#lucie lives au

[factorialsotherfandoms]

In which Emi takes after her mother in more ways than one.

(For @rabbit-harpist , but also anyone else who wants to read it)

(Also on ao3)

There are university brochures scattered all over the dining room table, a sea of bright colours and photographs of smiling young adults. Most are Mexican establishments - they do live there, after all - but there's a couple from Lucie's old home of Switzerland, Diego's Brazil, Jeffry's America... A scattering of places under one roof, just like their family.

Emi is leafing through one, while Lucie looks at another, a spreadsheet with the local crime rates and housing costs also up on her laptop.

"What about here?" Lucie asks, passing the booklet over to her daughter. "It looks pretty, no? And it is very good for programming."

"It's too far away," Emi barely looks at it, same as most of the rest. "I want to stay close."

"You're good enough," Lucie knows Emi's been fine traveling before - surely the problem is the grades? "I know you can do it."

"It's not that," Emi looks down, and to the side, fingers flexing uncomfortably against the paper. "I want to stay with you. To help."

"I have your fathers," Lucie promises. "And if I need lady help, Abuelita is here."

"Not like that," a bit of a snap. "With your investigations! I know I need to learn to program better, but I speak French, and Portuguese, and English, and Spanish, and I can run, and I can hide, and I'm a very fast reader! I know I'm not old enough yet, but once I turn eighteen..."

"Non."

Lucie's response is immediate, instinctual, soaked in blood and in fear and in all the things that have happened.

"No?"

"It's too dangerous," Lucie says, and all she can see are the corpses of friends she has made. "You can keep helping with the planning, but you are not coming."

"Why not? You do it all the time!"

"It's not safe! Do you think we want this for you? To see you loose limbs and eyes and your life! You could be something, Emi! Why would you throw it away to end up in some monster's stomach?!"

"Because I want to help! You're out there - you're all out there all the time - and I'm sick of being helpless! I'm eighteen in six months! I've been training, practicing! I can do it if you let me!"

"Emília Sophia da Silva," there's fear in Lucie's spine, fear she hasn't felt since the eighth time one of them nearly died, fear she didn't think she knew how to feel anymore, not when the tenth passed and she had not recovered - fear that comes out as a snap and a shout. "You are /not/ getting more involved than you already are! You never should have been involved in the first place!"

"Well I am involved now! And you can't stop me! If you won't let me join your team, I'll just find someone else's!"

"Why can't you just be a normal child and stay safe?!"

"I stopped being a normal child the day I watched my father die!"

"And maybe we just want to give you a normal life! Just wait a bit longer! Until you graduate, until you find yourself at least!"

"I thought you of all people would understand!" Emi screams back, voice finally cracking. "And I know who I am! I've always known who the fuck I am!"

"You're seventeen! No seventeen year old knows who they are!"

"I'm /your/ daughter, aren't I?!"

Lucie freezes.

Emi watches her for a moment, before turning and fleeing. She leaves the door to the dining room open, but cracks the handle into the wall as she throws it to the side.

One, two, three...

A door upstairs slams shut.

Lucie burrows her head in her hands, and she screams in frustration.

She screams, and it becomes sobs, and Benito answers. He whistles, leaning on the doorframe, watching her cry.

Lucie takes a deep breath, wipes her tears, turns to him, "you heard that, then?"

"Well, yeah, I think the neighbors did too. You too really don't know how to be quiet, do you?"

"Not now, Benito," Lucie keeps herself in check better than she expected she could. "Not right now."

He comes over, sits down, picks up the brochure Emi had been favour and starts flicking through. It might have taken them all a few years, but he has learnt how to be quiet.

Lucie takes her time, hisses her frustrations through her teeth. Stupid child, foolish child, why can't she want things a normal child wants? Why can't she just want to go out to the club, get drunk, fall asleep on someone's couch and have to get to lectures in the morning?

"Why can't she be /safe/?" is the frustration she verbalises, the one at the root of it all.

Benito grabs another booklet, starts flicking through that instead, "she's your daughter."

"She's your daughter too," Lucie doesn't even have a pencil to hand, so she threatens him with a finger. "Fuck this. I'm getting wine."

She goes to move and fetch some, only for Benito to reveal he's been carrying some the whole time. She snatches the bottle, takes a couple of mouthfuls, and hands it back.

Benito uses a glass.

Faker.

"You know what I mean, though," Benito swishes his glass - and, ah, he just wanted to be dramatic. "She's grown up surrounded by this. Just like Luis isn't escaping the mob, she isn't escaping the Order."

"I just want her to be safe," Lucie gestures to her legs, to the scar peeking out from Benito's sunglasses, to the photo on the mantle where Jeffrey has a broken leg. "What sort of parents are we, that we can't keep her safe?"

"We were never going to," and Benito has shifted, taking on that quieter, reflective voice that Lucie hates because it means he has finally decided to talk sense. "The moment her father walked her into Pancea's office? She was never going to be safe again."

"She's going to die," Lucie whispers. "I'm letting my baby die, if I let her do this."

"And you're killing her yourself if you don't," Benito finally drinks some of the wine, almost two thirds of his glass in one go. "Pancea killed her father, the Order saved her mother, and gives her the chance for revenge."

Lucie is fairly sure it isn't about revenge for Emi, it's about the fact her parents keep going back into danger, and she's at home and helpless and...

And Lucie understands.

She does understand, she understands so well; she could have stayed away, Benito, Jeffrey, Diego and Luis could all have stayed away, but they didn't. They didn't, because still hunted they weren't safe. They didn't because the others were going, or because they couldn't live with not knowing, or because hunting the monsters makes those under the bed less threatening, or...

Lucie likes to think they joined the Order to save people, but she knows it's a lie.

They did it to save themselves, to save each other, and because when the world had decided they were nothing they /refused/ to accept it and they demanded to leave their mark.

"When did you start making sense?" Lucie asks, but she knows, she knows, and she knows why too.

"About when Abuelita kicked it into me," he laughs.

It wasn't.

It was with blood on his hands and screaming for help, it was in nights huddled under a closet praying nothing would hurt him, it was when the other cell in the city were wiped out overnight, and it was Benito who had to autopsy the corpses.

Lucie leans over as much as she can; Benito shuffles over, lets her rest her head on his shoulder.

"Sounds about right," she says, and she breathes, and continues. "Maybe it would be nice to have Emi close? Abuelita would like her to be able to come for family dinners."

"Exactly!" Benito's grin picks back up, and he gestures with his glass. "And nobody says no to Abuelita, not even in her old age."

"Oui," Lucie shuts her eyes, and sighs, and adds. "... I should go apologise."

"Finish the bottle first," Benito passes it to her. "Let Pizza Boy calm her down and Diego talk it through with her first."

He isn't a pizza boy, not any more - but its comforting, perhaps, how the nickname sticks.

She takes a glass this time. Benito half-fills it, and she takes the time to sip it.

Cheap shit, of course, because it's still fucking Benito.

[bonkalore]

I'm just gonna post it before my perfectionism gets the best of me!! But them in Jayce's mindscape to help him when he gets in a Dread induced coma towards the end of my AU story was something I had wanted to do for ages now! Glad it looks mostly how I was actually picturing in my head for once tho. Shocker!

Kept being unsure on the colors but didn't want it TOO drowned out from the purple. Green is his normal magic color as just Jayce and not the Dread magic, so I wondered about working some in and managed to make it work a bit I think. Showing that there still is some of his consciousness left in there that the Dread is defensively trying to blockade.

[victoriartdrawings]

Sorry guys I haven't been much active for Snowbaird these past few weeks...forgive me plz with this little sketch???? 😣

Also also, the Snowbaird fic's folder is currently under revision (it's been two month since I haven't udapted it so yeah) @burntblueberrywaffles actually helps me with that (thanks a lot blue,r I'll come more on discord to talk tomorrow sorry haven't been active there either😣)

[dm me or @burntblueberrywaffles for an invite to the Snowbaird and Bread server! ]

[doyourworsttt]

haven't posted art in a while but i did finish songbirds and snakes so. yeah.

[moreespressoformydepresso]

The weirdest kind of crack fix it AU’s just popped into my head. Imagine if Snow was knocked into a coma by the arena bombings and the events of TBOSAS and all the works in this franchise are just his fever dream while his body fights to keep him alive.

While he’s out, the mentors all grow close to their tributes and Felix manages to convince his dad that the games are bad actually. That Gaul is not all there mentally and will be a bigger danger to the people of the capitol than any of the tributes could ever hope to be and that the bombings could’ve been caused by anyone so which should they weigh heavier? The hypothetical rebels that may or may not have done this, or the woman everyone can clearly tell is some kind of unhinged. Not the fun kind either. The president agrees and while Snow is in the hospital all the tributes get rich friends to help out their families and on some level their districts so their lives are a lot less difficult.

[bothsides11]

The main trio + Maude Ivory

[biscuitrule]

Someone write and AU where Lucy is a singer or an actress and really gained popularity through both her talent but also hugely because she’s just so down to Earth and she’s so effortless and charming in her interviews. Like people like both her work and her.

Now if you ask Anthony Lockwood if he has a celebrity crush he would say no because that’s so juvenile and he doesn’t pine much less after someone who doesn’t even know he exists. However when he has a chance encounter with one Lucy Carlyle in London there really is no other way to describe him than flustered and starstruck. Because wow she really is just that much prettier and amazing in real life (not that he’s watched heaps of her interviews or anything like that) and she’s attempting to make conversation and Lockwood desperately wants to impress her and seem cool but is just at a loss for words and awkward (but in an endearing way Lucy assures him later)

Bonus points for George being there and actually being the cool one when it happens and watching Lockwood fumble about until he steps in to be the calm and collected smooth talker out of the two of them for once and Lockwood is maybe a little jealous of how well they seem to be getting on and how easy their conversation is when he’s just made a fool of himself like

George: I promise he’s usually more articulate than this

Lockwood: *glares in a ‘you’re not helping’ way*

Lucy: *laughs and is charming*

Lockwood: *back to heart eyes and being flustered*

[yallemagne]

Every time I see another comment along the lines of "Lucy could not survive in any alternate universe or with any different sequence of events, she's always doomed and there's no way to tell a story where she lives" I see red. You guys are gonna be scrambling like ants once I overcome depression. I swear you will eat those discouraging words.

[doodles-with-noodles]

Ik it sounds weird but this past week I‘ve been obsessed with space, the ISS and astronauts and I‘ve learned a lot abt it…

Lockwood & co. AU but they’re all (a little older) silly nerd scientist astronauts… in space… on the ISS… spinning and doing shit and experiments and research…

[factorialsotherfandoms]

(More Lucie lives OPQ au because fuck it I have the best copium.)

The director's computer is easy enough to find, situated at the big fancy desk instead on the rows below. Lucie is not quite sure why it is in the computer room and not his office but, well, the computers are all on an intranet so even if they are wrong, this will work, it will just take a little longer.

Getting in is easy enough - they found his password earlier - but the files they want... Protected, of course, and it needs cracking before she can copy them.

That's what her decryption software is for, at least.

A quick check and, while the employee computers have USB ports in the side of the screens, the main one requires actually accessing the tower.

Annoying, but doable.

She pulls the correct flash drive - orange - from her lanyard, and waves Jeffrey over.

"Plus this in for me?"

"Er, sure, any specific slot?"

"A USB one."

There's a momentary staring match which follows her sass, which she of course wins as Jeffrey ducks down, and plugs it in. The other three are off, somewhere, looking for evidence and making some distraction - the walkie talkie is silent, so they're either dead or safe.

The 'installing device driver software' alert pops up in the corner, and Lucie shakes the thought away.

A few seconds later, it's ready.

"Thanks." She navigates through to the command panel, and boots the hacking software up. As soon as it is going she pulls her arms back, letting her shoulders settle against the back of her wheelchair once more.

"Is it done?" Jeffrey asks, hands fiddling with his knife as he stands watch by the door.

"Ten minutes," Lucie replies. "It does not need me here while it works."

"Right..."

Jeffrey sticks his head into the corridor, looking quickly side to side before ducking back in, "can't see any trouble. We should wait here."

"Oui," Lucie maneuvers over to one of the other computers, wriggling the mouse in the hopes of finding anything interesting.

"Er, Lucie?" Jeffrey asks.

"It's fine," she finds nothing on the first, and moves on to a second. "We should gather information, no?"

"Sure, I guess."

Lucie catches him fiddling with something in his pocket, and can only pray it is not another hamster. How her boys survive these missions without her she honestly has no idea.

She leaves him be, and quickly flicks through the second computer. There are a few research reports and data tables - she grabs a second flash drive, and quickly copies those across - and then... An email alert pops up in the corner.

She would leave it - she should leave it - except that the subject line reads "Situation D'Urgence!" and is marked as important.

The text of the email is all in French. She skims over it quickly, expecting a security notification about a break in, and instead... Something about neonatal specimens escaping confinement, a hunt, all human workers to evacuate immediately as per containment breech protocol.

"Jeffrey?" she asks as she clicks it open. "What did the others say they were doing?"

"Looking for specimens," he replies. "More fetuses in jars. That sort of thing."

A thought occurs, and she starts searching the reports.

"I think they found them," she says. "Emergency all staff alert. Something escaped."

"Escaped? What do you mean escaped? This was supposed to be a safe mission!"

She ignores Jeffrey's panicked screeching, quickly searching the documents for the terms she saw. In one she finds photographs from a dissection of the creatures.

Babies her ass.

"Jeffrey," she cuts across him. "The babies are not babies."

"What do you- Oh."

Labeled as néonatal, the figures are still the size of an adult human. Maybe they were even human once; it is hard to tell, with the leathery skin of their chests pulled aside, so the workers might photograph their organs. The five inch long talons, the extended teeth, the scaled black wings - all of that is labelled in explicate detail, too. Lucie is a little thankful everything is in black and white, but adds the images folder on this computer onto her flash drive just in case the originals are still there. The photos looked old, distorted and grainy, though, so maybe not.

But then why not do better dissections themselves?

"Those? Those are the /babies/?" Jeffrey asks.

Lucie points to the labels, "yes."

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, um," Jeffrey grabs his walkie talkie, clicking it to speak. "Um, guys?"

"Not fucking now, pizza boy," Benito sounds out of breath. "Wait, no, grab Lucie and get out of here."

In the background, Lucie can hear the distorted sounds of a fight.

"Doc?" he asks again.

"Not now!" Benito replies, and someone in the back screams.

Nothing else comes.

Lucie quickly turns back to the reports, skimming through them.

"Lucie? We... We should go," Jeffrey says, glancing at the door.

She turns her wheelchair to glance over at the main computer, checking the processing bar. It's less complete than it should have been. Merde, there must be something complicated about the encryption.

She pulls the flash drive from this computer, clipping it back onto the lanyard under her shirt.

She should go. A fight has broken out, and she is a liability to the team like this.

But, nobody else understands the decryption software - she's tried to teach them, but it just never sticks. And the French, nobody else speaks it, and all the documents here seem written in it. If they need a password finding...

Maybe they should have delayed the investigation until the Order could have found another hacker and another French speaker, leaving Lucie with her usual job as mission control. But... But people had been disappearing, and her boys had traced everything to here, and there /should not have been anything dangerous here at 3am on a Sunday/.

But, she had made her choice a week ago when they denied the assistance and set Emi up as mission control (well, agreed to leave her at their Order-supplied office with a phone, energy drinks, cand the coursework the now teenager has due Monday), and her choice was still her choice.

Lucie snatches Jeffrey's walkie talkie away.

"The software needs more time," she tells the other group. "I'm sending Jeffrey to you. Don't worry about me."

She then pulls the battery pack out of it - not wanting to hear the objections - and shoves both parts back.

"Run," she says. "They need you. I'll hide."

"But-"

Lucie makes sure to run over his toes as she turns and looks for a large enough cupboard.

"Come back here once you're done," she says. "I'll be fine. Don't get bit."

Jeffrey calls for her, but she ignores him. She sees him hesitate, but... Well she pulls open the door to the locker.

It's... Mostly equipment, but on a shelf is a bag of... blood?

The door slams as Jeffrey leaves; Lucie looks at the locker, pulls the blood bag off the shelf, tape and scissors from her bag, and takes a deep breath.

She has to be careful, and no matter how careful she is, it might fucking hurt.

She turns her wheelchair ninety degrees, until it faces another wall, and turns it off. With a huge amount of tape she forces the joystick to forwards, then lifts up the arm.

She undoes her seat-belt, and shifts her weight to the side.

Falling hurts, falling is noisy, she's pretty sure she slams her shoulder on the metal, but it is the best option she has. She drags herself about, cutting open the blood bag and pouring it all over her wheelchair - an obvious suggestion of what might have occurred here. The arm is a little high, but she manages to pull it down. A little more blood is smeared along it, but that is fine; she turns on the power, and lets it go.

Getting a replacement will be an ass, but dying would be worse.

With her wheelchair gone she can pull her remaining, useless leg into the locker with the rest of her.

She gives it one moment, then another, as agony shakes up her injured spine.

And then Lucie reaches out, and pulls shut the doors.

Some of the lab coats in the locker fall on her, but all the better. She curls up at the base as best she can, ear to the wood and one eye squinting through the crack under the door.

She keeps still, she keeps silent, she refuses to die.

It's harder, though, in the dark locker, without a radio or a headset or anyone nearby. Every creak is a monster, every echo is gunfire, every groaning pipe the death of one of her boys.

Every second is a memory of a time she would rather forget, of being hunted, quiet, a child at her side and a monster's claws through her spine.

She breathes only through her nose.

She watches, and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Something drops from the ceiling, and she stifles a gasp. If she moves, if she makes even a sound, she is a sitting duck.

One, two, three of the creatures from the dissection photos are there, but thinner, warped, stretched out. They sniff the air, turning this way and that.

One looks dead at the locker.

Lucie stops breathing.

It turns away.

They are slow, they are smelling, until all at once they leap in to a frenzy. They leap on her wheelchair, ripping it apart with their claws and their teeth, sucking on the foam cushions where the blood has seeped in.

She thinks, somewhat manically, about how they're certainly helping look like she was eaten.

Slowly, slowly, slowly she inches up her hands, covering her ears so she does not have to listen to claws on steel.

Did she get blood on her hands?

Dear god, she hopes she did not get blood on her hands. From the frenzy, from the frenzy she thinks they can smell it..

The monsters howl, and anger seems to shake the very building itself.

She is going to die.

Lucie is absolutely certain that she is going to die as one, two, three monsters turn towards the cupboard.

(She is going to die, and she can only hope that her boys were not stupid enough to come back for her, that they took the paperwork the group found earlier and escaped.)

One steps closer.

(They needed her French and her computer skills, but they could have waited for the Order to send someone else to join the team. They could have waited, they should have waited.)

The others step closer.

(If Lucie dies now, she dies knowing she has saved someone, that her death gets the Order the information they need to save other people from her fate.)

All three move closer.

(It's a better death, she thinks, than the one she should have had in Greenland.)

And closer.

(It's a better death.)

And closer.

(She is still)

And closer.

(fucking)

And closer.

(terrified)

And closer...

One puts its hand on the locker door, and Lucie reminds herself not to breathe. It's the only thing she can think now - don't breathe, don't breathe, don't breathe -

Somewhere else in the facility, another monster screams. The three who remained straighten up, frozen for a moment, before scampering away.

Lucie still holds her breath until her vision turns black, only then letting it out as a slow sigh.

Alive, alive, alive.

Now stay hidden, stay safe, don't cause more problems than you are already being.

She knows, she knows her boys would not agree with that, that bringing someone they didn't know and trust here would have been worse, that if they delayed innocent people - more innocent than she has ever been - will die.

It doesn't stop her feeling like it curled up, and alone, in the bottom of a locker and hunted by monsters.

---

It feels like hours before Lucie hears another noise, though her careful count says only fifteen minutes.

It starts with the door creaking open, and a quiet whisper of "Lucie?"

She would sob in relief to hear Diego, if she was not so terrified, if she was not still waiting to die.

She screws up her eyes, and tries to remember how to breathe.

"Lucie!" Diego's next call is panicked, desperate. "No, no, no, no, Lucie? Lucie!"

He saw her wheelchair.

He must have seen her wheelchair.

How can she...

"Diego?" she manages to whisper.

It doesn't seem enough, and her mouth isn't working, so she slams her hand on the metal door.

It cuts Diego quiet.

"Lucie?" he whispers.

"Here," she whispers back.

She doesn't think he hears her, though, because he still moves carefully towards the locker. He seems hesitant as he opens it, creaking the door open so, so slowly...

Lucie throws off the lab coat she was hidden under, and reaches for him.

Diego kneels, and hugs her, and she clings as tightly back as she possibly can.

They stay like that for a moment, shaking and clinging and revelling in each other's presence, before Diego pulls a little away.

"I can't carry you far," Diego says. "Do you mind if-"

"Just call him," it's still hard to talk, fear still crushes her lungs, but Lucie tries.

Diego scoops her into his arms, and calls for Luis by name.

All three of her other boys poke their head around the door, though Luis is the only one who comes through. Jeffrey gives her a nervous wave, Lucie gives him a thumbs up back. Benito takes Luis' shotgun, and points it down the hallway.

Luis looks from Lucie in Diego's arms, to the wheelchair, and back again.

"You have need of a Super Mexican Lift?" he asks her, words joking but eyes serious.

"I just need my flash drive," she gestures to the main computer, where the software is finally, finally done.

Thank god she wrote it to decrypt then copy everything that had been in encrypted folders, rather than waiting for her to select folders herself. It does mean more shit porn to sort through later, but she doesn't want to wait.

Luis goes to the computer, and looks, "errr..."

"Diego?" Lucie sighs. "Could you-?"

Diego carries her over to the computer, just close enough to lean over and complete the last few operations herself. The twisting hurts, but she would never forgive herself if they failed only /now/.

"Go round the back, and pull out the orange thing," she says, once everything is properly closed.

"Yes, ma'am," Luis half-teases as he does what he's told. It takes him a moment to find the right one, but he unplugs it, flicks the extension back into the case, and hands it over.

Lucie clips it back onto her lanyard, and reaches out.

It's a little complicated to get her from Diego's arms to Luis' back, but together they manage it. She has to cling tight, and Luis has to hold her leg and her stump in place, but they manage.

"Right," Benito sees Lucie is still shaken, and so he takes control. "I want to get the fuck out of here before more of those shits get out. So /I/ am going to open doors for you two and call Emi to get us a cab, while you two can do a final sweep and meet us outside."

"Why us?" Jeffrey pouts as he says it. "You have the shotgun."

"I didn't see you making a plan. Are you going to make Lucie sweep the building?"

"Sure," Lucie leans her head a bit more to the side, just so she can glower at Benito. "Let me just find my legs. Oh, wait, the fuckers ate it."

She earns a small laugh from Diego, at least; it is enough.

Somehow they get outside unaccosted - probably because it is half past three on a Sunday morning, and Luis has already taken out the security team. Benito calls Emi, who they all know won't actually be working on her coursework no matter what she promised. They take burner phones on missions, yes, for emergencies, but cabs want payment details, and it is not worth the risk of their escapades being chased back to them; Emi receives the call on the office landline, then calls them a taxi from her mobile. At least they only need a taxi this time - easy enough to say her parents were out with friends and her mother's wheelchair broke and the repair company will get that in the morning but everyone needs home - not an ambulance.

Lucie remembers calling an ambulance for her boys. She wouldn't wish that fear on anyone, let alone her daughter.

The cab comes, and the driver's questions are easy enough to lie about. Diego ends up napping against the window on the short ride home, while Jeffrey may as well be a skin suit of bees for all his vibrating. It's interesting to see this side, how they stop, how they calm down.

Emi meets them near the Order with a transport chair, and Diego wakes up enough to help Lucie into it. Someone else has to push the stupid thing, but it is cheap, and it gives her a way out of bed until a new one can be delivered.

Luis ends up pushing it on their walk home, as Diego is still mostly asleep.

"What happened to your wheelchair anyway?" Emi asks.

"I used it as bait," Lucie replies, sounding more confident in her plan than she had been at the time. "I meant it to look like the monsters ate me already if they were clever, but maybe I used too much blood as they ate it instead. Oops."

Diego gives a slightly pained whine; Lucie reaches up, and takes one of his hands. She squeezes it, and he squeezes back.

"They ate your wheelchair," Emi frowns. "Gross."

For some reason, the comment makes Lucie giggle. Maybe its how late it is, maybe it's the adrenaline crash, but she giggles none the less.

"I told you throwing blood bags on the wall would work," Jeffrey complains. "But nobody ever listens to me."

"It's fine, nobody died," Benito shrugs. "Pretty sure the worst injury was pizza boy here running into a locked door."

"Hey! You ran into it too!"

"Yes, well, we all know Doc doesn't have a brain to concuss," Lucie offers.

It draws laughter from the rest of the group as well.

Success.

Abuelita is waiting for them at the house, hurrying everyone into the house with hot chocolate and blankets. Lucie is helped onto the significantly more comfortable couch, everyone knowing she will sleep there tonight if she sleeps at all. The boys stay around, in the chairs or on the floor, while Emi is shooed off to her actual bedroom.

Luis gets some hard looks about it, too, but Abuelita softens when Lucie reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder.

"Did you find what you needed?" is all she asks of the group.

They all look to Lucie.

"I'll check in the morning," she yawns, shuffling to find the most comfortable position. "Someone else can write the report."

She doesn't want to think about it just now. All she wants to think about is the sound of Abuelita putting on some late night game show and settling into /her/ armchair, of Emi putting music on upstairs and definitely not sleeping just yet, and of her idiot boys all safe and nearby.

[luciality]

insane brain telling me to turn one of my oldest wip fics into an ask blog instead vs i dont wanna draw

[georgiapeach30513]

Can you give us a sweet and ridiculous Ransom teaching kids how to ride a bike 🥺🥺🥺

🥺😫 Ransom just being the sweetest and most ridiculous father has my whole heart. He loved being hands on with all the kids, for everything...well almost everything. And we know his kids get a lot of his dramatics, and even stubbornness from him. So we're going to break this up into five parts.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Let Them Go

Summary:  Ransom teaches his babies to ride their bikes

Pairings:  The Drysdale’s

Rating:   🥺🥺🥺

Warnings:  cuteness overload, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  2.5K

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Desperate Love Masterlist

“Daddy, you won’t let me fall?” Iris looks up at Ransom with her sweet blue green eyes, and back down to her bike with no training wheels.  “I don’t want to fall.”

“Ris, it’s okay,” James gives her handlebars a quick tap, and looks back to Ransom.  “I’ll fall on the ground first, if you think she’s going to fall.”

“She won’t fall, James,” Ransom groans, rolling his eyes.  “Angel, do you think daddy would let you get hurt?” She shakes her head no, putting her feet on the pedals.  “James, stay there.  You’re only going to distract her.  Come on,” he starts out at a steady walk with her, picking up a bit more speed.  “It’s the same thing as with the training wheels.”

“This is easy,” she giggles.  Wanting to go a bit faster, she pedals with more vigor.  “You can let go now, daddy,” he gives a quick look back at you, refusing to take his hands off the bars.  “Daddy, let me go.  I got this.”

He drops his hands, having tears in his eyes as she pedals around a bit more.  Yelling out in joy.  “Kitten!” His hands point over at Iris.  “She was…and then…I had to let her go,” with Blade on your hip you walk over to him, to kiss on his cheek.  “Make her come back to me.  She’s pedaling around with that bonehead.”

“Ran, go help Azzie.”

He looks back at his usually confident daughter who was biting her nails.  Watching her sister, shaking her head, “No.  I won’t do it.”

“You don’t have to,” your husband says, and gets a quick slap to his stomach.  “What?”

“You have a son you’ll have to do this with, and this dramatic girl,” you rub along your belly, reminding him of yet another child on the way.  

“But they’re my babies, and Iris.  Iris!  Baby are you okay?” He runs over to Iris who had crashed into a hedge, but James was already helping her up, even dusting off her shorts, “Kitten!”

“Ransom, you're freaking Azzie out.  Help her.”

“My baby, daddy.  Dis my baby,” Blade rubs on your stomach with you, and Ransom gives the both of you a kiss before running towards Aster who pushes his hands off her bike.

“She fell.”

“I know, little star, but…”

“She fell all the way on the ground, and you…you weren’t even watching her properly, and you want me to ride a bike. No.  I won’t do it.  I won’t,” when he looks back at you, you wave your hand, encouraging him to try.  “Daddy, you let her go.”

“She asked me to.  Trust me, I didn’t want to.”

“Will it hurt?  If I fall?”

“It may.”

“Will you pick me up if I fall?” Ransom nods his head smiling, grabbing her handlebars.  “If I fall do I have to try again?”

“Yes, baby, you need to keep trying.

“Daddy, I’m scared.”

“I’ve always got your back, Azzie.  Daddy will always be here for you, no matter what.  No matter how big you get.  Even if you don’t live with me, daddy will always have your back.  I am your biggest fan.  And you,” He points over at Carter, “Do not move.  Let her get going on her own.”

“Yes, Mr. Drysdale,” he says, putting his kickstand down.  Lydia and Gregory didn’t want Carter to get dirty, or break a bone, so they refused to buy a bike, Ransom got him one anyways.  Even taught him how to ride.  “Mr. Drysdale, I just want to tell Azzie, she’s got this.”

Just like before Ransom pushes her along.  Starting to jog when Aster reaches her hands around his neck and picks her feet up off the bike.  Swinging her body on him, “Daddy, I’m not ready.  Please, don’t make me.  I don’t want to get hurt,” her legs wrap around Ransom’s waist, and she looks up at him pouting, “I just don’t wanna do this.”

“Why, sweetheart?”

“Because…I won’t need you anymore,” she wraps her hands around him tightly, shaking her head.  “Don’t make me.”

“I won’t if you really don’t want me to.  If you really don’t want to learn, it’s not that big of a deal, but I hope you know that this won’t be the last time you need me.”

“Daddy, I’m scared,” he could hear the crack in her voice, and starts walking away with her still attached to him.  “You won’t make me?”

“Azzie, you tell me you don’t want to do anything, and you won’t have to.  Same with anyone else.  You get to decide what you’re going to do.”

“So in school?”

“That’s different.  You don’t have to learn to ride a bike.  Although, I think you’d have fun.  But if you really don’t want to.”

“But won’t I get hurt?”

“Az, if I could protect you from everything that was going to hurt you both physically and here,” he gives a tap over her heart.  “I would.  Daddy doesn’t want you to ever hurt, but hurt is also what helps you grow and learn.  Don’t be afraid of getting hurt.”

“If I don’t want you to let me go you won’t?”

“Never.  I want to hold onto you forever.”

“Maybe another time then.  Can I get on my scooter instead?” He nods his head, and Aster gives him a kiss to his nose that scrunches up.  Running off to get her scooter, and Aster Drysdale never learned to ride a bike.

——

“Alright, Bladey, you ready?”

“No,” Ransom laughs, shaking his head.  “I don’t…don’t, don’t like this.  Mom…mom, mommy?”

“Eh,” he warns him, tapping on his new custom Buzz Lightyear bike.  “Remember what the deal was to get this?”

“Take…take, take it back.  I don’t…don’t, don’t want it.”

“Buddy, look.  Look right here at daddy,” Blade turns his face to squint up at Ransom.  “Would I ever let you get hurt on purpose?”

“Yes.”

“Blade!  No, I wouldn’t.  I laugh when everybody trips, even your mom, once I know you guys are okay.  But I’m not going to push you down the stairs, am I?” He shakes his head no, and looks out onto the driveway, shrugging.  “Buddy, you can do it, if you really want to.  And I know you do.  It’ll feel like flying.”

“You sure?”

“Not really, no, but it does feel cool.”

“Daddy!” Ransom gives him a knock on his helmet, and gives him a chuckle.  “Can…can, can I get snuggles with mom…mom, mommy if I get hurt?”

“Of course.  You ready?” Placing his feet on the pedals he nods his head, letting Ransom push him.  

“Faster!” He squeals, and Ransom sets off on a quick run.  “Let go!” As soon as he does, Blade loses balance, and falls to the ground.  Glaring back at his dad.  

“Blade, what were you doing?  You didn’t try.”

“I figured out the math to it.  I think so, but it didn’t work.”

“Blade, you’re six.  This isn’t math, this is riding a bike.  Pedal when I let go,” furrowing his brow, he determines he’s going to get it.  “Don’t think too hard, you’re going to hurt yourself.  Just go with it, okay?”

“Okay,” trying like they left off, he screams at his dad to let go, and he starts peddling.  A bit wobbly at first, but he’s able to get it. Able to go faster, and turn.  Taking off when you walk up to Ransom, handing him a toddler Story, and she reaches for his ring finger.  Wrapping her hand around it.

“Ransom…”

“Nope, I had to deal with that with Iris.  Just because he’s the baby boy, I don’t want to see any tears,” he doesn’t even look at you.  He knows you were struggling to let him go, “Come here,” he groans, pulling you into him, and wrapping his arm around your shoulders.  “He’s doing good.”

“I was hoping he would run into my arms.”

“Kitten, it doesn’t work like that.  We gotta learn when to let them go.”

——

“Story, what are you doing?” Ransom asks as his daughter places a princess bunny in her basket.  “Back.  Go back and change.”

“Daddy,” she whispers, bringing him down closer to her, “Sir Lancelot is here, I must prove that I am the Princess of Boston.”

“Well, Princess Story book.  Your tiara is blocking the way for your helmet.  You are not wearing a dress to ride a bike, and I want sneakers on your feet,” she clutches at her chest gasping, “Story Rose Drysdale, go change.”

“This is not how the Princess of Boston should be treated,” she dramatically yells as she stomps up the steps to change.  “I will still wear pink, and my bunny is staying in her basket!”

Rolling his eyes, Ransom looks up at the sky, hearing you giggle behind him, and then snort.  Spinning around he sees Carter, “You take that back!”

“I thought the Princess would like a surprise when she came back, Mr. Drysdale.  And I can’t put the rose back on the bush,” blowing out a huff of air, he gestures to Carter to come forward, letting him place the white rose next to her bunny.  

Ransom, annoyed, watches his daughter come down the steps still in a dress, “I have shorts on underneath.  Grandpa said I could.  Oh!  Where did this come from?” She smiles up at Ransom after she spots the rose.  He points towards Carter, causing Story to look down at it, too embarrassed to look at him anymore.  Ransom turns back to pout at you.

“Story, I think daddy has waited long enough.  Hop on,” you walk closer to her, whispering only for her to hear, “Make sure Sir Lancelot knows that you’re worthy of that rose,” she gives you that megawatt smile, throwing a leg over her bike.

“I don’t think I wanna know.”

“Shh, it’s mine and mommy’s secret.  Let’s go daddy,” his head tilts towards you quickly.

“Ransom!”

“She’s the last,” you give him a little shrug and smirk as you walk away, and he gets a devilish grin.  He was too easy, “Alright, Princess Story book, are you ready?” She nods quickly, but screams at him.  “What?”

“Is the rose going to be okay?”

“How many roses has that bonehead given you?”

“They’re special roses daddy.  They’re my roses.  Grandpa had them planted before I was born.  They have special powers that will help protect me and guide me through my journey through the kingdom.  You know the Black Knight is out there somewhere, and must thwart him so he doesn’t interfere in taking me away from Prince Charming.”

“Your grandpa really made sure you had a colorful speech pattern.  You’ve got the rose, got the princess bunny, got your dress, are you ready?”

“Yes!  Onward King of the castle,” dramatically she leans forward to look as if she was gaining speed.  Getting comfortable too easily, and not even realizing that Ransom had already taken his hands off her bike as she rides around.  “I shall name this bike Nimue!  My gallant steed.  Daddy?” She puts a foot down, stopping abruptly, and turns back to look at him.  “Why did you let me go?”

“You and your gallant steed were speeding away without me.”

“But…you let me go, and you didn’t tell me.  I had to discover it, because I didn’t see your ring gleam in the sun rays.  That was not funny.”

“Story book,” he chides.  “You did just fine.”

“But you let me go.  You just poof, and you were gone.  Why?”

“You were determined to pull away, and you were ignoring everything I said because you were talking to yourself.”

“It was a story!”

“Yes, princess.  You need me to push you again?” Her smile beams off her face as she tries to get started again.

“Now I can go riding with Iris, James, Aster, Blade, and Carter!  Bye daddy!”

“Wait!  I didn’t…Kitten!”

“Ransom, I can’t solve everything.  You did let her go.”

——

“No,” Lucy pushes the traditional bike away, her hand still reaching for one without pedals.  “I want that one.  

“It doesn’t even make sense.  How is that supposed to work?”

“You just,” she kicks her foot like she was on a scooter, and tries to get on the bike.

“What’s daddy going to have to do?”

“Nothing.  I don’t need you to do anything for me.  I just need you to let go.  It’s time for you to let go now, don’t you think so?”

“No!” He kneels down, and pulls her hands in his.  “No, it is not time.  You are my last.  I don’t think your mom is giving me another one.”

“I’m not,” you tell him, leaning back in the sun.  “We’re about to be grandparents.  And Lucy waited long enough, didn't you baby?” She nods her head looking up at Ransom.  

“Because I didn’t want her to grow too fast.”

“Mama, can I scoot around now?”

“Yes, Luciana.  Ran, come here.  Sit down with me,” He slumps down on the front porch steps.  Leaning over on your shoulder as he pouts at Lucy, “You were the one that didn't’ want to teach her.  She showed you.”

“I wanted to savor it.”

“Baby, hopefully all our kids have babies.  And we’ll get to make memories with them as well.  We’ve had twenty-one years of raising these babies.  Enjoy that this one was easy.”

“Easy?  Lucy?  Lucifer?” You give him a quick swat to his stomach telling him to leave your baby alone, “Can we have another?”

“No.”

“But look at her, she doesn’t have any kids to play with her.  It’s not fair.”

“She’s the same age Story was when she was born.”

Throwing his head back he groans.  Remembering each time that he taught his kids to ride a back.  Could almost hear the panic in Aster’s voice, the determination in Iris’s, the intimidation in Blade’s, and even the whimsiness of Story’s.  Lucy was aloof, and marched to a beat of her own crumbs.  

“We can’t keep them babies forever.”

“Why?” He demands, watching Lucy scream with her laughs.  “I want them to be.”

“I didn’t enjoy the diapers.”

“Our baby is…I can’t even say it, Kitten.”

“Then don’t,” you give him a soft kiss, and turn back to look at Lucy.  “We had to let them go at some point, daddy.”

“Well, I don’t like it.  I want them all Lucy’s age right now.”

“I know you do, baby.  I would do it, if I could.  But instead, kiss me, and let’s watch our fifth.  The one that is all Drysdale.”

“Shh, let's not talk about her getting older, and enjoy it, okay?”

“Okay,” you let him lay on your chest, and scratch the back of his head.  “I love our life, Ran.”

“I love our family, Kitten.”

Masterlist

[burgycreeper405-blog]

since i have nothing to post for the past few days,, here, have this

VG/Solace x Lucille (which is in her systarian form,, which belongs to @maxphilippa )

Sol in his monster form and Lucille in her systarian form,, buppy nd el gato

[accidental-spice]

Happy May the Fourth!!! Have Tim Bradford and Lucy Chen as Jedi

[faebriel]

hgs brainrot has returned due to tbosas .. speaking of hgs here’s an ask abt the hgs au: if things were totally different, and Wilbur were to be a 12 victor, what do you think a possible mentor-tribute dynamic would look like between him & Niki? I feel like it would be similar to Snow & Lucy in the way that he’s just going out of his way to cheat n help her

anon u have in fact struck jackpot because this is a concept i was spinning some thoughts abt before bee mentioned avoxes and we went OOOOH at that!!! so yes i have considered rainduo as a mentor-tribute dynamic and would love to talk about that concept too :]

so for this concept i think wilbur and niki would be close friends throughout childhood from 12, and then in their teens wilbur is reaped and, well, no one has particularly high hopes (he's a writer and a musician at heart, not a fighter) but through sheer trickery and dumb luck, he makes it to the end of the games. wilbur pulled some pretty fucked up tricks to win - when you can't use brute force, you have to use your brain - and partly due to the trauma of the games, partly due to his shame and survivor's guilt, he sinks into the capitol and relishes a new life there as a socialite. to him, the old wilbur died in the games and the new one has taken his place - to niki, and to his other friends in 12, whatever the games did to him made him into every vapid heartless capitol victor there is.

or. niki has her doubts. they all saw how horrible the games were, but surely there is some part of him left, some part that's hurting, even if it's buried deep?

anyway.

like og spin of the au, niki is reaped and this sucks - this time she does expect wilbur as her mentor on the train, and she expects some kind of warm welcome (maybe even an apology for leaving them so suddenly and silently? an explanation?) but she gets jack shit. wilbur is jaded and cruel and unrecognisable and niki entirely hates it. this is the part where i REALLY WISH we got some time of those two beefing with each other directly in canon (or at least interactions while niki was So Mad at him) but it's okay we fly blind. niki feels abandoned, lonely, thrown off of her kilter - she expected an ally in this place, but she doesn't recognise the person wilbur has become. she doesn't recognise his shallowness (...much), his ruthless advice for the arena, the way he doesn't seem to care for anything. she's scared and now she's lonely and it pisses her off - their mentorship is fraught. here are some thoughts from discord on that:

i tend to think of niki as a bit naïve before l'manberg or even doomsday - i think this is an au where this streak would come out real strong, and niki is stubborn that she can get through the games without losing herself. stubborn that she can stop things, that she can protect people. i don't think wilbur is cold enough (or, really, can bear to say aloud) to say that her odds in the arena are slim enough as it is, but he definitely tells her that she's making enemies and that her odds of survival dwindle with the more trouble she causes.

beyond that... hm. niki's trust in wilbur is almost unshakeable until nov 16, even when she outright says she doesn't recognise him anymore. i think she'd reluctantly listen re: don't burn down any buildings, but she would grow bolder each day she had to stay in the capitol. she gets more honest in front of the cameras. she makes more friends in training, and not the ones wilbur recommends. she throws barbs at him every time he makes one of those callous, cold-hearted comments about other tributes and rankings and odds. and besides, she's going in the arena this time, not him. she needs to practice her bravery.

it's like... she hasn't given up on him. she thinks the old wilbur is in there somewhere. (she is wrong. that is not how trauma works.) but she won't hold her tongue just because she

for extra angst points could definitely play up the whole 'feeling abandoned' angle between them as niki goes into the arena - probably due to how fraught their friendship gets leading up to the games. niki wants to focus on them and their friendship, wilbur has stringently cut off (almost) everything from 12 and refuses to let her in; he tells her to behave for the cameras, she tells him she never will. i think the last point in that screenshot would also make for a super tasty argument where niki feels wilbur has gone astray, that he's abandoned 12, and that he'll probably do nothing but sit on his ass and watch her die and he can't even bring himself to care about her anymore, can he? just more fodder for the arena. and honestly, i think wilbur would passively agree with most of that - he values niki's opinion, after all, even now, and if she says he's rapidly descending into a lost cause then she must be right. and it's niki, so she will be fine, and he goes to his bedroom that night and tries to pretend he is sleeping perfectly fine instead of feeling paralysed with fear.

okay now onto the games - YES HE SO WOULD. or at least i think he would go out of his way to help. as for cheating - he's a recent victor for 12 and i think he would value tommy (no doubt a link to him... i think they'd be in touch in this au also) too much to risk the punishment falling onto him as well. i get the vibes this is a games closer to 74th than 10th, so there are far fewer opportunities to cheat and the consequences of getting caught are higher. but schmoozing up sponsors? making stupid ass radio interviews or whatever to talk up niki's odds? sharing anecdotes from their childhood - some real, some entirely fabricated - across capitol airwaves to stoke their sympathy? 100%. with less to lose in this au, i think niki would be far less inclined to play nice for the cameras - i hope you starve, she spits at one of them, and wilbur appears on a talkshow two days later as she scrambles for survival in the arena to talk up how she always saved loaves from the bakery for the poorest mothers and children in 12. he borrows and begs and swindles to the point where it feels like cheating. but hey, this new wilbur is capitol-branded. he knows how to play the game.

if anything he probably sinks into the game a little too much. self-preservation is not his forte. probably wracks up a few heavy debts and favours to owe, but those are not priority until niki is out of the arena, alive. as long as she wins, and as long as the family he has isn't in danger, he will manage. wow it would suck if at some point those two goals became impossible to co-achieve. anyway

i kind of see niki's victory in the arena being similar to the one in the main au - if only because planning out an entire games is hard for meee >-< . she walks in bolder and braver for sure, and with a less strategic pick of allies, but they all get picked off and she spends a few weeks so terrified she can barely sleep and then she ruptures some fuel line and sets the arena alight with a fire that burns brighter and more ravenously than it should. but she wins, and she's airlifted out of a filthy, muddy creek she had resigned herself to die in, and wilbur barges his way through as many peacekeepers so that he can actually see her with her burnt skin and hair and unfocused eyes and trust that what was on the screens wasn't a fluke, and that they made it. and then it's just a matter of surviving the after.

i'm sure there are some other random quirks or tidbits i can think of re: this take on a c!rainduo hunger games au but these are my base thoughts!!

[stealingpotatoes]

beside a friend