#might explain the hatred for bedrest

[lycorogue]

Amelia and Trish🌺💐

Awww, yay! Someone sending me an ask from a list! 😍 I get these so rarely. This is such a fun treat! Thank you! (For anyone wondering, the “Soft OC Ask” master list can be found here.)

🌺 What does your OC do to calm down when they’re scared or after a nightmare? Do they have any special comfort items or need to be reassured by a specific person? How do they handle this if they’re alone?

💐 How does your OC handle being unwell or forced to rest in bed? Who cares for them and in what ways? Does your OC enjoy being doted on or are they a terrible patient? Reversed: is your OC good at taking care of others who are ill or in need?

Funny enough, the answers to most of these questions more-or-less happened canonically within the X-Future roleplay, so these are fairly easy to answer. Since each question is actually a series of related questions, and this ask is for two of my OCs, this got a bit lengthy. You can read my reply below the break.

Lia: 🌺 When Lia was a toddler, her mother crocheted her a little stuffed Calcifer the flame from Howl’s Moving Castle. Lia still has this stuffed Calcifer and cuddles it whenever she’s super stressed or awakes from a nightmare. If she feels she’s failing at reaching her true potential with her powers or as a leader, she goes to the X-Men archives of her mother’s training and watches those. If anything, doing so makes her feel worse because it makes her feel even more inadequate and tears at her grief of not knowing what happened to her mom, but neither fact stops her from doing so. Alternatively, if she’s stressed about generic Teenage DramaTM, she usually storms off to be alone, literally burning off some steam as she rages with her powers once she knows she’s in a safe location where she won’t permanently damage anything. As a child, she would also come to her dad (who was literally never too far from her at any given time, thanks to his powers; he was the ultimate helicopter parent) if a situation was too big for her to handle by herself. As a teen, she tends to vent to either her then-boyfriend-now-ex-but-still-friend Chayse, or her roommate Willow, or her current boyfriend Ripley. If it’s something minor that she needs to work out, she’ll sneak off to dance; just to get the positive energy flowing again.

💐 As the “mom friend”, Lia is much better at playing nurse than being nursed. Although, she is a bit naïve when it comes to emotional/mental-health support. She tries, but usually falls a touch short when trying to help out in those matters. She’s much better at nursing physical illnesses or injuries because she can study the most effective ways to heal those. When she’s the one sick or injured, though? She gets antsy if she’s forced to rest up in bed, especially if she feels like it’s overly cautious for her to do so. Now, if she’s majorly sick or in pain, she will gladly hide under her covers and ignore the world exists. Anything short of “OMG, I’m dying”? And she’ll fight bedrest tooth and nail. Her father is the #1 person to care for her, but since attending the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, Jamie has allowed Lia’s roommate and friend Willow to take on the role of primary caregiver, with Lia’s boyfriend Ripley on stand-by to tag in. If neither of the teens are willing or able, though, Jamie will gladly jump back in to take care of Lia. Aside from being antsy and a bit whiny about being forced to stay in bed (if she’s feeling alright), Lia does accept being cared for fairly gracefully. She’ll comment it’s unneeded and that her caregivers should focus on “more important things” since she’s clearly “fine”, but will still gladly accept the soup, extra blankets, pillow fluffing, and so on. She’s a bit more grumbly if she’s recovering from an injury because she hates feeling helpless or weak in that regard.

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Trish: 🌺 Trish HAAAAAAATES showing any kind of weakness AT. ALL. So she does NOT go to anyone for comfort when she’s feeling overly stressed or scared. The exception is MAAAAAAAAYBE Pyro if she is majorly shaken about something. She hates seeming weak and immature in front of Pyro, though (and hates adding to the father-daughter dynamic when she wants a lovers one instead), so there has to be something TRAUMATIZING to her before she goes to even him for comfort. Otherwise, she turns her fear into anger and rage. She’ll run the training obstacle courses to the point of exhaustion, just to give her mind something else to focus on, and something to aim her powers at. She overcomes fear by adding to the façade that she’s completely fearless. She allows adrenaline to completely over-ride her fear as she almost always goes for a “Fight” response. As for nightmares, she’ll usually calm herself down by playing with her butterfly knife; something else to focus on until she forgets the nightmare. She’ll also calm herself down with a shower, especially if she’s covered in sweat from the nightmare. She’ll chant to herself, “it’s not real. It wasn’t real. Ignore it” until the nightmare is forgotten or no longer intense enough for it to affect her.

💐 Trish is a TERRIBLE patient. She’s even more antsy and stubborn than Lia. Being sick or injured enough to be bedridden is a sign of weakness, and she CANNOT be weak for Pyro. The only time she’ll submit and actually listen to instructions to rest up is if Pyro himself tells her to do so. She’ll also gladly ravish the attention if Pyro is the one nursing her back to health. She’d even milk it, just to be doted on further by him. Otherwise, lord help the person playing caregiver. She will stubbornly battle them every step; again, only complying when Pyro tells her to behave. Once her roommate Nyssa was forced to play nursemaid when Trish was badly injured by a shrapnel blast. Trish was like an injured feral creature the whole time, snarling at Nys and trying to swat her away; claiming to be healed further than she was. Nyssa practically had to have Pyro there at every bandage changing to force Trish to accept the treatment. The major exception to all of this is a mutant vigilante Trish simply calls “Stranger” since he’s never given her his name. He was hunting down the anti-mutant terrorist group The Purifiers, and stumbled upon a few that were teaming up against Trish. He saved her, but she was still wary of him; attempting to leave him to the Purifiers so she could escape. When the escape plan failed, and he saved her a second time, she was more welcoming to him attempting to help patch her up (if nothing else, she didn’t want to worry Pyro by coming home injured again). They have since met up a couple of times to hunt down more Purifiers together; helping with Trish’s bloodlust and Stranger’s want of revenge against the Purifiers for murdering his whole family in front of him and leaving him for dead. They have an uneasy bond, and Trish wouldn’t go to him if she were sick, but if she were injured she might seek him out just so she had someone she trusted moderately to care for her without feeling like a burden on Pyro. As for Trish being the caregiver? HA! She is absolute trash at caring for anyone other than herself and Pyro. Exceptions being Stranger - she would tend his wounds as well so she didn’t lose her partner in these non-Brotherhood excursions - and anyone that Pyro asked her to care for. If it’s a request from Pyro, she’ll do the bare minimum to satisfy the request, and grumble about it the whole time. Even when caring for Stranger, she’d spend the whole time bitching at him for being so “careless” as to be injured in the first place (ignore that this also implies that she’s careless whenever she gets injured).  For Pyro, though? She’d go full on Florence Nightingale and dote on him every waking moment.

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Okay! I think that’s everything! This was fun. Thank you so much for the ask. I hope you got to learn a bit more about my OCs.

Also, I’d like to note that Stranger is one of my husband’s OCs named Jack Knoife (yes, the name is a pun. Yes, Jack is Australian. Yes, Hubby leaned hard into the classic Marvel naming tropes)

Anyway, if anyone else wants to learn more about my OCs (or if you’d like to learn more, @doesnotloveyou ), feel free to drop me an ask. 😁

[paradoxicalcurio]

Time to share one of my stories. This one follows my character Styx, a lich.

---

  It was Styx's day off from work today, and she was certain the other doctors and surgeons could deal with the injuries from any accident that happens. It had been a while since she had spent a night on the town, and she really didn't want to spend another quiet, sleepless night at home. So once the sun set and she was free to walk around without getting burned, she grabbed some essentials and headed out.

  Her usual outfit worked just fine for her destination: a long black cloak with a hood, and a silver necklace housing her phylactery. A quick glamour disguised her skeletal arm, and she was ready to go.

  The club she ended up at wasn't at all similar to what most people would think when they imagine a club. It was more suited to the goth subculture, and thus a perfect place for undead such as herself to blend in and meet interested people.

  Almost immediately after walking in, she was approached by a short purple-haired woman and a much taller, blonde man. "Cool arm." The woman said, smiling softly. "You do it yourself?"

  Without missing a beat, Styx raised her bone arm, now unglamoured, and nodded. "It's not my original arm, but I'm still rather attached to it." The joke elicited a chuckle from both the guy and the girl.

  So casually revealing her undead nature was risky, she knew. But hiding her true nature all th time was exhausting, she knew that these people would be more fascinated than terrified, and it was unlikely anyone they told outside of the goth culture would believe them even for a second.

  Perhaps she was a little careless, however.

  Styx spent a few hours dancing and telling stories about her unlife to those who were interested, and even got a few numbers and flirtatious gestures. It wasn't until almost four AM that she checked her watch and interrupted her current story about an encounter with a dragon.

  "Oh dear, I need to get home before the sun rises." She explained, standing up. Though it didn't show much, she could tell the others were disappointed, but nobody stopped her as she exited the club.

  As she approached her car, however, she heard someone coming up behind her at a brisk pace. She turned around to face them - and blinding light and agony exploded onto her face. She shrieked and recoiled, falling to her knees and clutching her face, feeling a cross-shaped mark burned across it.

  "I knew it." A voice spat. She could barely hear it, and couldn't see its source at all, too focused on the blinding, burning pain the cross had caused. "An unholy abomination, cursed by God himself."

  Styx shuddered at the name, and forced her vision back to normal. Slowly, the red darkness faded, revealing the blonde man who'd greeted her at the entrance - Lucifer, she remembered he introduced himself as. She thought it was just an edgy nickname, but the cross clutched in his hand and the hatred on his face indicated it was more fitting than she had originally assumed.

  "Stay down!" he barked as she tried to get to her feet, and pressed the tip of the cross into her forehead. It ignited into sheer agony, and she shrieked again and fell back onto the ground, barely supporting herself with her hands and knees.

  Faintly, she heard the sound of a gun cocking, and felt the barrel press against the top of her head. The man muttered something - she caught the word 'God' and shuddered again - then fired. The sound was oddly muffled, and she couldn't tell if it was because of her senses still being overwhelmed, or that there was a silencer on it. Maybe both.

  Everything went black.

  For a moment.

  It hurt. Dear lord, it hurt. The cross burn on her face, the ringing in her ears, the bullet hole in her skull, the bullet itself - silver? It felt like silver, or gold - still lodged somewhere in her head.

  Slowly, painfully slowly, she rolled over onto her back, feeling the liquid aether slowly oozing from the hole in her head. Lucifer had turned away from her, clearly believing his job done. Fool. This may have worked on a vampire, but liches were made of sturdier stuff.

  Strength returned to her limbs as she willed her injuries healed, expending as much energy as she could muster. The pain faded to a dull ache, and as she stood up, the bullet was pushed up out of her head by the regrowing tissue, and clattered to the pavement. Lucifer turned around at the noise, eyes wide.

  "What the fu-"

  He raised the gun in one hand and cross in the other, but Styx was too fast for him to recover from his shock. She closed the distance, grabbed his right hand and yanked it back. His yell of pain was joined by the crack of the bone, and the cross clattered to the ground. The gun followed a second later, preceded by the crack of Lucifer's other wrist.

  With both hands incapacitated, he couldn't stop her from forcing his mouth open and, with an inhumane rattling breath, begin drawing his soul out from his body. His eyes were wide with terror and fear, but only for a few seconds. They dulled as his soul was pulled out and consumed by the lich.

  She was tempted to keep going until the entire soul was devoured, wiping Lucifer completely from existence. But she knew that it would only prove him and other hunters right, that it would be the first step towards becoming a true monster. Something she'd spent the last five hundred years fighting. So she stopped, just before the last, most crucial piece of the goth's soul was pulled out, and dropped the now comatose human to the pavement. 

  Her eyes turned to the club. Nobody seemed to have seen or heard anything; likely the music was loud enough to cover the gunshots and screams. Speaking of the gun, she picked it up off the ground and pocketed it. Perhaps she could sell it later.

  He'd be fine eventually. It would take a few weeks of bedrest for his soul to recover, but he'd live. Might not be as dexterous as he once was, however, and hopefully not nearly so eager to kill people.

[thearrangment-phff]

LXVII.

October 2018

There was irony for Isabella to attend an event to mark World Mental Health Day. She had no idea what was wrong with her and yet she hid her pain and smiled for the cameras. She urged people to open dialogue about mental health but she could never do it herself. She urged others to be kind to each other and seek help if they needed it but she could never do it herself. Every word she read of her speech spilled of hypocrisy that only a few knew about. She cried herself to sleep that night and every night for weeks.

The hardest day for both Harry and Isabella was the wedding of Eugenie and Jack. Harry needed to pretend that his marriage went perfect and Isabella needed to pretend that she was perfect. Isabella need to be dressed up by Christine and Charlotte as she didn’t have enough energy to even do it herself.  

When Isabella joined Harry in the car her attitude completely changed. She was smiling and waving like nothing was wrong. It broke Harry’s heart a little bit to see her faking everything but he knew it was best for everyone. Then the thought of his mother came into his mind. He wondered if Isabella and his mother would find much in common with their marriages. But his mother would’ve never approved of a marriage between he and Isabella in the first place so he pushed the thought out of his mind.

“Are you okay?” asked Isabella.

“Are you okay?” asked Harry in response.

“I’m fine,” answered Isabella.

“I’m fine too,” replied Harry.

“I can’t wait to see her,” said Isabella in an attempt to make small talk in the car.

“It will be a good day.”

“No doubt Eugenie will look beautiful,” agreed Isabella.

The fake smiles, laughs, and small talk exhausted Isabella. By the end of the night, Isabella was left alone like always. Once Harry had kissed his son's goodnight Charlotte and Christine blocked Harry from going to sleep.

“What’s wrong?”

“We have a question for you,” started Charlotte.

“Have you and Isabella... had sex?” asked Christine.

“I don’t understand why you would-”

“We were dressing her this morning and we noticed something. Her stomach was bigger,” interrupted Christine.

“She gave birth a couple of months ago and with very large twins no less. I’m sure it’s nothing but I’ll have doctors look at it tomorrow if it’s such a pressing matter,” said Harry trying to go to bed.

“No. Not like that,” argued Charlotte.

“Harry she might be pregnant,” clarified Christine.

He had no words for a couple of seconds. Harry felt like the wind was knocked out of him, “It was one time. We were both had too much to drink,” whispered Harry.

“It only takes one time. She may be pregnant again and the doctors warned her about another pregnancy so soon. Harry she could actually die this time a number of ways.”

“What would you have me do? I have no power over her.”

“She’s unresponsive anyhow. We don’t need permission to drag her to the doctors. This time we do things right,” explained Charlotte.

“Are you suggesting an abortion?” asked Christine in horror.

“Would you rather she die in childbirth?”

“She would never want an abortion,” replied Harry.

“Would you want your sons to grow up without a mother like you did Harry?” asked Charlotte.

“Two very different circumstances and we all know you should not have said that to make your point,” answered Harry.

“But the results are the same. Two motherless sons. I want what is best for her and that is her living a long life so she can raise her children, spoil her grandchildren, and live long enough to see her great-grandchildren born. Forgive me for caring about her!” argued Charlotte.

“She will never forgive you. She will never forgive any of us if we make this decision for her,” continued Harry.

“Then we consult a doctor from the royal household and he will agree with me,” huffed Charlotte.

“Are we not going to even ask what she wants? This is her body,” asked Christine.

“It stopped being her body when she agreed to marry Harry,” replied Charlotte.

On the birth of Isabella’s youngest niece, Juliana, Isabella was stuck in London. Imre video chatted with her so that she was still able to be there.

“How are you?” asked Isabella.

“Exhausted. I always think it will be easier with the next one but it never does,” answered Kathleen.

“How are Maria Stella and Magdelena? Are they thrilled to be big sisters?” asked Isabella.

“Magdelena is but Maria Stella is not thrilled at the idea of another little sibling. She is too spoiled but Imre can’t say no to his firstborn,” laughed Kathleen.

“They are such angels. I miss them so much.”

“How are Harry and the boys?”  

“Wonderful. Harry has been working but he tries to spend so much time with Charlie and Bertie. And the boys are just so big! They cannot stop eating,” half-lied Isabella.

“I cannot wait for you to hold Juliana in your arms. She is such a little angel. You know, rumors has it that Adelaide is pregnant and with 4 babies born by the end of this year who knows how many babies will be born in 2019,” beamed Kathleen.

“How you heard anything about Luisa or Christine?” asked Isabella.

“Not in the past couple of days as I have been preoccupied.”

“Christine says that she cannot even get out of bed because of doctor’s order of bedrest until she gives birth. Luisa is still in the early stages of pregnancy but last time I heard it’s been a very difficult beginning. You know about my troubles but did you have any?” talked Isabella.

“Well not to your extent. I just had a couple of weeks of morning sickness but nothing worse than that,” answered Kathleen.

“So many children but people forget the sacrifices women make to have them. I know I did.”

“You just had it worse than others. No one could have predicted your pregnancy going the way that it did. You are always so hard on yourself ever since you were a teenager.”

“With all due respect, you didn’t know me very well back then and you still don’t Kathleen,” replied Isabella.

“You are right. It’s been made clear over the years that we have differing views but nothing about my love as a sister and admiration for you has changed. I would never say anything to hurt you, Belle.”

“Yes... while I understand that I must remind you that your beliefs are founded on hatred and an imaginary man. Goodbye Kathleen.”

Isabella shut her laptop and left the room. No matter how many times Isabella had wanted to like Kathleen her sister-in-law's religious and political views had always been the first thing. The American Archduchess had tried had to get Isabella’s approval but even 8 years later and 3 nieces, Isabella could never fully like the older women.

“Belle, what’s wrong?”

Isabella had come face to face with her ladies-in-waiting, two of which who were holding Charles and Albert in their arms, “Nothing. I wish to go to France. I think a couple of days at Chambord would do me well.”

“France? Kathleen just gave birth perhaps going to Switzerland would be better,” suggested Christine.

“I don’t want to go to Switzerland. I have yet to go to Chambord and I own the damn place, it would do me good to spend time away from the life of London.”

“Does Harry know about your decision?” asked Olympia.

“He will soon. A week in France with my husband and sons it just what I need.”

“Isabella.” The group of women turned their attention to Harry. The five women stood there until Charlotte had cleared her throat and the four ladies had left them alone.

“I was just speaking about going to the Chateau de Chambord for some time.”

“Why would you want to go to France right now?” asked Harry.

“I’m tired of London and wish for something more familiar. Besides, the French air may do the boys good before the winter here.”

“And it would just be the 4 of us?”

“Of course.”

“Not even Charlotte, Christine, or the other two will be joining us?” asked Harry.

“No. It would simply be the four of us... and of course the dozens of people who work in the château as well. The chateau itself can’t live without them.”

“This is very sudden but I think I can work something out and spend a weekend there.”

“I was thinking a week,” replied Isabella.

“Then you would need to wait a little longer because I can’t spend a week in France right now.”

“Then come to us when you have time but I want to leave as soon as I can.”

Harry looked at her, “Alright. I’ll join you when I can but ask that the boys stay with me.”

“What?”

“The boys stay with me, Isabella.”

“No. No, I want the boys with me. I haven’t had proper time with them.”

“You will be going to France alone either way. What happens next is up to you,” said Harry.

“Fine. They stay and come with you,” agreed Isabella in defeat.

Upon arrival at the chateau, Isabella got accustomed to how Chambord was run. She met with everyone who worked on the grounds and especially those whom she would see on a daily basis. For the most part was left to wonder the Château and in the gardens. Her ancestors had built this palace centuries ago and now it was in her possession.

“Ma’am this is Count Johann Kinsky. He has been taking care of some of the financials of the running of the chateau and asked to speak to you.”

“Thank you, Norine,” smiled Isabella.

The elder woman nodded and left the room closing the door behind her. Johann had stared at the door waiting for it to be closed before talking, “Thank you for meeting with me.”

“Kinsky. You have to elaborate more on that.”

“My father Ferdinand is a second cousin to both Marie and Georgina, The Princesses of Liechtenstein,” replied Count Johann.

“And your mother?” asked Isabella.

“Countess of Ursel. Charlotte is my mother's cousin, she’s the one who gave me this position.”

“Of course she would participate in nepotism. What about your grandparents?”

“Kinsky grandfather, Baroness grandmother, Ursel grandfather, and Croy princess grandmother.”

“Baroness grandmother? Is she a Belgian or former Habsburg subject?” asked Isabella.

“None, she was German. Through her, I am the third cousin to the current King of The Netherlands.”

“Interesting. Kinsky's usually going for princesses, not baronesses.”

“My grandmother’s cousin was the former prince consort of The Netherlands mother. I don’t think a title really mattered when a connection like that triumphed,” explained Johann.

“Anyhow, what did you have to speak to me about?” asked Isabella.

“The tours have sold nearly ten times than they usually do. The revenue is beyond what this chateau use to make. I wanted to recommend using that money to renovate some parts of the chateau.”

“That money will go back to the trust and before you say anything else, I have little to no say in that. It was decided a long time ago what percentage of the money would go back to the upkeeping,” said Isabella.

“I was talking with The Hereditary Prince of Liechtenstein and he said-”

“I could not care less about what he has to say,” interrupted Isabella.

“It was to my understanding that he is in charge of the trust. I was told to report to him regarding anything financial but your visit happened to come before I could talk to him,” said Johann in confusion.

“Why did you come speak to me if you were going to go over my head anyhow?”

“I thought you should know what is going on in your home,” answered Johann.

“Chambord has never been my home. I simply own it because Queen Fabiola thought it would make me more desired and powerful. I’ve owned this magnificent piece of history for years and this is the first time I ever visiting.”

“Forgive me for making assumptions.”

“You are forgiven but I would like for you not to bring anything like this up again. I care little for the financials of things, that is why I leave that to my godfather Alois,” replied Isabella.

“Should I not update you on progress as well?” asked Johann.

“Do what you wish in that regards but I could care less. I won’t be living here any time soon and it will stay open for all those to tour.”

“Should I tell your husband as well?”

“What is mine is mine. He will have no say in anything,” answered Isabella.

“Thank you for meeting with me ma’am,” ended Johann feeling vastly uncomfortable.