. “here.”

you turned around to find carl holding an x-men 134. the colors were a little faded and the first few pages were a little damaged but you didn’t mind. in fact you had been looking for this comic for as long as you could remember. you looked up at carl and smiled.

“holy shit.” you huffed. “holy shit!” you almost squealed with enjoyment as you sprung towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “thank you, thank you, thank you!” you whispered.

after a brief moment of shock, you felt carls arms wrap around your waist. carl felt the comic book fall onto his back as you held onto it tightly. in fact, he could feel you smiling as your head gently rested in the crook of his neck.

“where’d yer find it?” you mumbled into his neck.

“doesn’t matter.” he grinned. he slightly pulled his head back so he could look you in the eye. “just don’t tell my dad i went out the walls alone.” he chuckled.

“only if you promise to take me with you next time.” you bargained, looking up into carls eyes.

“promise.” he whispered, his hands slowly beginning to unwrap from around your waist only for his hands to stop as they reach your hips.

you could feel carl slowly inching closer to you. his breath gently hitting your lips. carl found himself focusing on the smaller details of your face. he had only been this close to you on a few occasions but never had the chance to admire the small scar that had always been on the bridge of your nose, the light freckles littered over your cheeks or even the way the ends of your hair would curl, especially on your outgrown fringe.

it was almost like you couldn’t control it, you were being pulled towards each other. just as carl went to lean in your bedroom door swung open. you both pulled away from each other as you realized daryl stood there frozen. you could feel your cheeks beginning to burn as you looked over at carl who’s stood there frozen, scared that any movement might piss him off.

“the hell is he doin’ in ‘ere?” daryl grunted.

“he was just droppin’ off a comic.” you smiled, almost unable to control your laughter. “he-uh he was just leaving.”

“didn’t ‘ear him come through the door.”

you smiled as you looked over to carl who was beginning to panic. “it’s no big deal.” you laughed, throwing the comic book onto your bed before beginning to walk towards your bedroom door. “dinners ready right?” you asked, looking up at daryl for confirmation.

“mm.” he nodded.

you briefly turned back to look at carl, flicking your head in the direction of the kitchen signaling for him to follow you. letting out a nervous laugh carl quickly jogged after you as you began to skip down the stairs, leaving daryl alone still standing by your bedroom door.

“jesus.” carl mumbled. “i thought he was gonna kill me.”

masterlist

pov: im in a weird carl grimes era

#ao3 #aot fanfiction #fan fic author #fan fiction #spotify #carl grimes #twd #the walking dead #twd carl #carl grimes x reader #fluff #rick grimes #twd season 5 #daryl dixon #twdcarl #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes season five #the walking dead x you #carl grimes x you

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batrachised · 5 months

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I am SO curious what you think of specific LMM short stories - namely, The Waking of Helen, The Doctor's Sweetheart, and The Growing Up of Cornelia - but also just all of them bc there is so much going on in literally all of them (not even counting the insanity that is tannis of the flats). apologies if you've talked ab them before but I am intrigued as to if you've read them/have thoughts

Thanks for this ask, I find it really interesting! I also find it very appropriate for this kilmeny shebang, because I think kilmeny provides a very good illustration for this.

I don't think I've read all of LM Montgomery's short stories, although I know I've hit a good chunk of them, so that in and of itself tells you something. There are some I really, really love and that I think are LM Montgomery at her best (The Quarantine at Alexander Abraham's), but I find a lot of them to be LM Montgomery at her worst. Some of them encapsulate LM Montgomery's strengths in a really potent, concise way; a lot of them emphasize her weaknesses in parallel.

Because I haven't read a lot of them since I was a teen, I mostly have dim memories of the ones I liked, or of ones where I was like hmmm...that's funny, or the ones that I liked but now looking back am like hmm...that's funny. I used to love the Growing up of Cornelia quite a bit, but now I squint at it for obvious reasons. I LOOOOOOOOOOOOVED the fake dating one because I thought it was hilarious (this spinster lies to the town about having someone courting her, someone she completely fabricates - only for a man who happens to fit the description to a tee show up in a sheer shenanigan of fate). The Strike at Putney is my sister's favorite (the women of a church go on strike to combat sexism).

So overall, there are some jewels in in the mix. The form of a short story is such that in some ways, you have to strip writing and storytelling down to its bare elements. As such, I think the form of a short story is particularly well-suited to demonstrating Maud's strength of humor. When they're good, they're good.

However, as referenced, that often means when they're bad, they're bad. Some are technically well-written but gross in plotline (these are the ones that tend to be the ones I liked as a child, but as an adult..); a lot are both disturbing and imo pretty poorly written, much like a certain novel we've been discussing lately. We have Tannis (YIKES), the Education of Betty (YIKES), and others which kind of pull back the curtain on Maud.

LM Montgomery was no angel, and even beyond aspects of her you'd expect historically, she was just...kind of mean. I remember reading a letter of hers where she visited some equivalent of a girl scout troop and frankly talked about how she couldn't imagine any of the girls finding husbands because they were so plain and ugly. You see it pop up in her books, but it pops up a lot in her short stories as well. In the end, to answer your question in a general sense, I feel like overall the short stories have more kilmeny's than anne's.

Regarding the specific stories, I'd have to reread them. We did discuss the Growing Up of Cornelia on here a while back - I used to LOVE that one, but now as an adult I'm like more errrr. It is interesting to me because Sidney is the Dean Priest figure that ever haunts LMM's work. As for The Waking of Helen, iirc this is @mzannthropy's favorite! Unlike Kilmeny, it actually commits to its premise and so I think it works. I'm not really familiar with the Doctor's Sweetheart - I looked it up and nothing rang a bell.

For my favorite short stories (You didn't ask, but I shall answer anyway) - here are the ones that I remember even years later:

The Quarantine at Alexander Abraham's: iconic, in a word. endlessly quotable. A spinster woman who hates men quarantined with a confirmed bachelor who hates women? Much like the blue castle, this takes a basic fanfic trope (for tbc, 'where is my wife;' for this, quarantined together) and so successfully executes it you're left with your jaw on the floor.

The Strike at Putney: this is a sister's favorite, and I can see why. Women of the church learn that a missionary will not be allowed to occupy the pulpit to speak because she's a woman, and so they go on strike. It's also a emphasized critique of the undervaluing of women's work.

The Materializing of Cecil: GOD I REMEMBER LOVING THIS ONE. This unmarried woman is embarrassed to be unmarried at forty and so flagrantly invents a lover to her sewing circle - only for a man who fits the description to SHOW UP. It's hilarious. However, as a content warning, I reread it to find there is less than fantastic description of a Chinese man near the end.

The Little Brown Book of Miss Emily: guess what? this one is in first person, and that person is ANNE. 😱 this one...it's sad, but it always stayed with me. I have read quite a few lmm stories and forgotten most, but not this one. Also, its final line is beautiful to me.

#thanks for the ask!#lm montgomery #lm montgomery short stories #aogg #kilmeny of the orchard

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quillandink333 · 1 month

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The Other’s Choice • pt. 3

Credit to @winterxisxcomingx for the beautiful banner ♡︎

SPOILERS FOR HAZBIN HOTEL ~ Read ahead at your own risk!

Faced with the harsh reality of Heaven's steadfast opposition, the angel of joy is forced to make a drastic decision with gruesome consequences, but luckily she isn't alone for long.

WARNINGS: Abrahamic imagery (obviously), pseudocest, body dysphoria, malnourishment

Part I • Part II • Part III

Emily was alone in Lucifer’s guest suite when, for the first time in over three weeks, she stood up out of bed by herself. Her transformation was finally over with. Her eyes were now a sickly yellow with bright red irises, her teeth were like arrowheads, her hands and feet looked as if they’d been burned like charcoal, and her interior feathers looked as if they’d been soaked in the blood of sinners. At least she’d managed to figure out how to conceal her new horns and tail with her host’s gracious guidance. All she wanted was to feel like herself again.

Her pristine royal gown, the one she’d been wearing on the day of her fall, loomed above her, hung from the top of the tall closet door opposite her bed. There it had been since that day, looking down on her. She used her wings to reach it.

When she had it back on, she wandered over to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. It was the first time she’d lain eyes upon her reflection since she’d run away from home. But instead of finding satisfaction in the mere glimpse of familiarity, she tensed. She looked like Sera. The resemblance made her cheeks flare with anger and her stomach clench with bitterness. She let out a cry as she seized the length of her skirt with both hands, claws out, and tore it clean off.

But when she opened her eyes, they went wide with horror. Her cursed horns and tail were out on full display, and she knew that getting them to go away again would take hours if not the whole rest of the day due to her inexperience. What frightened her most, however, was seeing what she’d done to her once favourite dress. The skirt was now so short that, with the slight upward angle of the standing mirror, it put her unmentionables in full view.

She turned her back to the mirror and changed into the pair of Charlie’s old pyjamas she’d been given as fast as she physically could with a clumsy snap of her fingers. Then her gaze fell to the dress, watching it fall into a heap of fabric with the rest she’d ripped off. Her wings dragged behind her as she picked it up. Perhaps something could be done yet to salvage it.

Word Count: 3k

That afternoon, Lucifer was lounging in the parlour connected to her suite. Charlie had needed him at the hotel in the morning to discuss certain matters regarding the new building. Otherwise he’d have spent the whole day here right where Emily could find him, just in case she needed something. He’d gotten her a new phone to contact him with, but even so, the thought of leaving her alone in this strange and enormous castle left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Lu…cifer, S-Sir?”

He twisted around at the sound of her timid voice coming from the doorway to her room. “Yes, Em?”

She froze in place, her eyes darting around and her arms tucked mysteriously behind her back. Cocking his head at her, he gave her a warm, hopefully inviting look and gestured for her to come join him in the parlour, which she did, her tiny feet shuffling across the rug as she plopped herself on the chaise kitty-corner to him.

“What’s up, buttercup?” he smiled, encouraging her to speak her mind.

She couldn’t help but smile back at the nickname. “Well, uh…I have good news and bad news. Let’s just get the bad news out of the way first.”

He nodded attentively. “I’m all ears.”

“You know that dress I was wearing when I fell?” He gave another nod. “Yeah, so…about that…” How could she even begin to explain what had happened to it? “Well, let’s just say that…I let my emotions get the better of me, and it paid the price.”

“Oh dear. What happened?”

She forced a laugh. “I tore three quarters of the skirt off.”

“What?!” He made her flinch; she wasn’t expecting such an impassioned reaction from him. “But you loved that dress! What—”

“I know, it’s okay!” she cut him off before he could ask what in the seven rings had possessed her to do such a thing. “Don’t worry, okay? The good news is I fixed it. Sort of.” She then brought her hands out from behind her back and let said dress unfold in front of her. It had been magically reimagined to the point where it was all but unrecognisable. The skirt now fell to just above her knees, replaced with all new, crimson fabric. The bodice had stayed the same, except the eight-pointed symbol in the centre had changed colour to match the skirt, and the sleeves were gone completely. “Actually I kinda wanted to try making it better than before, in a way. What do you think?”

Lucifer took his time admiring her handiwork, pulling an impressed pout and making her giggle. “Not bad! Not bad at all,” he praised, standing up to run his fingers along each hem. “To be frank, I never cared much for the traditional Heavenly style so to speak, so this certainly is an improvement if you ask me.”

She lowered her head to hide her embarrassed grin. “Thanks, I’m glad.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. Let me see it on you!”

This made Emily’s expression go blank as she realised she’d failed to think this far ahead.

“What’s wrong?” He raised an eyebrow. “It suits you perfectly, you know. Aren’t you proud of how it turned out?”

“I guess, but…” She turned her head in an attempt to lower her gaze.

At this, he frowned and thwarted her attempt by reaching out and tilting her chin back towards him. “But…?”

She sighed in defeat. “It’s just…I didn’t mean to tear off as much as I did. Or, well, I did, but when I tried it on again even after adding a couple inches to it, I still felt…exposed.” The word that came to mind initially was, ‘indecent,’ but in her head she knew modesty wasn’t worth much down here. “Maybe I’m just not used to showing so much yet.”

“Mh, that could be. I remember feeling like that,” he said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s only natural for us fallen folk, when you think about it. I mean, we were brought into the world being told that our very bodies were something to be ashamed of and hidden, which—I’m gonna say it—is fucking ludicrous.” Though his language caught her off balance, she couldn’t disagree. “But hey, it’s absolutely okay if you need a little more time before you’re ready to start showing more skin. Not that you ever have to! It is your body, after all.”

She would’ve been lying if she said she didn’t feel any pressure at all to dress one way or the other, but the affirmations he offered did help to relieve some of it. Before she could help herself, images of gathered jacquard and pooling chiffon were already cycling through her mind, taking on a myriad of shapes and silhouettes.

“Lucifer…would you mind helping me with something?” she awkwardly asked. “My conjuring skills are nowhere near yours and…well, I’m gonna need some materials and tools and stuff if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, absolutely!” He stood up and held his cane at the ready. “As I’ve mentioned, my power is limitless for all intents and purposes, so don’t be afraid to ask for whatever anytime.”

She smiled to herself, having long since lost count of how many times he’d made her do that, flattered by his eager (albeit quite boastful) generosity. “Thank you. Let’s see, first I’ll need a dress form—” No later than the final syllable had passed her lips did the very object of her request appear next to her just inches away. “Oh—perfect! What else…? Measuring tape for sure, fabric scissors, a bolt of muslin, probably some tailor’s chalk, and a well-stocked pincushion should do it for now.” Each item appeared on the nearby coffee table as she listed them one by one. To her delight, the pincushion he conjured up was shaped like a little toy ducky, which she couldn’t help but adore.

“I’d be happy to help you practice your conjuring some time, if you’d like,” he offered offhandedly as she got to work draping pieces of the muslin here and there upon the dress form. “Seeing as you’re a seraph like myself, you must have a similar amount of potential, wouldn’t you think?”

“Really?” She beamed, though she didn’t look away from what she was doing. “Yes, please, that would be so helpful. I could only manage to make one pin at a time when I was doing the alterations on that,” she tilted her head toward the dress with the shortened skirt where it lay on the sofa, “and it took for-ever, oh my gosh, it was so-o-o tedious.”

“I can imagine,” he sniggered, unable to take his eyes off of her as she danced around the mannequin. “Still, I’m impressed you were able to do that much at your current skill level. Hopefully this will go a bit quicker with my help,” he added, despite not having the first idea what ‘this’ was that she’d suddenly gotten so swept up in. He didn’t even feel the need to ask, content to simply observe her in her state of hyper-focused diligence. She kept draping and pinning, tracing and cutting, as if she’d been doing this since the day she was born. The parlour fell into a comfortable silence except for when she needed him to provide something for her, like a different kind of fabric or some spare bobbins or a new spool of thread. She kept expressing her worries that all this magic was supposedly taking some kind of toll on him, but each time he’d reassure her and wave it off, saying he was more than happy to assist and that it cost him nothing whatsoever. Anything to keep him from decomposing alone in a prison of his own design, as had been the usual until the little angel had tumbled into his life.

Minutes soon accumulated into hours, and before either of them noticed, it was already past supper time. In fact, what finally alerted them both to the hour was a loud and unexpected growl from her stomach, causing her to blush. “Let me just try it on and make some final adjustments really quick,” she excused herself before carrying her armful of lovingly tailored textiles off to her room.

“Alright, take your time!” he called after her, keeping his amusement under wraps. “I’ll have dinner ready for us by the time you’re done!”

For someone with his magical ability, meal prep was something that could be finished with a snap of one’s finger. Despite this, Lucifer had grown rather fond of the muggle’s cooking process. Not only did he enjoy the artistry of concocting new and exciting (though not always pleasant) flavours, but he found it was a great way to kill time. Time that he had far too much of.

Once the stuffed pheasant was in the oven, he returned to the parlour just in time to see Emily emerge from her room in the most breathtaking attire he’d ever lain eyes on.

His eyes started at the cornflower-coloured bodice with its surprisingly striking halter neckline. The sheer sleeves were long and off the shoulders, beginning in a dainty lantern shape before ballooning down to her wrists. And then the skirt—oh, the skirt! It was mostly made of the same fabric as the bodice, but a broad band of beautiful royal-blue damask took up about the lowermost fifth of its length. And that wasn’t even the best part. Though the hem touched the floor, the front of it was suspended with two symmetrically placed silk bows (much like the oversized one hanging from her collar and lying quaintly across her chest) to right around her mid-thigh, the elegant drapes revealing a glimpse of her blackened but still lovely legs.

“Wowwie…” he mumbled under his breath as he took a few strides toward her, almost in a trance.

“Do you like it?”

“Oh, yes!” he gushed, having been so wrapped up in his admiration that he nearly forgot to say something. “It’s gorgeous, you look like a queen.” This comment brought out a bright glow in her cheeks, and as he connected the dots as to why, his face flushed as well. He cleared his throat. “But, uhm, d-do you? Like it, I mean?”

“Wait, you’re asking me if I like what I made?” she questioned, drawing an endeared sigh out of him. It seemed taking pride in anything she did was a foreign concept to the poor girl. “Well…” He waved his cane and conjured a mirror in front of her before she could express her indifference.

“It really suits you, you know,” he noted matter-of-factly. “Are you any more comfortable wearing this than the one you altered?”

She decided to humour him and beheld her reflection from multiple angles with as open a mind as she could have. “I think so,” she admitted, a sheepish smile teasing at the corners of her lips. “I was going for something less revealing than that one is now, but still a little bit more revealing than it was originally.”

As she stood there, taking in her appearance, she didn’t feel anything like the overwhelming shame and self-loathing that had come over her early that morning. She felt like a completely new, and dared she think improved, version of herself. She smiled at her, and she smiled back.

“Emily, dear, don’t you realise what you’re doing?” He came up behind her, their eyes meeting through the mirror as he positioned his hands on her exposed shoulders. She tilted her head. “You love this! Look at you, look at how long you spent on this today all in one sitting; it’s obvious how much you’ve been enjoying yourself,” he chuckled fondly. “I mean, not that I haven’t been…y’know…but anyway, it looks to me like you’ve found yourself a pretty great hobby.”

Emily didn’t know what to say. She was unsure how to even interpret his words, let alone how to respond.

“This is exactly what I wanted for you,” he emphasised, turning her around to face him. “You have no idea—if I hadn’t had my ducks to keep me busy, I’d have lost it ages ago. This is gonna be so, so good for you. For us, now that we have each other! Oh, Em…” While she was still processing his swell of emotion, he threw his arms around her and pulled her into a bone-crushing embrace, making her stumble forward.

The way the hug went on and on, she could feel how truly happy he was to behold her frivolous little creation. He was like a fountain of pure joy. No one, not even Sera, had ever reacted so strongly to her engaging in her own self-centred interests before. She couldn’t make sense of it. This was the first time she’d ever felt so seen, so appreciated, so individual. The feeling was so sweet and so profound, so much warmer and brighter than any sunlight that had ever touched her face in Heaven, it frightened her. Something about his relentlessly doting attention felt wrong. Misplaced, even. But despite this, her own arms wrapped around him in return with a will of their own. Great—now she could hardly bear to let go.

“So, after we’ve eaten, how ’bout finally making your grand entrance at the hotel in your stunning new getup?” he grinned, looking her up an down without letting go of her shoulders. “I think you’re about ready to introduce yourself to everyone, don’t you?”

Somehow that question was all it took for the floodgates to come crashing open. Ironically she couldn’t seem to identify her own emotions, nor could she even tell if what she was feeling was good or bad. Was it fear? Or beauty? Relief, maybe? Or grief? Whatever it was, the tears came, and they wouldn’t be subsiding any time soon.

Lucifer was panicking as he watched her suddenly crumble to pieces. “Wait, what’s wrong? Oh, oh dear.” He immediately gathered her into the shelter of his arms again, running an open hand from the crown of her head to the small of her back. “There, there, it’ll be alright. I got you. We don’t have to go to the hotel yet unless you’re sure you’re totally ready.”

“No, I-I am ready,” she sobbed, very much unready. “I just…” Her life was flashing before her eyes: another experience that was completely and utterly new to her. “I’m… I’m here,” she whimpered. “I’m not…up there anymore, a-and…I don’t even know who I am.”

All of a sudden, the devil felt himself being cast back ten thousand years, reliving the darkest moment of his torturous, never-ending life. He could never forget what it had been like to go from being blinded by celestial light glinting off blades of angelic steel to waking up broken and defiled in a wasteland of fire and brimstone as far as the eye could see. Seeing her blame herself for her so-called sins, it allowed a blazing inferno to come to life within the most forgotten depths of his soul.

No matter what the future held, he knew he couldn’t bear to let this pure, selfless spirit go through the same undue anguish he’d had to endure alone. He wouldn’t.

“C’mon, darling.” He kept an arm snugly around her waist while he began guiding her along toward the kitchen. “I’d venture a guess that you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast,” he sweetly chastised, drying her tears and gently encouraging her to meet his warm, protective gaze. “And hey, if parenthood has taught me anything, it’s that no one can face the world on an empty stomach,” he snorked—a successful attempt to get a smile out of her, albeit a broken one. “You’ll feel all the more ready to go meet the gang once your belly’s full, ’kay? Sound good?”

#my writing #applewings #pride and joy #prideandjoy #pride & joy #pride&joy #lucily #lucifer x emily #emily x lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #emily the seraph #emily the seraphim #emily hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel emily #hazbin hotel #quillcifer 🍎🪶

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