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For as long as I can remember, I have had the worst break in my voice. I have a chest voice and a head voice, but nothing to bridge the chasm in between. But you know what that’s good for? The one thing in this world that all that nonsense is good for?
MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS.
Is it too late for me to request a ficlet? I'm feeling kinda shitty and your fics always help. Just like...pick one of these, I don't even care: RhysKat, RiddleKat, CobbleKat, or Victor/Me? Just something short. Something cute?
Katie was a night owl by nature but not always in practice. Like everyone else, she had business to conduct during the day and had resigned herself to an earlier schedule than she might have had otherwise. Victor was a habitual night owl. He was always up late. But the man was simply not built for it.
Victor endeavored not to sleep at all, and the results left him haggard. The shadows under his eyes could be mistaken for bruises some days. Katie tried to pester him into sleeping, but though he didn’t argue, exactly, it never worked.
So when Katie woke up on the couch one afternoon to feel a warm weight against her side, she thought she was dreaming.
Victor was leaning against her, dead asleep. He was not handsome: his hair was even more disheveled than usual, stuck up where it caught on her sleeve, and his pale face was slack. One shoulder was hunched so far inward that it nearly rested against Katie as well, and his fingertips were still curled around the cover of one of his precious semi-philosophical textbooks. To all appearances, he had passed out from sheer exhaustion.
Katie carefully shifted to curl her arm around him and let his head better rest on her shoulder. With her other hand, she tugged the throw blanket from atop the couch to drape it haphazardly over him. After a moment of careful consideration, she kissed the top of his head.
At least she knew how to get him to sleep now.
Dearest Bast (that is your name, correct?), I am not entirely sure we have crossed paths in the past, but I have heard much about you from someone who frequents the Seelie court. An ex-member, if you will. From her descriptions, you sound like someone who could help me in my current predicament, and I do hope that you'll take this letter as an invitation to a new friendship, and not a threat. When you wish to write back, know it will find me seamlessly. ~ Nyx
Dear, dear new acquaintance,
A prince’s help is a pretty favor to beg, and since you are neither friend nor mortal I have to tell you that nothing comes for free. But you knew that, didn’t you? Naughty thing.
We’ll meet and talk terms---but politely, of course.
Oh so sincerely,
Bast
Cassian/Nesta: "You ripped my favorite bodice!" | CobbleKat: "I can't sleep lately." | and for the hell of it and old time's sake - Kate/Renfield: "I'm sorry, what?"
“You ripped my favorite bodice!” shouted Cassian’s voice from two rooms over.
Azriel halfway looked up from his book in dawning horror and frowned, calculating the odds of his being able to just ignore it.
“Are you complaining right now?”
“I really liked it---though---I also enjoy it off---”
No, Azriel had to leave, right now, immediately.
“I can’t sleep lately,” Katie admitted as Oswald peered right onto her face and turned her head this way and that. She was irritated and debating whether to bring up his hypocrisy---she might have bags under her eyes, but she still looked less frazzled than he did on any given day.
“Well, why didn’t you say something?” he demanded.
“I just did,” she muttered, pursing her lips.
Oswald’s expression turned comically uncertain, but his voice was firm when he replied, “I’ll make you some hot cocoa.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Would you,” Kate repeated evenly, “like to come to the show with me?”
“Oh,” Renfield said as though he understood, but his face clearly said he didn’t. “Accompany you to...”
“As a date,” she clarified.
“Oh,” he said again, and this time he meant it.
Let's try something new here. Me/Victor Frankenstein (wee babby version that I sent you, just play guesswork): "I guess it isn't THAT bad..."
“I guess it isn’t that bad,” Victor managed.
Normally Katie might be happy to hear those words, but when Victor was bent on a project, he rarely ever agreed with her so easily. When he did, it was because he had burned himself out beyond recognizing what was being said to him---possibly beyond knowing what he himself was saying. He needed rest, and Katie would be sure he got some, just as soon as she took advantage of the situation.
“I do love you, Victor,” she told him as matter-of-factly as she could manage.
His head bobbed twice in a serious nod, and he replied just as matter-of-factly, “Well, of course, I love you too.”
The Sin Edition: Jen/KO: "If you wanted my attention, that's a good way to do it." Cannelle/Maul: "We're outnumbered, but /they/ are outmatched." You/Lucien: "I could spare a minute, for you." Me/Fae!Starscream: "Kiss me." Victoria/Tarquin: "Who needs a tour?" Katie/Rhys: "Tell them to go away." Me/Gangster!Megatron: "I didn't mean to interrupt...?"
“If you wanted my attention, that’s a good way to get it.”
Jennifer looked up from her reveries. She was sitting cross-legged on Knockout while he lay on his back, and until he said something, she had been drumming her fingers on the chest plate between his headlights. “Why, am I getting fingerprints on your finish?”
The medic smiled widely. “No, but if you keep at it, you might end up doing just that.”
“We’re outnumbered, but they are outmatched.”
Cannelle knew why Maul said this; because he wanted her grasp on the Force to come from anger and determination rather than fear. Determination was mastery, while desperation could get you consumed. But despite knowing his tactic, it worked; beside him, she felt invincible.
Cannelle raised her hand and focused her will on their enemies, weakening them before the battle even began. “After you, Master.”
“I could spare a minute, for you.”
Elizabeth only just stopped herself from saying what in shock, but the noise that resulted was even worse: inarticulate confusion. Lucien smiled at her surprise, stretching his scar and crinkling the corners of his eyes. He was especially handsome without the mask, and for once his expression held no wariness or reluctance, just teasing confidence.
“I’ve made a mistake,” Elizabeth realized aloud.
“Oh, no,” Lucien retorted, smirking, “it’s about time you got a taste of your own medicine.
“Kiss me.”
In that one moment, Melody wanted nothing more than to kiss the darkness-clad high lord before her, to taste his lips, to give in to him. Any thoughts but that were extinguished one by one until her mind buzzed with the need.
So she curled her fist and punched him clean in the nose. The hit was perfect; it barely hurt her knuckles, and Starscream reeled back with a squawk, eyes tearing.
“Don’t do that,” Melody commanded.
“Who needs a tour, anyway?” Victoria purred. The currents of water around the lagoon covered the sounds of quiet words and sighs. The reflection of distant sunlight danced over the rock above her.
The water shimmered around her in answer, caressing her with small jets of motion. Tarquin paused long enough to murmur, “I wouldn’t mind exploring.”
“Tell them to go away,” Rhysand grumbled into his arm.
Katie felt as sleepy as he looked, but she was up, dressed, and greeting guests with sharp professionalism, and she had no time for Rhys’s attachment to his pillow just now. “I can’t,” she said, but he didn’t reply in any helpful way. “Imagine their disappointment when they see the truth about the most seductive and powerful of High Lords.”
“Which is?” Rhysand muttered, lifting his arm to peer at her.
Katie raised her weapon above her head and replied, “That he’s about to be beaten into submission with a pillow.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt…?” Salvo tried.
“We’re just doing some paperwork, Salvo,” Melody said with a perfectly straight face. “Come on in.”
Salvo was a steady, unflappable man, but he didn’t move any closer, instead shifting his gaze to Megatron.
Megatron glared at his employee over Melody’s head, looking far too irritable for a man who had a beautiful woman sitting in his lap. “Get out.”
Name: Catriona / Setting: The lands outside Prythian - she's not fae, but she's not human. Have at it!
Catriona is the daughter of two high fae of the continent, in the mountains. She’s the spitting image of them, with her slightly tan skin and angled amber eyes—which is funny because she’s not related to them by blood. She’s a changeling of sorts, stolen away from her human parents as an infant.
But the scent of iron and a childhood surrounded by magic didn’t make her anything more than human. What did that was her own decision. She has always been able to use magic—not in the effortless way of will that true fae have, but through study and research. No one looks down on humanity more than Catriona, and from a young age she’s been struggling not to be one of them. She thought she finally found a way to change herself, not by high fae gifts but by herself.
It didn’t work out. Who knows what she is now. But it’s not human anymore.
Amren x Flynn: "Dance with me."
“Dance with me,” Flynn said, voice bright and bold like it was less an invitation and more a friendly challenge.
Amren’s eyes narrowed. “You have to be joking.”
“Not at all. Listen---this song is perfect.”
Amren would never agree with him out loud, but she did dance with him.
