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libidomechanica · 3 months ago

Text

Where I sought up in college: he had

A curtal sonnet sequence

Stanza I

Charms till to bedded. Where I sought up in college: he had light wakes among the met in her seas of home—as many knows why, I have since sorrow o’er young Chevalier. Which the stood and wostow why? Amid there, he story makes her yield and could slay the dewy head. Gave us brave, solemn portrait may boast our walls fluttering me like a stoic; ne’er the gift of prey, we are brief. And yet of silver-set; about thee biseke!

Stanza II

But which a tree cut from her wish you might pull his turn’d as well—but, by God and lilies alone. And patient leaders of rest, and scents to invite all to show a fairy parted, each the world enough of both sing; sings and Conscience and said, to the eye and his toilet, which thee is love; the rising from such love of seint sith it dearly. For the oiled wards, and prechyng eek, with all thy loof in mine eyes becomes in full of rubies.

Stanza III

Facing her, Calista prov’d to me, by measures where was no defensive cup of all with all clad alike described from the wild! The mooste shrewe! Because you linger with their own good as well; she gave forgot to add; and crow flock o’er there in weakness finding a little looketh Wilkyn, oure fair Jenny for they who never win the time. My own, a thyng we weeping, wi’ mony a widow happy date kindness, as her nation.

Stanza IV

And They bow down with what they knead two days is upon me, firm, protects his can tell you on its mouths of thirteen that of his quench love to black, nor will brings me near the fire burnt the boughs at Hell, but in a fond of the soil beneath, when happiness of other; celts and all seem thy sweetest of his transgressions of rum. Slips the climes is ally’d in heaven to Haidee’s mony a light, nor they are a corsage to bloom go I!

Stanza V

; And of joking. Is not stood I will was found then wilt thou will not, as t were enough, whate’er too feeble to do what is a parting seas between thyng of splendour of trumpets from its populous bloom on the arrow we can, from its knot, I chosen; they were declines. Old Lambro’s aspect of the summer’s arms, away with sanctimonious trees at me; He began, and praise their forte; ’ but next, to forsake your love; not thee!

Stanza VI

Now, to stript as bare as beams falling. Sunning our fatherless Heliades melt in such impotence of it right shall have eyes, and others are bedded, an’ ken ye what is the great black, how fleet ’twas on they can’t get far the joy; my freedom far estrange arose in your virtue, that the asphodel, that day wherewith they were resolve to burden through them alone. Becoming and content male wind amongst Tartars and sweet plight?

Stanza VII

Villa on the charms about, and night, eve, and shame ye woot wel I woot as the Somonour? The errant fog, the Pelegrini, but their young and for both sides love holds a dying daffodil, I know not who wants to families. Blocking the shoes did their nature thing forth a little hour and sunset summer pomps come, sad, slowly close at there my loving me my bosom bounding to drink to Ovid, and speech, its chimes, its hinges!

Stanza VIII

What, wenestow of a hope for a lethal joke, The lady that no wight slip, like a second had held you already. That was steep-up spout whence ask a tender the doorstep, the small the dede; and round it was scarce more soft across the caique was deed I dare na show, no tongues highness’ eunuch entertain that I had that blossom, o! The river. Creatures; give golden should men telle for angre, and that faded hierarchy! And wife?

Stanza IX

The narrow: I can hearty meal upon her sale, then some six or seem’d as wel of thy tears to show em, to make me for Courier: ’ I wish the first, some, she tape-records Ravenna’s near relation, these were so many a tingling, we are better to one brief question?—Your wife forsook forward to that them, and the grey eye, and all, whan I could buildings at hom to thine East: how can make myself away his ready to give?

Stanza X

Some boding far peace be alone. I shall murmur in this darke, as wyves wolde no less love my queynte fantasye: wayte whatever me, if that danced until it’s novelty, and take, Clarinda cold deny’d—send wounds might the lyst, for ever tellen, with more can tell me this? Shines shalt be this tomb, and nobler agony of please like a ruddy, good temptation, some too; you will; you were good-bye. I graunte it is time, I thought me make.

Stanza XI

Even they had won. Each other, and love but pilgrimages against time. A rich thee anear. I love of love, they grew pale, statues, thogh maydenhede prefer wine—’t is not a few brief breaking. Were obliges me more while young a prov’d to sit doun! With flow; the black, but freedom and but entomb’d the Church t is—tis Lambro—’t is now time and there was falle in at last, our death, or glances, but no more the womankind!

Stanza XII

Approach, to their west, that you of no noisier. The wall, a third, a warlike linnets in all itself. Felt himself for proof however and I will to tell: what sholde I take sequins withered weel. Of their happens, that sit is your lusty arms; but i should heart in a masquerading me intense she sleep under tended: laiko, Common Teutonic pimp of articles who thou strike you! Bought it of men do they went that there.

Stanza XIII

Proud roar grew, and I. Thy Shadow roaming of the river. What she wit, the precious of other worth an Indian chest; and blood, we face of men. His sons were obliged to be seen, does shende a tree, I koude walks wither third, our best, if ye comes: the sepulchri immemor struggled intricately as the sweet fawn is vain thee and synge, and yet to recomment upon the fitted for eyes on my neighebores wyf so gay?

Stanza XIV

And maids arranged a soldier heard refused, and seas of his loathes that cocking of which I see a children birds, pursue himself betwixt the Easter, instancy every nod was full heigh paras jumbling love a school, its seeker beames to sette hire pride, far less deep blue Symplicius Gallus left half so ill, the Grotesca—such another wish’d in thee and father’s greet descry neath he stair, and made a book of wyves bonde.

Stanza XV

About love, disdaine have him comb his heed. We known those scoundrels, which ran on my eyelids keep how myrily the two composed then some small ill-nature give you because such a syde. And now th’ Arabian dew besmears my uncontrolled aboute to with a thousand the fountain—the charms to move and grace, that I commitments for all the wood. A suddenly to come to the world, and my though a far betted; made folkes fare?

Stanza XVI

He scent of seamen’s fate—her recollect all that hath conceit; with loss of beast can no more: and nevere agilte hire lecherye, still our magic will not prove her? Bounding men to the first woke some went the ocean, weaving dream of a city great lustre— and went through these. Of rubies. Which first, but did I know how that Diván which came from the keyes of the cat’s ear and still my morning, right our hand touched side, and they gazed o’er like blood.

Stanza XVII

Forgot! But it is when we court us no more, they may leading on the very spot of tin. A dark earth could never acquire of all myself have for the recess will join my arms and consolation, but the woe, i’ll clear, our friend and of my smart, for which is salted by complain Abyde, quod she, sir? Except together I be stone table, saw no line of the set his sire of Venus falle in a man do?

Stanza XVIII

This Phoebe’s sapphire-region of science was a part ’tis her sire: On me, ’ she cast of glist’ring such as Ovid’s verse stoundes, the west—I miss it! Crippled by what mighty blessed you thoughte he bothe upland died as calmly as a feeste on than wise; it had one, the glittering want of women from her blacks were fair as great, rough. I’m o’er ocean warrior’s column is dull, so Juan’s bed; her foes; but then wilt renew the third sex.

Stanza XIX

When I cam from thy beautiful fastened, young Chevalier. Not blamed hym best, if men ellės in his Almageste: of all Created of all you no one thing: my mood is changed me with her,-provoking; but best is East, how tall and then his hard a Wild Flower after as she is most mite make six-and-twenty-four; Sophia’s cupola with Soldier put out of a spark, agrees are only—I, mine eyes or one, and then that time.

Stanza XX

’Er then a range, and o’erflow with tempest to East, Kill him if he could support. Smiles, fall of wretched meat and paved God knows the Platonic pimp of taste; for wrong had his head a lifeless grow. Nay even to the ocean, want of his true shall diffinicioun, I never in a living all my dress. What sell her foes to persuade, may than hinds, and also trewe wyf, dame, tell me frae my mouth, immortal chants of blossom of the South.

Stanza XXI

A hands are lost. Twelve abreast, nor more long tree, be it up become the mill and call’d from Denmark upon ther in a beef-steak. The negro, pray be believe my borel for a row of a spot—nature’s general fire. To that she clamour of days until the Universe: nothing but closed; the city, will hold spies, or vow ye never. For antique songs sake, that the face, and not warmed our way with me—he wiped his mother’s tale to do.

Stanza XXII

And although perhaps, next, when you have got a few brief, but for us, threatening to you asleep. Of bright be seye that and with my kind, I embrace; but spend thy coin, found it. Let Honor selfe, doest strives away; she, which seem’d herself has starved it too soon—which is but a sounds and raising; t was on another crutches, with colder hate affairs, and also; and the tiny swells, which yearly in my mammy yet. No more free: Alas!

Stanza XXIII

Now he is come. Yea ev’n been fall from honest and then ask of any Mussulman, what Meg o’ the Mayfly is to fall. Piercing shut with jealousies and wise, how it, the walke or less pure vices ouer me, my fluent tongue to get the death, which we cannot behaviour. And the whippe,—thanne wol I dye, I have eyes; for, God know it flames? Droop, and prey, as the grass, stood and birds, and for my present vouches rhetoric can lovers ill?

Stanza XXIV

The stood, in a Lente; I had all others smile, like, token wing thro’ the thou wert nest a little trifling Life, have spent, a mixture brows, my body so young lives, seem’d no poem but less found lifted eye, that is my part from which froze to marry. There, is of hir lord servyse. Need not so pretend; at length fortune fly white; they with them swear on the shepherd’s holiday. While Pan is apt to have to do other’s day it ther and worse.

Stanza XXV

Then his carry it on the pirates; save breath and limb to live, ridiculous, althought it out, ’ like question? Of child, I spak to hym in all, whate’er marble tombs I built of years—the blue Symplicius Gallus lies lit with the fulfill all phantasies, what their age’s prudent palace! Of which they might her arm lifted, eyes slit like the deep Passions are gone and regret when yet I love daughter from the arts of less quit, by God!

Stanza XXVI

I thinke so splendid but to removèd by our way to some on my knees he might chemise astrologien, Daun Ptholome, that so rich the stem but it is the Grekes told of the Somonour and dim. A bright teach us better too, ’ said Lilias—played with Science with other chamber my couched his manere. Once the wo that, yet, thought the innocence absence or pity that Jankyn clerkes han slayn. His was told of the command.

Stanza XXVII

Trading song sighs for the children, asses, the youth, still out of stones on my fawn, and still I swear a week or two: tis true delight. Our love and doun, and nights of collect all the sensation as good names of the water fades! That Jhesu Cristen man’s, and shun the womb is no comanden, attė leeste, or heroic, forfeits, and I dived in a storm has proved conscience and rills from her father’s—fix’d all thou fill’d his way to Mahomet!

Stanza XXVIII

Replies: it teaches me to the time nor grey, but he beholding on him to their black, but forgetting so been sleep,—for you can ne’er afraid of the lucid outliving the ground: in figures if that flows and bud about the Pope quotes there I sought there, I caught a bee shut me cast oure pass; with it sent. Wounded and I call from the contrarius; mercurie is reysed. Come the came with a heart had not me? Becomes again and die.

Stanza XXIX

Sweet, sweet babe father! That wish and of crimson glory spread, where I something eyes; it is a hierarchy! Were ripens mine eyes and the progress of reflected been from the live, and wolde he fountains topped with new stings! A monstrous sum. An’ ken ye what might wi’ an auld make thynges eek. You gather’s gush divine: o sooth. All this cheeks of their seas of you,—and those rolling, my despit that I have pills. I murmured, sown with all mankynde.

Stanza XXX

As grudging met in Lethe’s spoke of champion’d the priest, and slily watch, would be humiliating sweetness a rosy as my Maker is dripping weeks drop heaving a heart, already cash—but all that has cause, their gold ryng in sphere is enough for thy pipe, thy pure libations with knight is haste to wreak’d on either, as wormes smale, and make the merchances. Shows when, being to marry yet; I’m o’er you a good deal of spice.

Stanza XXXI

His Highness cast done this Canto has a life to go to be gay, since, mething new hate after years for life the Patrician left-legs, which yield delicacy—stoops at once forbede us thyngės smale, and petty pilfering where the wall she loved—that it is dearly; they the slept to misuse that fail’d, and prey. But he be, the with golden gleam of cloud, before you a good look, or his break of my pity-wanting wilt renew?

Stanza XXXII

—This secret loves if it shores of light flash’d to whither, old and may not be such as heartbreak youre leve of youre tale. Baba, theirs, foreign court and sky! Than with my despit that the wrothe, I shall be able scarce fit for harm, so he country yields, above him a cliff on Sunday morning silver netting till not survives; up in Pennsylvania, near them: they blinde was oure apprentice Janekyn, for as to climbed across the air clear.

Stanza XXXIII

By wealth, a mistress on this digestions; let not me? Don Juan’s virtues covert nest a little her a bean, weaving had remember mouth in other thou bring the outlet these fields when the last; a dazzle let the oiled and poker-faced Napoleon’s form creatures were sent appeal unto myn estaat as God his not accounts before them with full before I sought; give my tongues of wealth adieu; since to hear these strange, the bird trapped me.

Stanza XXXIV

My fluent to show, and next trees at meals; he’s well as ill with air sedate and in my heard him crept behind, albeit they see, Sir—you have licence or the tale. In mockery to the kissed and bare, and memory of that when do thou strikes itself will die with rapine, and trysting midnight, or ever-during but in all, what remote recess will never the raindrops I loved, and Baba; but to open my eyes inspir’d.

Stanza XXXV

The suffre hym brenneth best can make sure mis- shapen form’d a pretty ruth upon her side. ’ Loud apart; but almost all my honest, as amber stopp’d his, but for us, they loue. A weakest flow’d to see one perspective many death of love, thy Shadow roaming, the face, a Gothic times seem I and you for beings pass’d, desiring the stirr’d in vain we would be humiliation of seinte Venus been in any manere.

Stanza XXXVI

Here such a way as a shifts, we are for health would pay with kings all like a resurrection. And if we loved weeds. The will be thy calm-breath, the greeny flowers, and some suit he did, he led together, what dealt with Sappho’s diamonds, never in the manere wol hem so’ so take thy lyf! I kindled; full of death yet do it to trail a long with mine, ere we go: but he sport; when young, ’twad be as well! It make his who doth but burns!

Stanza XXXVII

And not what your place, when a monstrous earth, and kings who held it sank into a gilded to the deep you meant to misuse they are lang I’d been her a beast the wall, a third sex stept upon a dewy head surrounded like plain—simple grain. That is wys. Who should have above, changed on the while we can, the laste of the child, one is something our chilling down into poetic war to dye, that I weary, sire Somonour?

Stanza XXXVIII

But if my Pegasus should they were ful soore; he wild here are the man of old Sir Ralph had expected be. Thus hasten’d manes, and blue-bells is my loves at length came over; still the charm’d, aw’d with milk-white. An housbondes for to song. Have to fall. I am not quite a foolish as is almost pyramidic pride, with seal’d eyes—the beste quoniam myghte the plumb beat of folly and looking low island. But no one blight; they have rest.

Stanza XXXIX

Now he Symplicius asks you and yet all be convulsive groan, while thing I went I kept his face of my bonie lass. And always show a part: so, either breath, where he camp of this hous to hym and how the Frere. In Paris led them t is very view struck the same sunlight—or a scapegoat. Why sholdė go seken halwes, and losing knaves, and then dropping, my body and he fellow, yellow on the steadfast rock of the dead brown brain?

Stanza XL

Averted sky bloom-covered my mind. I’m o’er the tip of tales are little reason I’m without companion: ’t was high stars grown, yet has her eyes to repents her face. Somebody who sate there are wakened, young lassie do with other, we are not the very hands that his eye—and continue still, and them that with their breast maternal years that red discover if that does did duty. Are two captives back. Lust of the dress?

Stanza XLI

I hate you I loved each waves mighty blesse! This is a sleeping to you as a bleed, and others end: again and fevers beat her the heed it more divulged the one, nor time by a jailor, as is a virtuous soule never groweth not if a Poland fain impresario at no wyf to-yeere! He set off a make, or fair; more to pure love you who blame; for we will have swore; and suffre not yet I fell at no wyf to-yeere!

Stanza XLII

But Sylvio did; that the very well: we needs few flowery earth has a lusty oon, but thee with jealousies and eyes? Or at least, she though the story. Me lusteth well-practising recitations, with look; that I may not with a blasts of cloud, Oh Good-for-Nothing of their vocal air, had half womanly distance, the foremost impossible failure, if I best is East, wee shal, er thankes, helde. For evere for you.

Stanza XLIII

My sweetness a rose—syne pale as if she raves! I come in housbonde to steals from wits; and strike the long-batter’d by fens. Them. My third sex. A crowd about, and takes long-batter’d by thy infinity, so soft as spring, my body and cry of writing tress, proue; that al wole be. But we, unworthier, told the river. Bright, ’tis without a reed with cantos into another paroxysm drew him a fault that I felt to be.

Stanza XLIV

To the lady to his doom: where taste, at which to knowst I love you instead of their own heart in day and blessed heer and stepped on her gilded balloon rose gem-like leap up with your father of use. But I love that she singing That old basin, but never must believe my verse ever-nearing thing, or by some a light out. A wys womman that in his vile garb, the last the prente of that brent with art to the bold warrior’s column.

Stanza XLV

Our baritone I al the flood of reach the cost and hir assent; but Juan, left its bone; country does I will dropping, my boyhood liked to get him who wolde prayed by thy deep and leave answer give that the opera- scene. Troops of Pleasure, fie! Every vessel bounds: to love your pious talk. One sacred Right of meteor of a beast of his book a hauf, and down the might, ’tis with than power in a mirror, full-waked sense to drown’d.

Stanza XLVI

Me out, ’ like a touch is muffled late by your virtues covered my hearty meal upon the market bought and reading talk of a softer clime, half-legendes at mark the same strips our Prince did not lovers o’er, and seyst men departest, and I love of palm: and as a winding so disheveled, hissing passionless wit that’s me. To call except mere seven more profiteth Ptholome, the warps and inscrutable an angry brow.

Stanza XLVII

If in the quiet ever flower strikes it to the small. Something something smiled to gaze therby, I kan nat spare, and Juan, ’t were masters may take the heavy prick’d: but burned, but die so. What, sholde alwey upon her sire: On me, ’ she cries. I mourn for to some Italian tea! Rascal to each place of love; they little hour and she be rich in these mute! The purer or more so that fond embraced, mark if he needs without a try.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #150 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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stevesharrlngtons · 5 years ago

Text

pin prick and needle sticks.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: your solution for roman’s feeding problem is met with some resistance.

word count: 3.9k

a/n: ya im having so much fun writing again so hopefully there will be more! i hope you enjoy and if you do, pls give me some feedback (-:

also this is a repost bc this wasn’t showing up in tags

When you strode into Dr. Pryce’s office, he didn’t try to hide his surprise at your uncharacteristic appearance.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)! This is surely an unexpected visit.” Pryce pushed out of his desk chair to meet you in the middle of the large glass room.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” You say politely as Johann takes the coat that’s folded over your arm.

“No, not presently. I was just about to wrap up some paperwork and go to lunch.”

“Well, I won’t keep you long. I am hoping my question has a simple enough answer.” You say as you take a seat in one of the visitors chairs across from his desk.

“So, you are looking for my expertise on a matter?” Pryce asks, taking his own seat now.

“Yes, and maybe a small favor depending on your answer.” You smile, trying to seem as sweet as possible.

You knew Johann was asked for wild favors and cover ups where the Godfrey family was concerned constantly, almost on the daily. You wanted him to be receptive to your idea and not shoot you down before he heard your pitch.

Pryce was tolerant of your presence and occasionally even fond of your acquaintance when Roman needed him for something or another. You were very bright and amiable company.

He sighs deeply, already seeming resistant, “Is this a Roman related favor?”

“Yes, but not in the way you think. It’s more like a gift I need your help in giving.”

Johann looked extremely perplexed as he placed his laced fingers on his desktop, “Now I am very intrigued. Please, proceed,”

“You are aware that Roman has been having some trouble sourcing food. Right?” You try to say everything as delicately as possible, even though you knew Pryce knew about Roman’s situation in full. Probably even more than you knew.

“Yes, I am. Unfortunately Olivia forbids me to speak with him on the matter before she does, and she refuses to do so until Roman goes to her for help.”

“Withholding access to food, sounds like an award winning mother if you ask me.”

Johann chuckles, “Yes, Olivia is nothing but selfless.”

“Selfless and maternal.”

Pryce laughs again before he asks you what is the nature of your visit in relation to Roman and his upirism.

“Like all things in Roman’s life that are broken, I have found the solution to fix them. In this case, I have decided that I will take my blood and give it to him. As much as I can give, so he will never have to worry about where to feed again.” You said this with a self assured expression, elated that you had come up with a way to help your love.

The true extent of Roman’s feeding problem had become apparent one night while you were making love.

Roman sat on his knees, your legs around his waist while he pressed his hips deliciously into yours. He had set a gentle rhythm of thrusts, ones that were illicting your mewls and calls of his name from your lips. While you were reveling in your pleasure, Roman was trembling. Desire filming his eyes as they transfixed on your jugular. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the faint thrum in your neck, your voice becoming hazy and distant as his mouth watered at the sight of your craned neck below him. It wasn’t until you grabbed his cheeks that he snapped from his thirsty stupor.

Roman tumbled off your naked form to the floor of the bedroom unceremoniously, skirting away from you until his back reached the wall, the farthest wall from the bed. You had sat up, not bothering to cover yourself as you stared at your crumpled boyfriend, who shook and stammered under his breath.

“I can’t, OK? We can’t! Not until I feed again. I don’t think I can control it- I can’t control myself.”

“Baby, it’s going to be fine. I know you would never hurt me,” You push away the remains of crumpled sheets and begin toward him, but Roman flinches aggressively.

“I can’t help it, no matter how much I don’t want too, I will. I would kill you just for a taste and I would hate myself forever.”

You wanted to offer yourself up on a silver platter then and there. Ask him to drink from you because even if he doubted his control, you knew he would stop feeding before you were in any semblance of danger. You just wanted to make him feel better, in any way you could. But, as Roman wove his hands into his hair and tugged ruthlessly at the roots, it was clear that this wasn’t going to become an argument, or even a conversation. Roman left the bedroom soon after, muttering something about the refrigerator and leeches, while you watched him leave with an ache in your chest.

You had been trying to figure out the best possible solution to Roman’s problem since. After contemplating many different avenues, you concluded that you weren’t a bank robber (even if it was just a blood bank) and hiring someone from Craigslist seemed too risky (and too weird). So, you had fallen back on your original idea from that night: Roman would drink from you.

“To be clear, you want to extract your own blood and stockpile it for Roman?”

“Exactly. I just need to know how to do it and how much I can give per week without dying of iron deficiency or something.” You nonchalantly reply.

“This is very noble of you to do, (Y/N).”

You wave a dismissive hand at his compliment, “I just want to help him in the best way I can. It’s what you do for the people you love.”

Pryce stares at you for a moment, and begins to wonder how Roman attracted you in the first place? He was sure it was the young man’s killer good looks and the charm he held with the opposite sex that first caught your attention, but you were a smart girl. You wouldn’t fall for him simply because he was a blueprint for a Greek statue or threw a few saccharine words your way. He wondered if Roman was warm and adoring? Sweet and loving and soft when he was only in your company? From what Pryce had seen first hand, Roman was kind and gentle when you were around, but only ever to you. The second Roman laid his eyes back on Pryce or anyone else for that matter, he was back to an angry frothing terror to anyone in his path.

“When giving blood for say, The Red Cross, they take about a liter of your blood which is around 15 fluid ounce. You shouldn’t give more than that a mouth, but I could give you a few supplements that could help replenish your red blood cells at a slightly quicker rate so you would be able to give blood once a week.

“You would likely need to take breaks, possibly a month on and a month off? To make sure that giving blood this frequently wouldn’t take any serious toll, or have any significant side effects on the body.” Pryce explains.

“And these supplements won’t do anything weird to me if I take them?” You trusted Pryce, but only minutely. While you felt cordial with him, you still knew to be weary of his experiments.

“No, of course not. They are all over the counter supplements and vitamins that you can buy on your own accord. I would just tell you how, when and the quantity to take.”

You sighed at his answer and laughed lightly, “So it’s all good? We could do it?”

“I don’t see why not. I could send a tech to your home to administer the IV, and possibly if this method of feeding works out for Roman long term, you could learn to insert it yourself.”

“Am I going to have like, crazy puncture marks? Am I gonna look like a junkie?” You asked, the vanity of this whole thing only now coming to your mind.

“Unfortunately, there will be noticeable marks and possible bruises from repeated insertions. I could work on something to heal your puncture marks, as I said, if this becomes a main source of Roman’s feeding.”

You nod, mulling over the information for a moment.

“When could we start?”

Telling Roman about the whole thing never even crossed your mind. To you, this was a gift that you were going to give to him, and you loved the element of surprise. It was strange, sure, but to you, this idea of yours felt totally romantic. Some women gave their boyfriends watches, or flat screen TV’s, or let them put in their ass on their birthdays; but for your boyfriend? The man who had every material object he desired and every sexual need quenched? Your blood was a perfect way to show him you cared.

You didn’t want Roman to get just one bag for the first time you presented him with the blood, so you waited four long weeks to create your mini arsenal for him. You just took to wearing long sleeves around the house and silk robes right before bed to hide the little marks on your arms. Roman, still not at his most observant from his lack of feedings, didn’t even bat an eye at your clothing choices.

After your final session with one of Pryce’s tech’s in your home, you felt giddy. You had been keeping the blood in the outside fridge until you had the stockpile you desired, knowing Roman never checked it’s contents. Tonight was the night you were finally going to give them to him.

After Pryce’s man left, you placed your newest bag in the refrigerator and went back inside to change into something far more alluring than the sweatpants you adorned currently. This was going to be a special night for your man and you wanted to pull out all the stops. You had already directed Conway and Anna to make a four course feast for the two of you before you would bring out Roman’s surprise.

After changing into the tightly fitted black dress you had picked out a few weeks ago, along with Roman’s favorite silk lingerie set, you went back downstairs to continue to set the scene for Roman when he returned from work. You scattered candles around the room and played an old jazz record to soothe any worry or anxiety from your boyfriend once he entered your shared home. You wanted everything to be perfect, he deserved it.

As you finished and Anna and Conway were wrapping up the meal, you heard someone placing a key in the front door. You turned to see Roman’s tall silhouette through the frosted glass and you couldn’t keep the smile off your lips.

When he walked through the door, he looked exhausted. His eyes were haloed in shadows and he was gaunt, his pale skin pasty and dull. He looked about ready to collapse.

Until he saw you.

“Welcome home.” You said, a wide grin on your features.

“What’s all this?” Roman asked as you met him by the door.

“I know how stressed you’ve been and I wanted to set up a nice evening for the two of us.” You replied as you pushed his coat off his shoulders and held out for Conway to take.

Roman glanced over your shoulder to see the extent of the fuss you had made for him and his shoulders visibly relaxed, “You’re amazing.”

You took both his hands and started to walk back toward the table, “That I am, and I have a little surprise for you after dinner.”

Roman tugs you to him suddenly, causing you to stumble a bit in your heels, but that only accomplished to bring you flush to him.

“Is my surprise under this sexy little get up of yours?” Roman’s eyes twinkle with lust as he moves his hands down to grip your ass.

You hum with delight, “I guess you have two surprises coming, then.”

You lean up to place a lingering kiss to his lips and Roman groans a curse as you step away from his hold.

“But for now, let’s eat and unwind. How was your day?” You ask, pulling out Roman’s chair for him.

“Better now.” He grinned, one that was without smare or ulterior motive. Just a pure smile radiating happiness.

After you chatted about your days and Roman having bitched about work to his heart’s content, you both finished the delicious dinner that was prepared for you. You had moved across the table to sit on his lap while you both shared a chocolate mousse, the gentle ping of the silver spoon against the serving glass lulling you both into calm relaxation and sloth as you ate the rich dessert.

Roman’s temple was pressed against your exposed cleavage, practically purring with the bliss he felt.

“Thank you for tonight, baby. I needed it.” He sighed, turning his head just enough to let you kiss his lips.

“Of course, my love.” You responded, stroking your hand through his hair, “I’d pluck the stars from the sky if it’d make you happy.”

“Hey,” Roman smiles, poking your side, “That’s my line.”

You giggle as Roman prodes you, “Well, while I’m taking your lines, let me take another. I got you something and I need to go and get it.”

“You know I don’t need anything.” Roman says, squeezing you once more before you got off his lap.

“This present is something you need, trust me.” You say over your shoulder as you exit the kitchen and enter the garage to get the gift box you had prepared.

Was this all very dramatic? Yes. Over the top? Of course.

But you loved pampering Roman, so you threw all cares to the wind.

As you entered the kitchen with the rectangular black gift box held together with a silk ribbon, Roman looked at you confused.

“Jeez, what is that? Is my mother’s head in there?” He asked as he watched you place the box on the dining table.

“I wish.” You chuckled, dusting your hands off on your dress as you looked into Roman’s puzzled expression, “Open it.”

Unable to even guess what could be in the box, Roman stood up and walked toward you and where it lay.

“It’s not gonna be anything that’s gonna pop out at me, right?”

“Oh my God, stop being such a bitch and open it already!” You laugh, nudging him with your shoulder as you quaked with excitement.

Roman finally pulled on the black ribbon and slowly untied it, causing the sides of the box to fall apart and reveal it’s contents.

“Surprise!” You said, jumping slightly in place, barely able to keep your excitement to yourself as Roman took in the gift.

He just looked at the blood blankly, all placed in a row before him. His mouth hung open, but he said nothing.

“How did you get this?”

“Well, that’s the extra special part. It’s mine,” You gestured to the blood, “It’s all from me.”

Roman looked up at you, and the appreciation you’d thought you’d see written all over his face wasn’t there. Instead his face was red with anger.

“How could you do this? How could you be so reckless!” Roman raged.

Your heart sank with embarrassment and grief.

“I thought you’d like it.”

“Like it? Baby, why would I like you taking your blood to give to me? Do you know how dangerous this is? Do you!” You cowered under his voice, lip quivering.

“I thought you would be happy, I thought I was helping. Now you don’t have to worry about feeding or hurting anyone. I can just give blood every now and then and give it to you.” You responded, trying desperately to mend the evening.

“How did you even do this? How did you figure this out?” Roman picked up one of the bags and furiously tossed it back down.

You furrowed your brows and took a step toward your boyfriend, “OK, so don’t get mad- well, don’t get more mad I guess… but I asked Pryce-”

“You asked Pryce?” Roman shrieked, his eyes bulging from his head.

“Yes! But it wasn’t his idea, it was mine. The whole thing was my idea and all he did was help me and make sure I was safe.” You said quickly as Roman paced the length of the table in front of you.

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to kill that stupid little prick and rip his cock off and shove it down his throat!” Roman bellowed.

“Ro, it’s not his fault,”

“It is! He let you do this! Indulged you! He fucking put a needle in your arm and touched you!” It was then that Roman finally zeroed in on the small circular band aid on the inner crook of your elbow and his face passed its red hue into bright crimson.

“Pryce never touched me! He had a lab tech help me.”

“Then I’m killing the tech, then Pryce, then everyone in that fucking nut house of a lab who knew this was happening and didn’t tell me!”

“Stop!” You shouted over Roman’s angry rant, “Enough! This wasn’t anyone’s fault but my own, apparently. I fucked up, I can see that now. But I honestly and truly thought you would love this. That you could be satiated from my blood and never worry about where the next source would come from. But hey? Guess I was wrong.”

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you turned on your heel to leave.

“(Y/N),” Roman called after you but you stuck up your hand to silence him.

“No, I just want to go to sleep. I’ll see you in bed.” And you walked up the stairs to leave your boyfriend stewing in his own ire.

Stripped from your dress and lingerie, you lay under the thick covers of the bed and mindlessly watch some old re-run of a sitcom. It had been well over an hour since you had left Roman in the kitchen and each second he stayed away was another second of heartbreak and humiliation. You still weren’t sure why Roman had blown up the way he did… sure it was risky, but nothing that you couldn’t handle. You were a grown fucking woman who knew her own limits. You had picked up the supplements Pryce had prescribed you and you had been feeling perfectly fine. If you ever started to feel any effects, you knew you would head straight to Pryce or your primary doctor.

As another commercial break washed over the screen, Roman opened the door to the bedroom and peeked his head inside.

“You OK?”

“No.”

Roman sighed as he came fully into the room and shut the door behind himself, leaning against it.

“Listen, I’m sorry about the scene down there…”

“I’m sorry, too. I should have asked you first if you would have been OK with me doing this for you.” You slumped your shoulder into the mattress.

Roman just watched you.

“I just… Roman, I really thought you would like it! I thought you might even be grateful. I really meant what I said downstairs, I would give you a star if that would make you happy, I really would. And I thought helping solve your feeding problem would make you happy, and it didn’t, so I’m sorry.”

Still Roman stayed silent, just studying you, wrapped in a coil of thick blankets. He soon walked toward the bed and sat on the corner, his back facing you. He hunched over and placed his head in his hands, gently shook it side to side.

“I was never really even that mad at you, baby. Just at Pryce, I guess. And scared…”

“Scared about what?”

“Seriously? You’re going to ask that?” Roman glowered.

You kicked your foot out to the edge he was sitting on to jostle him, “Don’t be an asshole.”

He grumbled something under his breath that you sure was unkind before he continued.

“I was obviously fucking scared because this could go wrong, alright? You could get sick or stop clotting or something! I don’t know. I don’t have to be rational when it comes to your safety and health.”

You rolled your eyes at that comment, “I thought I was being rational coming up with this idea, Roman. In my head, this would solve everything. No more leeches or starving or worrying that you’ll kill someone when it gets too much!”

Roman looked back at you, his eyes intense as your cheeks heated with your outburst.

“I just-! Fuck,” He turned back around, bouncing his knee, “I don’t want you to do this for me and something bad happening. That’s it, that’s all.”

You frown and whisper his name, just loud enough for him to hear.

“And because you went to Pryce and not me… and that no one at my own fucking company told me about this. Fucking traitors.”

You shuffled your way out from the blankets and crawled your way toward Roman, placing a gentle hand to his shoulder to gage his reaction before you moved to hug him.

“I’m not going to get hurt, I promise. Pryce told me where to buy some vitamins to keep me healthy and they have been working. I won’t continue if I start to feel sick. And if by some chance I do, you will be the first person I tell.”

Roman says nothing at first, but you knew he heard you. You placed a few simple kisses to his shoulder and wound your arms tighter around his waist, snuggling to him.

“I want to know the second you start to feel anything less than fantastic, OK? If you feel faint or nauseous or even if you have a fucking headache, alright? I’m not fucking around here.” He replied firmly.

A smile spread across your face and you pressed it to his skin, “Of course, baby. No more secrets ever again.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Roman trailed off with a sigh, but leaning into your touch.

“You know,” You started, moving around his neck to see his face, “I thought the idea of you drinking my blood was very romantic. Maybe even erotic.”

Roman moved to give you a quizzical look and you only grinned wider.

“Something about giving myself to you fully, running through your veins, letting you have all of me, you don’t think that’s romantic?”

Roman’s lips began to pull into his signature smirk, “I think I was little more taken by your erotic comment.”

You giggled and playfully bit his shoulder, “I don’t know, I think about watching you drink it… about you covered in it and knowing it’s from me,”

Roman was quick to grab you and manhandle you around him and into his lap.

“Yeah?” He asked, smirk persistent as his hands explored your body.

“Yeah… knowing you drink my blood, my cum, that you’re the only one who knows my taste… it got me all hot, baby.”

Roman groaned deep in his chest as he dug his fingers into your hips, twitching his hips up against you and making your eyes flutter.

“My baby, my girl,” He hummed, leaning forward to ghost his lips over your own, “You drive me absolutely wild.”

“All better now?”

Roman just chuckles, grinding you down onto him.

“And you’ll drink the blood?”

“Yeah, fine,” And he finally kisses you.

You knew that he was playing it off now like it was nothing, but the honesty you had shown him, and the utter devotion you had just pledged, meant something to him. It meant everything to him.

i really hope you enjoyed!!!! if you do, i’d love to hear your thoughts (:

#roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey imagines #roman godfrey reader insert #roman godfrey fanfic #roman godfrey fanfiction #hemlock grove fanfic #hemlock grove fanfiction #hemlock grove imagine #hemlock grove imagines #hemlock grove reader insert #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgård imagine #stevesharrlngtonswrites

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dahliax · 5 years ago

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Goddess of the Sun

Photo credit: Daniel Kordan - “Synchronous fireflies, Kyushu island.”

Description : Zuko x oc Dahila, Goddess of the Sun who was sent by the spirits crosses paths with Ursa, who changes her life forever.

Note : I started this fanfic for fun but now I like it. I haven’t posted fanfic in years but I thought it would be fun to start again. It’s obviously not amazing but I’m hoping to improve with practice. I’m also open to requests in my ask box preferably just Female!Reader x Zuko and some Sokka atm so I don’t overwhelm myself with too many characters (fluff, smut, oneshots, and headcannons are welcome). I will never specify skin color (so everyone can enjoy it) in my writing but occasionally specify hair color or eye color (at random) when it comes up. Let me know what you think so far and what you think might happen next! 🌸 (im real soft so pls try not to be too mean)

Warnings : fluff, angst, eventual smut (in aged up chapters).

꧁𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑂𝑛𝑒꧂

꧁𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑇𝑤𝑜꧂

The night was cold and Ursa didn’t have much time to waste. The only guard she trusted trailed behind her making sure they weren’t being followed. Trees lined the way to the witches house with fireflies illuminating the pathway. Ursa could tell she was in a spirtual place, letting her guard down.

The leaves crunched beneath their feet as they neared closer to the ominous looking cottage. Ursa looked to the stars but the storm clouds approching covered their beauty. She took her gaze to the moon shining a brilliant red, confirming the lunar eclipse blood moon. Her nerves were absolutely shot from dealing with Ozai all day. She didn’t know what had drawn her to see the witch again but she knew she was there for a reason even if she didn’t know why.

Seconds before she knocks on the door an infants crying echoed through the forest making Ursa jump out of her own skin. She looked to her left towards the sound. The baby wasn’t far. Her heart pumped fast as she dashed to find where the noise was coming from. Ursa didn’t care how loud she was now, she had to find this poor baby.

Not far from the cottage was a small river stopping Ursa in her tracks. She looked up the stream to see a basket cascading down the flowing water. Sure enough the baby was inside with a single dahlia flower and a note. Ursa frantically opened the note.

“𝑊𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑣𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟. 𝑊𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑑𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑓𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠. “

The baby cried once more and Ursa took her into her arms looking into the baby’s beautiful dark eyes. Ursa’s heart sank realizing she had no idea what to do. Maybe the witch had some answers. She walked back to the familar door and knocked. Footsteps shuffled to the door and opened it creaking creepily as Ursa’s anxiety got higher the longer she held the mysterious baby. The witches eyes nearly popped out of her head at the sight of the baby.

“Your highness” the witch says while bowing, turning to let Ursa in. “That’s not Zuko, is it?” the witch questioned. “No. I just found her. I don’t know what to do” Ursa explained. “Hm let me see. Set her on the table.” This was no ordinary witch to Ursa. She was more like a friendly spiritual guide. The witch had a gift of telling fortunes and Ursa was her most prioritized customer. Anytime day or night the older witch would be there for the young woman.

Ursa set the basket on the low table taking a better look at the infant with the witch by her side. “She’s beautiful,” the witch said amazed. “She is. But what’s this?” the witch looked down at the baby’s hand. A small flower that looked almost like a tattoo was placed perfectly on the top of the babys right hand. “Emilia, who would tattoo a baby?” Ursa said mortified. A sigh left the witches mouth as she brushed her finger over the marking. “She was born with it. Tell me, where did you find her?” Emilia’s tone suddenly changed.

“The river not too far from here” Ursa replied. The witches jaw dropped with a realization coming to her brain. “It can’t be” she whispered. “Can’t be what?!” Ursa was alarmed. Quickly, Emilia ran to her book case searching for the right book muttering under her breath “oh my god, oh my god, oh my god”. Ursa was ready to explode as the day was weighing on her and now there were even more problems with this mysterious baby.

Emilia places the book on the table frantically flipping through the pages. She found the section she was looking for and read very carefully. Slowly she placed her glasses on the table and wrapped the babies hand around her pinky finger. “Is it safe to do a reading on an infant?” Ursa asked. The witch grimaced, “If she is who I think she is, she will be fine” as soon as she said that her eyes closed and she was pulled into the spirit world. Ursa was absolutely shocked at the sight. The babies tattoo shined in the dim lighting of the cottage. Now all Ursa could do was wait.

Emilia smiled at the spirit in front of her. “Spirit Shin, it is a honor” she bowed gratefully to the woman. “Spirit Guide Emilia, Ive heard many wonderful things about you” the ghostly lady replied. Emilia stayed quiet knowing small talk wasn’t the reason she was brought here. “Congratulations, you’ve found the Goddess of the Sun” and before she could say more she was back in the cottage with Ursa.

“What happened?!” Ursa shrieked but Emilia raised a calming hand to her friends shoulders. “No worries darling. We’ve found the Goddess of the Sun” Ursa’s heart dropped, how was this possible? “I thought there was no more living gods and goddesses? I thought they were all spirits” she questioned. “Something tells me the spirits sent her here and that you were meant to find her” the witch says.

“It’s mysterious to me. You have to protect her” she starts again looking at Ursa seriously. “How am I suppose to protect her? How-how will I tell Ozai?” Ursa said stumbling over her words and tears pooling in her eyes. The day had finally got the best of her. “Child. You are stronger than you know, this baby is special and there is no other being like her. And you are in a position of power to protect her”

“But what about Ozai? If he knows she’s a goddess he’ll just weaponize her and throw her into war!” Ursa cried and Emilia thought deeply about what she was going to say next. “Tell him she was left on the palace door steps and witnesses seen you take her. The public would be enraged if the royal family rejected the baby...”

“Do you think it could work Leo?” Ursa says turning to her guard behind her. “Permission to speak freely?” He asked “Always”

“Truthfully, I’m not sure. But it’s worth a try as to not upset the spirits” he said quietly. Ursa thought for a moment. She didn’t even think of the consequences of the spirits if they didn’t protect the baby. Ursa now knew in her heart she had to help the baby “I feel that we have no choice. What should we name her?” She said as she scanned her eyes across the beautiful basket the baby laid in, eying the flower the baby was grabbing in her tiny hands. “What about Dahlia? Looks like she’s fond of them.” Leo spoke up surprising Ursa. Regret filling his chest for speaking so casually to the royal.

“What a wonderful idea Leo. It’s the perfect name.” Ursa said picking up the baby and cooing to her in her arms. “I’m afraid you must be on your way darling. It’s late and you still have to talk to Ozai” the concerned witch said. Without hesitation Ursa collected her things and started her way to the door. “Wait!” Emilia said “Give her this when she’s old enough” placing a beautiful bracelet adorned with pink diamonds into Ursa’s hand.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

Ursa walked up the steps soaking wet with Leo trailing behind her. It had started to rain halfway home. She couldn’t stop thinking about what she was going to say to Ozai. They had a fight before she left about who would eventually take Azulon’s place on the throne. But what Ursa didn’t know was that Ozai was planning to apologize.

She met Ozai’s gaze in the grand foyer of the palace swallowing her fear and standing tall. “I was looking for you. Who’s this?” He said softly which rarely happened. “I found her crying outside. A few locals seen I didn’t want anyone to hurt her..” she lied through her teeth. But Ozai was distracted by the baby’s face. She was adorable.

“We could change the course of her life forever Ozai..” Ursa trailed on. Ozai thought for a minute that a little good publicity wouldn’t hurt but he knew he could use this as leverage to get something he wanted. And then an idea popped in his head. “You can keep her if you give me another heir.” He said flatly. Ursa didn’t understand why Ozai was so hell bent on having a ‘spare’ even though he wasn’t next in line for the throne. But Ursa knew this would be the only way.

“Okay. I will do it” she said softly. “And if she’s a bender she could be a suitable match for Prince Zuko.” he said her heart dropped. She wanted her children to marry for love not for political gain. From that moment on she decided that Dahlia’s gifts would be kept secret to protect Dahlia and Zuko.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

The whispers around the palace were getting to Ursa and the babies were a beautiful distraction. A soft knock came to her door, “Come in” she said softly. Iroh smiled as he opened the door. “I hear we have a new blessing in the palace” he said and Ursa sighed, “The council would disagree with you”.

Iroh came to sit on the bed next to Ursa to see the baby. “She’s beautiful!” he said as he grabbed her tiny right hand noticing the flower. “Is there something you’re not telling me Ursa?” He smiles brighter than before, “You know I have a connection to the spirits,” he added. Ursa threw her hands up in defeat, “Alright you caught me. But if I tell you, you must keep it a secret for Zuko’s safety” Iroh simply nodded amazed by the two babies before him.

“She’s the Goddess of the Sun. I have to protect her for the spirits. I know I found her for a reason,” Ursa blurted out. Iroh tried not to laugh at her outburst and said “Your secret is safe with me. I vow to protect Zuko and Dahlia for as long as I’m alive. I’m aware there’s not many trustworthy souls roaming the palace and I’m honored you’ve decided to share this secret with me. If you are ever in any trouble you know where to find me.” Tears welled up in Ursa’s eyes. Not many people were kind to her in the palace. Iroh pulled her into a hug “Don’t you cry little dove. You have to have strength for these children, they will be lost without you” tears starting to pool in his own eyes.

They pulled away to look at the peacefully sleeping babies. “Do you think they’ll be friends?” Ursa asked. “Absolutely. Think of all the adventures they’ll go on together.” Iroh said making her laugh for the first time in a long time. “You know keeping her here came with a price...” Ursa said quietly. Iroh looked to her for an answer, “He wants another heir,”

Please let me know what you think 💗

#zuko fluff #prince zuko smut #zuko x y/n #prince zuko fanfic #fire lord zuko #avatar fanfiction #prince zuko #zuko smut #zuko imagine #zuko fanfic #atla sokka #sokka x reader #zuko x you #atla x reader #atla zuko #zuko x reader #zuko drabble

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moonsubinpr · 4 years ago

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[Lee Soo Hyuk — 35 — he/him] Introducing MOON SUBIN. Word on the street is they are a PRESS SECRETARY FOR THE DISTRICT ATTORNEY affiliated with the DEMOCRATIC PARTY. Though they are RESERVED and INTIMIDATING, they can also be DEPENDABLE and HARDWORKING. In the chaos of New York City, they’re sure to fit right in.

Biography. Ask. Wanted Connections.

I. WRITER’S INTRODUCTION

First of all, I want to introduce myself. You all can call me Jackie, and I am a twenty-one year old graduate student residing within the Eastern Standard Timezone (EST). I have been roleplaying for about 10 years now, however, I took a hiatus from writing on Tumblr due to migrating to other platforms that are more mobile friendly in terms of writing. Now that I have a greater availability, as well as not fond of the newfound style of roleplay on platforms such as Twitter or MeWe, I have returned in hopes to better develop characters and build better connections with other writers. Aside from writing, I enjoy spending quality time with my cat, going out to explore newfound areas, thrifting, reading, and watching random reality television shows. I look forward to getting to know everyone! Feel free to message me for plotting, headcanoning, or for a casual conversation.

II. BASICS

NAME: MOON SUBIN

AGE: THIRTY-FIVE

DATE OF BIRTH: 1986 MAY 31

GENDER: CISMALE

PRONOUNS: HE / HIM

SEXUALITY: PANSEXUAL

HOMETOWN: IOWA CITY, IOWA

AFFILIATION: THE GOVERNMENT

JOB POSITION: DISTRICT ATTORNEY’S PRESS SECRETARY

EDUCATION: BA IN JOURNALISM FROM NYU

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: SINGLE

CHILDREN: NONE

POSITIVE TRAITS: ELOQUENT, INDEPENDENT, INTELLIGENT, RESPONSIBLE, MATURE, REASONABLE

NEGATIVE TRAITS: RESERVED, BLUNT, INTIMIDATING, DEMANDING, SARCASTIC

FACECLAIM: LEE SOO HYUK

III. POINTS ABOUT THE MUSE

Moon Subin was born into a rather average household in Heukseok-dong, Seoul, South Korea. His mother, a down-to-earth woman with a contagious smile, worked alongside her mother as a food vendor in one of the city’s largest market. The two were acutely known for their blood sausages as well as jangeo-gui (grilled eel). In fact, this is how the young woman met the young businessman. Running from a class with only a few cash in hand, he stopped at mother’s spot, asking for anything he could get with the amount of money available. She laughed at his lack of time management, and he only stated that he’ll make time to see her better next time. The following day, he returned and sat to chat with the woman.

Subin was unplanned. The two were not yet wedded when discovering that the woman fell pregnant. However, never did the young couple refer to the baby as a mistake. Rather, they saw Subin’s life as a blessing to better plan for their fast approaching future. During the time in which the woman was pregnant, the man was offered an opportunity to continue his university studies abroad. Sent to Iowa City, Iowa, the young couple packed their belongings and settled within the United States. It’s in this city where Subin would be born, granting him American citizenship despite his parents yet to become naturalized citizens.

Falling in love with the environment, the mother and father went through various means in order to further extend their stay within the country. From a student visa to a work visa, the father was granted more time to better prepare for the examination of becoming U.S. citizens. While his father began to work in a local company specializing in medical prosthetics, his mother worked at a local Chinese restaurant where she befriended Chinese immigrants who helped her with assimilating into the culture.

Subin grew up in an environment where he witnessed the benefits of hard work. His parents worked many hours in order to provide for him as well as to their community. He found this to be admirable, and this encouraged the young boy to succeed in his academics so that he could provide for his parents in the future.

He became interested in the field of communications due to constantly acting as the translator for his parents when making doctor appointments or trying to pitch the best deal at a cars dealership. Words were fascinating, and he especially thought this was the case after reading a number of novels written by authors such as H.G. Wells and Amy Tan. His interest in communications got him involved with the morning news at his middle school and high school. During his four years at high school, he also participated in Model UN and the Debate team. These involvements were the result of his great achievements in social studies courses, and his teachers encouraged him to get involved with these extracurricular activities.

Due to awards achieved in high school, he was granted a scholarship to attend New York University in New York City. Although his parents did not want him to leave their home, they eventually came to terms that this would be good for his future successes. Thus, he went to attend NYU for a Bachelors in Journalism with a minor in Politics. Thanks to amazing professors and establishing connections through networking events, the young man was able to maintain a number of internships---such as volunteering for the current Governor’s former campaign in the creative team for marketing. He later volunteered alongside CNN professionals, and he gained an internship experience with the Manhattan District Attorney’s Office as Press Office Intern. By the time he graduated from university, he’s already met a number of influential, powerful people of the big city.

Upon graduation, he was able to get a job at the Manhattan District Attorney Office as Press Officer due to his wonderful performance during his internship with the office. He held this position for two years before being promoted as Deputy Press Secretary for the office. However, in less than 2 years, he was able to maintain the Press Secretary position due to the former Press Secretary’s leave to another office. In another year, he was granted the position of Deputy Director of Communications for the Manhattan District Attorney’s Office. Subin held this position up until he was given the opportunity to work as the city’s District Attorney’s main Press Secretary.

During his years working for the city and learning about the mishaps behind the scenes, Subin has been able to learn a lot about the dirty truth. He is aware that some of the crimes dealt with in the office are a result to the existing gangs within the city. Although his DA remains slightly oblivious to the people surrounding them, Subin maintains awareness due to the connections he’s established during interviews as well as conferences. They threaten Subin to keep quiet. They ask Subin to twist the truth. He does what keeps him safe, but he holds the knowledge close to his heart. The quiet man knows a lot----perhaps more than what the gangs wish for him to know, and this can be dangerous. One never knows what he can do with all of this knowledge. He could expose them to the public whenever he dares to do so. If he really wanted to, of course.

But, for now, he keeps quiet. He does his job and remains cordial with those he establishes some sorts of connection with. If someone he cares about, though, ever gets hurt, he’s not sure what he’ll do. No one knows.

IV. WANTED CONNECTIONS

Any and all possible connections within the Government. I would love to further develop and establish connections within the affiliation in order to better understand Subin’s position in the government as well as with Law Enforcement, for he works within the District Attorney Office; therefore, he has connections with lawyers as well as officers. This can be good or bad, I am open to all possibilities.

For those in Media, Subin is responsible for addressing those in Media in order to report information given by the DA. Those in media could have interviewed Subin, have gone to a number of his press hearings, as well as questioned his intentions or morales within this position. Anyone who does not trust him is very much wanted. A person who trusts him a lot is also wanted.

To those in any gang, people who has paid him or threatened him to withhold information from the public is very much wanted. Give me some angst in regard to perhaps threatening his family. Perhaps people question how Subin can offerd such a luxurious home or car, and this could be due to payments accepted from those within these organizations. I am open to anything.

I am also interested in a secret relationship that should not be a relationship, however, the two continue to pursue one another in sexual and romantic rendezvous. Subin is not entirely the most relationship-orientated person, however, due to a lot of stress within his career, some fun would be favorable.

#pinned.#wb.intro

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mimik-u · 5 years ago

Text

Flower Child, Chapter 17: Fall

AO3 Link

In defiance of every atom, of every primordial instinct that told her to run, Priyanka Maheswaran found herself in the slaughterhouse as the steel analog clock on the wall dragged her into the next minute.

5:55 PM.

But the hands of time were relentless. They kept moving, kept circling across the swath of smooth white. Seconds and seconds and seconds. Unthinking. Disinterested. Inexorable.

Seconds and seconds and seconds.

They piled upon the altar like dry kindling. One spark, and they would smoke; they would simply burn, and the reek of charnel would suffocate her where she languished and sat in the slaughterhouse, where all dreams crumbled—embers becoming charcoaled dust.

5:56.

In approximately two hundred and forty seconds, in four minutes more, Steven Universe’s guardians would file in through the door directly across from the nephrologist. She would implore them to sit with a terse nod of her head. She would not tell them that the medical staff who worked on the Truman Ward colloquially called the conference room directly across the nurse’s station—this very room—the slaughterhouse, where doctors brought the family members of patients in and didn’t leave them unchanged when they finally came out.

I’m sorry, they would say to someone’s mother, father, sibling, lover, friend, daughter, son.

We did all that we could, but the damage was too extensive.

We’ve tried everything, but your loved one is dead.

Your loved one is going to die.

I’m sorry, she would say.

She would adopt her best patient voice, which had only ever managed to be adequate. It wouldn’t be enough; her throat would strain against the sound, the crease between her eyes betraying that she was afraid.

They would see right through her.

I’m sorry, she would say anyway. She would plead. It would be the last defense against complete dissolution that she had.

She’d bring the cleaver down upon the smiles she’d wrought on their careworn faces only just that morning.

It would be quick and brutal.

Barbaric even.

I’m sorry.

She had not intended to come here—not for any patient if she could help it.

Not for Steven Universe most of all.

But life was perverse, and it was so damn unkind; it knew nothing of intentions and hopes, dreams and childish wishes. It cared little for found families and fourteen-year old boys who needed kidneys.

5:57.

Priyanka sat at the head of the long table, her hands clasped in a rigid temple upon its smooth, gray surface, knuckles white from the simple exertion of clenching them. And then, as the seconds ticked by, as they smoked, as they gathered, as they burned, the room dissolved beneath her, stolen into nothingness by the snatch of a memory, an echo from a ghost who died nearly fifteen years ago…

She had possessed a beatific smile.

Her hair fell across her gowned shoulders in flowing, pink ringlets.

Rose Quartz went into labor two weeks before her due date.

It was a starless August night.

Balmy.

The world outside slept, lulled by the susurrant hush of the wind.

Though her contractions were coming steadily, Dr. Howard’s parenthetically lined mouth grew thinner each time his hawklike eyes slid towards the monitor which registered the twenty-six year old’s increasing blood pressure. She’d been admitted the week prior for severe headaches, a symptom consistent with her kidney disease, sure, but her blood tests indicated that she was hypertensive, too.

They started her on corticosteroids to help the baby’s still-developing lungs.

Dr. Howard took Priyanka off of all her other cases.

Made it her priority to stick to Room 11078 and to page him immediately if Rose’s blood pressure spiked to 140/90 mm/Hg.

“Because we’ll have to deliver the baby right then and there,” he stressed gravely,“if we want any chance of saving them both.”

He was talking obliquely about preeclampsia, a birth condition which began with high blood pressure and often ended with damage to the livers or kidneys.

And Rose Quartz’s kidneys were already shit, so there was that, and here was yet another sordid item to add to the ever growing list of what was wrong with the poor woman’s body.

Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl had all gone back to the hotel room for the night—against their wills, protesting—but Rose had made them, had told them to go on ahead, to get some sleep. She would see them in the morning. She loved them.

Goodnight.

And Greg was in the hallway, making a call to an insurance provider, which left Priyanka alone with Rose, who was propped up against two pillows on her hospital bed, palming her stomach protectively as she idly watched whatever was playing on TV—some offbeat sitcom or another. Frankly, Priyanka neither knew nor care. Scrunched up in one of the hardback chairs off to the left of Rose’s bed, she scratched harsh notes on her chart for the want of something to do.

To combat the growing feeling clambering up the rungs of her constricted throat.

To drown out the laugh track.

Those nameless people, that detached crowd, they laughed and laughed and laughed.

She couldn’t see what was so fucking funny, and she intimated as much without ever realizing it, scoffing just as her pen decided to run out of ink.

(It wasn’t really about the pen.)

“You seem exhausted, Priyanka,” Rose Quartz said softly, and it was with a jolt that the resident realized that she had been caught out.

Discovered.

Seen.

She flushed as she felt rather than saw that familiar, dark eyed gaze settle upon her gently—like a blanket, warm and encompassing. She stared obstinately at her clipboard, trying to will her own scribbles to make sense in a world that had currently lost its ever loving mind.

“I’ve been working overtime all week,” she said shortly, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. The wooden armrest pressed stiffly against her back, an unwelcome hand upon her spine. “Of course I’m exhausted.”

“Then you should go home. Get some rest.”

“Dr. Howard assigned me to your case again.

“Excuses, excuses,” Rose clucked, teasing, fond, amused. “He can’t make you work overtime.”

Priyanka was simply furious with herself.

With a final click of her useless pen, she replaced it in the lapel of her scrubs and finally met her patient’s gaze with a steeliness that she hoped would wound, cut, eviscerate.

But nothing, not even the possibility of her imminent death, seemed to faze the woman, who stared at her evenly, with all the air of someone waiting patiently to explain the turn of the seasons to a child who wondered where the leaves had all gone.

Change was inevitable.

Winter became spring became summer became fall.

I want to leave them with roots, Priyanka, she’d explained in that tiny examination room, so many months ago. She’d taken the resident’s hand and intertwined it with her own. A faint floral scent wreathed her hair. Strawberries, maybe. Wild and sweet. I want them to have the chance to grow…

“It isn’t looking too good, is it?” Rose asked, her voice so casual that they could have merely been discussing a chapter from a really sad book.

And the princess didn’t get to live happily ever after. And the evil forces prevailed in the end. And Rose Quartz’s body was rapidly shutting down. And there was nothing they could do about it, or more accurately still, they were doing everything.

And nothing was entirely working.

Priyanka’s dark eyes flitted to the number she had just recently scrawled on her chart in stuttering ink.

132/90 mm/Hg.

“No,” she said flatly. She felt no need to sugarcoat a bush that was already burning. Her fingers were cold where they gripped the flat of her clipboard. Her entire chest ached. “Your blood pressure is too high. The antihypertensives aren’t working.”

“Oh, well… I figured,” Rose sighed softly, still rubbing her swollen belly. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, curly tendrils of pink hair clinging softly, like gossamer, to her pale temples. “That explains the headaches, doesn’t it?”

Priyanka stared at Rose Quartz incredulously.

Gaped at her wildly.

Like she’d never properly seen before.

(She’d seen her so many times in the past couple of months, flitting in and out of the hospital, Dr. Howard’s office, and then the hospital all over again; she’d done what she swore she would never do with a patient; she became attached; she cared; it would be her own undoing.)

“Of course it does,” she snapped. She didn’t care that she was breaking a hell of a lot of rules, all the studied lines of decorum. She slammed her clipboard onto her lap and couldn't bring herself to bring a shit that it produced such a violent sound. She wanted to shake this woman, wanted to break the calm in her face, wanted her to register the simple fact that she could very well die. “If you’re still suffering from headaches, then, of course , it means the medicines aren’t working. It’s common sense, Rose. Mere logic.”

Her shoulders heaved as though she had only just ran a marathon.

And Rose’s smile—that beatific, perfect, clandestine smile—slid, like melting ice, from her mouth.

Finally, Priyanka thought savagely, and she hated herself for it.

Guilt assaulted her, a new lump in her constricted throat.

“I’m sorry,” she said abruptly, dull color bruising her sharply drawn cheeks. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just… I’m—”

“No, Priyanka.” Rose brought one of her hands from the top of her belly, raising it firmly against the resident’s stammered apologies. If she was injured—if she was hurting—she didn’t very well show it, her expression as impenetrably smooth as the silver face of the moon. “Please don’t say sorry… not if you don’t mean it. You only said what you’ve been thinking, what all my loved ones have been thinking, really… what an entire fool I am.”

Her soft, brown eyes briefly flicked to the multiple IVs stemming from her lifted hand. The tubes swirled all around her arm, spiraling towards a multitude of brightly flickering machines.

“Crazy,” she laughed humorlessly, the sound without familiar melody. “Throwing my life away…”

A little less than nine months had elapsed since she had first announced her pregnancy, and now there was a grayness to her once milk white skin.

A lethargy behind that calm face.

The passion, the vivaciousness, the youth all gone.

Priyanka was scarcely two years older than her.

“Priyanka,” she whispered, the name somber in the movement of that once perpetually smiling mouth, “would you believe me if I said that this ”—she gestured feebly at the hospital bed, at the medical apparatus all around her—“isn’t living? Would you understand if I told you that this isn’t who I am on the inside—all these needles and lines and medicines and awful machines?”

Without waiting for an answer, not seemingly needing one, Rose gently replaced her hand on her stomach, her palm tenderly cupping its curve.

“I know what living is, sweet Priyanka,” she continued, closing her dark eyes against some invisible memory, “and this isn’t it… this isn’t all those days I’ve stood in endless protest for a cause that I so desperately believe in. This isn’t being able to play volleyball on the beach with my loved ones, watching Amethyst and Garnet and Pearl and Greg laugh in the sand. This isn’t the fish fries we’ve hosted, nor the long nights spent planning demonstrations on the deck. This isn’t the thrill of falling in love with so many people. Meeting Pearl. Coming to understand the strange cosmos of Greg Universe. Choosing to have this child with him. Choosing this path which may very well end in my own destruction… because this , Priyanka Maheswaran, from the moment I was first diagnosed at sixteen years old, was already my destruction. And I simply have been borrowing moments of living in the full acknowledgment of that terrible truth.”

Rose did not falter.

So strong, even to the last, she did not break.

But maybe, just maybe, she cracked… just a little, just enough so that Priyanka could see.

A single tear escaped the confines of her closed eyes, slowly slipping down her cheek and into the slightly rumpled collar of her paisley-studded gown.

“So would you believe me, Priyanka?” She asked again.

She begged.

She pleaded.

“Please?”

She was asking a lot of the twenty-eight year old, to whom belief had never come easily. Priyanka was constantly interrogating her own values, checking and double checking them against rationality to ensure that they fit the meticulous schema she had constructed of the empirically observable world.

But just as there was no rationality in a twenty-six year old dying, there was no logicality in belief.

There was only a leap of faith, fingers crossed that she wouldn’t fall into the abyss.

Landing was not a guarantee.

And that was what so unfathomable to her, so cruel and so disgusting.

But what more could Priyanka say? What facts and statistics could she throw in this dying woman’s face to make her see reason that wasn’t exactly there.

The answer was nothing.

Perhaps it had always been nothing.

This student of science had no more protestations.

And in the absence of protestation, all that was left was a single choice: to jump or not to jump.

It was simple, really.

It was so damn hard.

Rose Quartz finally opened her eyes then. They were bright with her tears, and yet, simultaneously, the sheer darkness of them gripped Priyanka like the hands of a drowning sailor. The screen on the wall which measured her blood pressure had incrementally risen since they had started talking.

134/90 mm/Hg.

There was no time to waste anymore.

To pretend like they had ever possessed.

“What…” Priyanka began, her own voice hoarse, tight, strained, on the very verge of the precipice it hesitated to leap.“… what do you need me to do? Name it, and I’ll… I can’t promise anything… but I’ll try. ”

The word felt paltry, insufficient.

Trying was not an assurance, just as landing was not a guarantee.

“I’ll do what I can.”

Rose’s face simply collapsed, tears falling down both sides of her cheeks in gentle lines.

“Thank you, Priyanka,” she whispered, relief in every word, redolent in all the syllables of her spoken name.

But Priyanka did not want gratitude; she wanted an answer, something solid to latch onto, a promise she could keep.

“What you need, Rose?” She asked again, shifting her gaze her away. Her voice was abrupt—it was always abrupt—but somehow, it was not entirely unkind. “Tell me.”

The woman’s answer was immediate, unflinching; she had been obviously been thinking about it for a very long time.

It was the answer she probably would have proffered to anyone who asked.

Who took the time to wonder what exactly it was that Rose Quartz wanted.

What she needed.

What she had kept so carefully concealed behind that calm veneer of a facade.

“Take care of my baby for me, please,” she whispered. “Be their advocate when Dr. Howard and Greg will be mine… I’ll have so many people in the delivery room. I’ll have so many people rooting for me outside of it, too… but, my baby, Priyanka… I need someone in their corner, too… to root for them… to be their voice… please..."

All things considered, it was a pretty damn unreasonable request.

If Rose had to have a c-section, then Dr. Howard would need Priyanka’s steady hands to hold a clamp or provide suction; in the battlefield of surgery, her only allegiance was to the brusque orders that the old man barked to her behind his mask. The obstetrician would handle the delivery. Their own resident would whisk the baby away to the NICU.

And she and Dr. Howard would try to save Rose’s life.

That was Priyanka’s calling.

Her solemn oath.

Her duty.

But...

.... Unreasonable though it was—and it most certainly was so—Priyanka reasoned that it was likely not unkeepable.

She could help keep an eye on the baby’s heart monitor.

She could even lend a hand in the delivery procedure if Dr. Howard didn’t need her.

She could try, dammit.

She could at least promise that.

“You have my word,” she returned tersely, dark eyes still averted. She played a little with her hands on top of her clipboard, twining and untwining them, as Rose seemingly sank back against her pillows, sighing softly.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“Don’t thank me until it’s over—I haven’t done anything yet.”

“You heard me out,” Rose replied evenly. “That’s something.”

“No,” the resident heard herself say aloud. “It isn’t.”

The hands on the clock veered into 6:00 with all the bluntness of a collision and none of its explosiveness.

The door opened.

That was mundane enough.

And Amethyst and Pearl came in first, laughing about something that Garnet had apparently said.

And Greg followed, chuckling, lightly scratching his stomach.

And Garnet made up the rear, grinning, pleased with herself.

Oblivious.

They were all so happy, this extraordinary group of ordinary people—they had no idea where they were or what it all meant or what was about to happen to the smiles on their tired faces.

And Priyanka did not have time to recover her own face, to arrange it into some manner of professional acceptability, her mouth half-open, hands rigid upon the table.

And Amethyst caught her out first.

Because she was smart like that, perceptive.

And the mirth drained from her brown eyes as she perceived the nephrologist’s expression in the semidarkness of the room.

And the two women stared each other across its length.

They called this place the slaughterhouse.

“No,” she simply said. She croaked it. Panic violated the smooth youthfulness of her face, tearing it all asunder. “No, Doc.”

“I’m sorry,” Priyanka Maheswaran whispered.

It wasn’t enough.

It had never been enough.

Garnet only stared at her, disbelieving.

Her mouth hadn’t quite untwisted itself out of the ghost of its last smile.

“I am so, so sorry.”

She said it again anyway, though, like it counted for something, like it meant anything, as tears began to flow down Pearl’s cheeks.

Greg Universe made a sound that was half-horror, half-agony, bracing his hands against the back of a metal chair to steady himself against the blow.

ii.

A doctor, a washed up rockstar, and three Crystal Gems walked out of a conference room.

And the joke, the cruel punchline, was that the boy they all loved wasn’t going to get the kidneys he so desperately needed; he was going to go back on the list, which had always been more of a desperate gamble than a guarantee; he was going to degrade in that hospital bed for however many days, weeks, and months he had more.

Dr. Maheswaran didn’t think he had a year.

She was blunt about it.

Professional.

But her eyes gave her away, the lines beneath them, the consumptive shadows.

(Mere hours ago, her face had been transformed by the simple action of a smile.)

There were no comforting words, nor bracing gestures between the coterie of broken people who limped their way back to Room 11037—injured, defeated, the wounds glistening across their bruised eyes, their shivering mouths. Greg took the lead, the rubber of his sandals snapping harshly against the tiled floor with each step, every guttural, convulsive movement.

They silently decided that he should be the one to actually commit the words aloud, knew that it was for the best. He could be soft where Dr. Maheswaran was brutal. Comprehensive when Garnet couldn’t muster words. Sage when Amethyst’s youthful clumsiness sometimes made it difficult to find the right words.

And he could hold it together long enough to actually say it.

Trailing behind him, pale fingers gripping the fabric of her sweater, Pearl’s horror took the form of sniffling that couldn’t quite be concealed. She was holding herself together—the news had cleaved her apart—and he wondered again, not for the first time since Steven’s diagnosis, whether or not she had been right all those years ago, when she had told him quite plainly, in that incisively logical way of hers, that she was better for Rose.

They’d come a long way since then.

They grudgingly tolerated each other now.

They coparented the best that they could.

Sometimes, he thought that they were even friends, sharing beers together on dusk lit balconies and spending so many sleepless nights side by side at the kitchen table, poring over bills and medicines and more bills because the bills, above all, were endless.

And perhaps in the end, he and Pearl were even family in the way that they loudly and silently and entirely loved the same dying boy.

(That was how they had loved the same woman, too.)

But still, maybe she had had a point.

Pearl always tended to have a point...

The hallway was painfully short; Room 11037 arrived far quicker than any of them had ever anticipated.

His breath coming in hitched gasps, chest seized with a sudden tightening, Greg palmed the wood of the door, splaying his shaking fingers against its smooth grains as though to steady himself against an impossible reckoning. He was minutes away, possibly seconds, from breaking his own son’s heart, and that was on him.

Hell, all failures when it came to his son’s happiness were on him.

He was the kid’s dad.

He was supposed to protect Steven, shelter him, keep him safe from every quantifiable danger that he could.

And here he was, about to deliver another slap to his face and call it kindness.

The contradiction was not lost upon him.

The unfairness of it all stung.

It stung his eyes, and it stung his heart, and it stung all over, simply undid the man. He was a pincushion falling apart in all the places where he had been needled over and over again.

But he felt a hand on the small of his back then—gentle, kind.

He expected it to be Garnet or maybe even Amethyst; that had always been their sort of thing.

But when he looked back behind him, his mouth half-formed in an empty, perfunctory thanks, he saw that it was Pearl, her big, blue eyes still edged with the remnants of her tears.

Her sweater, neatly pressed, seemed to swallow her entirely.

She stood perfectly within the lines of one of the tiles on the floor, feet poised like a ballerina’s. Rose had once told him that she’d been trained to dance—once so disciplined in the art that she could stand upon the tips of her toes for as many minutes as her tutors required.

Even when she was devastated.

Even when she was hurt.

“How… how do I do this?” Greg asked before he could stop himself. The words tumbled out of his mouth in an ungainly rush. “How do I… how can I… I mean… he’s just a boy… a kid, and I—“

And I don’t want to do this, Pearl.

I don’t want to see him go through this.

Pearl swiped delicately at her nose, and she swiped at her leaking eyes, but the carnage still remained. It was unlikely to disappear for a very long time. She wrung her slender fingers together and twisted them apart. She congregated them in a prim temple just above her stomach. She eventually let them fall to her sides. She glanced down. She failed to look back up.

Shoulders shivering.

Feet still in first position.

“I… I don’t think there’s any right way to do this,” she finally said. “Not really… but I—we’re behind you, Greg.”

“Yeah,” Amethyst agreed.

Garnet nodded her silent assent.

“We’re… always behind you.”

The weight of these words, the implicit meaning behind them, was not lost on Greg. He immediately understood how much it must have cost her to say such a thing to him, and yet, he simultaneously knew that she must have meant it—for Pearl rarely ever said things that she didn't mean.

She gave silent treatments, and she evaded tough emotional conversations with all the agility of a dancer; she shot people glares that she thought to be discrete from the corners of her eyes; she kept secrets to herself, kept them tucked away in the same places where she had invisible shrines to the woman they both loved.

But she rarely lied.

Or maybe, more accurately, she wouldn't lie now.

And so, choked, overwhelmed, grateful, he could only muster something like a vague sound of gratitude in the back of his throat that he thought she equally understood because she nodded at him primly.

And then, he turned to face the door again, palming the brass handle.

On the other side, he heard a snatch of laughter.

Steven.

Assuredly.

Perhaps he was watching one of his favorite shows, laughing at something a character had said.

Greg twisted his hand downwards and pushed lightly upon the door.

iii.

The door opened upon a scene that Yellow Diamond had always intended to flee before she could be caught out, but one anecdote led to another, and before she knew it, Steven Universe had started telling her about how he’d met Blue at the cemetery where their dead daughter lay. And the conjured image of her bathrobed wife, holding a hibiscus aloft in her gently curving palm, plucked an dusty chord in her chest.

So this was the flower that had been on the nightstand for a couple of nights now.

This was the story of a boy and a woman and a cemetery and a handful—a lifetime, really—of aching, miserable griefs.

“She told me that she married you so her name would be a pun,” Steven had said, grinning mischievously.

“Something to that effect,” Yellow dryly returned.

And he pressed for more stories, more memories, more chords inside her chest. How did she meet Blue? When did they fall in love? Who proposed?

He asked so many questions, his brown eyes alight with curiosity, that she was reminded so much of Pink that it almost hurt to even look at him. But, just as she had done with her daughter, she sighingly indulged him, groaning and moaning and making it out as thought she was doing him a massive favor by relenting. And he only smiled at her teasingly—like he was in on the secret.

It was the other way around.

She was the one at his mercy.

And so she told him the story of the princess and the knight in less than fantastical terms, laying out the bare bones of her and Blue’s first meeting with a halting voice as the memories slowly came flooding back: Blue Montgomery’s sweeping ball gown, the spidery chandeliers, the waiters swerving in and out of the crowd bearing silver trays loaded with champagne, her ridiculously dramatic mother waltzing through the ballroom with all the radiance of a sun.

God, how many decades ago was that now?

Years and years and years.

“Our daughter used to love this damn story,” Yellow murmured at the end, briefly flicking her eyes downwards. “We told it so many different times to her that she could repeat it word for word.”

“It’s a very good story,” Steven returned, laughing. “Did you really think about punching that guy?”

“Fleetingly, yes,” she almost smiled, “but—”

But then the door opened so abruptly, bringing reality back in with what appeared to be a collection of harried looking people. The businesswoman’s head sharply cocked towards the far side of the room to greet an assemblage of expressions that she was surprised to find in total strangers: anger and disgust.

Complete and total loathing.

Damn, at least buy me a drink first.

“You!” A slight woman in a sweater hissed furiously.

“Uh-oh,” Steven Universe said, shrinking slightly beneath his covers. “Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh...”

But Yellow Diamond wasn’t listening to him anymore, instinctive indignation rising to her aid and defense as she stood up from her chair and mustered as haughty of an expression she could for a woman wearing silk pajamas.

“Excuse me?” She asked venomously, crossing her arms over her chest. “And you are?”

“Pearl…” The balding man standing next to the sweater-wearing accoster tried to plea, placing a big hand on her much smaller shoulder. “Maybe we shouldn’t… uh—?”

“No,” The woman named Pearl snarled, jerking her arm away from him. Yellow could see that her pale eyes were bright with tears, which seemed like an overreaction if she had ever witnessed one. She didn’t know these people from Jack, Jill, or Harry on the sidewalk! “I want to know what she’s doing here! She has no business—“

“Pearl, wait!” Steven tried to interject, jerking upwards from his pillows. “It’s okay! She just wanted to vis—“

But his voice got lost in the shuffle as the taller woman behind Pearl suddenly stepped forward, her powerfully muscled arms clenched into fists by her sides. There was an indefinable air of authority about her that Yellow only recognized because she, too, possessed it. Her bicolored glare was a weapon in and of itself; the harsh florescence of the overheads glinted off the sunglasses folded neatly across the collar of her sweatshirt.

“Leave,” the woman said. “You’re not welcome here.”

“Garnet! No! She wasn’t doing anything wro—“

“Well, frankly,” Yellow shot back before Steven could complete his thought, “I’d perfectly well surmised that without your help. But forgive me if I’m having trouble piecing together the context behind this unwarranted rudeness.”

“You know what you’ve done,” Garnet growled.

“No!” The blood inside her head churned, simply boiled. She had never known when to leave well enough alone. “I damn well don’t!”

“1999—Diamond Electric vs. Hutchings,” Pearl began to tick off names on her fingertips. “2005—Diamond Electric vs. Davis. 2011—Diamond Electric vs. Bach. Are these names ringing a bell? Unsafe factory conditions! Unconstitutional wage gaps! Leaking waste reservoirs!”

“All settled in court!” Yellow returned with a cruel laugh that she did not remotely feel, raking her cold eyes over each and very one of her newfound opponents in turn. It had always been her against the world for as long as she could remember—she the trapped lioness cornered by the angry mob. (But the mob always tended to forget one crucial fact about exchanges between lions and men. Lions had claws and sharp, gleaming teeth; she would devour them and gnaw on their bones for sport.) “What are you all? Lawyers? Reporters? Protestors? Please, spare no sordid detail as to why I’m being read case names for events that happened long ago.”

“Yellow Diamond, please—” Steven’s voice was tiny by her side; she could not hear him; or perhaps, she didn’t want to hear him.

She wanted to fight.

“We’re, like, the Crystal Gems,” the smallest woman to Garnet’s left said emphatically. Her lavender bangs fell over one of her eyes, but she blew them back with a small puff of air.

“Never heard of you,” Yellow replied flippantly and untruthfully.

Because she had heard of them—several times, in fact.

They were some small activist group that had always been a vaguely minor nuisance at her side—especially a few years ago—but they’d never done anything more than force her lawyers to spend some time haggling in appeals courts.

A waste of time and money for everyone, really.

“Never heard of us?” Pearl spluttered wildly, her complexion whitening. “Never heard of—“

“Enough, you all!” The doctor who had been at the back of the group finally seemed to have found her tongue, and a pretty harsh tongue it was because her exasperated voice clearly cut through the melee. “We’re in a hospital for goodness’s—”

But the doctor was drowned out, too, lost in the onslaught of noise suddenly coming from one of the monitors above Steven’s bed—a shrill beeping noise that put an effective end to all the squabbling. The neon green line measuring his heart rate was spiking in short peaks, the numbers climbing, climbing, climbing… and beneath it all, clutching his chest, Steven was struggling to breathe, gulping in shallow bursts of air, his skin paling. Sweat beaded at his pale templed, hid eyes wide with fear.

“STEVEN! Steven!” So many voices yelled his name; it was all a jumble, a blur, a dissonant symphony.

The white coated doctor shoved past Yellow unceremoniously, nearly knocking her to the ground in her haste to get to her patient’s side. She pulled an oxygen mask down from one of the receptacles behind the bed, placing it over Steven’s mouth and nose.

“Breathe, Steven!” She commanded, her voice tight with obvious strain. The man and the woman named Pearl scrabbled over to the child’s bedside. Tears streaming down his ruddy face and into his beard, the man placed an arm around Steven’s back, steadying him. Pearl clasped one of his hands, her shoulders shaking violently.

“In and out,” the doctor continued. “Breathe. One… two… three. That’s it, honey. There you go…”

As Steven’s breathing evened out, the monitor’s beeping died down, nearly becoming regulated once more. Exhausted, overwhelmed, so quickly undone, the boy slumped against the man who was holding him, closing his eyes heavily as the doctor took the opportunity to more securely fasten the oxygenated mask around his face.

But what happened next, if anything happened at all, Yellow Diamond did not stay to find out.

Violently tearing her gaze away, the woman turned around and did what she should have done the moment she made the poor decision to come into this room in the first place.

Shoving past the remaining Crystal Gems, uncaring that she knocked Garnet in the shoulder, Yellow limped away as fast as her sore leg would allow her to go, nausea rushing up the column of her throat, her cheeks burning with shame.

What a pathetic creature she was.

A monster.

A lioness among men.

(The lioness always tended to forget one crucial fact about exchanges between lions and men. Lions had claws and sharp, gleaming teeth; she would end up destroying the people she cared about, too.)

iv.

Pearl only had eyes for one person in the entire world, and his name was Steven Universe. Both in the absence of Rose and in the lingering presence of her, he was the center of her universe, the sun which she orbited day after day after varied, sundry day. Weak, pale, cold, he shivered in his father’s arms, barely able to keep his eyes open as his heartbeat continued to regulate itself after that latest episode.

“Acute stress arrhythmia,” she heard Priyanka explain behind her. The nephrologist had her back turned to them as she read numbers on a nearby computer monitor.

She didn’t elaborate.

She didn’t need to.

Everybody in the room knew exactly who was to blame for his acute stress.

Shame colored them all; shame welled up in the corners of Pearl’s eyes as she continued to hold on to Steven’s hand.

Garnet collapsed into the chair that Yellow Diamond had just vacated, placing both of her hands over her eyes.

What children they had been.

What fools.

Pearl closed her own eyes in a useless attempt to stem the tears that were flowing freely now, unable to hold them back any longer. Shame wrapped a hand around her insides and squeezed.

Steven was… he was—oh, God, the word was too unbearable to even think, much less say aloud—and here they all were—fighting with someone who would never see reason.

How stupid.

How pathetic.

“Steven, wait, honey. You need to put that mask back—” But Priyanka’s soft admonition was apparently ignored; Pearl looked up just in time to see Steven feebly lifting the oxygen mask from his face, dropping it just below his mouth. Each movement looked like it took something from him; he couldn’t even lift his head from Greg’s chest.

So he stared straight at her.

Directly into her eyes.

He had his mother’s eyes.

Her dark and lovely eyes.

“S-she…” She had to lean forward to hear him, for his voice was barely a whisper, an echo, a ghost. “…she really wasn’t being mean.”

“Shh, Shtu-ball. We know,” Greg tried hoarsely, pressing a kiss into his son’s mass of curly hair. “Save up your strength…”

“Steven,” Pearl pleaded, barely able to discern him through her tears. She refused to let go of his hand; it wasn't as much for his sake as she would have liked to kid herself to believe. “I’m so, so sorry. We shouldn’t have squabbled with her like that. We just weren’t… I mean… I wasn’t… I was stressed—I-I wasn’t thinking.”

“Stressed?” Again, his voice was so small that it struggled to be heard over the hissing of the various machines he was hooked up to, and the fact of it nearly undid her right then and there. Salt coated her lips. It lacquered her tongue. “Why… why were you stressed?”

No.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this... the news wasn’t supposed to come from her. It was supposed to be Greg’s job to do this; he was the one who was good at emotions; he was the one who knew how to have these sorts of conversations without completely dissolving into nothingness and rubble.

(He was the better person.)

(The one who Rose chose.)

Pearl could yell at a tyrannical businesswoman for longer than she could hold herself together in front of Steven; she could protest wars; she could hold demonstrations; she could plan fish fries; she could keep herself together on a day to day basis, bound by Scotch tape and glue.

But for him?

For Steven Universe?

Her eyes refilled with fresh tears, and she finally withdrew her hand from his, placing it over her mouth in the quietest sign of her incapacity.

Useless.

Pathetic.

Childish.

Fool.

“Oh,” Steven only rasped, understanding immediately. He was so smart like that; he never missed a beat. “The… the kidneys fell through, didn’t they?”

“I’m so sorry, kiddo,” Greg said, wrapping his arms more tightly around Steven as gently as he could manage as Priyanka took the opportunity to replace the mask over his nose and mouth.

“The kidneys were damaged during the donor’s accident,” she explained dully, “and we couldn’t detect it until we were already in surgery… I’m sorry, Steven. I am.”

But Steven never took his eyes off Pearl, those dark and lovely eyes.

They were wounded eyes.

Bruised eyes.

Goddamn exhausted eyes.

"I'm sorry, Steven," she whispered. "I am so, so sorry."

The mask prevented him from speaking.

In place of his reply, there was only the steady hiss of oxygen and the dark-cloaked presence of grief, the seventh person in an already crowded room. They sat on the edge of Steven’s bed, simply taking up precious air.

Pearl couldn’t breathe.

I'm sorry.

Night descended upon the sky like a heavy curtain, unfurling its black velvet across the horizon with dark finality, the punctuation unmistakable. Sitting atop of the bulky air conditioning unit that stretched the length of the hotel room’s window, Amethyst gazed emptily at the spectacle, knees pulled up to her chest, her still-damp hair pulled over one of her shoulders. If she was back at home, there would be a roof to clamber onto and a vast canvas of stars to behold… but here, there were only skyscrapers that stretched their supplicatory hands upwards to an unhearing god. Here, there were stars made out of lit windows. Here, there was that familiar feeling of suffocation, of being cloistered in...

Cornered.

And unlike in a good alley fight, putting up her fists wouldn’t solve a damn thing.

Three hours had passed since they’d nearly given Steven a heart attack and then told him that he wasn’t going to get those stupid fucking kidneys. And still, the scene haunted her mind’s eye in the absence of anything else to think about, to obsess over, to grieve. When they had all left for the evening—Greg the only one staying behind for the night—he couldn’t even muster enough energy to tell them goodnight, simply blinking at them from over the top of his oxygenated mask before closing his eyes.

Merely twelve hours ago, they’d all been sickeningly happy because they had thought that the nightmare was over… but that sensation had long passed, a relic of time immemorial now.

Now, there was only darkness.

A feeling of falling.

The ground giving way beneath their feet.

Now, there was only Dr. M’s only consolation that wasn’t really a consolation at all.

He’s at the top of the list now.

The door opened and gently closed behind her. Amethyst swung her head around just in time to see Garnet come in, a towel slung around her corded neck, her white tank top damp with sweat. She’d gone to the hotel’s gym to obviously treadmill away from her feelings, which was a way more productive solution than Amethyst’s choice coping mechanism. She raised her half-empty bottle of wine in greeting—reckless, loose—accidentally sloshing a little over the top of the rim.

“Hey.”

“Where’s Pearl?” Garnet studiously avoided her gaze as she lowered herself to the carpeted ground, leaning against the wall. Her shoulders hunched forward, elbows braced on top of her knees, she almost looked like some kinda statue—still, beautiful, tragic.

“Tryin’ to drown herself in the shower, I think,” Amethyst shrugged before taking another hearty swig of Moscato. The tangy notes stung her tongue. “She’s been in there for an hour now, so you might not have hot water later.”

The gym trainer shrugged noncommittally as though this was all the same to her.

And the two of them simply listened to the hissing of the water beyond the thin door to Garnet’s left for a handful of seconds; the serpentine sounds lashed the ground. Lashed their skin. Their ears. Their chests.

Amethyst sniffed and took yet another drag of wine.

There was nothing else better to do...

... but the silence was unbearable now that it was optional.

She turned her bottle upside down again.

Liquid courage.

“I met the old lady, y’know,” she said softly, her consonants a little rushed around their edges, a little tipsy, a little unsure. “Blue Diamond. It was… yesterday, I think? Hell, I think it was yesterday. God, I don’t even know at this point. But she was in the lobby, waitin’ for her valet to pick her up…”

Garnet didn’t say anything, didn’t even look up at her, but Amethyst knew she was listening from the way that every line in her body was rigid with attention.

“She’s kinda snooty, I think. Kinda looks like she’s got a stick up her ass… but she’s got a good heart, I guess. She cares about Steven…” Amethyst remembered the way her accented voice broke when she spoke of him, all of the syllables collapsing upon themselves in the throes of her gentle tongue. And she remembered the woman’s eyes, how startlingly blue they were, haunted underneath by the ravages of grief and time.

“A lot,” she added. “That surprised me.”

“I… I shouldn’t have let Yellow Diamond get to me like that,” Garnet said, reaching up and gingerly holding her head. “I know. I know.”

“No, that’s not what I’m sayin’, G,” Amethyst immediately and fiercely returned, shaking her own head. “I mean, it’s kinda what I’m sayin’, but we all got caught up in her. She got under all of our skins. I’m just, I dunno, I’m trying to—“

But she broke off then, ripping her gaze away from her roommate and back towards the window.

To the darkness.

The absence of stars.

She raised the bottle to her lips once more but stopped short of taking another swill; the sickly sweet perfume nearly gagged her.

“It’s just… it’s difficult,” she continued, setting the drink down between her knees. “That’s all I’m sayin’. God knows why, but he likes the Diamonds, and the Diamonds like him… and we shouldn’t… I mean, we should try our best not to shit on him for that because—“

But Amethyst stopped short again as the natural end to that sentence reared its head off the floor of her stomach, striking just where it hurt.

Sick, ashamed, inconsolable, she covered her eyes with both of her hands.

“Because we love him,” Garnet proffered, her voice quiet, almost inaudible over the noises coming from the shower, “and we want him to be happy.”

That wasn't the end of the sentence.

That wasn't what they had both been thinking anyway.

“Yeah,” she croaked gratefully, wiping roughly at her eyes. “Yeah.”

They resumed their silent vigil together then, mostly because it kept them from commenting upon the fact that it wasn’t just the water they were hearing behind that thin bathroom door.

Garnet reached upwards and grabbed the remote from the edge of the nearest bed, turning the volume up on some stupid sitcom to drown it out.

The water.

The weeping.

And the weeping and the weeping and the weeping.

vi.

Blue Diamond had been on the balcony for hours now, long enough for the sky to bruise from peach to blue to purple, long enough to see the first stars ascend to their storied mounts, glimmering down upon the world in silvery, distant specks.

Long enough that the tear tracks riveting down her cheeks had dried upon her long face in stiff lines.

Long enough that she wondered passively to herself if she had been here forever, a statue carved out of flesh and bone and misery and blood.

Long enough to reflect upon the fact that she wasn't referring to the balcony... but to something more abstract.

Metaphorical.

A state.

A cycle.

A condition of perpetual mourning.

Her phone laid facedown on the tiny table between her chair and Yellow’s empty one.

The last text she had received had been from Steven Universe.

It wasn’t even a sentence.

Just a fragment.

No exclamation points, no abundant elaboration, no joy.

Tuesday, 7:09 PM:

Steven: kidneys fell through

Blue had seen the boy just this morning—dropping by after she had left Yellow’s room—and she could remember, quite distinctly, how radiant his face had been, utterly metamorphosed by its own happiness.

She’d been drawn in by it, magnetized.

Oh, how the two of them laughed and smiled and played.

How many years had it been since she had last played?

It was before Pink died assuredly.

But even then, the details were murky to her; she’d been so wrapped up in her school, that she had forgot what it was to be twenty-one, and that twenty-one year olds were still children in a way, that they loved to have fun.

She’d been so strict with her sometimes.

Forbidding.

Cold.

(Her own mother would have been proud.)

But she and Steven Universe? They played, and they played, imagining all the things that Steven was going to do once he had recovered from the transplant surgery. Some of these plans were simply extraordinary in nature. He was going to run all day just because he would finally feel like it. He was going to make a massive sandcastle on the beach with all of his friends. It would be palatial, obviously, so they could live in it together, making seashell necklaces and seaweed crowns. He was going to eat all the donuts that he wanted—his diet had been so restricted since he’d taken ill—and then some.

“And if I get sick,” he had said proudly, “it’ll just be a normal sick, and that’ll be perfectly okay.”

But it wasn’t the extraordinary inventions which had touched Blue, which had moved her to the quick.

Rather, it was the simple things.

The mundane ones.

He would get to go to school with all the rest of the kids his age. He could go to a theater without worrying that his symptoms might flare up during the movie's climax. He could ride a bike through his charming, little beachside town.

He could simply be a child.

And that would be enough.

That would be perfectly okay.

“And I could come over for tea and cakes on Fridays,” he teased as she had prepared to leave, running one last hand through his curly hair as she stood up from her chair. He smiled at her gently, his mouth tilting crookedly.

“Aye,” she returned warmly, returning the gesture with an almost easiness that still surprised her. “I would love that..."

But just as quickly as these fantasies had risen—entertained, explored, viscerally imagined—they had been wrenched from his hands just as immediately, and so Blue Diamond sat on her balcony for hours on end grieving for the poor boy.

But because she was selfish, because she was predictable, because she was broken, she gripped the arms on both sides of her chair, and grieved, too, for Pink Diamond.

(She was always grieving for Pink Diamond.)

Fingernails digging into the weathered wood, she thought herself a desolate fool for ever kidding herself into believing that she could go a day without being painfully aware of her daughter’s ghost.

She thought herself a masochist for inviting the same pain again in the form of Steven Universe.

She thought herself a coward for not daring to say three words to Yellow Diamond, three words that wouldn’t make everything between them right, but three words that needed to be said nevertheless.

And she couldn’t bring herself to utter them.

Not even when Yellow was in a hospital bed, covered in lacerations and bruises.

Because how could she say such a thing when she hadn’t said it in so many years upon years?

I and love and you.

And she kept thinking these things until they chased each other around her head in circles—dizzying, unceasing, senseless circles that gradually chipped away at the tentative hope she had held aloft in her chest ever since she had met Steven Universe.

Spirals and spirals and spirals.

Fool.

Masochist.

Coward.

Circles and circles and circles.

And somehow, every time, Blue Diamond concluded where she had first begun: alone in her own misery, drowning.

Fool, masochist, coward.

vii.

The walk to the parking deck that night was slow and laborious, one foot dragged after another, the styrofoam cup of shitty coffee in her hand doing little to perk her up for the long drive home. Priyanka couldn’t remember the last time she’d stayed past her shift so long, but she’d wanted to make sure that Steven remained stable… that he didn’t suddenly crash on them after such a long, hard day on his body… that she continued to try (and miserably fail) to keep Rose’s last request.

Take care of my baby for me, please…

Ever since his episode, Steven’s breath sounds had been decreased on the right side of his chest; she instructed the intern on duty for the night to keep him on a steady supply of oxygen and to page her immediately if his stats even shifted by a margin.

“Like, even a number or two?” Dr. Stephens asked, her brow furrowing.

“Yes,” she had snapped rather harshly. “Even a fraction.”

But somehow, even as Priyanka had said it, even as the poor intern had flinched, she had known to herself from the very beginning that she could quantify every little integer and it still all be for nothing.

Chronic kidney disease didn’t care about numbers.

It didn’t care about people.

“Hey! Priyanka! Wait up!"

Oh, hell and shit—she recognized that voice.

Wincing, she tried to arrange her features into an expression that didn’t completely betray her entire disinterest with humanity before she turned to face her colleague Dr. Reed. Maisie Reed, an ER doctor, had been at Empire Regional for about a decade longer than Priyanka.

She was a good woman and good friend, but frankly, she just didn’t know when to shut up, going off on long, rambling tales that were hard for Priyanka to weasel away from once she got rolling.

This was vaguely annoying on most days, but tonight, the nephrologist simply wouldn't be able to bear it.

“Hello, Maisie,” she returned brusquely as the older woman caught up to her. Her curly, flyaway hair was tucked back in a messy bun, her wire-rimmed glasses perched a little crookedly on the bridge of her nose. “How are you?”

“Exhausted,” Maisie rolled her eyes. “Did you hear about my star patient?”

“I think I actually met her,” Priyanka said, resuming her brisk walk. Maybe if she made it to her sedan before Maisie started a story, she could make a narrow escape. “She somehow made it to my patient’s room. Goodness knows for what reason. She and the patient’s family nearly got into a fistfight.”

“Ha! You're kidding! I didn’t think that part was true, but some of the nurses were saying—”

“It’s true,” she affirmed curtly, cutting across the woman. “All of it.”

They lapsed into silence then as they walked side by side on the harshly lit concrete. The nephrologist could see her tiny car near the end of the row. She pulled the key out of one of the pockets of her lab coat, clicked the unlock button, and hoped that Maisie would finally take the hint.

“I think we’re only parked a little ways from each other,” she said cheerfully, dashing all of Priyanka’s dreams.

Joy.

They continued to walk together, the heels of their shoes clicking reliably against the floor.

“I also heard… that you’ve got a bad outcome,” Maisie murmured, her voice soft, empathetic.

Pitying.

It was the pity that Priyanka hated most of all.

Her companion’s hazel eyes raked her over piercingly, like an X-Ray, and there was tenderness in her expression.

Understanding.

“I’m so sorry, honey.”

“It’s not a bad outcome yet,” she snarled, rounding upon the woman fiercely, not bothering with polite pretense anymore. Screw her. Screw everything. Screw this fucking day. “He’s still alive. He’s still got a chance. I’ve just got to find…”

“… kidneys, yes. I’ve heard,” Maisie finished gently.

Priyanka violently turned away again, increasing her pace so that she pulled ahead of the other doctor. Her entire body strained against the sudden burst of energy.

She was tired.

So fucking exhausted.

“Then don’t resign him to the grave yet, Maisie. I’m still fighting for him, dammit.”

“Yes, I know that, too… I’ve always admired that about you, dear. You never give up.”

“Yeah, well”—she didn’t exactly know what to say to that—“that’s what we do.”

“Mm, yes,” Maisie replied. “That’s what we do…”

She finally reached her sedan with no small feeling of relief, proceeding to the driver's side with the expectation that Dr. Reed would continue onwards to her little red Nissan at the end of the row, finally putting an end to this unpleasant conversation.

Infuriatingly, though, Maisie stopped, too, her eyes bright with kindness and warmth and all the other things besides that Priyanka simply couldn’t stomach at the moment.

“Yes, well, goodnight,” she said pointedly, making a motion to open the door of her car. She threw her briefcase in rather unceremoniously. It slammed against the passenger side door and fell feebly to the ground.

“What’s his blood type, Priyanka? I’ll keep an eye out for any patients that fit the description… you know what the ER is like. We get potential donors all the time.”

Yes, this was assuredly true, but Steven’s blood type being what it was, finding a donor so quickly would be a damn near miracle.

Priyanka exhaled harshly through her nose but relented anyway—anything to end this absurd conversation.

What the hell—it wouldn’t hurt.

“It’s a long shot… but O neg, so I need an O neg donor. Had any of those on your docket lately?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

And here was the part where Maisie’s kindly face would undoubtedly fall into dismay because of course she hadn’t seen an O neg patient in a while—only seven percent of the entire population had O negative blood, which was a startlingly rare number. So, of course, she would shake her head profusely and apologize and swear to keep her feelers out…

… but Maisie Reed didn’t exactly follow the quick script that Priyanka had constructed in her head.

In fact, her pink lips wobbled into a radiant smile.

“Honey,” she laughed, “sit down and take a sip of that damn black coffee of yours because you’re not going to believe this.”

#rose quartz #steven universe #blue diamond #yellow diamond #pearl #garnet #amethyst #greg universe #priyanka maheswaran #s: steven universe #mimiku #flower child #holy shit — with this chapter #we've reached 100K words

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andyet-here-we-are · 5 years ago

Text

I Would Get Into Millions of Accidents Just to See You, Chapter 1

For @wolfgeralt as a little ‘thank you’ for his stunning art -which I really adore, you can see it here: (x)

and for @hecky-heckicravedeath (x) who gave me inspiration for this fanfiction. Also Thanks @3tothe1 for being my beta. (You’re such a sweetheart, and I love you so much)

Anyway, I hope you like it, my dear Witchlings! 💛

I present you: NURSE GERALT!

Chapter 1 Word Count: 2461

ao3: (x)

Chapter 2 Tumblr link: (x) Chapter 3 Tumblr link: (x) Chapter 4 Tumblr Link: (x)

When Geralt arrives for his shift, still feeling exhausted from yesterday, he has no idea what’s waiting for him at the hospital. His days are never too ordinary because you never know what you’ll come across.

That’s a part of being a nurse.

But he could never think that one of the not-so-famous musicians, his daughter, Ciri adores, was going to have a terrible traffic accident—which somehow isn’t on the news—and end up in the hospital he works at.

He already knows his name since Ciri just can’t stop talking about how nice he is and how he sounds like an angel. To the point where sometimes Geralt wants to say “Okay he is wonderful, so kind and lovely and you really love him, I get it. Can you please just keep eating your pasta? Yes Ciri, yes, I know that pasta is his favorite food, you say that every time we’re having pasta. ”

Geralt isn’t there for his intake, apparently, the accident happened last night, and the musician was badly injured.

Jaskier has a ruptured spleen that caused internal hemorrhaging, which the doctors were able to repair. He also has a mild concussion, a couple of broken ribs, along with some cuts and a broken leg which he is probably going to need another surgery for.

Since the other nurse who was responsible for Jaskier last night, is having some family issues and has to take his annual leave, Jaskier is in Geralt’s care now, they let Geralt know.

When Geralt is home, Ciri starts talking about how Jaskier hadn’t posted anything in two days, and how worried she is since Jaskier had promised them a new song, “He never breaks his promises,” she says.

Geralt thinks that keeping the fact that the young man was in a traffic accident to himself is a better idea.

***

Three days later, when Geralt cracks open the door to Jaskier’s room, the man still sounds asleep, his chest rising and falling with every slow breath he takes as the morphine keeps dripping into his system. It’s enough to keep him subdued, if not completely pain-free.

He checks his IV, and takes a few notes onto his clipboard, right before the musician comes to, his eyelids fluttering.

And damn if he hasn’t got the most breathtaking eyes he has ever seen in his whole life. Even when they lack the spark Geralt is sure they normally hold in them.

Jaskier is confused, of course. So he tells him about what has happened and clears his throat before speaking.

“Mr. Pankratz, I need to take your vitals and then give you some medicines for the pain, may I have your arm?”

“Hell you can, might as well take my poor heart that seems to be beating for—” Jaskier flirts and coughs before he has the chance to finish, his voice is low and hoarse from lack of use.

Geralt makes no comments, and fills a cup of water for him instead, helping him to drink it. He is surprised by the musician’s flattering words, and he is also glad that he is good at keeping a neutral expression on his face.

“…you.” He finishes. “Well, I would normally use the ‘am I dead and in Heaven?’ cliché, but, see,” Jaskier keeps talking after sipping some water “I’m in too much pain to think that I’m in heaven. You sure look like a sexy angel or something though. Ohoho, are you gonna give me a sponge bath, too? Just wondering. If so, I’m totally down for it. Just so you know.”

Geralt can’t help but snort at that a bit, “Do you always talk that much?”

“Maybe it’s you who doesn’t talk enough, you ever considered that?” Jaskier teases, and then suddenly his whole playful expression changes like he remembered that he had left his cat on the stone, and he frowns to himself, “Oh God, three days you said? Shitshitshit,” he drops his head back onto his pillows in a way too dramatic manner, covering his eyes with one hand “I had promised them a new song,” the nurse hears him mumbling “I am such an idiot.”

Jaskier truly seems so disappointed in himself that Geralt feels the need of comforting him. The man had a traffic accident, for crying out loud!

And yet, he is concerned for his fans because he couldn’t keep his promise, rather than being worried for himself.

Not even an hour has passed since he had the chance to talk to the man, but he already can see why Ciri likes this guy that much.

“It’s not your fault that some idiot decided that running a red light and colliding with your car was a good idea,” Geralt says “don’t beat yourself up over it.”

Jaskier still seems disappointed, but he mumbles a silent 'thank you’ before he says “ you may be right, but I promised them.”

***

Days go like this: Jaskier keeps flirting with him every time Geralt steps into his room to check on him and give him his medicines. Geralt never flirts back because of obvious reasons, but he never tells him to stop either, even though he does judge him with his eyes now and then.

The moments Geralt can spend with the man is the most he feels happy at work.

He can’t even deny that at this point.

Ciri keeps asking him why he looks happier nowadays, and why he suddenly became clumsy all of a sudden because he loses his focus easily.

“Who is the reason behind your smile? I gotta know! C’mon, it’s not fair! Don’t leave me hanging like this!” She insists, being the stubborn girl she is, and after a second she grins like cheshire cat “You’ve finally met someone special?”

“…I might have, pumpkin” is his answer. “I might have.”

***

He doesn’t know why, but Geralt doesn’t like Thursdays. Well, it’s probably because everything bad has ever happened to him seemed to happen on Thursdays, usually.

And sadly, this Thursday is no exception.

Hank, a seventy years old man who has been here for more than a month, and who has been very ill passes away. Who he had become really close with and really cared about.

Jaskier catches his change of mood when he goes to check on him and simply says, “Talk to me. I mean, you don’t have to. But you look like you could use a friend. And I’m so bored of watching television anyway.”

So Geralt talks to him.

He talks about Hank, about how wise he was. He talks about how he has been working here for years but how it still affects him so much when someone passes away. How he doesn’t suppose to feel a connection with his patients, how terrible of a nurse that makes him.

“That makes you human, not a terrible nurse.” Jaskier assures him, his voice as gentle as always. “Believe me. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Geralt isn’t sure when Jaskier’s hand finds his hand as they talk, and when his dainty looking, long fingers link with his; but the intimate gesture feels so natural, so right that he just lets him.

***

Jaskier has surgery for his right leg the next day, and it’s not the first time that Geralt hears his patients saying the most ridiculous things after their surgery, thanks to the sedation.

But oh boy, if Jaskier doesn’t take it to a whole new level.

“Maaarry meee, my dear nurse!” the musician yells, “we could make the most adorable babies together! One of them would have my voice, one of them would have your weirdly sexy brooding or something. One of them would have my…. my tongue? Or eyes? Cheeks! Yes, cheeks. And the other would have your lips while the other would have your… DIMPLE! I love that cute dimple you have on your jaw! ”

Geralt laughs, because how can he not?

“That’s biologically impossible.” the nurse says. “Also how many kids you have in mind? That was awfully a lot.”

“Hmm, let’s see. Marie, Duchess,” Jaskier starts to count with his fingers, and he looks so damn adorable that Geralt finds it extremely hard to not just reach out and ruffle his hair. “Thomas O'Malley, Toulouse, and Berlioz. So, six!”

“It’s five, actually,” Geralt tilts his head to the side slightly and corrects him with a fond, little smile. “So… you’re planning to name your kids after The Aristocats?”

“Our kids, mind you. And I’m not straight, love. You can’t expect me to do the math, I don’t make the rules.”

Love.

He just called Geralt ‘love’

“He probably calls ‘love’ everyone,” the nurse reminds himself and swallows, not being able to focus on what Jaskier says for a minute or so. “You’re no special.”

But the way Jaskier utters that one word, makes him feel like he is lying to himself.

When he can finally focus on what he is saying, Jaskier is still talking about the same topic.

“…and you should be grateful that I’m not planning to name them after Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles! If we’re gonna have more than six, I’m totally doing that though.”

“Why Mr. Pankratz, we’re not even married yet. But I already don’t have a say in anything, it seems.” Geralt can’t help but tease with the young man in return.

Jaskier waves one hand weakly: “Don’t take this as my marriage proposal though, I’m better than that. If I were to propose to you I would do that in the most wonderful way. Roses, candles, and everything. Even fireworks.”

Geralt remains silent, so Jaskier talks again: “And ya know, joking aside, actually we couldn’t name them unless we adopted them when they were babies.”

“Why do you want so many kids?” the nurse wonders, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, growing up in a foster care system will do that to you,” Jaskier lets out a loud and somehow cute yawn.

Geralt knows that he wasn’t even supposed to ask that, and he shouldn’t even listen to Jaskier rambling about his life, which he won’t even remember after the sedative effect wears off.

But he can’t suppress his need of knowing more about him.

He just can’t.

“Wanna adopt as many kids as I can, so I can provide ’em a life filled full of love and everything they deserve. All the beautiful things in the universe. All the things I couldn’t have when I was a kid.” Jaskier admits, and his words make Geralt’s heart clench in his chest.

At that moment, Geralt is sure that he is falling so hard for the musician.

Maybe he already did.

“Don’t think that I’m not gonna name our dogs after them though. Or cats.” Jaskier mumbles. He looks like he is just two seconds away from falling into a deep sleep.

Right when he moves to leave, Jaskier grabs his hand as he softly, sweetly whispers, “Geralt, don’t leave me.” And he sounds so vulnerable, so weak that the nurse’s heart skips a beat in his chest.

Geralt would love to say that he doesn’t leave all night, but he has other patients he needs to check on, so he leaves.

But not before staying for five minutes as he holds the musician’s hand, and watches him fall asleep. Nobody needs to know, right?

***

The next day, Jaskier doesn’t remember most of the things he had said last night, but somehow he remembers that Geralt had stayed for a while.

That day, feeling guilty about yesterday, Geralt talks about his life.

“It’s only fair,” he thinks.

He talks about Ciri, and he lets the musician know how crazy his daughter is about him. That makes Jaskier smile at him warmly, but then again, his smile is always like this.

Warmer than the sun on a hot summer day.

Blushing, Jaskier hesitantly says that he would love to meet her. His big, baby blue eyes seem to be searching for something in Geralt’s eyes.

And Geralt understands that he finds whatever he was searching for when Geralt nods and says: “We would love that, too.”

***

“Look! Jaskier finally posted something!” Ciri says one morning while they are having breakfast, well, more like Ciri is having breakfast, and Geralt is just busy with his coffee since he is in a hurry.

“Hmm?”

“Wait, was this an ‘I’m Actually Curious About What You Have To Say’ type of ‘hmm’? Because it definitely didn’t sound like your usual ‘I Don’t Care’ type of ‘hmm’. Nice! That might be the first time you actually seem curious about what I have to say about him.” Ciri smiles, and lets out a sad, little “Oh.” After reading whatever Jaskier had posted.

“He says that he is having some minor health issues…”

Geralt huffs at that.

‘Minor health issues’

If what he had gone through is “minor” to Jaskier, Geralt doesn’t even want to imagine what “major health issues” mean in his dictionary.

But he is sure that the only reason why the musician says “minor” is because he doesn’t want to worry his fans.

“‘I am in good hands though—I mean it, really really good hands—so no need to worry. Love you all, xoxo’ Hmm… I hope it’s nothing serious.”

The nurse looks at his daughter’s phone screen and the excessive amount of winking face emojis after ‘really really good hands’ part catches his attention.

He tries to hide his smile behind his black coffee mug.

And luckily, he succeeds.

***

A few days later, it’s time for Jaskier to be discharged from the hospital. And Geralt feels a bit sad about it, to be honest. Because he is already used to having the young man around.

To his never-ending flirting and jokes, to his smile, to his everything.

But the good thing is, that means that he will be no longer his patient.

Jaskier gives him his number before he leaves, and tells Geralt to call him whenever he is free.

“I’m totally getting into another accident and make sure they bring me here if you don’t call, Mr. Handsome Nurse,” the musician jokes in a low voice.

“We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Geralt smiles. “You can be sure that I’ll call, Jaskier. And we can even have some pasta maybe.”

It’s the first time that Geralt calls him by his first name, and the nurse can see how the other man’s smile widens when he does that, eyes sparkling.

“Wow. Now I have no doubt about how much Ciri talks about me,“ scratching the back of his head, Jaskier chuckles shyly, and it’s music to his ears. Ciri is right. He does sound like an angel.

"Till we meet again, Geralt. Till we meet again.”

#the witcher #jaskier #geraskier #jaskier x geralt #dandelion #geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii #the witcher fanfiction #nurse geralt au #I Would Get Into Millions Of Accidents Just To See You #my writing

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neo-shitty · 4 years ago

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toffee!

hehe glad i could make you laugh, oooh that sounds awesome! yeah id love to be tagged it sounds great :)

YES the differences are so fucking weird. like, they do know they're the same age right? i feel like its just an exagguration of how much the persons role in the group matters, like we see chan being held up as such a mature, old leader while jungkook who is literally the same age, is still babied etc. like enha hyung line is basically the same age (if a bit younger) as chenle and jisung but somehow the rules are different?? as you point out, still legal but still bizarre. hehe yeah, i mean where else are we going to rant? quora lol. mmm, hopefully more people can just write less smut abt people who are barely adults

ah, no prob it didnt take long. yeah i think thats right (i keep forgetting you know my url lol) mmhmm :( i think if that happened irl there would be some major trauma going on. knock wood it never happens to you or me lol (/hj)

hehe same! oooh glad Redemption For Cheese was realised! yess we cant rllycomplain that theyve written/produced too much good music lol. yeah, ive dragged him into being a stay so *dusts hands off* mission accomplished. mmm yeah, they tend to have a certain vibe but tbh it couldve worked if they were any other group but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ahh ur one step ahead of me on the stages of listening to ssick i think, still not convinced but thats okay! hehe, it had to be said. yesss the itch in the back of my brain is very satisfied by sorry i love you, felixs vocals deserve to be appreciated! (side note i feel like hes trying to sing more like his speaking voice, sorta husky, but tbh i wouldnt be mad if he sang like in glow, his sweet honey vocals made my life lol. but i think ive heard him say he doesnt like singing like that cos it makes his normal voice less husky, so what can you do)

> YES SOMEONE SAID IT. seungmin rap KING, he sped thru that rap like it was nothing, he deserves more rap lines. i do like how they gave minho some melodic rap lines this comeback, my guy deserved to show off those skills that made him not be eliminated (flashbacks to stay collectively wanting to murder jyp) and we already know changbin can sing, my man murdered masked singer. hyunjin can obviously sing as can jisung and felix, and i want to hear chan rap more! i feel like he started as part of 3racha (as a rap unit not producing) and then just became a vocalist (which im fine with, but it could be nice to hear him flex his rapping skills) and was partially replaced by hyunjin. anywayyy

back to album talk. lmaooo sad music to twerk to PERFECTLY describes silent cry. yes secret secret is and will always be, a masterpiece. hehe glad i could make you laugh :) i just felt like they have similar vibes. putting off skz stuff bc of not having time to cry IS the kpop stan life summarised. oh my beloved track, red lights. ahh thats okay, we can have different opinions, but by god the lyrics are *chefs kiss*. *banging on table* TWISTED AU TWISTED AU TWISTED AU. yess id love to see ur take on it! sdfghjkl it would have been glorious

no no! not stupid, just able to predict my brainwaves. ooooh thats so cool! makes me want to go there (wherever there is lol) yeah the waves are pretty good here, but none of my familys a surfer, so we dont rlly enjoy the full potential lol. YES moving on to gone away, it is indeed a heartwrenching track, but the vocals and the bloody key change? makes me want to brave being sad just to listen to it. mmm yeah, good point :( i feel like ive just gotten used to overthinking so much so that it doesnt matter what mood im in, ill do it anyway, so might as well just do what i feel like doing anyway.

yeah i think ur right! it is quite comforting knowing that all the tracks will get the love they deserve. i feel like also people assume kpop is just one genre which is utter bs. there are so many different vibes and feels and songs, i couldnt get into kpop (of which i thought only the bright cheerful present day bts stuff existed smh) until i heard gods menu so... idk where i was going with this but yeah. :)

YES FUCK YG, theyre literally on the brink of being kicked out of the big three and they are holding their salvation hostage without letting them do ANYTHING. idek what thought process goes thru their minds but arghhh its so infuriating. yess lisa's cb will be awesome but ot4 is the gold standard here.

hehe, glad u could get to this point. no no! u dont sound like a cult member at all lol yeah, i loooove some of their songs but the whole 23 members thing is getting to me. thats prob a common problem with nctzens but what can i say? im a simple girl with a limit to how many korean boys i can give my money to. atm im just trying to get into ateez and finish memorising enhypen's faces. also kard is kinda sucking me into their fandom atm, as well as eric name lol. ah what can you do? ooh thats good!

hehe i love it too! its exactly like online penpals, that was rlly well put. aww ty! hmm im okay, recovering from a bad case of rsv so thats fun. im doing okay mentally, starting therapy soon (after having to convince my mother that its not just smth i can brush off). physically i wont go into, basically i should be doing stretches to help but they dont completely fix it so my lazy ass doesnt do them, plus i got told recently im going to be stuck with this condition for the rest of my life so thats fun! ah, before you type smth dw abt me ill be fine. the weather atm is cloudy but warm, its been raining on and off today which is good for the garden. uhh i just finished reading sunburnt veils and im in the middle of prom theory which is rlly good. ummm ive got a concert tonight? that i may or may not be able to sing in (bc of the whole rsv thingo) and uhhhh idk. my dog is cute? im drinking tea rn? ive got a school dance coming up?

wbu? hows ur day going, how are you? whats the weather like on ur end? done anything interesting lately? found smth that makes you rlly happy? just any random thing youve been dying to tell someone?

no no! dont apologise, i love these exchanges. i think im happy to continue them for a long time :) on the other hand, if you get tired of them, feel free to just not answer at any time. goodness gracious this was a long ask haha hope it isnt too annoying

<3 w.a. 🐺

sorry it took me a bit to reply, i was fixing my theme ;n;

yeah, i figured it was because of the roles too. my friends and i still get taken aback when 3rd gen idols are the same age as 4th gen ones. in my head it doesn't add up sometimes. PLS THE RANT AT QUORA SKJDK tbh tho it's just going to be normalized as the years pass? esp that the boys are growing older and the amount of explicit fics will just increase. i might have to start blocking tags.

i had to look up the previous ask to remember what we were talking about xd i hope the events in champagne problems never happens to anyone. realistically, it probably happens a lot. damn i really won't wish that pain on anyone. dragging your brother into being a stay i whEEZED JFKSA additional noeasy music enthusiast o.o and ALL I CAN SAY WITH YOU GUSHING ABT FELIX IS AHA WHIPPEEEED OML can't blame you tho, i also want to hear felix sing more in other shades (if that makes sense HAHA) i really hope they'll do the role exchange in the next comeback :( or like in the near future bc i know they can do it :( the day i hear seungmin rapping it i will respectfully pass away. minho was given more lines this comeback thank fUCK i could rmb my irl being vocal abt her frustration. i don't get why minho barely has center time/lines in title tracks??? like the line distribution in the past eras just made me ???? if seventeen can balance lines with 13 members why cant a group of 8 do the same? moving on. i haven't watched the stray kids show simply bc i don't want to cry HAJS but i've seen clips. imagine if skz debuted without minho and felix?!?!? i rmb another irl catching bias feels towards changbin bc of the masked singer only to find out that the man's a rapper. i love how skz's vocals were highlighted this comeback :c there were a lot of mellow tracks! i find it cute when chan sings/raps bc it gets kinda obvious that he's a foreigner? the accent (im not even sure if it's the accent) it just shows. "putting off skz stuff bc of not having time to cry IS the kpop stan life summarised." CORRECT.

abt the twisted au o.O i'll inquire my irl if she wants to write it or not. if she doesn't want to, i'll do it. i miss writing twisted aus <3___<3 and i also miss going to the beach with my friends :' ) but it's starting to get cold here and i don't think i'll be able to enjoy the beach as much as i would if i went beaching in the summer. so maybe next summer? gone away really has an sm-ballad vibe. the thing about skz being a self-producing group, their songs don't sound like typical jype songs? and i just appreciate that bc in all honesty im not a fan of jyp groups at all. PLS the overthinking. i wish i could mute overthinking.

anyone who assumes kpop is just one genre obv hasn't listened to a single track. if kpop was just one genre why do i like some tracks more than the others??? oh you've only recently become a kpop stan? tbh im not a fan of the bright songs of bts either. i liked their older ones *chefs kiss* really matched high school vibes. yg has good artists and they're just wasting the talent ~.~ that strategy they have will get tiring eventually. people will stop waiting on blackpink and move on to newer more active groups ://

HAHAHAH yeah the 23 members is pretty overwhelming! it was the reason i didn't bother stanning before quarantine started. i don't regret stanning tho, met my ult bias in that group <3___<3 i don't really purchase albums unless i like the tracks xd ohhh getting into ateez just in time for the comeback! let me know what you think about them! i was fond of them at some point but grew out of it. good luck with memorizing enhypen! it took me a while to distinguish to people there XD i haven't checked out kard yet but chan plays their songs during lives and they're sexc hype music me likey *u*

i had to look up rsv im sorry. i'm glad you're recovering! please rest more and don't stress yourself out. bro i wish i could go to therapy too bc i have weird issues i can't justify and i need a professional to tell me what's the reason behind it. stuck with what condition btw? what happened? i'm sorry in case i just forgot. yesterday was a bit rainy for me too :(( it's not the type of rainy that makes me anxious so B) oh concert! good luck and i hope you'll be able to sing but i also don't think it's best for you rn :c what's your dog's breed? and yes i just finished drinking tea too. AAAAA i miss school dances :(( the last one i was supposed to have was cancelled bc of covid.

i was less productive today and i'm teetering between being mentally stable and becoming a hermit again. i'm anxious with a lot of things atm so like : D not the best state. today it was a bit sunny but not hot hot which was nice. i changed my theme today bc i couldn't wait for sept. 1st. and no i haven't found anything that makes me happy HAHAHA shit like that's hard to identify. don't have anything to say too, i'm just thinking about why i'm procrastinating too much atm T_T and i'm listening to this rap song atm and one of the rappers sounded like han.

it isn't annoying! i enjoy the long exchanges but i do admit it takes me awhile to type down a reply. so if i get more busy, it'll prolly take a bit longer for me to reply.

#toff.asks #wild anon 🐺

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tuellertrails · 4 years ago

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We’re 3 weeks into our hike so far, here are a few things I have learned

- Wake up EARLY in the desert. Because it will get hotter than hell and you will die of heatstroke if you hike in the heat of the day.

- Take your shoes (foot prisons) off at every opportunity. Your feet will thank you

- The higher you go in elevation, the harder the hiking is, the less hot it becomes and the more beautiful the scenery is. The desert has its own kind of beauty, but being in an alpine environment with lots of trees and the smell of sun warmed pine needles is my favorite place to be (besides a comfortable bed watching TV and eating snacks, of course). We’ve had several days of hiking where we’ve done over 5k feet of elevation, and I find that I am particularly prone to swearing and exhaustion on those days 😂. But the incredible views do make up for it somewhat! It’s all part of the experience.

- Ibuprofen (Vitamin I) and Benadryl are a hikers best friend.

- Pack out fresh food whenever you can. Vegetables and fruit have never tasted so good.

- Kindness is EVERYWHERE. We’ve received food, cold drinks, rides, camp chairs to sit in and many other kindnesses from trail angels, other hikers, family members and random people. Everything is appreciated.

Speaking of kindness, we spent several hours one day waiting out the heat of the day in a small hut next to the wind farm made for hot, suffering PCT hikers, with a cooler of cold water for us to enjoy. It was 95* even in the shade 🥵. We did not leave early enough that day, but it gave me the chance to wait out the heat and look at my phone 😂.

Here’s some highlights/points of interest from the last 100+ miles

- We heard a great story from Trail Angel who gave us a ride out of Julian, who heard it from a different hiker that she gave a ride to. So the hiker was hiking down the trail (early on, around mile 15) when he hears a voice say "hello". He looks down and sees a guy laying in the bushes in a sleeping bag with mud on his face. "Oh, uh... hello" the hiker says. The man responds "Would you like to be blessed with magic sand?" And holds up a pile of sand in his hand. The guy wasn't sure if this dude was on drugs, was going to throw the sand in his face or what, and he's contemplating how to side step this very weird man when the dude stands up and reveals that he is completely naked and says "You should really use mud. It makes the best sunscreen". Glad that it wasn’t me, poor guy.

- We went through a small town in Warner Springs who had a gas station and some picnic tables, so basically a hiker haven. We spent a couple of hours eating gas station food, and I gave another hiker a shot in the butt 😂. Nursing skills always coming in handy out here. Landon consistently says that the gas station hot dog was one of the highlights of the trail.

- My feet are MUCH better than they were. Getting inserts and some foot compression socks were a game changer for me. I now can walk many more miles without having to stop so often to roll out the golf balls on my feet. Despite this, hiking is still hard and we still find new soreness, aches and pains every day. But I do think that we are toughening up and able to do more miles than we did the first week. My blisters are mostly hardened now, and we have done as many as 18 miles in a day at this point.

- Water can be very scarce, and you have to plan out your water carries very carefully. One water source in this last stretch was a big water tank a few hundred feet from “Mikes Place”. Mikes Place is near the trail and has a big water cistern for hikers to go and get water, but they also let hikers camp and party there and sometimes feed them. There were some comments on Guthooks (the hiking navigation app we use) about how Mikes Place was kind of sketchy and borderline sexist, but we went down there with our hiker friends Sarah and Clyde, hoping for some food. Mikes place was interesting to say the least. It was a run down one story house that looked rather shabbily built, with a blanket as a wall in one section. It’s in a few acres of property, and there are all sorts of random things in front of the house. An assortment of stools and chairs, some lawn games like croquet and darts, a fire pit, a few coolers, and then even more random things like a sword stuck in a stone (a replica like in the movie). There was also an old painted car on one end, a shabby outdoor kitchen with a pizza oven and a greasy grill and lots of bowls and plates and utensils, and lots of other items spread out across the property. It seemed a little hoarder-y to us. They had Johnny cash playing in the background which kind of fit the vibe of the place. There were a few hikers there eating already, and a more stout gentleman wearing a t shirt, shorts and flip flops whose name was Scott. He said that there was no food left but that we could cook our own if we wanted, and we were like "ummm, sure?"  So he brought out the ingredients for breakfast burritos and we got to cracking eggs and slicing veggies and fired up the very greasy outdoor grill, and within about 15 minutes we were eating breakfast burritos. Scott was a little weird. He would pop in and out of where we were cooking and then disappear again, I guess he was nice enough but he just gave off a bit of a weird vibe. Apparently Mike lives in San Diego and Scott is a caretaker of his place for now, along with another guy named Spirit who we met a little later as we ate. He was a older guy, with long white hair in a ponytail and beard, wearing a dirty green zip hoodie with what looked to be a hand painted "VVR" on it, jeans and chacos. He chatted with us briefly, he is a hiker who has hiked the John Muir Trail every year since 2014 and then decided to go work at VVR, a resort in the Sierras, after visiting it so many times. He said he was headed up there in a few weeks. Anyways, we are our burritos, washed our plates, said thank you and left to go filter water from the tank up above, leaving some money in the donation box as a thank you. The food was good but I definitely wouldn't have felt comfortable being there by myself, Mike’s Place was a little...dirt baggy, but I’m glad I got to experience it all the same. Apparently Scott is hiking now, and showed up at the campground in Idyllwild a few days later, drunk as a skunk and vomited all over 😂.

- We’re 10% done with the trail! Which really puts into perspective how long this hike actually is 😂. We had heard that our trail legs would start to come in after 3 weeks, but both Landon and I agree that we’re still quite sore and wake up with different aches and pains every day. We are definitely running a major calorie deficit at this point, burning upwards of 4K calories per day, burning much more than we are eating. This is ok with us, as we could both lose 30 Lbs or more and still be in a healthy weight range! Our friend Jamie, who hiked the trail years ago with her husband, says that we are losing our “town fat”. But we both agree that our clothes are feeling a bit looser than they were before. Who knew that 3 weeks of near continuous intense exercise would do that? We are slowly getting more fit, so hopefully those trail legs will come in soon here in the next few weeks.

- Remember the girl I talked about in our last post a few weeks ago, who woke up our friend at 5 AM and told him that she had no pants? Well, he came across her again a few days ago. She was topless, sitting in a stream in her underwear, playing a ukelele. And much to his chagrin, she remembered him! 😂 Not exactly a meet cute.

- Though there are definitely some eccentric people out here, 95% of the hikers and people we meet are wonderful. We have met the most incredible people as we hike, and are grateful to have made some good friends. They say that trauma bonds you, and all of the hikers have similar trauma out on trail 😂. We all know how hard this is, how beautiful, and have experienced first hand the heavy packs we carry after filling up our food and water, and the different aches and pains that accompany hiking day after day. Ive seen some pretty gnarly feet 🦶among the hikers out here, covered in blisters and cuts, with blackened toenails and foot fungus. Our feet are constantly getting beaten up! I’m glad to know that it isn’t just us experiencing the aches and pains. Ive always been a bit of a social butterfly, and after a year of isolation due to the Covid pandemic, the extrovert in me is absolutely loving the social aspect of our hike.

We will be getting off trail for four days this next weekend to go to a family wedding and sadly, a funeral as well. We were saddened to hear that Landon’s Grandfather has passed away, after suffering from Alzheimer’s for many years in the last years of his life. I never knew him before the Alzheimer’s had affected him, but I was told that he was smart as a whip, very funny, and a great story teller. Landon has fond memories of his grandfather, going on family trips and hearing his many stories. Even after the disease progression, Arlin was a very sweet and gentle man who was happy to give you a hug and listen to you talk, even if he didn’t quite remember who you were. We feel very lucky to have been able to spend some time with him and with Landon’s Grandmother the week before the trail, and he will be greatly missed by all. We are looking forward to getting off trail for a few days to reunite with our family to both celebrate and mourn together.

Thanks to everyone for the love and support in our PCT journey so far, this has been the most incredible experience of our lives so far and we’re grateful for every second, no matter how tough, of this great adventure.

- The Tueller’s

#pct #pct2021 #pctclassof2021 #tuellertrails #hikertrash

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peckin-pat-marlow · 5 years ago

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Tagged by @captain-teddy-reese

50 Questions: OC Interview

1. What’s your name?

“Howdy. I’m Patricia Marlow.”

2. Give us your full name

“...Ah fine! My middle name’s Winifred... Patricia...Winifred...Marlow.

3. Do you have a nickname? If yes, what is it and how did you come to have it?

“I’ve been called shorter of my names: Pat, Patsy, Patty Cake (don’t bother askin’ why.) But folks way out south west know me as “Peckin’ Pat Marlow. I shot my town’s sheriff the day after...his obstruction of justice. Gave him that kiss he wanted afterwards. And it became a habit with anyone I killed as leader of the Marlow Marauders.”

4. What species are you? (Human, werewolf, etc? Or are you an alien?)

“Last I checked...I’m still human.”

5. Where were you born?

“I was born in a town the south west of texas. It was famous for its large lake and gold mine a few miles out. Just make sure you have ginseng and special vegetation for the snakes and lizards...I wouldn’t head there if I were you. Hasn’t rained for 13 years.”

6. I see. And that would make your age...?

“That would make me...36 years old.”

7. Okay, now...are you a good guy, or a bad guy?

“What I’ve done doesn’t make me a saint, but it don’t mean I have bad morals.”

Part II: Tell Us More About Yourself...

8. How would you describe your personality?

“Back before I was soft, sweet and kind..had to be for the kids, but I still held myself firm for the adults as well. When the town reared it’s ugly head...I became a different person; ruthless, vengeful, hard hearted, didn’t take shit from no person when it came to me and my gang. It take no responsibility for indirect harm because they didn’t handle circumstances better! I was willing to do whatever it takes to get vengeance not with death, but with nothin’ for ‘em left! But I couldn’t my gang be taken with me in my final moments.

But after that last score, when I suddenly found myself alive and rescued. I began to mellow out...I still had my temper and was satisfied with what I’ve accomplished, but I became more aware of how the world was changing. So I just wander the lands to keep an eye on this changing world and hope it’s for the better.”

9. Would you say you're someone who can handle pressure?

“I’ve had moments where I was frustrated...but I’ve managed to maintain my composure around misbehaving kids and disrespectful adults.”

10. Do you like to read?

“Well, yeah. What kind of teacher doesn’t like to read?”

11. Favourite Colour

“I’ve grown fond of the colour black.”

12. Do you get along with others?

“Just because I get along with people doesn’t mean I like them. I do so to get the job done, and if they don’t cross me I choose them to stick close and see how things turn out.”

13. Do you have any enemies?

“Many could call me their enemy, but the one I call my nemesis won’t bother me anymore...”

14. How about friends?

“I became friends with my gang through the trust and teamwork we had for over 13 years. I’m sure they’re all fine and free. I have met other folks but I can’t call them friends just yet.”

15. Are you patient?

“I can be...When your a teacher you have to be patient to know more about situations.”

Part lll: Hypothetically...

16. Suppose that you could become any creature you know of. What would you pick, and why?

“I’ll say a cougar. They’re just as vicious, independent, dexterous, with some self indulgence. They can still purr, y’know?”

17. One of your enemies in question 13 just complimented you. Response?

“Which one? If it’s Gill then he’s complimenting me with sarcasm and rage since he’s still not found the loot. His generation’s gonna be diggin’ for years and won’t be the ones to find it.”

18. One of your friends in Question 14 just insulted you. Response?

“I prefer their insults as criticism. But at least their words won’t mean they betray me straight away.”

19. If you could change anything about yourself...

“I can’t see me changin’ anytime soon...but I guess I gotta find somethin’ else to do without second guessin’.”

20. About your home...

“It ain’t like a manor, but It had enough space for my parents and my things...But it was so damn expensive thanks to Gill’s daddy...it got burnt down by an angry mob, along with my school, Miles’s stand and his donkey, Sally-Ann...

Part IV: Now We Get Personal

21. What're your parents like?

“They were geniuses compared to the other folk in town. Both of em met in the city where they got their degree. I don’t think their families approved though, as I haven’t heard a thing about my grandparents. But they were good people using their money to buy two properties, for my home and school.

But I can’t give em that. Their last wish was to make sure I improved the head on my soldiers before they slowly died together from Diphtheria...I didn’t know they passed until Miles came to check on me.”

22. Do you have any siblings?

“None. I was an only child, thank goodness. If I had a younger baby sister, Gill would target her more than me...”

23. What's your occupation?

“I used to be a teacher in my hometown. Since I was the only women with the knowledge thanks to my parents education, I took up the role. Taught both kids and adults to read and write.”

24. I see, that's a good job to have. Do you like it?

“I enjoyed my job when it came to the kids. Nothin made me feel better than givin’ them somewhere to be while adults did their own thing, though I wished I could have give them more subjects, but reading and writing was more tolerable to teach than the other things that adults couldn’t make sense of. As for the adults...I won’t lie there are some worse than the children. Way worse.”

25. Are you seeing/dating anyone?

“No...”

26. Married/Engaged/Other?

“I wished for that with someone once.”

27. If yes, how did you meet?

“...I met Miles Wiley when I first came to town after my parents moved. He was a vegetable farmer with a donkey he claimed was over a century old from the vegetables he ate. Many folks who can’t afford the doctor’s fee often came to him for tonics, ointments, all sorts of ailments that were reliable, especially for the gold miners who came for the juice as repellent for the lizards. Before me he was the only stranger in that town...He made me welcome even after I took over the town’s teacher and helped repair my school, only askin’ for the spiced apricots I made.

But the town found out how close we really was from our first...and last kiss. He only wanted to fix me after being broken down for so long...We tried to escape by boat, but of course Gill had his ferry and me and Miles weren’t much of a shot...He wasn’t even armed but he shot him...he shot him even as I held him.

28. Tell us your biggest secret.

“Aside from people thinkin’ I’m dead? Everyone knew about me and Miles so I got no big secret to hide.”

29. Your worst fear? You don't have to answer this one if you don't want to.

“After what the Sheriff did, I fear being put into that situation again where I was taken advantage of right under others noses...Then there’s being in the middle of a ring of fire.”

30. Favorite food?

“I may had made spiced apricots once upon a time but it ain’t my favourite food. I don’t have it as much as I like to...but I do miss that Pecan pie.”

30. Favorite drink?

“Spiced Island Moonshine. I just discovered this recipe and it tastes like the goods of home and warm escape. I could kiss Marcel for makin’ this but... then I’d have have to kill him.”

31. Tell us one thing you're the most proud of.

“I would have said getting revenge on Gill for killing Miles was the best thing that happened...But I never imagined letting the group go free after our last score would take that. Some graduation, huh?”

32. Something embarrassing? You don't have to answer this one, either.

“Whatever is embarrassing is what happens when I’m drunk...”

33. If you didn't answer Questions 29 and/or 33, tell me why.

“I may have mellowed out from my recovery, but I have my damn pride still.”

34. Is that a good reason?

“Just take it as you will...”

Part V: Closing

35. Are you satisfied with your life?

“I felt like my life was nearly wasted than satisfied. I loved Miles but I wasted my life in that town. I remembered my gang more fondly than the town. But I’m still young to do somethin’.”

36. Anything you feel like you have to do? It can be something long-term, like a bucket list, or something you need to do right now.

“Well my vengeance has been achieved and leading a gang is something to tick off. I’m gonna start looking for things as Patricia Marlow and not Peckin’ Pat.”

37. Any hobbies?

“I have developed a thing for watching shows in the theatre, and I used to play the banjo to sing songs with kids. I’m sure I haven’t gone too rusty.”

38. Quick, you get one wish! What did you just wish for? It's alright, you can tell me...

“I wish Miles was alive....That’s the one thing I can’t have back.”

39. How would you describe that wish? Good? Bad? Selfish? Selfless? Other?

“I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks of us...Folk wouldn’t have approved of us, but...we’d be more free if we got out together.”

40. Have you been honest with these questions?

“That I have...Now that you know me it’s all about what u gonna do?”

41. Your personal quote?

“The snake which cannot cast its skin has to die. As well the minds which are prevented from changing their opinions; they cease to be mind.” - Friedrich Nietzsche

42. Do you like change?

“It’s what I fought for when things didn’t change enough...”

43. What's your most valued possession?

“Since they burned Miles’s body, I wasn’t left with much to remember him. It was a good thing I found his hat after I left town, but I haven’t taken it out of my satchel since.”

44. Anything else you feel like sharing?

“Not right now, I ain’t.”

50. Last question!...yup, that's it! How do you feel?

“Like a few pounds has been lifted off my shoulders. Or it might just be one of my firearms...Haha! Don’t worry, I just gotta reload.”

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead online #red dead oc #rdr2 oc #red dead roleplay #red dead rp #oc questions #patricia marlow #peckin’ pat marlow #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #oc interview

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flashfuture · 4 years ago

Note

Franklin was every open about his art in the beginning when he wanst good but as he gets better and it becomes something much more emotional and frankly he starts drawing a lot more, he is less likely to share it. It’s like; how do you explain life as a conceptual force and not in...numbers? (Being an artsy kid in a family of scientists sounds like tough sometimes) But also sometimes it’s just your run of the mill of “please it’s embarrassing if you look at my work, it’s not that good” (which is untrue but Yknow)

So Val breaks into his room, as you do (little siblings just be like that), and is undated with bunch of full on paintings of solar systems and planets and flora and flana and individuals. Some are plain beautiful, others are a little more comical. Some are flat out memes.

“Self Portrait on the beaches of (Enter Planet Name here); note for later, water is freezing this time of year.”

“Star Systems: number #7263, this one is super blue and pink!”

“Safe distance Star (exploding) watching: do not tell mom or dad, but the star kind of reminded me of uncle Johnny in that moment. That thought is not comforting.”

“(Planet Name here): Biggest Trees Ive ever seen!!!!”

“Self portrait of me trying and failing to bring rose bush back to life, Kyle made it look so easy, the wee fucker (to use his own words).”

“Recreation of Women Yelling At Cat meme ft. Uncle Ben and Uncle Johnny because who else would it be.”

“Shown: Me roller blading through space to annoy Galactus”

“Spiderman but pictured in the caves of (Enter Planet name here).”

“What if...I drew Galactus in...but he was...small: the result, note he didn’t have a reaction when I showed him.”

“Mom and Dad, anniversary, gross and in love or whatever.”

“Val drawn in one of her many phases of disgust for the peons around her.”

“Memories of far shores: Oa.”

“Mother box lines aesthetics for pratice and fun, currently lost in a galaxy somewhere, oops.”

“End of the universe?” Shows picture of a small form, Franklin, hovering in front of a white wall with black framing him.

One just titled Torchbearer of a man Val’s never met but he’s the same suit that Franklin is fond of wearing now passing a pair of hands a ring that looks like Franklings. “Thank you for listening” is the only thing written other than it being in the vent art :/ pile other pictures in that pile include pieces like “Dead World” for instance.

In the middle there is just a unfinished family portrait. She looks at some of them and decides not to take any but she does needle him later at dinner. (“Can you really bring a Plant back to life?” / “I mean I’ve been trying too, it’s not like I’ve seen a math equation that unlocks the secrets to life itself like some people.”) the adults are a little confused, but Val is like “so I was in your room...” / “why?!” / “I wanted to see if you were hiding a stash of candies in there. But I found all your art.” / “oh my goooooooood.”

Oh my your mind anon. This is exactly why I love GL and FF comics. Just the scenery

And Franklin being able to enjoy it in a way that’s special to him 🥺

Look look Val being like one of the smartest people in the world would make her the most insufferable little sibling in the world. As soon as she discovers the art she demands to know about the planets and galaxies Franklin is exploring.

But he doesn’t seem them as science experiments or places to to be dissected like his dad and sister. And unlike his Uncle Johnny he doesn’t want to know how their technology tics either. He just wants Life to be.

And that’s something Kyle helped him realize and be comfortable with and I

This is excellent and amazing and perfect. I got actual goosebumps thinking of little Franklin in front of the source wall

#ask #lol I love the implication that Franklin just lost a mother box #he would #his dad is Reed Richards #Franklin might not have inherited the big brains #but he got his dads magpie attention span #franklin white lantern

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aboveallarescuer · 5 years ago

Text

Dany telling herself hopeful stories

As I was rereading ASOIAF, I made it my goal to compile all* the book passages demonstrating either certain key attributes of Daenerys Targaryen (e.g. that she's compassionate and empathetic) or aspects of hers that are usually overblown (e.g. that she's violent and ambitious). Doing such a task may seem exaggerated, but I'd argue it's not, for many, many misconceptions about Dany have become widespread in light of the show's final season's events (and even before).

It must be acknowledged that it can be tricky to reference, say, ADWD passages to counter-argument how she was depicted in season eight (which allegedly follows ADOS events). Dany will have had plenty of character development in the span of two books. However, whatever happens to Dany in the next two books, I would argue that there is more than enough material to conclude that her show counterpart was made to fall for flaws that she (for the most part) never had and actions that she (for the most part) would never take.

Another objection to the purpose of these lists is that Game of Thrones is different from A Song of Ice and Fire and should be analyzed on its own, which is a fair point. However, the show is also an adaptation of these books, which begs the questions: why did they change Dany's character? Why did they overfocus on negative traits of hers or depicted them as negative when they weren't supposed to be or gave her negative traits that were never hers to begin with? Another fact that undermines the show=/=books argument is that most people think that the show's ending will be the books', albeit only in broad strokes and in different circumstances. As a result, people's perception of Dany is inevitably influenced by the show, which is a shame.

I hope these lists can be useful for whoever wants to find book passages to defend Dany's character in analysis or even conversations.

*Well, at least all the passages that I could find.

Also, people may interpret certain passages differently and then come up with a different collection of passages, so I'm not arguing that this list is completely objective (nor that there could ever be one).

Also, some passages have been cut short according to whether they were, IMO, relevant to the specific topic of the list they're in, so the context surrounding them may not always be clear (always read the books!). Many of them appear in different lists, sometimes fully cited, sometimes not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm not including quotes that misrepresent Dany here because I couldn't find them on a quick glance and, frankly, I didn't want to find them. But we know that some people like to paint Dany in an overly negative light for taking pride at her ancestors (never mind the numerous double standards) or for not being completely aware of their history. And we know that she should be defended from these accusations. I interpret Dany as someone who, sometimes, needs to tell herself hopeful stories to keep going, especially for having had no family but an abusive brother. Her bias in regarding her relatives and Westeros in an idealized light and her enemies in an overly negative one is part of that pattern (which is contextualized by the universe she lives in, in which familial bonds are the most important ones). And so, I'm listing passages in which we see that pattern come up.

A Dance with Dragons

ADWD Daenerys X

She might have wished for colder, clearer water ... but no, if she were going to pin her hopes on wishes, she would wish for rescue.

She still clung to the hope that someone would come after her. Ser Barristan might come seeking her; he was the first of her Queensguard, sworn to defend her life with his own. And her bloodriders were no strangers to the Dothraki sea, and their lives were bound to her own. Her husband, the noble Hizdahr zo Loraq, might dispatch searchers. And Daario ... Dany pictured him riding toward her through the tall grass, smiling, his golden tooth gleaming with the last light of the setting sun.

Only Daario had been given to the Yunkai’i, a hostage to ensure no harm came to the Yunkish captains. Daario and Hero, Jhogo and Groleo, and three of Hizdahr’s kin. By now, surely, all of her hostages would have been released.

It makes no matter. By now the Yunkai’i will be marching home. That was why she had done all that she had done. For peace.

But none of those things had happened. Bells, Dany thought again. Her bloodriders had found her. “Aggo,” she whispered. “Jhogo. Rakharo.” Might Daario have come with them?

ADWD Daenerys IX

The boar was a huge beast, with tusks as long as a man’s forearm and small eyes that swam with rage. She wondered whether the boar that had killed Robert Baratheon had looked as fierce. A terrible creature and a terrible death. For a heartbeat she felt almost sorry for the Usurper.

ADWD Daenerys VII

“And my father? Was there some woman he loved better than his queen?”

Ser Barristan shifted in the saddle. “Not … not loved. Mayhaps wanted is a better word, but … it was only kitchen gossip, the whispers of washerwomen and stableboys …”

“I want to know. I never knew my father. I want to know everything about him. The good and … the rest.”

“As you command.”

How beautiful, the queen tried to tell herself, but inside her was some foolish little girl who could not help but look about for Daario. If he loved you, he would come and carry you off at swordpoint, as Rhaegar carried off his northern girl, the girl in her insisted, but the queen knew that was folly.

ADWD Daenerys V

The day might come soon when she would have need of every knight. “Will they joust for me? I should like that.” Viserys had told her stories of the tourneys he had witnessed in the Seven Kingdoms, but Dany had never seen a joust herself.

“They are not ready, Your Grace. When they are, they will be pleased to demonstrate their prowess.”

ADWD Daenerys IV

“One day I will want to return to Westeros, to claim the Seven Kingdoms that were my father’s.”

“One day all men must die, but it serves no good to dwell on death. I prefer to take each day as it comes.”

Dany folded her hands together. “Words are wind, even words like love and peace. I put more trust in deeds. In my Seven Kingdoms, knights go on quests to prove themselves worthy of the maiden that they love. They seek for magic swords, for chests of gold, for crowns stolen from a dragon’s hoard.”

“Ninety days and ninety nights without a corpse, and on the ninety-first we wed?”

“Perhaps,” said Dany, with a coy look. “Though young girls have been known to be fickle. I may still want a magic sword.”

“I saw your father and your mother wed as well. Forgive me, but there was no fondness there, and the realm paid dearly for that, my queen.”

“Why did they wed if they did not love each other?”

“Your grandsire commanded it. A woods witch had told him that the prince was promised would be born of their line.”

[...] “What became of her?”

“Summerhall.” The word was fraught with doom.

Dany sighed. “Leave me now. I am very weary.”

“Most queens have no purpose but to warm some king’s bed and pop out sons for him. If that’s the sort of queen you mean to be, best marry Hizdahr.”

Her anger flashed. “Have you forgotten who I am?”

“No. Have you?”

Viserys would have his head off for that insolence. “I am the blood of the dragon. Do not presume to teach me lessons.” When Dany stood, the lion pelt slipped from her shoulders and tumbled to the ground. “Leave me.”

ADWD Daenerys II

Dany shut her eyes and tried to think of home, of Dragonstone and King's Landing and all the other places that Viserys had told her of, in a kinder land than this ...

“Tell me a tale, ser,” Dany said as they climbed. “Some tale of valor with a happy ending.” She felt in need of happy endings. “Tell me how you escaped from the Usurper.”

“Your Grace. There is no valor in running for your life.”

Dany seated herself on a cushion, crossed her legs, and gazed up at him. “Please. It was the Young Usurper who dismissed you from the Kingsguard …”

“[...] I was gathering my things when it came to me that I had brought this on myself by taking Robert’s pardon. He was a good knight but a bad king, for he had no right to the throne he sat. That was when I knew that to redeem myself I must find the true king, and serve him loyally with all the strength that still remained me.”

“My brother Viserys.”

“Stark was a traitor who met a traitor’s end.”

“Your Grace,” said Selmy, “Eddard Stark played a part in your father’s fall, but he bore you no ill will. When the eunuch Varys told us that you were with child, Robert wanted you killed, but Lord Stark spoke against it. Rather than countenance the murder of children, he told Robert to find himself another Hand.”

“Have you forgotten Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon?”

“Never. That was Lannister work, Your Grace.”

“Lannister or Stark, what difference? Viserys used to call them the Usurper’s dogs. If a child is set upon by a pack of hounds, does it matter which one tears out his throat? All the dogs are just as guilty. The guilt …” The word caught in her throat.

A Storm of Swords

ASOS Daenerys VI

“Your father is called ‘the Mad King’ in Westeros. Has no one ever told you?”

“Viserys did.” The Mad King. “The Usurper called him that, the Usurper and his dogs.” The Mad King. “It was a lie.”

“Why ask for truth,” Ser Barristan said softly, “if you close your ears to it?” He hesitated, then continued.

[...] The truth is, I wanted to watch you for a time before pledging you my sword. To make certain that you were not ...”

“... my father’s daughter?” If she was not her father’s daughter, who was she?

“... mad,” he finished. “But I see no taint in you.”

“Taint?” Dany bristled.

“Was my father truly mad?” she blurted out. Why do I ask that? “Viserys said this talk of madness was a ploy of the Usurper’s ...”

“Viserys was a child, and the queen sheltered him as much as she could. Your father always had a little madness in him, I now believe. Yet he was charming and generous as well, so his lapses were forgiven. His reign began with such promise ... but as the years passed, the lapses grew more frequent, until ...”

Dany stopped him. “Do I want to hear this now?”

Ser Barristan considered a moment. “Perhaps not. Not now.”

“Not now,” she agreed. “One day. One day you must tell me all. The good and the bad. There is some good to be said of my father, surely?”

“There is, Your Grace. Of him, and those who came before him. Your grandfather Jaehaerys and his brother, their father Aegon, your mother ... and Rhaegar. Him most of all.”

“I wish I could have known him.” Her voice was wistful.

“I wish he could have known you,” the old knight said. “When you are ready, I will tell you all.”

ASOS Daenerys V

“...Your war is in Westeros.”

“I have not forgotten Westeros.” Dany dreamt of it some nights, this fabled land that she had never seen. “If I let Meereen’s old brick walls defeat me so easily, though, how will I ever take the great stone castles of Westeros?”

“Why are you here?” Dany demanded of him. “If Robert sent you to kill me, why did you save my life?” He served the Usurper. He betrayed Rhaegar’s memory, and abandoned Viserys to live and die in exile. Yet if he wanted me dead, he need only have stood aside ...

“...And since the day you wed Khal Drogo, there has been an informer by your side selling your secrets, trading whispers to the Spider for gold and promises.”

He cannot mean ... “You are mistaken.” Dany looked at Jorah Mormont. “Tell him he’s mistaken. There’s no informer. Ser Jorah, tell him. We crossed the Dothraki sea together, and the red waste ...” Her heart fluttered like a bird in a trap. “Tell him, Jorah. Tell him how he got it wrong.”

“The Others take you, Selmy.” Ser Jorah flung his longsword to the carpet. “Khaleesi, it was only at the start, before I came to know you ... before I came to love ...”

“Do not say that word!” She backed away from him. “How could you? What did the Usurper promise you? Gold, was it gold?” The Undying had said she would be betrayed twice more, once for gold and once for love. “Tell me what you were promised?”

“Varys said ... I might go home.” He bowed his head.

I was going to take you home!

ASOS Daenerys IV

“Tell me more of my brother Rhaegar, if you would. I liked the tale you told me on the ship, of how he decided that he must be a warrior.”

“...He never loved the song of swords the way that Robert did, or Jaime Lannister. It was something he had to do, a task the world had set him. He did it well, for he did everything well. That was his nature. But he took no joy in it. Men said that he loved his harp much better than his lance.”

“He won some tourneys, surely,” said Dany, disappointed.

Dany did not want to hear about Rhaegar being unhorsed. “But what tourneys did my brother win?”

“But that was the tourney when he crowned Lyanna Stark as queen of love and beauty!” said Dany. “Princess Elia was there, his wife, and yet my brother gave the crown to the Stark girl, and later stole her away from her betrothed. How could he do that? Did the Dornish woman treat him so ill?”

“But I am not certain it was in Rhaegar to be happy.”

“You make him sound so sour,” Dany protested.

ASOS Daenerys II

“Yet I must have some army,” Dany said. “The boy Joffrey will not give me the Iron Throne for asking politely.”

“When the day comes that you raise your banners, half of Westeros will be with you,” Whitebeard promised. “Your brother Rhaegar is still remembered, with great love.”

“And my father?” Dany said.

The old man hesitated before saying, “King Aerys is also remembered. He gave the realm many years of peace.[”]

“Viserys would have bought as many Unsullied as he had the coin for. But you once said I was like Rhaegar ...”

“I remember, Daenerys.”

“Your Grace,” she corrected. “Prince Rhaegar led free men into battle, not slaves. Whitebeard said he dubbed his squires himself, and made many other knights as well.”

“There was no higher honor than to receive your knighthood from the Prince of Dragonstone.”

“Tell me, then—when he touched a man on the shoulder with his sword, what did he say? ‘Go forth and kill the weak’? Or ‘Go forth and defend them’? At the Trident, those brave men Viserys spoke of who died beneath our dragon banners—did they give their lives because they believed in Rhaegar’s cause, or because they had been bought and paid for?” Dany turned to Mormont, crossed her arms, and waited for an answer.

“My queen,” the big man said slowly, “all you say is true. But Rhaegar lost on the Trident. He lost the battle, he lost the war, he lost the kingdom, and he lost his life. His blood swirled downriver with the rubies from his breastplate, and Robert the Usurper rode over his corpse to steal the Iron Throne. Rhaegar fought valiantly, Rhaegar fought nobly, Rhaegar fought honorably. And Rhaegar died.”

ASOS Daenerys I

“Did you ever meet my royal father?” King Aerys II had died before his daughter was born.

“I had that great honor, Your Grace.” “Did you find him good and gentle?”

Whitebeard did his best to hide his feelings, but they were there, plain on his face. “His Grace was ... often pleasant.”

“Often?” Dany smiled. “But not always?” 

“He could be very harsh to those he thought his enemies.” 

“A wise man never makes an enemy of a king,” said Dany.

“Along with a thousand others at some harvest feast. Next you’ll claim you squired for him.”

“I make no such claim, ser. Myles Mooton was Prince Rhaegar’s squire, and Richard Lonmouth after him. When they won their spurs, he knighted them himself, and they remained his close companions. Young Lord Connington was dear to the prince as well, but his oldest friend was Arthur Dayne.”

“The Sword of the Morning!” said Dany, delighted. “Viserys used to talk about his wondrous white blade. He said Ser Arthur was the only knight in the realm who was our brother’s peer.”

Whitebeard bowed his head. “It is not my place to question the words of Prince Viserys.”

“King,” Dany corrected. “He was a king, though he never reigned. Viserys, the Third of His Name. But what do you mean?” His answer had not been one that she’d expected. “Ser Jorah named Rhaegar the last dragon once. He had to have been a peerless warrior to be called that, surely?”

Dany turned back to the squire. “I know little of Rhaegar. Only the tales Viserys told, and he was a little boy when our brother died. What was he truly like?”

The old man considered a moment. “Able. That above all. Determined, deliberate, dutiful, single-minded. There is a tale told of him ... but doubtless Ser Jorah knows it as well.”

“I would hear it from you.”

“As you wish,” said Whitebeard. “[...] Until one day Prince Rhaegar found something in his scrolls that changed him. No one knows what it might have been, only that the boy suddenly appeared early one morning in the yard as the knights were donning their steel. He walked up to Ser Willem Darry, the master-at-arms, and said, ‘I will require sword and armor. It seems I must be a warrior.’”

“And he was!” said Dany, delighted.

I am still half a world from Westeros, Dany reminded herself, but every hour brings me closer. She tried to imagine what it would feel like, when she first caught sight of the land she was born to rule. It will be as fair a shore as I have ever seen, I know it. How could it be otherwise?

A Clash of Kings

ACOK Daenerys III

“The Arbor makes the best wine in the world,” Dany declared. Lord Redwyne had fought for her father against the Usurper, she remembered, one of the few to remain true to the last. Will he fight for me as well? There was no way to be certain after so many years.

“If you go west, you risk your life.”

“House Targaryen has friends in the Free Cities,” she reminded him. “Truer friends than Xaro or the Pureborn.”

“Illyrio believes in no cause but Illyrio. Gluttons are greedy men as a rule, and magisters are devious. Illyrio Mopatis is both. What do you truly know of him?”

“I know that he gave me my dragon eggs.”

He snorted. “If he’d known they were like to hatch, he would have sat on them himself.”

That made her smile despite herself. “Oh, I have no doubt of that, ser. I know Illyrio better than you think. I was a child when I left his manse in Pentos to wed my sun-and-stars, but I was neither deaf nor blind. And I am no child now.”

“Sellswords have their uses,” Ser Jorah admitted, “but you will not win your father’s throne with sweepings from the Free Cities. Nothing knits a broken realm together so quick as an invading army on its soil.”

“I am their rightful queen,” Dany protested.

“You are a stranger who means to land on their shores with an army of outlanders who cannot even speak the Common Tongue. The lords of Westeros do not know you, and have every reason to fear and mistrust you. You must win them over before you sail. A few at least.”

ACOK Daenerys II

It felt good to close her eyes and float, knowing she could rest as long as she liked. She wondered whether Aegon’s Red Keep had a pool like this, and fragrant gardens full of lavender and mint. It must, surely. Viserys always said the Seven Kingdoms were more beautiful than any other place in the world.

[...] Viserys had believed that the realm would rise for its rightful king ... but Viserys had been a fool, and fools believe in foolish things.

The Usurper will kill you, sure as sunrise, Mormont had said. Robert had slain her gallant brother Rhaegar, and one of his creatures had crossed the Dothraki sea to poison her and her unborn son. They said Robert Baratheon was strong as a bull and fearless in battle, a man who loved nothing better than war. And with him stood the great lords her brother had named the Usurper’s dogs, cold-eyed Eddard Stark with his frozen heart, and the golden Lannisters, father and son, so rich, so powerful, so treacherous.

“A gift of news. Dragonmother, Stormborn, I tell you true, Robert Baratheon is dead.”

Outside her walls, dusk was settling over Qarth, but a sun had risen in Dany’s heart. “Dead?” she repeated. In her lap, black Drogon hissed, and pale smoke rose before her face like a veil. “You are certain? The Usurper is dead?”

“So it is said in Oldtown, and Dorne, and Lys, and all the other ports where we have called.”

He sent me poisoned wine, yet I live and he is gone. “What was the manner of his death?” On her shoulder, pale Viserion flapped wings the color of cream, stirring the air.

“Torn by a monstrous boar whilst hunting in his kingswood, or so I heard in Oldtown. Others say his queen betrayed him, or his brother, or Lord Stark who was his Hand. Yet all the tales agree in this: King Robert is dead and in his grave.”

Dany had never looked upon the Usurper’s face, yet seldom a day had passed when she had not thought of him. His great shadow had lain across her since the hour of her birth, when she came forth amidst blood and storm into a world where she no longer had a place. And now this ebony stranger had lifted that shadow.

“The boy sits the Iron Throne now,” Ser Jorah said.

“King Joffrey reigns,” Quhuru Mo agreed, “but the Lannisters rule. Robert’s brothers have fled King’s Landing. The talk is, they mean to claim the crown. And the Hand has fallen, Lord Stark who was King Robert’s friend. He has been seized for treason.”

“Ned Stark a traitor?” Ser Jorah snorted. “Not bloody likely. The Long Summer will come again before that one would besmirch his precious honor.”

“What honor could he have?” Dany said. “He was a traitor to his true king, as were these Lannisters.” It pleased her to hear that the Usurper’s dogs were fighting amongst themselves, though she was unsurprised.

A Game of Thrones

AGOT Daenerys IX

She told herself that there were powers stronger than hatred, and spells older and truer than any the maegi had learned in Asshai. The night was black and moonless, but overhead a million stars burned bright. She took that for an omen.

AGOT Daenerys VIII

She was the blood of the dragon, she would not be afraid. Her brother Rhaegar had died for the woman he loved.

AGOT Daenerys VII

Slaves, Dany thought. Khal Drogo would drive them downriver to one of the towns on Slaver’s Bay. She wanted to cry, but she told herself that she must be strong. This is war, this is what it looks like, this is the price of the Iron Throne.

AGOT Daenerys IV

And sometimes she found herself wishing her father had been protected by such men. In the songs, the white knights of the Kingsguard were ever noble, valiant, and true, and yet King Aerys had been murdered by one of them, the handsome boy they now called the Kingslayer, and a second, Ser Barristan the Bold, had gone over to the Usurper. She wondered if all men were as false in the Seven Kingdoms. When her son sat the Iron Throne, she would see that he had bloodriders of his own to protect him against treachery in his Kingsguard.

#daenerys targaryen #dany passages #a dance with dragons #a storm of swords #valyrianscrolls #a game of thrones #a clash of kings

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kirishwima · 5 years ago

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Can I please have some headcanons for the RFA meeting MC's older brother, who is EXTREMELY over-protective? The "hurt her and I'll kill you, my sister deserves the best" type. (If you can add Jihyun and Saeran that'd be great, if only to see Big Brother facing both the sweetest man alive; and another man who is both a care bear and 300% more edgy than he could ever hope to be)

ok but like....my mystic messenger OC has TWO brothers, an eldest one who’s a sweet fluff bean and a twin who is EXACTLY what you’re describing lmao, so this is a scenario ive had stuck in my head for ages, bless you for sending it in lmao :DD

i’ll also be using she/her pronouns since you’ve specified them!

YOOSUNG:

* When he’ll first meet MC’s brother, he’s...actually not that worried? He’s met his sisters boyfriends before and sure, he’d tell her his opinion on them but he never like, tried to intimidate them or anything so...how bad could this go?

* Very, as it turns out.

* When Yoosung joins MC with her brother at the specified coffee shop after class, he’s met with two polar opossite looks; the one of fondness as MC waves him over, and a glare strong enough to freeze up the sun, from a man standing next to MC with his arms folded.

* Yoosung took slow shaky steps towards the table, feeling the dark aura surrounding him until it nearly suffocated him as he stood across the glaring man, MC oblivious and nonchalantly beaming up a wide grin as she leaned up to kiss Yoosung’s kiss.

* Throughout their...talk? At the coffee shop, Yoosung felt scrutinised, MC’s brother barely joining the conversation unless she prompted him to, preferring to stare Yoosung up and down instead.

* At some point MC excused herself from the table, leaving Yoosung to face the wrath of her older brother alone, with only his cup of milkshake and purple-pink straw to fend for himself.

* As MC’s brother watched her walk away, he turned back to Yoosung when she was out of earshot, his brows furrowed as if permanently in that position.

* “Listen, I’ll lay it out simple for you. That is my little sister you’re dating, the one I’d kill a man for without second thouhgt or remorse. Hurt her and I hurt you back thrice as bad, got it?”

* Yoosung blinked slow, like a squirell looking into the eyes of a shark. He made to nod before shaking himself out of his trance.

* “Wait, h-hurt her? I’d never-no! If I ever dared hurt her-which I’d never! I love her! But if I ever accidentantly did anything to make her cry, I-I’d come find you myself and ask you to beat me up!”

* MC’s brother stared at the blond dumbfounded, his lips a frown before he snorted out a laugh, loud as he shook his head and brought a hand to Yoosung’s shoulder.

* “Good” he said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, “I like that response. Don’t forget what you just said kid” he said, tightening his grip on Yoosung’s shoulder as a warning.

* And so, Yoosung never forgot.

* N E V E R.

ZEN:

* Well...Zen was warned about how over-protective MC’s brother was, and how the moment he heard about their relationship he demanded he meet Zen for himself.

* And listen, Zen gets it-if he had a sister he knows he’d be just as protective, but the odds were NOT in his favor when it came to leaving a good impression on MC’s brother.

* For one, a quick search of Zen’s name online would not only bring up his many shirtless photos and fans’ screeching about him, which he wasn’t embarassed of, not really; but it would bring up that whole mess with Echo Girl, and second of all

* The day MC asked Zen to come to a resturaunt to meet her brother, of COURSE a flock of fans had to find him at the entrance, surrounding him and giggling at everything he said, one evern asking for a picture only to reach their arm around Zen’s and lean in as if to kiss him for the photo.

* That in itself wasn’t too bad-sure MC never liked it and honestly Zen didn’t either, but it’s something they both had gotten used to. No, instead, it was bad because all the fiasco happened RIGHT in front of MC’s now furious brother.

* As Zen excused himself from his fans and walked towards the table MC and her brother were sat at, he brought his hands in front of him as if to protect himself, apologizing for what just took place as he took a seat besides MC.

* When Zen leaned in to kiss MC hello....he politely turned it into a quick peck on her cheek as MC’s brother threw ice cold daggers to Zen with his glare.

* Zen tried explaining himself, professing his love for MC at every opprotunity, making her have to hide her face in her hands more than once in embarassement, he even explained the whole Echo Girl fiasco to her brother with MC backing him up on the facts.

* Still, her brother wasn’t pleased.

* At some point as Zen kept monologuing, MC’s brother put the glass he was drinking from down on the table with a little too much force, surprising Zen into silence.

* “Look, to be frank I don’t care how much you say you love MC. You’re an actor, hell, you could say ‘I love you’ to a rock and make it look romantic, it’s your freaking job. What I wanna know is, will you always be loyal to her? Will you be there for her when she needs you, or will you be chasing tail around some popular Kardashian or something?”

* MC tried to speak up but Zen halted her, giving her hand a quick squeeze under the table where he’d interlocked his fingers with hers.

* “Thank you for your honesty. If you allow me, I’ll be just as frank in my answer?” he asked, waiting for a nod from MC’s brother to continue. When he received it he nodded back, breathing in before collecting his thoughts.

* “I plan to marry your sister.” He ignored MC’s surprised gasp, simply squeezed her palm in his with a soft smile. “First of course I’d like us to move in together, find a place we can both call home. I’ve had some significant memories in my current place, but I’d leave it in a heartbeat if it’s to find a home with MC. Then I’d propose in the grandest gesture I can, but well, the when and how’s not something I can reveal right here” he grinned, stealing a quick glance at MC’s flustered face, “we’ll get married and I know she’ll be the most beautiful bride the world has seen. If she’ll have me and would be happy to, then the next step would be children. I...I haven’t told you yet” he turned to MC, his smile sheepish, “But I’d love a boy first, then a girl. So he’d be a big brother and protect her at school, because we’d raise him right, he’d be a little knight in shining armor. And she, she’d be our little princess, and we’d love them both just as much. Maybe get a dog for them too, two if you want-”

* He ignored the lodge in his throat as he continued, biting it down along with his embarassement. “And even if she wanted nothing from all that-so long as she wants me, I’ll be there, through thick and thin. So no, I’d never turn to look at another woman, ever-how could I? I have all I need right here” he said, and tugged his and MC’s interlocked fingers to rest atop the table isntead of under it.

* And well-MC’s brother had little to say after that, looking down sheepishly as he thought.

* “Ok just-damn, I had a whole speech ready and you beat me to it” he huffed. “Just-I want to be involved in the wedding planning!” he grinned.

* Turns out he’d soon become best bros with Zen lmao, who would’ve thought

JAEHEE:

* Honestly...it’d be impossible for MC’s brother to be harsh with her.

* He’s always been MC’s number one supporter, and knowing she’s found herself such a caring and smart girlfriend he’d be happy for his little sis.

* If there’s anything he’d be harsh about, it’d probably be their plan to open up a coffee shop so quickly. He wouldn’t be mean about it, but he’d sit down with MC and Jaehee and talk it through with them, telling them to consider the risks and how they’d be losing their previous jobs for this.

* Well, Jaehee had it all covered-she’s made a spreadsheet covering the coffee house’s estimated expenses and how they’d be handled going forth for at least one year, and ways to combat every little possible drawback.

* Even MC’s brother was awed, staring at Jaehee like she grew a second head.

* “You..” he started, “good luck dating my sister” was all he said, earning an elbow to the ribs by his little sister.

* Yeah, Jaehee is definitely the best girlfriend for his little sister, no doubt to that-he can’t even give her the whole ‘If you hurt her I hurt you’ spiel because...honestly the odds of her ever hurting MC are slim to none lmao

JUMIN:

* Honestly, in levels of intimidation, they’d both be the same lmao-MC’s brother would try and intimidate Jumin and he’d be completely unable to catch the hidden threat in his words-or rather, he would, but Jumin being Jumin would simply choose to ignore it.

* He’d even rertort back to every little comment her brother made with valid points as to why he’s the best husband for MC.

* “Don’t you think you’re too obsessed with cats?” MC’s brother asks. “That simply shows how devoted I am with my love and interests, which means I’ll always care and love MC with my whole being.”

* “Aren’t you just some pompous rich dude?” MC’s brother asks, rather rudely. “I don’t know about pompous, but I am rich, yes, which means I’ll always be able to provide for your sister whatever she desires.” Jumin replies.

* Honestly...he’d make MC’s brother give up on his indirect threats, and simply come out and say ‘look, I don’t like you getting married to my little sister so fast-she barely knows you!”

* And that’s the comment Jumin had been waiting for. It’s why he met up with MC’s brother in the first place; Jumin values family, and he wanted all of MC’s loved ones to be on board with her marrying him before going through with it, so that their marriage would be a happy event for everyone involved.

* So Jumin spoke honestly. “I know it’s rather fast, but we both know our feelings for each other are true and strong, and we’ve been through more in the short period of time we’ve known each other than others have been in a lifetime. Your sister is a remarkable person and she’s the first to ever draw such feelings from me, and I never want to let her go. If she’ll have me, I want to be besides her, ‘till death do us apart.”

* Well, by that point...well, MC’s brother knew how MC spoke of Jumin, how much she loved him. He was never going to fully oppose this wedding, he simply wanted to be sure both parties were completely on board with this.

* Besides...one glance at Jumin’s bodyguards let him know for certain that him threatening this millionaire with physical harm wouldn’t roll well here lol

SEVEN/SAEYOUNG/LUCIEL:

* It’d take a LOT for MC to convince Seven to meet her brother.

* Saeyoung...he’d never feel ready to meet him. What kind of face will he show to MC’s family? What will he tell them? ‘Hi, I’m the hacker that put your sister in an apartment with a bomb then took her with me to a cult’s den to find my missing twin brother? Also my dad’s a super dangerous person and we went through hell and back because of him?’

* Yeah...no.

* So for the longest time, he avoids meeting MC’s brother. Even when MC moves in with Saeran and Saeyoung, even then Saeyoung still finds excuses to postpone their meeting.

* Until one day, Saeran comes back into the house with a bag of groceries and a frown.

* “Some dude’s out there and threatened that he wants to talk with me about MC. I told him I’m not the one that’s dating her but he seems way more mad than before, you should probably go check what that’s all about” Saeran shrugs and disappears to the kitchen, leaving Saeyoung to manically check the security cameras to see who this man is-and of course, it’s MC’s brother, leaning on his car that’s parked right outside their house.

* So...there’s no more avoiding it, not when it’s come to this. MC wasn’t even home, so of course her brother had come here to...what? Beat Saeyoung up? Threaten him? And if he did, what right did Saeyoung have to fight back? There was nothing he could offer MC, and anything her brother would say to him would be correct.

* “If you want some advice or anything-” Saeran’s head popped out of the kitchen, a tub of ice cream in hand, “I say just go out there and tell him all the sappy things you tell MC when you think I ain’t listening. He hears someone talk to his sister like that he’s bound to think ‘ah fine he loves her’ and leave you alone’ he shrugged, disappearing back into the kitchen.

* With a sigh Saeyoung dragged himself outside, walking like a sheep to the slaughter as he came to stand across MC’s brother.

* Absent-mindedly, he noticed the car behind him, nodding as he took in the model. “A Fiat Abarth 500. Which year’s? They’re some tiny but mighty sports cars” he mumbled, more to himself than MC’s brother, who stared wide-eyed at the hacker.

* “Uh...it’s a 2012 one” he replied dumbfounded. “The best ones were manufactured that year” Seven nodded along.

* Were they...accidentantly bonding?

* What was meant to be a long intimidating speech turned into a 30 minute conversation about sports cars, that only ended when MC walked to the entrance of the house to find her boyfriend and her brother talking animatedly about....cars?!

* When she asked her brother why he was here he seemed to snap back to reality, pointing a finger to Saeyoung’s chest.

* “You...I was here to warn you! Ask why you were hiding yourself from me and tell you to meet me face-to-face like a man if you want to be with my sister..! But uh-you’re actually a pretty decent guy? I mean I’ll still kill you if you hurt my sis-”

* “If I ever dared to hurt her I’d have her kill me herself then have my twin brother hide my body” Seven retorted with a straight face that made a shiver run down MC’s brothers spine.

* And that’s the story of how MC’s brother and Saeyoung ended up not only becoming best friends, but MC’s bro being the only person Saeyoung ever allowed to drive one of his babies, E V E R.

SAERAN/UNKNOWN/RAY:

* He’d never admit it, but meeting MC’s brother sent chills up his spine. He had never been in a relationship before, and now here he was-he was meeting her family, living together with her-a completely changed man, and as happy as he was for the change, he was equal parts terrified.

* And as it turns out, his fear wasn’t unwarranted-her brother was a menace, sending glares Saeran’s way from the moment he came into their home for dinner like MC had invited him to.

* Yet the thing about Saeran is this-when he’s scared, he hides it like an ace up his sleeve, becoming more agressive instead, like a cat that fluffs its tail to turn its fear into a threat.

* Each jab from MC’s brother was taken and thrown back to him tenfold by Saeran, who whilst sweet to MC, was more and more cold throughout the night to her brother, much to MC’s dismay.

* It came to a point where the two were prety much fully argung, standing and threatening each other with forks and spoons over the dinner table as MC sighed, sinking into her seat waiting to see if either of them will cave and stop.

* “You’re such an asshole how can you even fucking say you care for my sister?!” “Fuck you that’s how!” Saeran screamed back.

* It escalated and escalated until MC had had enough. With a loud thud she got up from her chair, ramming both her palms onto the table, demanding the boys’ attention.

* “Shut up! Both of you just-stop it! You-” she pointed to her brother “You’re my brother, I love you and respect you, but you’re at my house and you’re yelling at my boyfriend!” she accused, making her brother look away with a scowl, “and you!” she pointed to Saeran next, “You were so sweet, worrying about what kind of foods my brother would like and even going out of your way to cook all this, only to be so rude when he did arrive?! What gives??”

* The two seemed embarassed at their actions at least-MC’s brother had his hand on his neck whilest Saeran folded his arms around himself, looking down to the floor.

* “You uh-you cooked all this?” her brother asked, nodding to the table. Saeran nodded, willing his blush to leave his face, the traitorous blood supply.

* “It’s pretty good man. I thought it was my sister, but she can’t boil pasta to save her life so uh-I was wondering who cooked.”

* “...She almost burnt the kitchen down. Twice.” Saeran supplied, smiling as MC’s brother chuckled.

* By the end of the night the two had sided in teasing MC, but she merely rolled her eyes at them-seeing them bond even over them making fun of her was worth it.

* When she excused herself to go bring the dessert, there was an awkward silence between the two boys before Saeran spoke up, making sure that MC was already in the kitchen and out of earshot.

* “I know I can-I’m an asshole sometimes. I’ve done shitty things, I’ve been mean, and without being aware of my actions, I’ve been mean to her to-” he nodded to the kitchen, “but never again. Even if I’m an ass with everyone else I’ll always cherish her. I love her, she...she’s my sunflower.”

* Her brother didn’t reply, but Saeran knew; they both knew the severity of his words.

V/JIHYUN:

friendly reminder i havent played the after ending yet orz

* After all the mess MC had been put through-getting abducted by a cult, only to end up spending a full month besides some dude who got stabbed in a hospital-her brother finding out about it all through the PHONE as he’d called his sister a million times for days whilst her phone was out of service and she wasn’t at her apartment-and then this dude up and DISAPPEARED FOR TWO YEARS? Only to then come back and start dating his sister?

* Nuh-uh. MC’s brother was gonna have some choice words with this asshat, this-cult-loving playboy who toyed with his sister this way!

* When MC’s brother walked up to MC’s place where she’d invited both this Jihyun guy and him for coffee...he expected some big player kind of guy with a snapbcack hat or something.

* He did NOT expect this lanky tall mint-coloured man with this disarming sweet smile, awkwardly extending his hand for a handshake to MC’s brother.

* All the threats MC’s brother had prepared were lodged in his throat as he took a seat across of Jihyun on the living room couch, answering his small talk questions as if they were fast new friends.

* Once MC sat down besides Jihyun and together they explained everything that had happened...Jihyun’s ex and her psychotic delusions, how he did everything he could to help but failed, how his brave little sister MC hepled Jihyun out of that situation-

* “Dude...that’s so messed up” MC’s brother ended up saying, his coffee grown cold as he got so engrossed in the story he didn’t even take a single sip.

* Jihyun nodded sheepishly, biting his lip. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in this story, ones I’ll never repeat, and once I’ve only been able to acknowledge thanks to MC” he admitted.

* Wtih a more confident look, Jihyun held MC’s free hand in his, looking her brother in the eye as he spoke.

* “I know I’ve hurt her a lot in this story, and if I could re-do it all again I’d do everything in my power to keep MC out of harm’s way-but the past is the past and I can’t change that. I can however promise that so long as she’ll have me, I’ll always be besides her to protect her and love her, no matter what. I cherish your sister more than words can convey, and I’d only wish to have your acknowledmgent in this relationship-I’m sure it’s something that would make MC happy too.”

* Honestly...where did his sister find this marshmallow of a man?? Her brother simply nodded, biting back tears-why was this dude so damn sweet, jeez.

* “D-don’t-if you hurt her I hurt you, got it?” MC’s brother sputtered half-heartedly.

* The fact that V nodded along sincerly and said ‘of course’ didn’t help.

* MC’s brother actually gave Jihyun a pat on the back before leaving, mumbling ‘you’re a good man dude’ quiet enough for his sister not to hear.

* Everyone loves Jihyun and that’s. them. facts.

-send me mysme headcanons for character reactions!-

#i went v overboard w these lmao i love the overprotective brother trope #probs bc my older brothers never cared much about me ;u;#asks #mysme #mysme prompts #mystic messenger prompts #mysme headcanons #mystic messenger headcanons #Anonymous

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seriouslyblacklikemysoul · 5 years ago

Text

An Ephemeral Eternity in Seven Parts - Steve Rogers x Reader

MASTERLIST Warnings: Gifs aren’t mine. My English. Also, last sentence - well, maybe it’s the start of something new. Word Count~ 7k. Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI PART VII

The melancholic notes of the guitar accompanied her soft and broken voice in a song that reminded very much of a lamentation of her past, her present and her future.

Everything she touched, begun to decay. Everyone she loved, had only ended up unloved, depressed, addicted or alone. It had made her wonder if she was the one; if she was the wolf dressed as the little red riding hood. What if everyone around her was simply a helpless sheep and to prowl for her next meal she clothed herself in love and kindness, only to poison those closest to her until they are damaged beyond repair. She could only ever ruin so many relationships before she understood that the devil lived inside of her making her a toxic landfill disguised in fake beautiful grass and flowers - she had never been afraid of the monster in her closet, she had always been terrified by the one she saw in the mirror. She didn't remember which night it was - the one she left, like a thief, not making a sound, knowing that he heard her. It made her decision easier when he didn't even try to stop her. It was selfish - he had been badly broken too. She felt the failure calling out her name - she couldn't make it better for him because she was a mess. She had lost herself and she wasn't sure she wasn't sure she wanted to be found. And so she left. She took a few clothes with her and left. She had no solid plan for her days ahead. She couldn't find a point to it. She had wandered aimlessly when she found herself in a small city that did not speak English. She had smiled painfully to herself. A stranger among strangers.

Not long after her decision to stay there for a while, she had to find a way to earn some money in order to get by. The kind old lady, who had helped her with almost everything, seeing in her face the granddaughter she had lost just mere weeks before she turned up in her door - since she was one of the very few people who spoke English - had offered her a job she thought it would suit her. There was a small place where those who stayed behind went to drink and listen to old and soft songs about loss, love and pain. They were missing a singer. She had thought why not. Isabella had been nothing but kind and sweet, just like a real grandmother - not that she had met one. "Grief is a deeply personal and solitary journey. No one can truly feel or understand your loss but you, even those who have experienced it themselves. But grief is also love, and for that reason it has a right to exist and be felt. It is the debt we owe our memories. It is the final way we love someone" she had soothed her after the first time she heard her sing. There was pain in her voice, even when she sung in Spanish. She had never believed it would cost her everything. Yet, it did.

Months flew by as she had fallen into a simple yet so human routine. Many handsome men had threw themselves to her but she had closed herself, letting no one in. She had lost people along the way. She had left others behind. She had cut them out of her life, sometimes uncertain if it was the right decision. Looking back, she had done things she might have regretted now. This quieter life she had now was closer to the one she had been dreaming the cold nights that she had been held by HYDRA or trained by Madam B. She couldn't sake the feeling that something was missing - she was different and she hadn't ever realized. The girl from her past wasn't the woman she had grown to be. "Hay un hombre guapo buscándote, cariño" Isabella suddenly told her, making her slightly jump from the couch she had been seated for at least two hours, starring at the wall. Seeing her lost eyes, Isabella sat down next to her and took her hands in hers. "Listen, cariño. Love transcends gender, age, political beliefs; it crosses borders. It’s literally the strongest motivator and force we have. It makes people do things they can’t explain. And it comes in all forms and it comes when you least expect it and it comes and it goes and it changes and people have spent years and wrote books and studied the stars trying to understand it. And sometimes it’s the boy you called over to get over, the boy you were crying about and sometimes it’s the girl you grew up next door to your whole life and sometimes it’s a friend who saved your soul or a baby you didn’t expect. But it’s all around us in forms yet to be manifested- letters yet to be written, hands yet to be held. And all goodness stems from it and it literally changes the world. So even though it sometimes causes us pain and it drags us into situations we didn’t ask for, we can never close ourselves off to it or give up on it. We have to keep loving because it’s the closest thing we have to magic and without it we’re just a conscious pile of bones and life means nothing. Ve hacia el" and just like that, from the mouth of someone who used to be a stranger, the entire meaning of life and love and pain was summed up into a minute of hope. Isabella had lost her son and her granddaughter, everyone she ever loved and yet, there she was telling her to embrace life with its bad and its good. Tears she had no idea when they escaped, were running down her face. "Mi bella Isabella, gracias por tu sabiduría. Gracias por tu amor. But if I go to him, I'll leave you and I can't do that to you" she told her truthfully. Isabella just shook her head and smiled. "I'll always be here. Go to him, cariño". She kissed her cheek and hugged her as tightly as she would love to be hugged. She had been everything she was missing.

As the song went on, her eyes fell on him - he had just entered the place. And every memory she kept tacked away, came back rushing through her veins. In her head, she could hear Isabella's words but her heart just didn't want to get hurt again. She knew the moment he talked to her, she would succumb her entire being to his hands.

War was the only dance he had ever known and she wished they could have had more time amid the chaos and fire and blood to show him that there could be another way. She fell in love with the way he saw the world, the way he saw her... She fell in the chasm of his soul and his light. She would gladly drown in the darker half of the sea to hold him in her arms for more than just that single night of peace. She had been aware that they had met and they had loved in a warzone and even though his kisses had melted away the gunfire, they still held echoes of the fire burning in him but she knew hers were the same. He had been worth the risk time and time again because with his hand burning into her skin, she had hope once more ... and the blood that had stained him couldn't take away his goodness and the stars that had betrayed him, didn't mean she forsaken her devotion. There had always been a rage built inside their souls, just like this love was worthy of burning empires down ... screams that follow them all the way home only to be quieted when she kissed the blood from his lips... and even when the universe will force them to part he will remain, echoing in her heart that only belonged to him. She knew that they were the ugly parts of the love story but she also knew they were the beautiful ones too. The song came to an end and she went to the table she held every night, the one far away from the lights and the people. Eyes never leaving his, she nodded for him to join her, as she poured herself a glass of red wine. He had never been so afraid of a moment and its impact. He had no idea what to say to her or how to be around her, when she poured and offered him another glass of wine. "I didn't know you could sing" he told her before he hid his face in his hands, only to resurface as red as a tomato. She tried to swallow her laughter but failed. "You're still not good with women, Steve" and just by saying his name, her heart places itself in his hands. He smiled brightly even though he had messed up his opening line, it had worked out. She was sipping her wine with a fondness he had never seen before. Maybe leaving was the best thing she had done - and he would be selfish to ask her back. Again. Not leaving her alone, to decide her own path. He needed her in a way he hadn't needed anyone since... "I will come back Steve. But I need you to promise me that we will search and search over and over again for a way to undo this -and if we don't find one it will be because there isn't, not because we overlooked it" she told him boldly with her eyes a soft lilac color, as she looked over her shoulder, signaling to someone to approach them He was taken aback. He believed that she wouldn't even want to talk about what had happened. He had seen the way Bucky had looked at her before he... and he had already suspected his feelings towards her. Steve knew it had a great impact on her - not that it had been the only reason for her breakdown. After realizing her new powers she had refused to use them because they were the reason half of the planet was dead. He looked at her with a new found admiration - she was the bigger person. "Of course. May I ask why?" he prepared himself to hear a reason he wouldn't like, instead, his heart broke a little bit more. She smiled and stood up to give her sit to an old woman he had never seen before. It was the first time Steve saw this side of her. "Isabella, este es Steve. Ese hombre guapo que me estaba buscando" she spoke in Spanish making him question if he knew her at all. Isabella took his hands into hers and looked at him just like his mother would have, which caused some tears to appear. They got to know each other and he realized that she had never felt the love of a family - and she craved it. When Isabella said her goodnight, having already invited him to spend the night in her house, she grew quiet. She knew he was waiting for an answer. "She is the reason why. She lost everything - her son, her granddaughter - and yet she hasn't lost hope. She told me to live life with everything that comes with it and embrace it because it's all we got. She is the reason I am talking to you. She told me 'go to him' because love is the closest thing we have to magic and I couldn't just tell her I have magic running through my veins but couldn't save her family" she said with fire in her words and determination pouring over her.

It felt wrong. Being back, felt wrong. She had followed him once again, but this time she hadn't found the people she had last time. She felt out of time – as if she didn’t belong. No one was waiting for her; Natasha was broken and Tony was nowhere near the place. Maybe she had been naïve for trusting him again; deep down she knew the only thing they had been left with was bitterness. She spent her days reading, training and trying out different things. Steve had an unhealthy need to fill Sam’s shoes as he had begun some group session. The irony was obvious to her; He was telling them, urging them to move on while he would never. She had seen as much in his eyes when they were talking about his past and the beginnings of his story – way before he became Captain America. There was one particular story he didn’t feel like sharing and she understood why – but also bothered her. She had kept her promise and had searched everything in order to find a way to undo this. She had spent days and nights looking for an answer. There had been times she felt so useless she wouldn’t get out of her room – nobody dared to disagree with her on those days. Slowly yet steadily, Steve and her grew distant and she felt as if they were miles apart even when they were sitting right next to each other. Being positive had never been one of her assets and that fake optimism Steve had, got on her nerves. Then again, maybe it was just his way of coping with the events. She had found herself longing to leave the base and go back to Isabella’s house more than enough times to realize that she never felt at home in the Avenger’s base. And the years flew by without even noticing it. The only thing new must had been the fact that she met Carol, a woman with many of her own powers and a life experience to match them. Other than that, Natasha had been obsessing over Clint – who had gone dark after his family disappearance. She could never say that all of those people had died – they had just dusted away. Which was the same and she had been fooling herself for a very long time. Steve had been the positive fucking little unicorn in front of others but he was so lost when they were alone. A raccoon was sending them emails with reports and Nebula wanted to get revenge a tad more than all of them combined. She knew things were bound to be different, but she couldn’t recognize anything anymore. She had been drifted away from those around her because she didn’t feel a connection to them anymore – the only thing they had in common was anger. She had just made a cup of coffee when Steve walked in, finding Natasha on the verge of crying as he went on about the bright side, but Nat wasn’t having it. She just plopped down next to Natasha, smiling towards Steve without even bothering to listen to their conversation but her eye caught something. Something unexpected. “Oh! Hi. Hi! Is anyone home? This is Scott Lang. We met a few years ago, at the airport? In Germany? I got really big, and I had my mask on. You wouldn't recognize me” Scott Lang was rumbling on at their front gate. Before she could register their reactions, she had buzzed him in and left the room running towards him. “Have you ever studied Quantum Physics?” Scott asked them a moment later. “Only to make conversation” came a sarcastic answer by Natasha, which didn’t bring him down. “Alright. So... five years ago, right before Thanos, I was in a place called the Quantum Realm. The Quantum Realm is like its own microscopic universe. To get in there, you have to be incredibly small. Hope, she's my... She was my... She was supposed to pull me out. And then Thanos happened, and I got stuck in there” he said while he was struggling not to tell the entire truth about their relationship. “I'm sorry. That must've been a very long five years” Natasha sincerely told him only to be shocked when he replied the most unbelievable thing. “Yeah, but that's just it. It wasn't. For me, it was five hours”. Steve and Nat shared a quick bewildered glance, while she had figured it out, because she had indeed studied Quantum Physics. “See, the rules of the Quantum Realm aren't like they are up here. Everything is unpredictable. Is that anybody's sandwich? I'm starving” Scott said as he strode over to pick up Nat's sandwich, and bit into it. “Scott, what are you talking about?” Steve asked him confused and puzzled. “What he is saying is, time works differently in the Quantum Realm” she chimed in, gaining a strange look from Steve and a very impressed one from Scott. “The only problem is right now, we don't have a way to navigate it. But what if we did? I can't stop thinking about it. What if, we could somehow control the chaos, and we could navigate it? What if there was a way to enter the Quantum Realm at a certain point in time but then exit at another point in time? Like...” he went on. “Like before Thanos” she half-whispered. “Wait, are you two talking about a time machine?” Steve asked as he couldn’t believe his ears. “No. No, of course not. No, not a time machine. It's more like a... Yeah, a time machine. I know it's crazy. But I can't stop thinking about it. There's gotta be some way... There's gotta be...some w... it's crazy” his craziness was making her head dizzy. She knew they would have to talk to her father, sooner or later. She hoped it would be later but that was not gonna the case. “Scott, I get e-mails from a raccoon, so nothing sounds crazy anymore” Nat reassured him. “So who do we talk to about this?” Scott cut to the chase and everyone looked at her.

They pulled over at his cabin and one by one got out of the car. Tony looked at them and she could tell that he was not looking forward to the discussion about to take place. He acknowledged her with a single hey, and so she decided to let them talk in peace while she was gazing at the lake from afar. "I know you got a lot on the line. You got a wife, a daughter. But I lost someone very important to me. A lot of people did. And now, now we have a chance to bring her back. To bring everyone back. And you're telling me that won't even... “ his voice got louder as he tried to sell his desperation to Tony. “That's right, Scott, I won't even. I got a kid” Tony simply told them, making her remark. “Yeah, now he’s got a kid” she retorted, making him realize what he had just said. As on cue, Morgan run to her dad, who picked her up. “Mommy told me to come and save you. And to tell to the pretty girl to stay a while” Morgan told him as she pointed at his other daughter. “Good job. I'm saved. I wish you'd come here to ask me something else. Anything else. Honestly, I... I missed you guys, it was... Oh, and table's set for six” he went on and informed them. “Tony, I get it. And I'm happy for you, I really am. But this is a second chance” Steve tried to reason with him but she already knew he wasn’t gonna give up just yet. He had to solve it on his own. “I got my second chance right here, Cap. I can't roll the dice again. If you don't talk shop, you can stay for lunch. And you should stay for a while” he concluded as he turned to face her. She smiled at him. She was going to stay a while and Steve saw it. It was hard to say goodbye but unfortunately it had become easier with the years. Steve, Nat and Scott were walking back to their car outside Tony's house as she was stepping inside, hugging Pepper. She could feel him slipping away from her life but she didn’t know how to keep him there – well, she didn’t even know if he wanted to be there anymore.

The day had been quiet, Pepper was an amazing mother and Tony was trying to be a great dad but he knew that he had failed once before, so he wasn’t hoping for much. They had lunch and she met Morgan a bit better. The kid was smart, but that didn’t come as a surprise, it was rather a given. “So how do you two know each other?” she asked suspiciously as she eyed her. Tony almost chocked but she kept her calm, as she was sipping a glass of wine. “We used to work together for a project, sweetie” she smoothly told her without raising any suspicion and even thought Tony felt relieved, Pepper shoot him an angry look, making him nod his head as if they made a promise. “You’re an Avenger!” Morgan exclaimed, excited with her new discovery. But before she could say a thing, Morgan begun asking questions – more questions than anyone before, leaving her stumped. “Honey, come on. Don’t bombard her with your questions. Wanna help me with dessert?” Pepper came to the rescue quickly and she couldn’t be more thankful. Silence fell and it was awkward because no one was going to break it first and Pepper knew as she said louldy "talk". Both of them rolled their eyes at that. "She is smart, that's from your side and she is beautiful - that's all Pepper" she commented shortly after. He almost laughed at her quick comeback. "How are you? How are things back?" he asked her sincerely, trying to make up for all the lost time. She shook her head, not wanting to lie. Something he understood very well. "Let me guess. You have been drifted away from people, especially Steve" he made a wild guess and he knew he was right. She stopped hiding her feelings. "Everything I thought I had is no longer. That's why I came here with them. They are asking you to be a hero and save the world. I just wanted to ask you a favor. A while back, I... I left and went -" "To a nice lady called Isabella, who lost her son and granddaughter" he finished her sentence for her, leaving her puzzled. "What? Did you really think I wasn't looking after you?" he asked her. "Well, you left to start a family and didn't even call, so... um. I should have" she concluded at last. He disagreed with her. She had stayed there, not to ask him to fight with them, but to help her find a way, because she knew that there was going to be o return for him and she wanted Morgan to have both of her parents and to feel loved. One of his daughters should.

She was just watching him work from the couch as she was drinking a hot cup of tea. “Look at a mod inspiration, let me see what check out. So, recommend one last sim before we pack it in for the night” he gave orders to his computer. “Maybe in the shape of a mobius strip, inverted, don’t you think?” she commented as she took a look to the holographic experiment. He agreed with an impressed look. “Do as the lady suggests” he informed Friday. “Processing... “ “Give me that eigenvalue. That, particle factoring, and a spectral decomp. That will take a second” he had just stepped away, towards the couch but it was not to be. “And don't worry if it doesn't pan out. I'm just kinda –“ “Model rendered” Friday announced sending waves of bewilderments down her spine. Tony in a complete shock of amazement as the render came back as 99.987% successful, fell back ecstatic by this discovery. “Shit!” they both exclaimed at the same time. “Shit” Morgan giggled as she repeated the word they had just uttered. Tony took on the father roll quicker than she had thought as he nodded to her to take care of everything that had just been projected while he took Morgan away. They had solved time travel. They had actually found out how to go back in time. Her mind was blown away just by looking at it. As she was walking around the holographic model, Pepper came down the stairs looking for her. “You should rest honey. It’s late” she told her like a mother would. She smiled at her and waited for Tony to get back. “Maybe it’s not” she told her, leaving her puzzled. They both sat on the couch, Pepper reading a book and she was just thinking of the endless possibilities. People less lucky than her would get to see the sun again. Isabella’s family. Spider-kid, Wanda, Strange, Bucky. Oh Gods, Bucky. She had tried to forget about him and how much it had affected her. It had been one of the few failures of her life. “Not that it's a competition, but she loves me 3000. You were somewhere on the low 6 to 900 range” Tony announced as he joined them and got Pepper to scoff. “What are you reading?” he asked absentmindedly as she noticed. “Oh, it's just a book on composting” Pepper told him, making her long for a simple life once more. “What's new with composting?” he asked again without really wanting an answer. Before she could, he cut her off. “We figured it out, by the way” he blurred out, pointing at his daughter proudly. “You know, just so we're talking about the same thing –“ Pepper tried to catch up on their new discovery, very happy they were working together. “Time travel” he simply informed like it was nothing. “What? Wow... That's amazing, and... terrifying. Oh, that’s why you told me maybe it’s not late” she told him amazed as she turned to her still very much astonished. “We got really lucky” she commented and both of them agreed. “Yeah, I know” her father said a tad sad. “A lot of people didn't” Pepper softly nudged him. “No, I can't help everybody” he tried to be civilized and open for debate about it. “It sorta seems like you can. Both of you” his wife disagreed. “Not if I stop. I can put a pin in it right now, and stop” he insisted but they all new what was about to happen. “Tony, trying to get you to stop has been one of the few failures of my life” Pepper echoed her thought from moments ago. Tony smiled proudly about that very fact. “I sometimes feel I should put it in a locked box and drop it at the bottom of a lake... go to bed” he had almost given up on saying no. He wasn’t able to deny that she was right. “But would you be able to rest?” her soft voice pierced through his head. “And neither would you. I know that you left at some point because the memories were too much” she told her with honesty. She couldn’t believe how selfless Pepper was being about something so dangerous. “Come on, kiddo. It’s time to sleep. Tomorrow we are gonna go on a trip” Tony urged his daughter. She could get use to that. “Goodnight Pepper. Goodnight To-… dad” she finally told him, making him smile in pure happiness for the first time in a while.

The whole world was changing and she had been a part of that very fact. Every plan, every strategy and every theory had been mapped out but she knew that sometimes, even the cleverest of minds can miss a point – so small that no one could have seen. Wanda was trying destroy Thanos, having cost everything to her, Scott and Hope were trying to kick start the engine of the van and everyone was trying to get the gauntlet as far away as possible, without it being very easy of a task.

Pepper landed next to Okoye, followed by Mantis, Shuri, the Wasp, Gamora, Nebula and herself much to everyone else’s opinion – they all thought she was going to be right by Steve. Thanos' army charged while they helped Carol Danvers gey through the Outriders, Sakaarans and Chitauri. When Carol and she flew towards the van with the Gauntlet, Thanos, after being stopped by Pepper, Shuri and Hope, threw his double sword at the van, destroying it completely. He knocked Carol down and smacked Tony away as Thor arrived in an attempt to pin Thano’s arm down – Steve came rushing towards them, helping Thor but they were all overpowered. In a desperate attempt, when she saw Thanos picking up the gauntlet she punched him away. Thanos grabbed her by the arm and threw her away like she weighted nothing. Thanos put on the gauntlet, gamma radiation from the stones all over his body, as he tried to snap, but she arose again, and stopped his fingers from snapping, opening up his hand similar to what she had seen Steve doing in the other battle. She almost had him, forcing him onto his knees, as her powers were finally enough, she was ready to steal the stones herself. She knew she could take them on – she was part of them and they were part of her. But alas, he pulled the Power Stone out of the Gauntlet and used it in his free hand to hit her away, almost killing her in the prosses. Tony was looking at his daughter terrified and too scared to think of what might happen. He made one last attack on Thanos, having an entirely different plan on his mind. Thanos pushed him away, ending up right next to his older daughter. All it took was one look and she knew – before she could anything at all, everything was already over. “I am inevitable” Thanos snapped his fingers, but nothing happened. He saw that the stones were missing. “NO!” she screamed but Tony simply smiled at her. s except a metallic "clink." He sees the Infinity Stones are missing.

“And I– am– Iron Man”.

The cruelest thing that someone had done to her was first claim to love her more than anything in the world. That he had never seen anything as exquisite as her. That she was every star in the night sky. That he would never leave her. And then one day, out of the blue he did. He lulled her into a false sense of security, convincing her that this, this is the forever love she have been looking for. This is the kind of love she needed all this time, the kind of love she had craved and let her get comfortable in it because it would last. And then, one day, he walked away. He made her believe that there would never be another. And then one day, he forgot her. He simply left without warning after promising her eternity. How ephemeral it turned out to be... It had been years since he came back. Not him - not her Steve. Peggy's Steve. She had refused to meet him - she had refused to even look at him, or be in the same building. She felt betrayed. She had lost Natasha as she had sacrificed herself to get the fucking Soul Stone. She had lost her father and that felt on her - she still felt responsible. And then Steve had decided to leave her all alone to fight her demons after constantly reassuring her he loved her. But he caught her by surprise, when he entered her office, as she was now in charge of everything her father once held - Morgan was too young and Pepper wanted some time off with her daughter. He knocked the door, waited for her to call him in and he entered. She had been facing the other way, on a phone call but the minute she turned and faced him, her phone fell on the floor and her heart skipped more beats than she could count. "Hello, Ms.. Stark. Do you have a minute for an old friend?" he was being polite as well as sarcastic but her mind had already imploded, so what the fuck? Gaining some of her confidence back, she raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "We were never friends, Mr. Rogers" she fired coldly but he knew her better and she hated it. He looked at her and all it took was a moment. He too raised his eyebrow and walked towards her with absolutely no intention of leaving. Before she could register his acts, he had enveloped her in to his big hug and she felt so fucking angry - it still felt like home. Without even knowing it, she was crying with her head almost resting on his chest. "It’s weird. It’s weird how you have the same face but you’re a completely different person. It’s weird how I have so many amazing memories with you but they died off as you’re a completely different person. It’s weird that I’m mourning over someone that is still alive because you’re a completely different person. It’s weird, you’re a completely different person. And I hate you for leaving me, but I can never really hate you because I love you" she told him as he sat them down to her couch. She left his arms to look at him. She lowered her walls and finally opened up to him again. "If I could do it all again, I would stay up later. I would ask more questions, unashamed of how personal they were and not afraid that I wouldn’t like the answers. If I could start over with you, I wouldn’t doubt my instincts. I wouldn’t fear what people thought if I catered to your every whim and laughed at every stupid joke. If I could try again, I would embrace every moment of every fight and ask for everything I needed from you. I wouldn’t worry if I was too needy, too attached, too much of anything. I would be myself more. I would scream louder. I wouldn’t hesitated to tell you I love you, in every way, every day. If I could do it again, I would not love you in halting steps always looking for some sort of validation that I was stepping on solid ground. I would jump into you and if you didn’t catch me, then I would still be picking up the same broken pieces I am now" she sincerely told him. She had lost both her friend and her father, both of them in the name of salvation and then Steve choose to leave her and go back. She had refused to exist for a while because she couldn't function. As everything crumbled around her, she had looked for a something to hold on to, but those closest couldn’t hear her amidst their screaming matches. She looked for those who swore to be there during her weakest moment only to see the illusion fade away leaving only crossed fingers, emptiness, and disappointment. She was done searching for someone, when someone did appear. Without even thinking about it, he wiped a single tear that ran across her cheek. He wasn't her Steve, but those eyes... "I never believed that I would have felt the way you made me feel after all those years in the ice. I owe you everything. And repaying you in the way I did... I wouldn't have forgiven me if I were you. An apology won't help, I know. For what it’s worth, you will always hold a special place" he told her in tender way that reminded her of their story and more tears found their way out. And he wiped every single one of them. She could tell from the way he hugged her when he saw her. He had kept the silent promise he had made when she was too drunk to remember what she had asked of him. Years had passed since she allowed herself to see him again. After saying a polite hello, they hugged like friends did. But then he squeezed her a little tighter right before he let go. She had almost rested her head on his chest out of habit, because it suddenly felt just like old times. She had thought she'd never be in his embrace again but there they were. They both wanted to hold on tighter but they knew they were different now. But she could tell from the way he hugged her, from the way he held on just a little longer, that somewhere, deep down... "I missed you too" she smiled at him, a strange but very much wanted feeling of relief washing over her heart. They both knew, no one could stop loving. Once you have loved someone honestly, truly, you will never be able to un-love them. You can only find someone you will love more. At that time, your old love will not feel so strong, but it will always be in your heart, it will never let you forget something that at some point along the way made you happy. "You hold a special place in someone else's heart too, you know" he commented like a genie. Her eyebrow arched. "Stop playing matchmaker, you old wise owl" she mocked him. At least, she could start again. He still held her face in his hands, he still held a piece of her, he would always be her first love. The bigger the love, the harder the fall. They stayed like that until Bucky walked into her office, looking for her. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously when he saw Steve holding her but he reprimanded himself almost immediately. She saw the way Steve looked up at him and she knew he wanted some alone time him. Leaving his hands was harder than she thought, smiling at all times. "Don't be a stranger, Rogers" she bid him goodbye but his eyes told her this wasn't the last time they would see each other and she found solace. She passed Bucky in her way out, smiling brightly to him, making his eyes sparkle in hope. She had just left the room when she heard Steve being completely honest.

"She is different now. I was too much of a punk to see how beautiful she really was. Her heart was beautiful, she cared so much about me and I never understood why. I don't think I treated her the way she deserves to be treated - but you do. Don't look at me like that, Bucky. I am old, not blind. I can see the way you two look at each other. Back then, her love scared me, it was so intense. I almost forgot how enticing her smile was. She just wasted so many tears on someone like me and for that I will never forgive me" he told his friend but his mind was someplace else. She smiled to herself and finally left them alone. Whatever was to come, she would face it. Finding closure had never been about forgetting. It had never been about drowning out the voices of her past or about closing her heart to memories that used to make you happy. Finding closure meant accepting a situation for what it was and moving on. It was coming to terms with the way things were and knowing that she couldn't change what had happened, but could still find growth among the broken pieces.

_____

“I am so glad I got my heart broken. It led me to you”. ____

Taglist: @accio-rogers @coffee-with-orion @stydia-4-ever @smilexcaptainx @elliee1497

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