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neonacity · 3 years

Text

HYACINTHE | CHAPTER 3: JAEMIN X READER

SUMMARY:

Na Jaemin is far from being your typical 20 year old. Instead of slaving through college, he wastes away his hours cracking safes. Weekends that should be spent partying with friends consist of illegal races on good days and small scale bombings on bad ones. Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul’s top organized crime family normal.

There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word. So why, then, does he always find himself at the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?

A/N + Disclaimer: this is a side story to Black Daisies, my main mafia fic feat. 0T23. While the plot is based on the main story, this can also be read as a standalone fic. As usual, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way am I implying any member of NCT to behave the way I write them here. tw: crimes, heists, potential death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities.

PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader

TW: illegal activities, gunshot wound, mentions of blood

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

FIC TRAILER

MASTERLIST

"Another bank was looted last night around 11PM, this time in the Geumchon district. This is the second bank that was broken into in the past week and the fourth that is rumored to be the doing of one of Seoul's organized criminal…."

I sighed and put down the pen that I have been using to scribble on a piece of napkin. A frown creased my forehead before I grabbed the offending piece of flimsy paper and crumpled it with my hand. Jeno, who was silently watching the news, looked up and shot me a curious look. He was leaning over the counter lazily, his cup of half finished hot cocoa beside him.

"You okay?"

I winced. "Yeah... Actually. Actually, no. I am not okay," I said finally as I threw the used napkin to the closest thrash. I have been scribbling all the things I have to pay for the coming month there and couldn't bear to take another look at it. Jeno grabbed his drink and silently took a sip of it, obviously waiting for me to elaborate.

After my initial 'unplanned' meeting with Jaemin's friends, it has become more or less of their routine to drop by the cafe to hangout. Jaemin was initially against it at first, always scowling whenever he would see one of them already in the shop, though it seems like he has gotten used to it lately—or rather, he didn't have any other choice but to simply accept it. They would often sometimes come in groups—Jisung and Chenle are big fans of the pastries—but other times it's just one of them who would drop by to visit like Jeno now. My favorite is when all of them drops by to visit, not only because I've started getting closer to them too, but because customers would automatically flock into the shop whenever the "handsome gang" is there. Honestly, I couldn't blame them.

"I'm a little bit short on money this month. I was supposed to get my monthly allowance from my scholarship but something happened so it will be delayed. I have lab things to buy and well—everything sucks."

Jeno nodded slowly, though I have a feeling he doesn't really understand my plight with money. Spending time with the seven of them has given me a better understanding of each boys' personalities. Jeno, for example, is definitely the calmer one of the bunch. While the others would cause chaos every now and then—Jaemin included, he would be on the side watching them usually with that adorable eye smile of his. He is different from Mark who would mostly jump in to join the fun before calming everyone once things get overboard, though both seem to share the same responsibility over the group. He also seems to be the closest to Jaemin, so by extension, I am also most comfortable around him.

"How much money do you need?"

I gave him a look as I reached out for a paper cup to make myself my own hot cocoa.

"I heard the same question from your best friend before. Are you also going to offer to be my sugar daddy?"

Jeno choked on his drink and hid his laughter behind his raised cup.

"Do you want Jaemin to kill me?"

That made me inappropriately blush.

"Sometimes I just want to bust out a bank like that group everyone is talking about."

Jeno didn't say anything and continued watching me from the brim of his drink.

"You think you can do it?"

"Do what?" I asked as I poured hot cocoa on my cup. I said that off-handedly, I almost forgot my words the moment they left my lips.

"Rob a bank. You know, do something illegal."

I leaned back against the counter and craned my head a little sideways as I thought the question over. I didn't actually think of that before so I had to listen to my moral compass a little bit before answering.

"It depends on the reason."

Jeno looked surprised by my reply. He was probably expecting a goody two shoes answer from me, which I don’t blame him for, to be honest. Even I am mildly shocked by what I said.

"The reason?"

"Yes. I mean, if the only reason I would steal is because I don't have money to support my studies, then no, I wouldn't do it. I have other options. I can work extra jobs or I can just drop out from uni. But if I didn't really have any other choice, if I had to do it for someone really close to me, for example, then I would do it."

"That is very…"

"Cliche, right? I know. But that's how it works, at least for me," I said with a laugh. "I do know what's good and bad, but I'm willing to jump the gun if I have to."

I didn't know if it was my imagination, but I thought I heard Jeno murmur something under his breath as I turned to get back to work.

"I bet Jaemin wouldn't like that."

-----

PRESENT DAY, a little over one month after the happenings in the first chapter.

They disappeared like bubbles. No, he disappeared in thin air, like smoke that was blown over by a strong gust of wind. After that night when Jaemin bust through my cafe door, hiding god knows what and asking for temporary shelter, he hasn't shown himself again, apparently leaving while I slipped into a light sleep. Even his friends stopped visiting the cafe which, for a few days, made me genuinely feel scared. Are they okay? What happened to him? Who was he running away from?

That worry slowly and gradually morphed into anger as the days lengthened. I know it was my way of coping with my emotions, but I couldn't help myself. I tried calling him, but the line was cut. It even came to the point that I had to call each of his friends, but it seems like the numbers they gave me were all temporary ones, too. I felt frustrated. I felt...abandoned.

Was it really easy for him to just cut off all contact with me?

Was it foolish of me to think that there is...something deeper here than just friendship?

It was the start of winter when the loud ringing of my phone woke me up from my nap. Eyes still heavy with sleep, my first instinct was to look at the clock by my table which registered 1:19AM. I frowned. I was in the middle of finishing a paper before I decided to take a nap but who could be calling me at such an ungodly hour?

I blearily reached out for my phone and barely looked at the unregistered number before hitting the answer button.

"Hello?"

"Noona?"

I froze. Just like that, I felt the sleepiness slowly melt away from my consciousness. I know that voice.

"Jisung?"

"Noona, we need your help."

I sat up on my seat after registering the panic in his voice. I heard another tone suddenly hiss at him from the background before a rustling sound overtook the speakers. It sounded like someone grabbed the phone from his grasp before he could even react.

"Jisung. What's happening—"

"Hello?" The new voice that spoke on the other line made my heart stop. I stared at my wall, wide-eyed.

"Jaemin."

"I'm sorry. We didn't mean to—"

"Jaemin, we don’t really have any other choice but her, give me the phone," another one jumped in. It was Mark.

"No. Hyung—"

"We're losing him," my lips parted in shock at what I heard. His voice sounded clearer now and I could very much pick up the iciness on it. Mark has always been so friendly and warm that it threw me off guard.

"Give me the phone."

The authority he held made me assume that Jaemin did as he was told. Next thing I know, he was calling out my name from the speaker.

"Mark, yes, I'm listening."

"Hey. I'm really sorry about this, but we need your help. We really have no other choice, Haechan is in such a bad state—"

That made me stand up and push away from my desk.

"What the hell is going on? What do you mean about Haechan?"

"I'll explain later. We're on our way to you now."

"Wait, what? You don't know my address."

"We'll be there in seven minutes."

That was all he said before he cut off the call, leaving me standing shell-shocked in the middle of my room.

---

They banged on my door not even five minutes after. I had barely pulled on a cardigan when loud knocks rang through my small one bedroom unit causing me to quickly run and grab my knob open.

I stood frozen at the sight of the seven boys crowding my doorway. Everyone was covered in some sort of soot, leaving them almost unrecognizable in their black outfits. Mark and Jeno were in the middle of the group, carrying a half-conscious Haechan between them. Jisung, Chenle, and Renjun brought the rear, their eyes moving wildly as if checking for eavesdroppers. Jaemin stood closest to me, his jaw tense and his eyes apologetic. My gaze snapped back to the center of the group when Mark called out my name.

That's when I saw it for the first time. I didn't notice it at first because of its dark color, but Jeno was holding a towel against Haechan's stomach. Except it isn't black, it was a deep dark red.

Blood.

"Oh my god."

"Please help us."

Maybe it was the shock, but I quickly stepped aside to let everyone in. I had barely slammed the door shut when I heard a crashing sound from my small dining area. Jeno pushed everything on top of my table to the ground as Mark and Jaemin gently guided Haechan on it.

"What—what is going on—"

"He's been shot. Thrice. We're not sure but I think two of the bullets are still there," Renjun answered me as he grabbed the soaked towel from Mark's hand and replaced it with a new one. Jisung and Chenle worked on closing all the shutters of my windows while Jaemin tore off a lamp from my living room to move it close to Haechan. He closed all other lights other than the ones on the dining area and the small lamp.

It was then when my training finally kicked in. I ran towards the table to peer at the wound, my shaking hands gently moving the new towel that is quickly getting soaked by blood again. Haechan gave a soft grunt of pain before slipping to unconsciousness again.

"I think there are still foreign objects there. It's what causing the severe bleeding."

"Can you take it out?"

My eyes shot to Jeno. The harsh lights from the lamp threw strong shadows on his stressed features.

"I'm not a licensed doctor."

"We don't need a licensed doctor right now, we need someone who can patch the hole in his stomach. Please."

I gritted my teeth. I have a ton of questions running through my head right now, but he's right. We need to act fast or else we will lose him. I rolled up my sleeves then and called out to whoever can act fast to my orders.

"Somebody get the black box under my bed. I have all my surgery practice tools there. I need hot water and lots of towels. Everyone move. Now."

As soon as I said my orders, each of the boys were moving in a flurry to get everything that I asked for. I was adjusting the small lamp directly over the wound to peer at it better when I felt a gentle hand circle around my arm. I looked up to see Jaemin staring at me.

"Thank you."

I didn't say anything at first. I don't know if it was the shadows playing over his features, but he looked different from the Jaemin I knew in that brief moment.

"Don't thank me yet. Say that once we're sure he survives."

---

I was stirred from my sleep by the light snoring of someone to my right. Turning my head, I was greeted by the sight of Jisung who was currently sprawled on my sofa, his legs so long that they were dangling on one end. Chenle was on the floor below him, his face covered by one of the pillows he probably fished from one of my love seats cradling Renjun's curled up form. Mark and Jeno were both sitting upright, the former close to Haechan and the other by the door like a sentinel. They seemed to be in deep sleep too, they're heads hanging low. Jaemin was on the floor next to my seat, his breathing slow and relaxed.

I blinked slowly as my gaze moved from boy to boy. It took me a painful two hours to do the impromptu surgery, first working on taking the bullets out before sewing everything back together. Haechan was lucky enough that the bullets didn't hit any vital organs or important vessels, and that the extreme bleeding was only caused by the wrong muscle being hit by the impact. He slipped from being conscious to unconscious throughout, and everyone had to work together to help me while I did my thing.

I couldn’t really blame any of them from crashing the moment we made sure that Haechan’s safe—for now.

After rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I tried to silently move from where I was curled on, careful not to stir anyone. I still have a ton of questions, but those can be taken care of later. I padded as carefully as I could towards the table where Haechan was still resting and peered at the IV that I had hooked on his arm to make sure everything was moving well.

They even have spare blood bags with them for emergency transfusions.

...As if this kind of thing normally happens.

"He's going to be okay, right?"

I hastily turned to see Jaemin staring at me. His voice was low and was only loud enough for me to hear.

I stared at him for a bit before looking away.

"Yes. He'll survive."

"Thank you so much."

I didn't answer. He also didn't say anything else, though I could still feel his gaze heavily on me. I braced myself before speaking again.

"We need to talk."

I didn't wait for him to reply. I simply walked towards my room, leaving my door open for him to follow. I only turned back to look at him when I finally heard it close softly behind him.

"Who are you?" I asked, before he could even say anything else. I watched as his jaw tightened and released, his eyes full of indecisiveness. I didn't waver. Not this time.

"You said…"

"That I will never ask questions? I did. But I can't do it anymore, Jaemin. You disappeared for a month without even saying goodbye then showed up on my door with your friends, one of them with a hole in their stomach. You have blood bags—freaking blood bags. What the hell is going on?"

I tried my hardest to control my voice, not wanting any part of this conversation to be heard outside. My legs felt weak at the moment but I tried my best to continue standing so I could hold his gaze.

The look in Jaemin's eyes, however, almost made me want to give up. I knew from the pain and hesitation there that I wouldn't like whatever it is he is about to say.

"I'm a criminal."

My stomach dropped.

I was expecting it, but hearing it straight from him didn't soften the impact and the shock.

"A…"

"We steal. We do illegal things. There is absolutely no good way for me to describe this, but yes, I am a runaway who was stupid enough to bring you into this mess," Jaemin said through gritted teeth as he tore his eyes away from me. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to take a deep breath to steady himself.

"I was stupid and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone back and tried to befriend you after that order of coffee. I'm sorry I ran to you that night a month ago. I seriously thought I was going to die and I wanted you to be the one that I see for the last time. I'm sorry for today, or that I couldn't answer any of your questions back then. It was selfish of me to keep you in my life without giving you anything back," he stopped and forced himself to look at me again. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest when our gazes met.

"I'm sorry."

I didn't… couldn't say anything. One part of me had already expected this because it is the only reason that makes sense. Those vague answers, his detachment from normal society, the money, every clue seems to point to one direction, but that didn't spare me from my moral dilemma now. Because while I knew, I didn't exactly consider how it relates to me.

I was afraid to.

Because the truth is, I like Na Jaemin to the extent that I'm afraid of what I can do for him.

"Do you kill…" I asked in a whisper, my voice shaky. A frown passed his already stressed features before he answered.

"No. None of us do," he answered, and I knew then that he was telling the truth. Regardless of what he is or what he didn't tell me, I trust him to not lie to me.

"Am I—am I in danger?" I asked next. He firmly shook his head.

"No. I made sure of that. No one would dare—" he stopped, as if gauging what words he can use to not scare me even more. "You have always been under protection."

That’s when it clicked. The cafe visits from his friends. The random strangers who seem to spring out from nowhere every time I was out and about and needed sudden help.

My legs finally gave way and I collapsed on my bed behind me. My mind was trying its best to wrap around the situation, leaving my thoughts in a jumble. There are a million things I wanted to say, but I couldn’t get a single one out at the moment.

Jaemin seemed to know what I was feeling at the very least because he simply stood there, silently watching me. I'm not sure how long the two of us stayed in that bubble of silence, but it was also him who brought me back to reality when I felt warmth cover my hands.

I looked up to see him kneeling in front of me, both his hands gently enveloping my clasped ones. The look in his eyes made my heart lurch, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything still.

"I'm sorry if I was selfish… I promise, after this, you won't have to worry about anything else."

No.

"When I met you, I saw something that's so different from the life that I have. Believe me, I tried my best to leave you alone, but I wanted more of it—more of —you, so I kept coming back."

Are you going to leave me again?

"But you'll be safe now. I promise. You can go back to how it used to be before I… almost ruined it."

Please don't leave me.

Jaemin gave my hands one last squeeze and I felt him move to straighten himself. Before he let them go, however, another gentle warmth pressed against my forehead as he grazed it with his lips.

"Thank you."

My tears dropped the same time the doors closed behind him.

---

Chapter 4

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sicjimin · 3 years

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Hi! If you're taking request I have one :) Yoongi with a really high fever but doesnt tell anyone and almost passes out during dance practice which worries the others

A.N : aaahh im sorry this taking too long T.T i hope you like this one & meets with your expectation! the idea is so .. interesting i love it!!, and sorry for the lame ending ......... T.T

TW : slight emeto, fainting

Yoongi knows his body was about to give up when he had already been sleep-deprived for the past 3 days, and in addition to that, their concept photos yesterday was involving contact with water and in the middle of winter wind. But he didn't expect that his body will give up in a literal meaning , and in the middle of dance practice, which causes panic from the members as they hovering over him.

Let's retract back —

Yoongi wakes up this morning, already acknowledge that he had a fever latching on him when he's still shivering under his blanket when the air conditioner is off. His assumptions are proven true when the world is tilting the moment he tries to get up and walk to the bathroom, his muscles feel achy, and the wooden floor becomes too cold for his feet. He half-conscious walking to the bathroom, freshens his pale face before rummaging the thickest hoodie he had, and go down to the kitchen where the rest of the members already clattering loudly. The first thing Yoongi sees is Jimin, who's currently putting the coffee pot on.

"You look like shit." Seokjin comments as Yoongi glares at him through half-opened eyes which are barely visible with his blurred sleepy eyes. "I feel like shit", he mumbled as he shoves down few bites of toast that Seokjin prepared, gulped down his daily iced americano before walk away and settled on the couch, resting his already exhausted body for a few minutes before they need to go.

Someone plopped beside him, but the mild thumping on his head didn't let him to open his eyes. That's too much effort. "Hyung are you okay? You look pale"

Yoongi only hums as an answer, letting silence seeped between them before he huffs a warm breathe and stands up as he heard Namjoon calling them to go. He ruffles Jungkook's hair, "I'm fine. a little bit tired" before he walks behind the other.

It's Jungkook.

It's 2 PM now, he has one hour before he needs to get up for dance practice. He let himself succumbing the sickness in his body, his teeth clattering as he trying his best to cover himself with a padded jacket and curled his body smaller in the darkness of his studio. The medicine took longer to kick in. He didn't know how long it had had already been since he's tossing and turning on the couch until someone knocking on his door, calling him that its time for practice.

The rest of the day went like a blur for Yoongi as he's too busy fighting his body to not completely shut down. He managed to go through some interviews as scheduled, downing a bowl of porridge that he requested to the staff as lunch with rice is way too heavy for his upset stomach and bitter tongue, take some medicine, and working few parts of the track before his head spinning.

Two knocks

One knock

Yoongi still didn't have it in him to get up. Then he heard the passcode ringing in and the door opened. He groans when the light blazing over his head for a minute before someone that barging into his studio quickly apologize and turning it off again.

Three knocks

"Yoongi-ah! What's wrong? Are you sick?", Yoongi didn't manage to answer any of that train of questions before a cold palm touching his burning forehead. He unconsciously whines when it goes away. It feels nice. " Oh my god, you're burning up!!"

"Hyung", Yoongi rasps, few coughs slipping as he tried to sit up. Seokjin quickly offered him water from his table. " Gosh, Yoongi. You're sick! Why are you even here? Let's go home!", Seokjin tugging his hand, while his other hands start collecting Yoongi's belonging. "Hyung .. i already took meds. Let's go to practice. I will go home with you guys after that"

Seokjin stops turn to Yoongi and give him a stern look. "What if your fever gets worse?" Seokjin asks, voice firm. "No, it wont hyung.. Please don't worry.. let's just go with the others to practice". Seokjin sigh, before reluctantly nodded.

They both headed out, Seokjin hands firm on Yoongi's shoulder as he is afraid the younger might trip on his feet if he let it go. They are greeted with the loud sound of music blaring echoes the room, he could see the other already do some stretching. Yoongi huff, before he drags himself to do the same. " Are you sure you can practice?", Seokjin asks once again. His eyes still trailed over the younger with worry. Yoongi nods, pushing his masks higher so the others couldn't see his pale feature. "Just, don't tell the others hyung. I don't want them to worry", he murmured. Seokjin didn't answer, but settled to stretching beside him.

The first round of practice went well, despite the aching in his muscle and thumping in his head getting worse, Yoongi manages to do it. He ducked his head down, almost groans in pain as he pants for air. It hurts.

"Water?", Yoongi opened his bleary eyes and meet with Seokjin's red face that also panting, with cold water on his hand. Yoongi gratefully accepts, sighing in relief when the liquid seeping down on his throat. "How are you doing?", Seokjin asks, gaining a shrug from the younger, " At least i'm sweating"

Seokjin rolled his eyes, " Don't force yourself"

"I won't"

In the second round of their practice, everything went downhill for Yoongi. He feels faint with every step he takes to dance. Every time he tries to move his legs he feels like it’s going to fail him and collapse underneath him. He can feel all the blood leaving his body as he moves. Not to mention how it's getting hard for him to catch his breath, the thumping in his head gets more prominent, almost lapping with the blaring sound of music. He didn't know when exactly he stopped on his feet, stared blankly on the floor that starts spinning under his feet . The whole room was now spinning around him, the lights seem to have faded out of focus, only a black hole was staring right through his eye. His sight slowly blurring, vision getting blurry. His breathing becoming heavier, he tries not to fall on his feet or knees but fails miserably. He doesn't know which one of the members screaming his name before it all goes black.

—

When Yoongi came back into consciousness, there was a throbbing pain on his head that made him want to groan in pain. He was feeling dizzy from the movement and could barely open his eyes. His ears felt numb, it sounded muffled but he tried to listen to them. What they were saying.

"Hyung!" A voice says. Yoongi flinches and tries to turn his head away, the loud ringing in his ears makes him nauseous. It hurt so bad.

"Hyung! Are you okay?!" Another voice comes and this time he tries to open his eyes, blinking at first, until he can see properly and get his bearings. Yoongi sits up, immediately leaning against something for support and then falls again. He can feel hands on his shoulder, supporting him.

"Hyung?! Hyung what happened? Do you need help?" A third voice. Yoongi doesn't want to look at who it is, he doesn't think he can stand without falling again and he isn't about to risk that. So he lies there, resting his head on the wall behind him.

"Dizzy .. " Yoongi mumbles to himself. Someone touches his cheek, gently moving his hair out of the way. With a hand on his forehead, checking temperature, Yoongi flinches and instinctively leans away from the touch.

"Min Yoongi what did i told you! Gosh, your fever getting worse", Seokjin exclaims. Yoongi heard everyone else talking again, with Seokjin shouting something about getting home. He didn't know. He wants to sleep.

" Yoongi, don't sleep. Can you move for me? We're going home", Seokjin asks, panic clear in his voice. He nods, then he feels himself being lifted up by the arms. He manages to open one eye just enough to make out the blurry shape of the surrounding, as he drags himself out, leaning most of his weight to Seokjin that holding him. Walks to the car feel way longer than Yoongi liking. Nausea that settled deep in his stomach now become worse as his inside jostles with every step he takes.

"Hyung", he croaked out, " Can we stop? i feel sick"

Before he knows, he already lurches forward along with his breakfast and his lunch earlier, soiling the green bushes under his feet. His throat burns, his eyes sting with tears, a burning sensation on his tongue. "Shh Yoongi.. it's okay. Everything is fine. Let it all out," Seokjin said, soothingly, though he did seem concerned. Yoongi can barely see through the tears streaming down his face. He squeezes his eyes shut when another stream of his stomach content gurgling up and rushing from his lips. His mouth was dry, but he could only focus on making sure that nothing would come up his throat, "I think I'm done", he rasped out weakly, not caring if it came out scratchy or wet.

He woke in the morning with a groggy feeling, feeling much better than yesterday had. When he rolled over, he saw 6 others figure scattering on his and Seokjin's room, with Seokjin sleeping on his side. He tried to shift his position when something wet fall over his forehead, a damp cloth. " Hyung? You're awake?", Hoseok raspy voice seeping through Yoongi's ears. He watched the younger yawn and stretch his body before plopping himself beside him.

The ride back felt like hours, even Yoongi spent most of it with sleeping. Once they got home, he stumbled into his room, falling face first onto his bed and letting himself finally fall asleep before he could hear any more of Seokjin trying to coax him into eating anything.

" Yeah I am", Yoongi managed, still feeling groggy, " Why are you here, isn't everyone have schedule today?"

"They come rushing yesterday and didn't want to leave you until you wake up, they said", Seokjin rasps as he collects himself.

"Yeah, you're scaring us hyung, and Seokjin hyung completely ignored us when we ask! So we just crashed here", Hoseok whines, " Are you feeling better?"

Yoongi bites off smile that wants to erupt from his lips, "I guess? not as shit as yesterday", he mumbled, almost yelps when a cool hand touching his forehead out of nowhere.

"At least your fever already breaking down", Seokjin hums before stand up, slapping Hoseok lightly on its way, "Wake up the others, i will make Yoongi something to eat"

#bts sickfic #tw emeto #tw vomit #sick!yoongi #caretaker!seokjin

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highwaydiamonds · 3 years

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Um. Excuse me. You had cancer??

Yeah... I mean I guess I really haven't discussed it much on tumblr. I have a little bit, but only in vague ways, or rarely made veiled references in tags.

SO, get a drink, get a snack, because this is a bit of a saga, and you already know I am longwinded at the best of times. I'm going to do like Vizzini said, and go back to the beginning. I hope you're ok I'm making this public Shells, it seems easier to? And I'll put this behind a cut because I really do wax on ( and on).

It's the end of August 2018 and i appear to have gotten some kind cold/respiratory infection. I'm at work the first day of it and it feels like a cold. No big deal. (Also this is all pre-COVID so no I didn't have COVID). The next day I feel really awful, so I call off work, and figure all I need to do is rest and I'll be ok. Turns out, NOPE. The next day I feel worse- now I can tell I have a bit of a fever, my appetite was basically, " eat one baby carrot and my appetite is exhausted." Finally, I get to the point that I am having trouble lying down - as in I am becoming short of breath when I try to lie flat (sorry if I am using the wrong word - lay/lie was always a grammar issue that eluded me.) So, I decide, ok, i will be sensible girl and go get medical attention. But I am stubborn and feel the ER is overreacting, so I go to urgent care. i park in the front row of urgent car parking, but by the time I reach the intake desk I have to put my head down because I am so winded and a bit lightheaded.

They take one look at me and tell me, point blank, "we're getting a squad for you to take you to the ER." I say, " what? no, I don't need that, this is not that big a deal." They counter, " you could barely walk in the door and you you are having significant trouble breathing. We don't have the ability to see you here." So, for the first time in my life I have to go via ambulance from urgent care to a free standing ER.

I get to the ER - where they decide, OK, lady, you're a mess. Let's get some chest x-rays and we're gonna slap some IV fluids and I can't even recall if they immediately put me on IV antibiotics or not. But after two hours there they informed me, " hey.... So, we think you need to go to the hospital-hospital not the freestanding ER." I tell them well you better hand me my laptop ( I'm that bitch who takes the laptop with her juuuuust in case I am stuck in the hospital. you never know.) Because i am not going to a hospital until I figure out if they're in my health plan. I do so and then for the second time in my life, all in one night because sometimes I am an over achiever i guess, I go via ambulance to the hospital.

They admitted me and over the next few/couple/ hours ( it was hard to tell) I progressively felt worse. I had trouble breathing if I didn't sit absolutely straight up, and at that point I hadn't gotten good sleep for around 60 hours or so. Me being me I started to get teary and panicky, because I was so tired and wasn't sure what to do. I called for the nurse and she came in and then within the next half hour your girl got taken down to the ICU. By the time we arrived down in the ICU I was really getting panicky. My mom died in the ICU ( different hospital but still) and I knew the fact they took me down there was no laughing matter. I started to think about, " ok is this what death is like? this isn't what i thought it was going to be - this is panicky and scary and not all white lights and peace."

The next thing I knew - it was two days later, and I woke up intubated. Did you know that you can be conscious and intubated? I did not. I'll speed things up a bit here. I spent a total of 8 days in the ICU - I had one hell of a case of pneumonia, and there were a couple of other diagnoses thrown in ( nope, not cancer. promise, we will get there.) . The nurses I had were AMAZING. I was intubated for about 6 of those 8 days. Then I got weaned off of it. Funniest moment on the ventilator: Physical therapist comes around and says, " Hey let's get you up and walking, you think you can?" I nodded and shrugged my shoulders to try and communicate, " sure, ok!" It went totally fine, but there were nursing students, residents, other doctors and who knows who else looking out of rooms and over desks at the two of us just y'know... *walking down the hall*. I gestured to the people because it was just flipping weird. I had an audience at the exact time NOBODY wants an audience and it confused the hell out of me. PT advised me, " there aren't too many times ventilated patients are ambulatory. You're a bit of a curiosity so people want to see."

Once I got out of the ICU and was put back on a regular floor, I got to meet with other doctors re those other diagnoses I mentioned ( chronic things I just have to manage) I also mentioned that it had been a really long time since I had been to a GYN and as had been noted in the ICU I spotted quite frequently ( I have never, ever in my life been regular period-wise and it just got weirder over time, but I just didn't really consider it. So I asked while they were setting me up with new practitioners ( my previous doctor had retired) too please set me top with a gynecologist.

So I'm out of the hospital by September 10th, 2018. The gyro appointment occurs i want to say by mid- to late September. I go in and meet her and she's lovely. While I'm up on the table she says, " hey let's do all the things and get a uterine biopsy!" I say, " excellent, do the things!" We agree it's likely going to be nothing but hey we're smart people and we will play it safe. Huzzah Gyno visit accomplished! (if I were a gamer I'd make some kind of ladybits achievement unlocked now, but I'm not a gamer.)

Two or so weeks go by - or however long it takes to get those test results back (some of these spans are lost in the mists of time). Dr Boyle calls me and apologizes that the test results that she was sure would be nothing... they are not nothing. Turns out, it's endometrial cancer.

At that point you could have knocked me over with a feather. Shells, I wanted my mom to be there so badly, I can't even express it. She would have understood how I felt - she'd been there with her breast cancer. But at the same time, I was glad she wasn't there? I remember how heartsick my mom was to tell Grandmommy when Mom got cancer. I didn't want my mom to have to hear that news, to worry about that. Dr Boyle advised me that she would be referring me to a good oncologist and i should hear from them in a week or two.

Thus began MRIS and PET scans and ultrasounds, and blood work etc. The oncologist diagnosed that he figured I might be stage three, but it depended on my lymph involvement. It brought back memories of when Mom was diagnosed and when she told me she was stage three. I asked my Dad later, "what does that mean?" He told me, " there are only four stages, so what do you think?" This time around I knew what it meant. So, we put me down for surgery November 9th, 2018. That's two days before my birthday - so I joked that I was getting my cancer out for my birthday - hooray! My best friend actually flew in from texas for my surgery ( my best friend is a SAINT, and I love her more than pearls and rubies.)

Best surgery story from this experience: For my total hysterectomy (uterus and ovaries go sayonara and then also two signal lymph nodes in the chain of nodes on either side of the pelvis to se if there is any lymph complication.) I had to be tilted back - so with my head down to move as many organs away from the uterus etc during the laparoscopic procedure. I knew this going in, However, when I woke up back in my hospital room I looked at Bestie and said, " I hurt in places I didn't expect to hurt. Oh wait. My shoulders hurt because they're not used to being weight bearing, but the procedure was laproscopic - so why the heck does my vagina hurt?" Bestie in one of her best moments ever says, " I know why." I replied, " wait, YOU know why MY vagina hurts?!" She said, " yep. So your surgery was supposed to take 3-3.5 hours ended up taking 5 hours instead. Your uterus was really big. The oncologist told us they need up having to cut it in half to pull it out of you." bestie admitted she joked with the oncologist that it was like I had just birthed a baby, he looked back at her (NOT laughing) and said, " yes, that's basically what she did." I laughed so much at that ( i mean i was also well medicated, but still) I told Bestie, " I had a Uterus! Let's call it George!" ( In retrospect I am disappointed in myself that I misgendered my own uterus, I should have called it Georgina.)

So, after healing from the surgery, by about January of 2019 I started two courses (each with a few rounds) of chemo. First came what the doctors and I called "low-pro" chemo - that we did along with radiation. Honestly, though i was making a heck of a lot more bathroom trips, you wouldn't have generally known I was sick. Most of my coworkers had no idea. I just was a bit more tired than usual. After the low pro rounds - then we moved to the bigger guns. Radiation was done but I moved to more significant chemo drugs, This wasn't because things were bad - this was the plan all along :) But I knew the "high-pro" chemo was going to make me lose my hair. THAT was a psychic struggle. I cried so much knowing that was going to happen. I got hats and caps and I even got a very nice wig. I mean, I planned as much as a girl can plan when she hears that news. I even preemptively cut my long hair. It was about half way down my back at that point. So I went in and asked the stylist please braid it and put it in between two hair ties - and then cut it - so i could keep my braid. I couldn't do locks of love anyway as it was colored, and I know it's selfish, but I wanted my hair. So, the hair went from half down my back to a face framing bob. then I just waited. And then in a few weeks it happened. I could put my hands through my hair and easily, painlessly pull it out. I am not a cute bald girl. That's when people KNOW you have something going on.

I was very lucky though, there ended up NOT being lymph involvement, and even the high pro chemo didn't make me nauseous or lose appetite. I did have HORRIBLE bone pain usually the first week after chemo ( i'd get it every three weeks). I learned a hell of a lot from that. I also was able to get some meds to help alleviate it a bit, and I took time from work when the pain was at its worst. But I have never experienced pain like that - where no matter what I did - no position changes helped. Even ice packs or heat pads didn't help or do much. It was just a waiting game, a painful waiting game. Oh also - I learned that IV benadryl is nothing like oral benadryl. IV benadryl is like walking right into a brick wall made of sleep. That stuff knocked me the hell out right quick - amazing.

Right before COVID started and the world shut down I got the flu because my immune system was in the toilet- and so I spent another week in the hospital and except for the bone pain that comes with chemo, you know what is worse than chemo injections? POTASSIUM injections. Among other things, my potassium levels were low and so I got those injections with other meds. Those suckers HURT. they BURN, and so i spent a week in the hospital only to eventually come out and find out the world was starting to shut down from COVID. Not my job at that point, but my oncologist told me, " GO HOME - YOU KNOW YOU ARE IMMUNO COMPROMISED - DON'T STAY AT WORK." So, I went home until about a month after I finished chemo.

Since finishing chemo it's been about scans, which have gone ok so far... I'm not willing to talk about the R word. I just think I'll have to be careful the rest of my life - My mom always said, "once you've gotten cancer, you always have cancer." So, maybe it's the anxiety talking, but it's kind of like waiting for the other cancer shoe to drop. In the mean time though, it's business as usual - try to find good stuff in the midst of the hot mess. Cancer has been a crisis but not a reason to lose my sense of humor. I've needed it more than ever :)

So, sorry for the SERIOUSLY LONG ASS answer, but sometimes it's just better to lay it bare. I'm not ashamed of this stuff. It's been a lot. It's been a journey... It still is... it's part of the rest of my journey, which i hope isn't over by a long shot yet. I don't believe things happen for reasons - the world is WAY too absurd for that in my opinion, BUT good gravy have i been able to learn so much from this whole three ring circus. I'm not grateful for cancer, but I am grateful for the lessons.

Thanks for checking in, Shells. You're a complete sweetheart.

#the r word is remission #cancer funtimes #i really didn't let many people know tbh #not just online #i didn't tell one of my two remaining family members for months #i have very good friends who knew and friends who are like family that supported me #i know it's crazy to say i'm lucky - but i am. i so am.#and if anyone read all of this - you definitely deserve a hug and several cookies. if i had cookies to give i would but i just have hugs

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pearlplusau · 3 years

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Chapter 6 - Part 2, The duel of swords and mind

The breaking dawn, at the sky arena.

The training arena has seen better days, due to the hundreds and thousands of sparring done by old gems and new, the once beauty of the arena is now slowly crumbling away from its glory days.

As the long, morning shadows of the pillars shifted, two pearls emerged from the dark and ready their stance at different sides of the arena. The pink pearl, looking rather engaged in the beautiful breaking of the dawn sky than the upcoming battle, was leaning on to her lance and gazing at the orange, pink hue of the morning sky.

It has been such a long time since they returned to the sky arena due to the end of the war. Coral couldn’t appreciate the breath-taking view up in the sky so high back then, due to the heavy training with the gems. Now, not so much either.

She was just about to suck in all the exquisiteness of the scenery but was cut short as she noticed the impatient white pearl at the other end, clanking the end of her staff to get the pink pearl’s attention. The white pearl, looking stern as ever, upholds a bright, glowing spear, with light smoke surrounding the point, indicating the cold air surrounding the heated weapon.

Pearl has her index finger and thumb on the bridge of her nose, looking irritated, “If you’re done dozing off into the sky like you always do, let me repeat the rules for the battle.”

She concentrated the gem on her forehead, and projected a simple visual of two figures.

“Rule 1, the battle must remain here, at the sky arena, for the entire duration of the spar. If one of us falls off the arena, the battle will be paused until the fallen warped back to the arena. Rule 2, There can only be one weapon at a time, this includes the quantity of the same weapon, even though I am ambidextrous, I will spar with only 1 staff for the sake of equality. Rule 3, the battle only ends when one of us is defeated, and when that gem is defeated, she must upload the end of the bargain. These are the main rules, if there’s no more gazing at the dawn sky, we can commence battle.” Pearl retracted her projected visual and waited for the usual questions from Coral.

This time, however, there were no questions asked. Coral was too busy trying to comprehend the rules but she felt like she got the gist of it. “Yeah, i'm good.”

“Good, we shall begin when the battle ground gets cleared up.” Pearl said, with her weapon ready.

The two pearls waited for the morning fog slowly departed from the arena, leaving the scene as clear as day, indicating the commencement of the battle.

Pearl leaped and advanced with her staff, taking the first strike on the oblivious Coral. But her battle reflexes kicked in and deflected the blow with her lance, heavy, but sturdy. The deflected pearl back flipped and landed on a wall, slightly surprised but not enough to take her down.

Coral took her stance, gripping her lance, and advanced as fast as she could. She aimed her point, but she wasn’t able to throw her weapon and Pearl easily unbalanced her aim. Almost losing the grip on the handle, she grabbed it with her other hand and defended a strike from Pearl.

When Pearl realizes it's gonna take more than sword skills to win, she turned to the next best thing, the power of the mind.

“You’re an old pearl, you know that? A rusty old gem, getting slower by the decade.” Pearl spoke as she took another strike, with Coral barely blocking the attack.

The two pearls have been out of commission for a very long time, but Coral was the only one getting harder to breath. “What’s your point, pearl?”

The two pearls parried side to side, lance vs staff, leaping around the arena like it was a mid day training session with their stance wide, lowered bodies, moving in swift motions as well as keeping their eyes on the opponent.

Coral was starting to get out of breath, but Pearl was just getting started.

“Back in the day,” Pearl started, “When I first started as the new pearl, I was doing all the work while you prance around the court with our diamond! You’re always causing havoc whenever you’re around her, leaving me with more work of cleaning up after you! ” She slashed and parried with all her might, with her opponent barely keeping up both ends.

Coral defended, in both swordsmanship and the unfair statement. “Havoc? Ohno, we were never causing trouble! You on the other hand, can be the wettest blanket I have ever met, we were just trying to have fun once a while until you rain all over our fun little parade! Do you know how stressful she feels every day??”

CLANK!

“Rain on your parade?” Pearl advanced, but barely missed and stabbed the bricked wall instead. Coral retreated and moved behind Pearl, who was struggling on getting her staff unstuck. The pink gem caught her breath and readied herself with her weapon, “Yes raining on our parade, you took my few chances to make her happy! It’s hadn’t been easy after rejection time and time again from the other diamonds of giving her a chance to prove herself!”

“Make her happy?” Pearl gritted her teeth while using all her strength and pulled out the staff, she turned and faced the pink gem, “I was able to make her happy while you were out of commission on the moon! While you were off conscious, tired from playing around with the earth simulator, I did my part and made her happy with mere pieces of wood from the planet! So it sounds like I did better than you ever could!”

Sorrow and anguish were churching inside the pink gem, she wanted to collapse down from the physical and mental exhaustion, but it looks like Pearl wasn’t done.

“And another thing!” Pearl wildly swung her staff around her, extending its length and planted it on the marble floor. “Your little nickname.” She sneered.

The minute Coral heard the intention and the tone, she became…

Defensive

Coral gripped tighter on the handle and scowled with a tired, slightly breaking voice, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh please,” Pearl retorted while adjusting her stance to match her opponent’s, “Your nickname, why did you think it was given to you? Did you really think it was “fun”, “adorable”, “cute”??”

“Uhh...no.” Coral tried to think of something reasonable, “She just didn’t want it to be confusing!”

Pearl took nothing from her reply. “That’s absurd, there's one reason you didn’t get to keep your old name and you already know why.”

Coral was panting, she was tired, she was on the edge of collapse.

She couldn’t think, she couldn’t understand why it suddenly bothered her when it never did thousands of years ago!

However, she did know the answer, but she also knows that deep down, it’s not an answer she could take.

The pink gem tried to keep herself from falling over by leaning on her lance planted to the ground. She tried to think of a comeback, but the only thing coming out from her mouth is, “Oh yeah? Well…I’m older than you!”

Pearl stood with her expression darkened, she gripped her staff and muttered under her breath, “Older, yes.” She stood her ground

“But.” She directed her staff, distracting the pink gem.

“Non.” She crouched down with her leg stretched out.

“the.” She tapped into her ballet moves

“wiser!” And swiftly propel her leg under the pink gem, knocking her down.

“Oooof!” Coral on her back, her lance disappeared into light.

Pearl took the advantage and gave an order, “Now stay down! And just admit it!”

Coral was down, but she somehow had the energy and rage to exclaim, “Admit what!?”

“Just admit nothing happened to you, and that all of what you’re doing is just a ruse!”

“I would if I can REMEMBER, you’d think I’d keep something like this and let Rose worry?!”

Pearl was slightly taken aback, she was not expecting this. A battle was commenced, and there must be a price. She swung her weapon down to the pink gem’s chest, “Any last words, Coral?”

The pink gem understood her intention, she took a deep breath, and went through the memories of being a crystal gem. The training, the court surprise attacks and recruitments, the fake shattering, the joy, the grief, the pain, and now, her last battle as a member.

She exhaled, moved the point away with the back of her hand, warily got up and dusted herself with what little dignity she had left.

With her last breath as a rebellious gem, she responded, “I guess you won, fair and square, and as for my last words, here they are: There was never a ruse, I just never knew me being hanging out with her...bothered you.”

She grabbed Pearl’s hand, and continued, “But now that I won't be there to keep you guys down, I hope you can help the rest of the gem monsters and keep the planet safe, even if I won’t be a part of it anymore.”

Pearl was trying to be vigilant and cautious, but something in her couldn't bear seeing the pink gem like this.

Pearl believed Coral was telling the truth, she wanted to take back everything she said, she wanted to break their agreed rules and hug her for dear life. But before any of that could happen, the ground rumbled, shifted as the air around turned,

hot...

And angry.

Pearl retracted her hand from Coral, and stood a few feet back, seeing that the entire arena was shaking with the familiar buzz and growl.

In the distance, a flying figure rapidly approaches the arena, and reaches the other end from the two pearls. It had wings of a giant bat, misshaped tube-like worm body form with hair and deadly spikes sticking out. As it came in closer, it roared with the echoing sounds of monstrous scree, shaking the arena even more, spreading poisonous venom as it disintegrated parts of the arena.

“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!”

Coral was scared and confused, she turned to Pearl, hoping she knew what they’re facing, but Pearl looked, horrifyingly, terrified. The pink gem shook Pearl by the shoulder, demanding an explanation!

“Pearl! Wh-what, what is that? And why is it here? What does it want?”

Pearl was not answering, but she shakingly lifted her arm, and pointed to the monster’s head.

Coral didn’t notice it before, but on the monster’s horrifying bee-like head, one of the horns was broken off.

“It…” Pearl whispered, “It wants me, shattered.”

End of part 2

(A/N: Heyy, so about that fusion monster. In the episode, “Earthlings” we saw Jasper was able to fuse with a corrupted gem, so it gave me the idea of two different gem monsters, fusing to get some kind of revenge, and with the same philosophy as Bluebird azurite, fusing for hate and vengeance and stuff.

Also, i’m not sure how many of you guys are actually reading and enjoying these stories so far. There’s like, more than a thousand ppl following but the only indicators for me to know how much of you enjoyed it is the likes and reblogs you guys left at every post.

Maybe i should consider creating an account on instagram and share some previews of the story there? I could really use some advise about this, so feel free to drop a comment or an ask.

Also i’ve noticed theres been random unfollowings, to which i’ll assume to be ppl who have actually realized this is not Tripixle.

Lastly, i am here to announce that I am open for more #askmeanything, but this time, the “anything” should preferably be anything related to the written stories, which is up to this 6th chapter. Like maybe you guys have some questions regarding certain aspects of the storytelling, or maybe you guys would like to give criticism, which I’ll take and consider for future writing. However, if what you sent me in the ask contains certain topics that may be a spoiler for any future plans, then it would either be set aside until that topic is issued, or something related to “naw gurl, not right now.” kinda deal.

And it looks like you’ve read to the end, and to that i say thank you for reading what i have to say, byee)

#stevenuniverse #pearlplusau #Pinkpearl #Pearl #Rosequartz #Coral #askmeanything

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booksalwaysandforever · 4 years

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Holding on to the Memories Chapter 4- Finale

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Summary: Lauren’s life was a perfect dream, until one day it wasn’t. Cutting can distract you from life, but it can also take life away. Can Lauren get back home, or has it all been taken away from her?

Tag list: @kai-unknown

Warnings: Mentions of blood, cutting, medical stuff, ???

Length: 1,600 words

Thank you to everyone who has waited forever for this chapter. I suck at getting posts out and I am so so so sorry. This is the finale, I hope you like it. I will hopefully be adding another Twilight story soon, and some stories from my next obsession, Hamilton. As always, I am open to requests, and if you would like to be tagged in anything, let me know! Enjoy!

“Lauren, you’re awake!”

“You’re here!

“Brown bear, you’re okay!”

“Princess, you came home.”

“It’ll all be okay.”

“You’re okay and that’s all that matters.”

Looking around the room, everyone was overjoyed that I was awake, but ten voices were all talking at once, making it very hard to concentrate. I wished everyone would shut up. My head hurt and the room was currently spinning.

“Guys, be quiet,” Edward said sharply, cutting everyone off. “Lauren’s having a hard time concentrating with us all talking at once. Let’s calm down and give her a chance to breathe.”

A chorus of soft sorry’s floated around the room. Slowly, the headache dulled and the room stopped spinning. I was having a difficult time breathing as well, but there was a mask on my face helping me get oxygen into my lungs.

Once I was able to collect myself, I looked around the room to my family. Everyone looked so happy to see me awake, but also looked anxious. Almost like they expected me to stop breathing all of the sudden and die. I heard Edward snickering by the foot of my bed and looked to him just in time to see Bella smack his arm. I looked over to the left of my bed, in between Jasper and Alice, and Edward and Bella, is Esme and Carlisle.

“Mom, Dad,” I whimpered.

“Oh, Lauren!” Esme sobbed. “It’ll all be okay. I promise. Everything will be fine.”

“Lauren, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to talk,” Carlisle said. “I know it’s hard to talk with a breathing mask on. Let me explain what happened to you.” I shook my head slowly, so as not to give myself another headache. “You lost a lot of blood, and your body went into Hypovolemic shock. That’s why you are having such a hard time breathing and why you’re nauseous and have a headache. Although, the concussion you got from hitting your head on the side of the bathtub when you lost consciousness isn’t helping matters either. You have some stitches in your legs along the worse cuts as well.”

Memories of everything that had happened, the texts, the razor, the darkness, my parents, the memories, all of it came flooding back. I looked over to Jasper, and tried to squeeze his hand, but I could barely move my fingers. Luckily, he felt that little bit of motion and gave my hand a small squeeze in return.

“You saved me.” I whispered.

“What do you mean, Lauren?” Edward, can you explain? I thought. I was too tired to try and explain what had happened.

“Oh, sure Lauren. Jasper, you’re the reason Lauren woke up. When you kissed her, it gave her the strength to wake up. Without you, she wouldn’t be conscious right now.”

“Oh.” Jasper was at a loss for words. This was a first.

“Also,” Edward spoke, reading my thoughts and voicing them for me. “Lauren said that she knew her gift could make you cry.”

Jasper chuckled softly at that. “Yeah, you always know how to mess with my emotions.”

I gave him a small smile and closed my eyes. I was tired. Even though I had just woken up, a nap sounded amazing. But then again…..

“How....how long…” I croaked out.

“How long have you been out?” Edward said aloud for me. “You’ve been out for a week, but that’s not entirely your fault. You had an emergency surgery when you got here to repair your cut vein, and they’ve kept you in a medically induced coma until about 2 days ago, because you didn’t have enough blood in your body.”

A week? I’ve been out a week? What day was it?

“It’s April 29, Lauren,” Edward said in answer to my unsaid question. The 29th? That meant it was….

“Happy birthday,” Everyone said softly.

“It’s a birthday miracle,” Alice said. I wanted to talk myself and get Edward out of my head, so I began to take off my air mask.

“Lauren, please leave it on,” Carlisle said, stepping forward to keep me from taking the mask off. “You need all the help you can get.”

“I want to talk,” I groaned through the mask. “If I…” I took a slow, deep breath in. “If I can’t breathe, I’ll put it back on.” Carlisle reluctantly pulled his hand away and let me remove the mask.

“I’m really sorry,” I said in a small voice. Most people wouldn’t have been able to hear me, but luckily, my family was made of a bunch of vampires, a werewolf, and a hybrid vampire, who all had super hearing. I spoke slowly, trying to keep enough air in my body so that I wouldn’t pass out again. “I shouldn’t have done that. I just….I can’t deal with Maggie anymore. Ever since you all graduated, she’s gotten worse. Even with Renesmee there.” I started to cry. I knew it would only make my headache and dehydration worse, but I couldn’t help it. I’d been dealing with Maggie for a year without anyone’s help. Even with my vampire siblings and werewolf friends, I managed to hide it for the most part. Even if they knew, they still let me keep my privacy.

“Oh Lauren,” Rosalie said. “You don’t have to be sorry. We should’ve been there to help. We’ve known about Maggie the whole time, but we figured that if it was truly bothering you, you would’ve come to us to help you.”

“I just wanted to show that I could do something myself. That I didn’t need my siblings to come and save me. To prove that I wasn’t weak,” I sighed. As the little Cullen, my siblings would always be there, no matter what. Throughout my life, I was constantly teased about always having my siblings come to save the day. I had hoped that getting Maggie off of my back, I would be able to prove that I wouldn’t always need my siblings to fix everything, but I guess I was wrong.

“Lauren, don’t think like that. You have done a billion things without us. Mom and Dad have been worried that you don’t need them anymore for the past two years. You’ve taught yourself how to do almost everything you do. The junior math class you’re taking, you did that all on your own. You’re just that smart, and we only help you when you ask for it. You taught yourself how to dance. Even Jasper can’t dance like that and he’s the best.”

“Edward’s right.” Jasper said. I giggled lightly, but quickly stopped since it made my head hurt.

“I guess you’re right,” I admitted.

“I am right,” Edward said. “Ever since you were two, you refused help. I swear, you potty trained yourself. And as for cleaning up messes, if anything, you clean up our messes. You can easily lie and keep our secret from everyone else. You can see from the eyes of every other kid, and when we do something suspicious, you tell us how to make it look normal. You clean up our messes, not the other way around.”I gave my siblings a big grin.

“You do mess up a lot.” Everyone laughed at that. It was getting hard to breathe again, so I put the mask back on my face. Can I take a nap? I thought to Edward.

“Yes Lauren, you can take a nap.”

“I’ll go tell the nurses that you woke up and see if I can get you a nose cannula instead of the one you have,” Carlisle said before he walked out of the room. Not a second after he was gone, I fell fast asleep, a wave of calm hitting me like a brick. Thanks Jasper.

One week later, I was out of there. I could walk by myself, although it was rather slowly, I had my stitches out, I could go to the bathroom by myself, and I could keep my food down, for the most part. I had probably been in the hospital longer than I needed to be, but my father was my doctor, and a very overprotective one at that. The moment I was discharged, Emmett scooped me up and carried me out to the car.

“You know I can walk, right?”

“Yes, but you move slower than a turtle. If you were walking, it would take us years to get out of there.” Using my arm that was wrapped around his shoulders, I smacked him in the back of the head, rolling my eyes and grinning at him.

“Hey, that hurt,” he whined.

“Good”

Emmett set me in the back seat, letting me stretch out, while he climbed into the driver's seat and Rosalie sat in the passenger's seat. Everyone else seemed to have already left.

“Where’s mom and dad? And everyone else?” I asked.

“They’re at home already,” Rosalie said, almost as if she was hiding something.

“Why?”

“It’s a surprise,” Emmett said, grinning at me through the rear view mirror.

The whole way home I tried to convince them to tell me what the supprime was, but they wouldn’t budge. Eventually, I just gave up and spent the rest of the trip in silence.

As we pulled into the driveway, I saw that there were strands of lights on all the trees lining the way to the house. Standing on the porch, with two huge “Welcome Home” and “Happy Birthday” signs, was my family. Emmett parked the car and came to help me out.

As I got out, I realized that it wasn’t just my siblings, but everyone. Tanya, Kate, Garrett, Eleazer, Camren, Benjamin, Tia, Zafrina, Senna, Sue, Charlie, Billy, the entire pack, my siblings, my parents, everyone. They were all here, not only to celebrate my birthday, but to show just how much they cared for me. And I knew, from that day on, I would always be there for them, no matter what came my way. I would always hold onto the memories, the memories of love.

#twilight #twilight imagines #twilight imagine #carlisle cullen #esme cullen #bella cullen #edward cullen #renesmee cullen #jacob black #Emmett Cullen #rosalie cullen #alice cullen #jasper hale #jasper whitlock #sorry for the late post

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fuwafuwamedb · 4 years

Text

The King’s Dumu Lugal Pt 15 (Hakuno, CasGil, Nero, Mash)

Previously: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 , 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

____

Mash held Ur on the way back to their chambers.

Caster wasn’t sure what had brought about the response in Hakuno, but it was clear that their journey out of their rooms was over for now. She needed to be back in their room. There needed to be comfort and distractions, small affections and slow, meticulously given words of comfort given. The words would help boost her confidence in leaving. The affections and the distractions would help set her mind at ease.

“Would you like me to leave him in the living room?” Mash asked.

His son was barely conscious at this point, worn out from the excitement of other people and their undying attention towards him. Gudako had cooed and fed him mashed veggies. Mash had helped him hold his baby bottle while he had noticed that Hakuno was a bit out of it.

She’d barely eaten as her thoughts had stolen her away.

“Place Ur in our chambers,” Caster directed. “He can probably use the sleep.”

The woman left to do as he bid, leaving him to take Hakuno over to one of the couches.

“I’m fine, Gil.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“It was nothing.”

He didn’t believe that.

Nothing didn’t end with her biting at her lip until it bled. Nothing didn’t have her looking at her companions and friends as though any second someone would come and ruin things. He’d never seen the expression that Hakuno had made before, especially with how quickly she had grasped little Ur from his arms and pulled her flush against herself.

No, she was lying to him. There was more on her mind than the mere trifles of a young toddler and his newly returned abum.

“I’m fine,” Hakuno told him again, rubbing at his arm. “Thank you for taking Ur to enjoy breakfast this morning. He seemed to enjoy going out with his father.”

See, that wasn’t right.

The phrase should have been, ‘I enjoyed spending time together as a family’ or ‘I loved being able to spend time with you’ or even ‘I want to do that again for dinner.’

She wasn’t fine.

What he needed right now was something meaningful. He’d been with Hakuno at one time. He possessed memories of these times and he knew they had become intimate at a certain point during their time together. So, with that in mind, what did she like?

Naturally, he and his son were on top of that list.

Hakuno also enjoyed sweets, which would have been an option had he not just returned from dining with her.

There wasn’t a great deal of anything else that was coming to mind. She didn’t seek out creature comforts and splurge away on fancy things and sparkling objects. He’d never seen her wear so much as a ring before he’d dressed her up today and that wasn’t really working to his favor either. She looked tempting and depressed.

“Thank you for bringing Ur back,” Hakuno told Mash while he thought carefully about his options.

“Of course! What are friends for?”

Fr-

“Mash,” Gilgamesh glanced over to the woman, his mind drifting to the bloodied garment he’d found this morning in his gates. “Watch Hakuno for me. I have to do something.”

“What is it?”

These women.

He wasn’t even going to dignify them with an answer at the moment. Hakuno needed her own personal comforts, the kind she had partaken in without even realizing it. She had her own version of pleasure, her own way to bring herself into a better mood.

He stalked back towards the dining hall.

A few servants were still lingering within the room, namely those that were more apt towards helping their master and the facility workers with their daily tasks. A few servants nodded his way, smirking towards the king whom had brought forth a son with one of the masters. It looked like Gudako was laying in on Jack again, holding a knife in her hand and motioning towards a red puddle on the floor.

Most likely, it was Cu who was stabbed, the damn fool.

He looked on, passed the master of Chaldea and more towards the depths of the hall.

“Emperor!”

The blonde perked up at his call, her green eyes all but instantly gazing his way. To go with it, her smile was flashed, looking as radiant as ever.

“Nero,” Gilgamesh addressed again. “It is good that you are still here.”

“Oh ho! Is this about Hakuno? She was so beautiful today! I did not know that you had a child with her! And did you see his cheeks?” Nero pulled her phone out, pulling up a picture of Hakuno smiling to the boy.

It must have been taken before he had returned to her side.

“I knew that my praetor would be a wonderful wife, but to think a mother as well?! Ah, Rome weeps at the loss.”

The woman nearby threw her a look.

“Yes, yes. Boudica, you’re quite intimidating.” Nero waved the woman off dismissively, not even looking her way before she flipped to another picture to show him. “Look at the faces! They’re so alike! Praetor’s baby is going to look like a blond her! I can’t wait. I’ll help her raise him as best I can.”

“…You realize that you are talking about my son.”

Nero just looked up at him, smiling.

She knew. She simply did not care.

This was not the reason he had sought the woman out.

“What are you doing right now?”

“Showing you photos of Praetor and little Emperor.”

“I meant, this morning.”

Did she not understand the concept of tact?

It was tempting to turn away and leave.

“I don’t have anything planned,” Nero began, humming softly. “Master was planning to take Boudica out today so that means I will not be in the team compositions for today. Then there’s arts teams this afternoon. It sounds like it’s going to be a day for casters to practice fighting.”

Casters?

“Anyway, I am free,” Nero replied with a smile. “Was there a reason for this question, Mage King?”

“Hakuno needs a friend.”

He might as well have declared his son hers with how Nero began to bounce on her feet. Those green eyes were wide and that squeal of delight was echoing off all the walls, going straight to his precious few nerves.

The woman grasped his hands.

“You wish for me to spend time with my Praetor again!? AH! This is perfect! I will come immediately, not to worry. I know she has been rather lonely and she looked so sad at the end of breakfast. I am an instant charmer, Mage King! I, the emperor of Rome, the lady of roses, the embodiment of Roma, will resolve her woes!”

He could turn back now and lock the doors.

Hakuno didn’t have to have Nero spend time with her. There were others around that would be suitable. In fact, the only reason he’d chosen her was that damned outfit.

“What’s going on?” Tamamo no Mae approached, her eyes shifting from him to the Roman.

“It is nothing!” Nero smiled brightly. “The king merely wants my presence. He’s in need of some good company and who better than-“

“You can’t seriously be considering Saber instead of a sensible person. Even my husband had better sense-“

“Praetor loves her time with me!” Nero grabbed his arm, pulling him closer and sticking her tongue towards the fox servant, “and King Gilgamesh has made up his mind. Roman time for him, Praetor, and little Emperor.”

“Poor kid.”

“You take that ba-OH!”

He was done listening to this.

This fight was wasting time, time that was no doubt being used to binge in those thoughts that Hakuno had plagued herself with this morning during breakfast. There was simply no time to spare.

So he hoisted the fool over his shoulder, glancing to Tamamo.

“Are you training today?”

“Master had intended to have this sly fox,” she purred.

He nodded.

So be it.

“Bye bye, Caster!” Nero cooed to the woman as they walked off. “I will make sure to tell you all about this later.

Perhaps he should have wasted his clairvoyance in looking into this. Plucking Nero due to a garment that Hakuno had worn was a poor plan in hindsight, but there was little he could do now. Nero was over his shoulder, prattling on about Hakuno and Ur.

It didn’t help when he returned to his chambers with Hakuno either.

The moment he set Nero down and opened the doors, Nero was bursting through the entrance in a flurry of rose petals and red skirts.

“PRAETOR~!”

“SHHHHHH!”

Gilgamesh looked around her, finding Hakuno holding Ur in her arms. He was awake, but it didn’t look like he had recovered from using so much energy to appreciate his company earlier. His little arms were half in the air, grasping and releasing the bottle that Hakuno was feeding him with.

“The little Emperor,” Nero murmured, tiptoeing her way to Hakuno’s side. “Hakuno, he’s so beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“When did you have him? You should have had me come to help.”

“I have been fine taking care of him. Ur’s a good baby.”

“He may be, but babies do cry and they cry when it is convenient for them. The king is a loud one, his son would be no different.”

That was no doubt his cue to leave.

Hakuno had her friend and she seemed pleased. Since it was a day for Casters to be training, Gudako would no doubt be stealing him away or lamenting his loss at her side if he did not seek out the command room.

Bearing that in mind, Gilgamesh moved to Hakuno’s side and pressed his lips to hers lightly.

“You should spend more time with your friends, Hakuno. I have found they do not last forever, but their memories, albeit precious few, are worth making.”

“You should stay here too,” Hakuno tried.

“Gudako is training her casters today. I have no doubt that she’ll need me.”

“You want to go train when you have Praetor and little Emperor here? Really?” Nero shook her head. “Praetor, he’s senseless.”

“I am being responsible,” he corrected.

The woman rolled her eyes before noting that Ur was no longer drinking at his bottle. His eyes drifted over to her. His hands released the empty bottle.

“Ah!”

“Hello!” Nero cooed. “Little Emperor, you are so much like your mother. You’ll become a good little ruler, won’t you? Your godfather Nero will take such good care of you.”

“Godfather?”

Nero smiled at them both for the question, nodding. “Of course! A child needs to have a legal guardian for when his parents are both away or gone. Little Emperor will have me!”

If anyone was gaining that title, it would most likely be the Chaldean master and shielder-

“Just promise me you’ll be careful with him,” Hakuno replied. “No matter what happens, just help me make sure he stays safe, Nero. You’ve always taken great care of me.”

Her voice was thick, joined with Hakuno’s eyes becoming brimmed with a fresh set of tears.

“Praetor…”

Nero pulled Ur carefully from her arms, handing the boy to him.

“My sweet Praetor… You know that I would go to the ends of the earth to keep any piece of you happy, whether it is you or your little Emperor.” Her hands wiped at Hakuno’s eyes. “Praetor… You are my favorite master in all the world. You are so beautiful that even the king of heroes had to have you, stealing you away from me. Do you remember before? I gave you my favorite dress when you left the Moon Cell. I told you to do your best to smile and feel all that is Roma.”

Hakuno smiled slightly.

“Your smile illuminates all the world. It’s so blinding that you outshine even your king.”

Hakuno was swallowed into the woman’s arms, hugged so tightly that there was no helping her at this point. It had been what she had needed though. These walls and doors were hindrances. People needed other people. Friends needed one another.

Gilgamesh glanced down to his son, watching him burp loudly before cooing and leaning back against him.

“Ummumummumm.”

“She is busy,” Gilgamesh murmured. “How about abum?”

“Uuuuummum.”

He endless luck was not working in his favor today.

However, with another glance to Hakuno and the mouthing of a silent ‘thank you’ his way, he had a feeling he had done what had needed to be done.

She was feeling better.

#drabble #drabbles

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peepingtoad · 3 years

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//You’re one of the few writers I’m looking up to and are even intimidated by how wonderfully you write and how much you write too. Can you share some tips on how to write so much and still keep it relevant to the ongoing thread? I myself can barely muster 3 paragraphs while already struggling.

|| ooc asks; always accepting! ||

AAAH anon, thank you so much for a start! It was such a nice thing to receive out of the blue and I’m really glad you like what I do... although I do hope that the amount I write isn’t something stopping you from approaching me to write, if that’s something you’ve been wanting to do. I really am flexible with the length of threads, even though it seems like I’m a magnet for monster threads! And it’s always worth remembering that if shorter is what works for you, it’s better not to force it. It’s something I remind myself of too when energy levels etc. call for it.

But I think there are a few factors that contribute to my general habit of writing long, especially when it comes to keeping things relevant, so below are those factors and my usual process:

My partner is usually a big contributor to any long replies I manage to write in return. Usually I’ll find myself thinking there’s no way I’ll do a reply as long as my partner has given me, but because they’ve provided so much and we talk about our verse in the background OOC, it just ends up fleshing itself out like that naturally in many cases. Of course I have a number of others that remain organically shorter in length even with background plotting, so it really is dependent on the length my partner is comfy writing too. So communication OOC is a great thing to have!

I normally go about a reply by itemising each point made, and if there is something Jira can relate to without it being meta-gamey to mention even as internal narration (as in, if the other muse has actually said or done something that leads him to think it, because I try not to imply he knows what the other muse’s internal narration is), I write about it. Or if not, I simply write what has been going on on his end, and even if it’s made up on the spot or a little irrelevant to the plot, a brief mention of that will give a good insight as to what state he’s currently in, and inform/justify his reactions so the interaction isn’t just sitting in its own vacuum with nothing else surrounding it. Sometimes a made up ‘thing that happened earlier’ can even provide new directions you don’t expect!

Usually I set about constructing a reply by writing what I think his dialogue response will be chiefly as this is the easiest hook for a partner to work from, then a brief injection of the emotions between bits of speech, then I gradually flesh it out with action and description. I try my best to keep it vaguely in the same order as what I’m replying to.

But sometimes there can be big chunks of my partner’s reply that would cause too much functionally useless back-tracking if I were to do that more itemised approach, especially if the section in question was already largely in response to what I wrote previously. In those cases I like to try and sum it up in a paragraph or two just to give an overall acknowledgement of it (maybe tie it very briefly back in to the action of my muses that caused their response). This is especially the case for dialogue, because backtracking conversation too much just for the sake of providing verbal responses for everything can really bog a thread in one spot. It’s good to know when my muse shouldn’t have the last word even if he’s huffy about it :P

While I try to stay conscious of providing necessary reactions without heavily backtracking what I did the prior reply, I also try to bear in mind ‘am I adding enough action for this current flow of ours to continue’. So if I have a long long reply, I will try to sum up the last phase of action in fewer paragraphs than I spend creating the circumstance for the next phase. This will give your partner more to work with and in turn, you can really see a thread blossom into something longer and more detailed.

I usually do this whole process of itemising and replying to each little part while writing replies for like 3+ threads simultaneously at any given time because my brain is chaotic and hops about like mad. Right now, for example, I have the dialogue written in a document for... 5 different replies. This process is probably one of the reasons I’m slow as shit hahaha... but writing snippets and coming back after working on something else to add some new thing I just thought of always gives me a better result, personally, than trying to force myself to write an entire long reply in one sitting.

But yeah, that’s the best way I can describe how I generally approach the long threads, so I hope that makes some sense! It may be surprising, but I really didn’t write long replies until recently so it has been a case of trial and error in doing it well myself. Saying to ‘just practice’ is clichéd, but it is very much true as well so keep at it, do your best, and don’t be scared to just put in whatever random thing you think of at times. Sometimes it’s just the spice you need!

(And again, thanks for sending me this! Please consider this an invitation to hit me up if you do wanna write or plot at all)

#{ooc}#Anonymous #{fanmail}

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horizonwitch · 4 years

Photo

The Archangel Theory - A Possible Explanation to MCR's new symbolism

Hello! This is a very long post, but I hope it’s worth the reading. Sorry.

I am Nana, and today I bring you a fan-theory on the meaning behind MyChem's symbols presented to us in the occasion of the band's return announcement and later on, at the actual reunion concert day.

First Considerations:

1. being it, as the title implies, a fan-theory, I do not claim any of the exposed to be factual when associated to MCR. I bring this thread to you guys in hopes that we can discuss, expand, teach and learn with each other, and maybe come to some sort of conclusion. Riddles are fun to play, especially together. I love riddles in fandom experience. :)

2. I highly apologize for my limited vocabulary and weird phrasing. I am not a native english speaker, but I'll try my best to make this understandable to everyone;

3. Despite my personal beliefs and stupid jokes, I mean no disrespect to any religion or symbol mentioned in here. (just as much as I believe MyChem also doesn't, on the wild possibility of this thread being on point with what they planned, lol).

That being said, before we start, I have some thanks to give:

this theory was only put together thanks to my lovely mychem group chat, composed by Raffs, Clara, Caroline and Hana. thanks for all the time and effort we shared, and for holding my brain with your bare hands when it was about to melt, friends.

Also thanks to Frank Iero himself, for laughing at me on twitter for me not being able to understand the reunion clues, despite "wearing a California 2019 shirt for 6 years". I humbly accept the possibility of this theory having nothing to do with the truth, but I sure hope I can laugh back at you in the end, rat. I love you.

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

Now, let's finally head to The Archangel Theory, or, as I like to call it, The “If We're Not Careful We'll Turn Into Catholics” Theory, and how it all started.

It was Halloween. Everyone here was minding their own damn business (I was being a clown on twitter, Hana was putting on her badass revenge-themed makeup. You know, the usual). And we all know what happened: MCR raised gracefully from the dead, dropping brand new symbolism and a stunning angel image to our poor panicked hearts. A few days later, when Hana’s crying ruined makeup was long gone and everyone calmed the F down a little bit, people started to ask themselves: okay, cool, but what does it mean?

Like many of you, the first thought that crossed my mind was tarot. Because, well, how f-ing cool would it be, right? I draw tarot everyday. I just loved the idea. Mychem posting a latin countdown with some eerie photo was just… yea, I was very excited with this.

Many of us also associated the symbols with past albums and even with the members themselves. All of these theories are very valid to me, and I loved reading them. I agree with many points raised.

Well, everything was fine (as fine as it could be, because I am so damn curious). The Return concert happened at the faithful date of December 20, California. We all freaked out and enjoyed the noble services’ of days_fate and diet_shampoo’s streaming. All that jazz.

But then: well… another angel. I started to think to myself: is this a pattern? The show ends, we get very emotional, everything is okay (i hate this pun) with the world. Frank Iero makes a post-concert post on instagram, talking about how everything was pure Magick. With a K.

For those unfamiliar, this is an occultist term related to Aleister Crowley’s Thelema, to differentiate the religious concept from the “stage magic” that we are used to. A very carefully picked name that I highly doubt someone would drop around without knowing what it implies.... Don’t even start me with the K and C keys being so damn far away from each other on a keyboard.

At this point me and my groupchat were starting to be very done with Frank’s clownery (we indeed love him very much for that), and so we started to hurt our minds every single day since then. that’s the result:

THE ARCHANGEL THEORY

Let’s Return™ to the basics: angels and, probably, tarot.

Funny enough, there are actually angels in tarot cards. There are many types of decks, but for this we are using the most famous one, which most people believe holds ancient symbolism, The Rider-Waite Tarot.

There are many angels and archangels mentioned in the Bible (only a few by name, tho), but only four of them made it into being represented in tarot cards: Uriel, Michael, Gabriel and Raphael. Let’s get the gang together and meet the holy crew (please, forgive me for the puns).

Uriel:

whose name means “the light of god”, “the flame of god”. It’s the Wise Angel, often pictured as the one who holds books and scrolls and bears holy knowledge and understanding. or Clarity, if you will. They’re sort of the goth one™, associated with the Tartarus and being pictured as pitiless as any demon would; even holding the key to Hell during the end of times, Uriel is described as the angel who watches “over thunder and terror”. Uriel is sometimes even mistaken for a demon (apparently, the eastern catholicism accepts Uriel identity as an archangel, while the western catholicism gives more credit to its dark side, and does not encourage worshiping); this duality comes from the notion that very often, enlightenment may be the end result of dark times. Every archangel has many, I said MANY symbols attached to them, so other elements associated with this angel can be found on the image attached to this post.

About Uriel’s Tarot Card: if you were raised in a catholic family and slept through as much catechism as I did as a kid, maybe you’ll be surprised to know that Lucifer, Satan and Uriel are all different beings. Let it be a lesson: no matter how edgy of a teen you are, please accept knowledge from any possible source. Putting this thread together would’ve been so easier to me now if I did, haha... That being said, our angel Uriel is actually the Devil in the Devil Tarot card, which meaning touches on addiction, obsession, feeling imprisoned or restrained, but it being only an illusion of powerlessness. This card is an invitation to free yourself, fight distractions and temptation, and finally fulfill your destiny. Please, consider that tarot readings are very deep and variable; there’s extensive books only on tarot meaning, so I won’t explore much on each card. that’s just a very general notion.

Some sources also consider Uriel to be the responsible for the change represented in the Death card, despite not being directly pictured in such card. As stated before, Uriel is associated with the concept Death brings, being a turning point, and ending route.

The symbolism presented in the Devil card (as for the Rider-Waiter deck):

“At the foot of the Devil stand a man and a woman, both naked and chained to the podium on which the Devil sits. They appear to be held here against their will – but look closer, and you will notice that the chains around their necks are loose and could be easily removed. Each has small horns on their head, like the devil’s, a sign that they are becoming increasingly like him the longer they stay here. Both have tails, a further symbol of their animalistic tendencies and raw instincts, and the grapes and the fire on their respective tails signify pleasure and lust.”

Poor people. If only they knew better. A lil bit of Clarity, huh?

That’s it for MCR’s clarity symbol, conveniently shaped as a candle.

Michael:

whose name means “who is like god” (being it a rhetorical question, to mean that no one equals to God). It’s the Protector Angel. They’re the leader of angels in the battle against demons, Defender of God’s realm against Satan in the Book of Revelation. Michael is a warrior, and is often seem with the sword in hand, to allure to the idea of bravery. They’re described as the angel of strength, protection and Courage.

About Michael’s Tarot Card: Michael appears on the major arcana Temperance. In fact, even the name “Temperance” comes from the process of refining and strengthening materials in metallurgy. this one likes swords a lot, huh. That’s a card which meaning touches on patience and prudence. It means already having a clear vision and knowing what you want to achieve. Now It’s all about thinking before action, and accepting the balance of things, blending the opposites to achieve an ideal solution. Apparently a very suited card for a warrior of faith. Prepare yourself: in my research, I’ve found a source that associates this card with the color blue (the very same of the archangel) and the musical note G. Yes, the universe has a strange sense of humor.

The symbolism presented in the Temperance card: “The vessels in the angel’s hands represent the vessel that contains eternal life. The flowers are Irises symbolising the goddess Iris who links God to humanity. Iris travels from one end of the world to another, into the depth of the sea and the underworld. The angel’s feet, one on land and one in water, symbolise the unification of the external and internal, conscious and subconscious. It also represents testing the waters before jumping into the unknown. The red wings on the angel represent blood which symbolizes life. The sun conceals a crown which represents a connection to higher power. The triangle on the angel’s dress is an equilateral triangle and symbolise spirit, divinity, fire, life, prosperity, and harmony. It can also symbolise God and the holy trinity. The square outside the triangle represents protection and stability.”

The MCR symbol for Courage is a drop. is it a drop of blood? for an warrior angel and their endless battles on God’s behalf? Of water, the waters of unknown? The water of balance of life? I don’t know.

When Michael / was a young genderless being,/ their father…

Gabriel:

whose name means “strength of god”. It’s the Messenger Angel; Gabriel is often portrayed playing the trumpet, to make announcements of God’s will. (many angels play the trumpets on Revelations book,, but Gabriel seems to be the most intimately attached to this concept). In the hierarchy of angels, Gabriel seems to occupy a very high position, being knows as the “Left Hand of God” (our Michael aforementioned being the Right-hand angel).

Their famous appearances on the Bible includes appearing to Zechariah and the Virgin Mary, foretelling the births of John the Baptist and Jesus. Islam also has Gabriel appearing for many prophets, telling them the divine plans. In a way, all those messages are basically callings to a higher purpose, a proof of faith, a personal Sacrifice. This idea is reiterated by the symbolism of Gabriel’s tarot card.

Gabriel is also one of the Angels of Death (depending on the religious we are speaking about, there are over 14 different angels with this role). Not in a dark way, their role is to comfort and bring peace to the deceased, guiding them into the light. Gabriel is therefore an angel of mercy, redemption achieved through a proof of faith (often a self-sacrifice, of any nature), after a fair judgement. speaking of which…

About Gabriel’s tarot card: Gabriel appears on the major arcana Judgement, which meaning touches on taking responsibility for your actions, speaking the truth. It’s a beginning/ending type of card, but a different kind of change than the one represented on one of Uriel’s card, Death. While Death brings something unstoppable, more powerful than anyone’s options, Judgement usually portraits something you can actually choose to take part in. But it also your responsibility any consequences of not taking this step. A fair judgement, indeed.

The Symbolism presented in the Judgement card: “The angel with the Trumpet could be a reference to the angels and the seven trumpets in Revelation, bringing apocalypse and resurrection. The white banner with the red cross can be St. George Flag, and a reference to Saint George gives Judgement the symbolism of sacrifice done in the name of our faith. Both the flag and the trumpet are military symbols of authority. A man, a woman and a child are being called from the tomb of ego consciousness. The three people are reflected on the other side of the river, another symbol of the soul’s victory over death. The three people are also a symbol of the three pillars of the tree of life. The man and the woman has changed side from the familiar feminine on the left and masculine on the right. In Judgement it is the other way around. Perhaps it is to unify us and to tell us to look at a situation from a different perspective, from within. You are seeing the pillars from the Angel’s perspective. This symbolises to raise your thinking and ask for Divine Perspective. The mountains represent the structure that surrounds us all.”

Calling all units! Time for the ultimate vibe check.

I guess that’s it for our third MCR symbol, Sacrifice, shaped as hand. Is it a left hand, just like one of Gabriel’s titles? that would be interesting.

But not so fast.

Now we come to an interesting point. Gabriel is the first of our angels to have a sculpture used by My Chem. :) It’s actually endearing how, if this assumption is correct, they chose the messenger archangel to bring the good news: mcr is alive!

About Gabriel’s sculpture: our Return angel, as some of us already know by this point, is actually a piece called “Angelo e Alma”, by italian artist Pasquale Rizzoli. It is located on Cella Magnani, a memorial chapel of the Magnani family, inside Certosa di Bologna, which is a very antique monastery, later transformed on a monumental cemetery for many italian families. You can take a look here, it’s stunningly beautiful.

Finished in 1906, this piece was a commission by the widow of a war veteran called Natale Magnani, who apparently died young. As far as I understand written italian, since I speak portuguese (latin languages perks, yey!), it’s still difficult to me to do further research on this family. Being it an old, traditional italian family, there’s tons of Magnanis, but there’s little to no info on Natale or his wife’s lives on the internet, it seems. If you’re italian and have any info about this, please comment. It can actually be relevant to this thread.

This sculpture portraits an angel ascending to heavens, guiding a soul (represented as a woman in a long dress). There’s rose branches and lilies at the feet of both the angel and the soul, as they fly together. These flowers pay homage to Magnani’s family blazon, as stated by the Storia i Memoria di Bologna Project website, that also offers on their site a brief explanation on the meaning behind the many other plants on this piece. they all basically allure to death, sleep, and resurrection. you can check it out here.

The presented symbolism, being an angel appearing to a soul in their travel to the spiritual realm, and even the flowers used, lead me to conclude that this sculpture very likely pictures our Archangel Gabriel, in their judgement roles again.

Now, our holy rpg party already has a mage, a paladin and a bard. It’s time to introduce the most underappreciated (and my personal favorite) class:

Raphael:

whose name means “God heals”. Raphael is the angel for healing, thus making ‘whole’ everything that has been broken. They’re also a patron for lovers, role that he plays by using his healing powers in a non-literal way. Pay attention to the “fixing the broken and making it a whole again” part, that’s the connotation.

Both of these titles come from the roles Raphael played, depicted on the scriptures: the most famous ones being when Raphael was sent by the Lord to heal Tobit of his blindness and to deliver Sarah, his future daughter-in-law, from the demon Asmodeus, who killed every man she married on their wedding night before the marriage could be consummated.

Another famous role commonly related to Raphael is about the Pool of Bethesda. Despite not being mentioned by name, manuscripts of John 5:1–4 describe an angel that blessed this pool, healing the illness of those who touched its waters:

"an angel of the Lord descended at certain times into the pond; and the water was moved. And he that went down first into the pond after the motion of the water was made whole of whatsoever infirmity he lay under". It’s usually given credit to Raphael for this action, since they’re seem using healing power to fulfill God’s will in many occasions through the Bible.

About Raphael’s Tarot card: Raphael appears on the major arcana The Lovers, as the angel blessing the couple depicted. This is a card about romantic, even sexual, attraction, but not purely that. It’s about finding peace within yourself, and in someone else, about the journey to pick “the one” for you. Making a whole out of two halves is a common concept associated with this card.

Symbolism presented on The Lovers card: “the man and the woman in the image are being protected and blessed by an angel above. The couple seems secure and happy in their home, which appears to be the Garden of Eden. The fruit tree with the snake behind the woman is a reference to that story, which tells of humanity's fall into temptation and into the realm of flesh and sensuality. The angel depicted here is Raphael, the angel of air - who is of the same element of the zodiac sign that governs this card: Gemini. Air is associated with mental activity, and communication in particular, which is the foundation for healthy relationships. His blessing seems to give this card a sense of balance and harmony, the symbolization of union in a grand and cosmic sense between two opposing forces.”

Another source adds: “The couple stands in a beautiful, fertile landscape, reminiscent of the Garden of Eden. Behind the woman stands a tall apple tree, with a snake winding its way up the trunk. The serpent and apple tree represent the temptation of sensual pleasures that may take one’s focus away from the Divine. Behind the man is a tree of flames, which represent passion, the primary concern of the man. The twelve flames suggest the twelve zodiac signs, the symbol of time and eternity. The man looks to the woman, who watches the angel, showing the path of the conscious to the subconscious to the super-conscious, or from physical desire to emotional needs to spiritual concerns. The volcanic mountain in the background is rather phallic and represents the eruption of passion that happens when man and woman meet in full frontal nudity.”

Despite the latter being a bit too horny for my tastes, lol, both descriptions reiterate Raphael’s influence on the role of patronizing health and union, a journey of Devotion.

Oh, about the MCR symbol, shaped as a half-sun. at first I couldn’t find a correlation to Raphael and this sun shape, as for the first three angels it was very clear to me since just as I started reading about them. Then I realized the huge sun portrayed on The Lovers card, behind Raphael.

Despite holding its individual meanings, Tarot cards are not meant to me taken isolatedly. (that’s one of the reasons many people are not found of the single card yes-or-no type of drawing). That being said, it is not a surprised to find traces of one card on another, and many shared symbolism. As for the sun, it appears multiple times on the Rider-Waite deck, but only one card holds the same exact half shaped, upside down, centered sun as the MCR symbol. and that’s The Lovers. :)

Now, our romantic archangel lead us to a very lovely part:

About Raphael’s Sculpture: as we waited for MCR to dramatically drop the curtain at the reunion show, we were being watched over by a piece nicknamed “Angel of the Waters,” from the Bethesda Fountain (have you heard this name before?), located in the Bethesda Terrace, Central Park, in NYC. sculpted by Emma Stebbins in 1864, this piece’s history, together with Central Park’s history can be fully read in this awesome article that my friend Clara found: here.

But since we’re already here, let’s try to make a shorter version, focusing on what’s relevant to this thread.

Upon release, the angel, which stands and above and blesses a water fountain, was directly associated with the Bethesda Pool mentioned in the Bible, and the healing acts of Raphael. On the dedication pamphlet it was quoted the very same passage from the Gospel of John, chapter 5, verses 2-4 I’ve mentioned before. It’s a shame I couldn’t find any pictures of this pamphlet on the internet. Old documents, huh. NY people, if you have access to this, I’d love to see it.

If we stopped there, it would be enough evidence to assume the connection to Raphael, but there’s more! There’s some particularities about this statue.

Its conception was a huge deal: Emma was the first woman to receive a major sculptural commission in New York City. Also, she had a female lover, the world-famous American actress Charlotte Cushman, who, for Cedar Miller, historian that wrote about Central Park and Emma’s statue, holds a huge impact on the Angel of Waters actually making into existence. In 1869, Cushman was diagnosed with breast cancer. In addition to having two mastectomies, Cushman tried water cures in England. (Water cures were a big craze from the 1830s through the 1860s). The historian who wrote about them finds it another connection to the statue itself. Unfortunately, Cushman's treatments were ultimately unsuccessful, she passed away in 1875. Emma followed her not long after, in 1882. To this day, the statue remains, and to NY is a gathering place to find tranquility, peace of mind, even in the darkest times through the its 141 years of existence. It’s a place to heal yourself.

It’s not your average Raphael statue.

We have the archangel connection, a devoted couple's backstory, and lesbian/sapphics rights. I don’t know about you, but I can even picture Gerard Way carefully picking this himself, haha.

Oh, a spicy fact I’ve learned while writing this: This angel sculpture is actually even older in MCR’s history, tracing back to revenge era merch. (I didn’t have much access to mcr merch back in the day so I didn’t know about this, I apologize!)

I guess someone got nostalgic for some catholic aesthetics, huh. Bless!

Angels in tarot, bonus addition:

It is valid to mention that not only all of the 4 mentioned archangels have their individual cards, they also appear together in a single card, The Wheel of Fortune. In this card, each angel can be seen in a corner: Raphael (Aquarius) is upper left, Gabriel (Scorpio) is the eagle, Michael (Leo) is the lion, and Uriel (Taurus) is the bull, appearing in disguise, a common thing for angels though the scriptures, it seems.

If you draw tarot, you understand how big of a deal it is. If you’re not familiar, here’s the basic notion: “The wheel of fortune is a card about cyclical change. The wheel keeps on rolling, churning events in a ceaseless progression of ups and downs, either way freeing us from the past. No one can escape its cyclical action, which can feel somewhat terrifying -- no matter whether we are rising or falling. When one is balanced on top of the wheel, there is a moment of crystal clarity. However, the only part of the wheel that's actually not going up and down is the hub, which represents your eternal self. Every one of us will occupy all the points on the wheel at one point or another. The cycle of the wheel is its lesson -- and we can learn to take comfort in it. If you don't like the look of things right now, just wait -- things will change. Of course, if you do like the look of things right now, enjoy it while it lasts, because that will change too!”

It is quite a powerful card that holds all of the aforementioned symbolism. Woa.

More symbolism seem on this card includes:

“The Wheel of Fortune card shows a giant wheel, with three figures on the outer edges. Four Hebrew letters – YHVH (Yod Heh Vau Heh), the unpronounceable name of God – are inscribed on the wheel’s face. There are also the letters TORA, thought to be a version of the word Torah, meaning ‘law’, or TAROT, or even ROTA (Latin for ‘wheel’). The middle wheel has the alchemical symbols for mercury, sulphur, water and salt – the building blocks of life and the four elements – and represents formative power. On the outer circle is a snake, the Egyptian god Typhon (the god of evil), descending on the left side. The snake also represents the life force plunging into the material world. On the right side rises the Anubis, the Egyptian God of the dead who welcomes souls to the underworld. And on top of the wheel sits the Sphinx, representing knowledge and strength.”

THE SECOND SET OF SYMBOLS - STILL A MYSTERY

So, after all this, if any of this is correct at all, we just learned the meaning behind the first four MCR symbols, released on halloween: Clarity, Courage, Sacrifice and Devotion.

Now, what about the ones released at the reunion show, on the merch truck? Well, my friends, we still have a lot to think about.

I am a doctor, and in my profession there’s a saying which instruct us to always think of what seems like a complicated situation, with many possibilities, as a single disease causing many effects. That was my train of thought as I tried to associate these new symbols with the Archangels that we already have. It may have nothing to do with that at all, but it’s worth trying.

Differently from the first set, the second set didn’t get an official release, and does not hold text captions to guide us on it’s meaning. the symbol shapes, however, are easier to associate with tarot cards than the first ones, in my opinion. I’ve seen people online trying to guess it too.

Having the angels and their aforementioned traits as a guiding line, I used some symbolism associated to each one to connect them to a new symbol, as you can see on the picture attached to this post.

I have some major problems with this, tho, the biggest one being the order of the symbols not matching the first set sequence. We had Uriel (Clarity) / Michael (Courage) / Gabriel (Sacrifice) and Raphael (Devotion). The second set order was Sword / Moon / Tower / Wand, so the sequence goes like Michael / Gabriel / Uriel / Raphael. It doesn’t match. Please, help me.

THINGS THAT KEEP ME UP AT NIGHT: ABOUT WITCHCRAFT AND… SOLDIERS?

During the past weeks of my life I’ve been researching all types of things to break this down, so I came across some very unsettling things that may be just wild coincidences or... something else? Just in case, I am putting them here in case anyone finds some connection that I couldn’t.

Sigils and Pagan influences, maybe?

As some people on twitter and reddit noticed, Gerard was using a sigil on his arm that reads “My Chemical Romance”. Every Archangel mentioned here also holds its own sigil, which is shown on the picture attached to this post. While I was excited about the dates for new concerts, I started to think, is there anything special about these dates? I tried to not overthink it because we probably have major influences of disponibilities and,,, Label issues...I don’t know? some very practical stuff going on. But still, I came across an interesting match.

There’s 8 sabbaths, composing the Wheel of the Year, “an annual cycle of seasonal festivals, observed by many modern pagans, consisting of the year's chief solar events (solstices and equinoxes) and the midpoints between them.”

eight sabbaths, eight symbols, huh. Initially, I tried to connect each symbol to a sabbath, but it was very… not satisfying enough to me, so I’m leaving that out; nonetheless, I still believe they hold some meaning similarities.

And it doesn’t stop there.

That our lovely wheel of the year: here. We’re using a northern hemisphere version, since MCR is based in the USA.

The band returned on Halloween, which is the Samhain that occurs between Oct 31 / Nov 1. There’s some minor variation on dates because the Celtic day begins and ends at sunset.

Return Show took place in California, Dec 20: which marks the start of Yule. (Yule dates range from Dec 19 to Dec 22, for the Celtic calendar reasons)

The next sabbath is Imbolt, that takes place on Feb 1 / Feb 2. MCR has nothing announced for this date until now.

2020 concerts will happen during the week of March 20, 21, 25, 28 and 29, In Australia, New Zealand and Japan, as for now. That marks the start of the Ostara sabbath, which start range is March 20/21.

so… can we expect something (anything?) being announced at Feb 1 or 2, or near that? What about all the remaining sabbaths? Is that a reach? is it related at all? oof.

Who said Danger Days isn’t goth enough?

Another VERY interesting thing my group chat found on the internet during our MCR tarot obsession. If this theory is correct, this is not the first time they would be alluring to it. Please look at this pic of Grace Jeanette, The Girl in DD universe, posing with the mailbox on the set of the “Art Is The Weapon”/“Na Na Na” video shoot (2010). (Exact source and photographer unknown; likely taken by Jeanette’s mother). (big thanks to tumblr user killjoyhistory).

Bellow the big “OH HELL” we have four tarot cards, on the very same deck we used for this thread, the Rider-Waite deck. The cards are The Tower, The Devil, Death and Three of Wands.

Please note that it may have no correlation to future works, since DD itself had religious symbolism with the Phoenix Witch and this mailbox (go read the comics if you didn’t already. DD rights!), it may be a DD-only thing. Also, please note that 3 out 4 of theses cards were already mentioned in this thread, all possibly related to archangel Uriel.

To wage this war against your faith in me, MCRMY.

So. This one will sound weird and maybe a reach too, but, hey, mychem is alive and breathing, I guess there’s nothing really impossible, haha….?

Are we all familiar with Gerard liking a lot that green coat? After all those years, I guess so.

Indeed, our lovely frontman used yet another green jacket as his return outfit. This time, it was a military one. As a foreigner, and being very ignorant on how the US Army works, I got curious about the badge on his jacket. Maybe that’s common sense to you guys and I’m just embarrassing myself, but hey! be kind to someone who’s sort of dying inside after all this thinking process, would you?

The badge on Gerard’s jacket happens to be from the 1st Armored Division, a.k.a the Old Ironsides, named after an old ship (and the world's oldest commissioned naval vessel still afloat).

Actually, the nickname “Old Ironsides” trace back to England in 17th century, during their Civil War, but I didn’t find many relevant content / possible connections, besides them being mostly Protestant, in terms of religion… referring to them after all this catholic-conception angel talk is some sort of metaphorical war going on, MCR? Who knows. History-loving english folks, I’m counting on you too now to confirm this, lmao!

The American side of the “Old Ironsides” term, after being passed down from England during their Independence Wars (please be kind with me, my knowledge about american independence is almost 100% from Hamilton the musical lmao, help me) apparently resides, mostly on the US Army/Navy.

Interesting coincidences (?) about this: the Old Ironside ship, aka USS Constitution, has a familiar date on its history: November 1. I’m quoting its construction period info: “Her keel was laid down on 1 November 1794 at Edmund Hartt's shipyard in Boston, Massachusetts under the supervision of Captain Samuel Nicholson and master shipwright Colonel George Claghorn.”

I didn’t read much about it since I’m already at edge with everything I’ve been researching but, it seems it was a very adored ship. In fact, one of the reasons it’s still in active service it’s because a poet even made it a famous poem about this ship, that you can read here. It’s symbolic and adored, it seems.

About the homonymous 1st Armored Division of the US Army, which badge Gerard used during the return show: being the first armored division of the U.S. Army to see battle in World War II, it also holds a huge historical meaning.

Again, I don’t have much info to share about this and I think some of you will find possible connections on this better than I would.

But wtf does it have to do with all the angels, Nana?

Well, as mentioned before, angels fight battles in the name of God. They’re heaven’s military. Michael, especially, is a warrior angel and leads God’s troupes against the demons.

Something interesting I’ve found relating Gabriel (which statue, let’s not forget, was commissioned by a war widow) to the war concept was the hebrew poem "Elifelet" (אליפלט) written by Nathan Alterman in 1958, often turned into music and played on the israeli radio. it tells of a heroic, self-sacrificing (hm…) israeli soldier being killed in battle. Upon the protagonist's death, the angel Gabriel descends to Earth, in order to comfort the spirit of the fallen hero and take him up to Heaven. It’s very touching, and you can read it here.

I’m not saying any particular work like this poem is relevant to MCR’s possible new concept. (let’s not be political here, but also be honest: Israel wars are a delicate matter to bring up). We’re solely working with symbolism and history. Please keep that in mind.

MCR has touched on war thematics before in many occasions (I will not mention all of them, as I believe that as a fandom, we’re aware of that, and we can help new fans to understand it if needed. This text is already TOO LONG). Maybe it’s time for them to talk about some conflicts again, literal or metaphorical? Let’s wait and see.

Oh, one last thing. There’s actually a whole another navy air test and evaluation squadron, the Antarctic Development Squadron Six (VXE-6 or ANTARCTIC DEVRON SIX, commonly referred to by its nickname, The Puckered Penguins). They’re based on California (lmao) and their motto is… Well, “Courage, Sacrifice, Devotion”. Uriel kinda left behind again, huh. I’m sorry sweetie.

Again, I apologize if this last section (or even the whole thing..haha…) looks far-fetched, but I just… had to take it out of my chest, sorta? Sorry.

That concludes our Archangel Theory. Thank you if you took your time to read through it all.

List of things to maybe expect in the future:

Something on Feb 1 / Feb 2

Two more angel statues, being them related to Uriel and Michael in some sort of way. I’ve tried to find any suitable matches but… there’s just too many, and as we’ve seen it may even not be officially claimed which angel is portrayed. So let’s wait and see.

More pagan symbolism?

Something about War??

Cryptid posts related to UK and paganism, January 17th and January 24th.

## EDIT (01/12): about new mcr cryptid posts...

If you’re following MCR new updates, as for now you’re aware of the United Kingdom Stuff going on... Interesting coincidences (or is it?) about those:

Both posts were made on the same day the lunar cicle changes. This month, the moon shows up a different form every friday, so maybe prepare you heart for January 17th and 24th. Also, I believe they’re using London time for the updates. in fact, the most recent post (the video with theban alphabet) was posted only 30 minutes after midnight in London. So I’m adding that to our list of things to expect in the future.

Also, someone at warner might be in trouble right now. the ig account for Warner Music Artistic Services (@wmas) posted a variation of the video posted by MCR, only a day later, featuring another order for the theban caracters, a slightly different UK flag (it was somehow merged with a picture? it’s difficult to tell), and a new frame that consists of a forest, similar to the one Gerard posted on his own instagram, and the one featured as background for the skeleton holding a witchcraft-related dagger photo from 2 weeks ago. Differently from the previous mcr video, which was silent, this one featured a sound, if my ears are not mistaken, a very dramatic C# note played on piano or organ (church instruments, huh. funny. but it could be worse, at least is not a G note...)

The video was labeled as LFG, that could mean a million of things. the most relevant ones, I believe, could be “Looking For A Group”, a classic D&D/RPG term (If I close my eyes long enough I can hear distant circus music playing in my head, for I have compared the four archangels to a holy RPG party weeks ago...)or “London Forest Gate”, a neighbourhood in London. please tell me if you have any ideas about what else it could mean, haha....

This video was deleted, but you can still find it around on twitter.

Well, that’s it for now. I’ll keep updating this post as more content is released. Keep running!

#my chemical romance #mcr #mcr theory #mcr 5 #california 2019 #mcr reunion

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enterprisetrampstamp · 4 years

Text

The Martinstown WIP Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

This is Part 3 of what is likely to be a nice, long t’pura fic once I’ve banged it out. It’s a bizarre length and actual amount of plot by my standards, so I’m in want of comments and breaking my usual rules to post sections of it before it’s fully complete. Please, holler at your ambiguously gendered author with any #thoughts you have!

This one goes out in particular to the one lovely anon who cares about this fic as much as I do.

***

Vulcans do not dream. But- on occasion- a lack of focus during their nightly meditation can lead a Vulcan to ruminate so deeply upon past events that they relive them, in a strange and filtered way. "Through the looking glass," a human may describe it.

T'Pring does not know why her mind lingers this night on a day long past--one where the heat of Vulcan's sun beats heavily on her shoulders, and her robes are filled with fruit they have foraged. She is accompanied by Spock. They sit huddled on a rock, deep in the craggy valleys of the desolate mountains, with only I'Chaya as supervision.

They speak of everything and nothing, in the way of children. They become sticky as they eat, and their skin grows hot and flushed with the sallow yellow-green of sunburn, for they have not heeded the words of their mothers.

"No," she insists, as he demonstrates a hand gesture, a tiny furrow of focus between his slanted brows. "That is too close to the regular word."

"We should not wish to forget our symbols," Spock argues, "or we will lose our ability to communicate in secret."

"I will not forget." She peels the skin from her fruit, sniffing. "Are you saying you would?"

He bristles immediately. "I would not."

"Then why would I? I am smarter than you."

"You are not!"

"This argument is illogical."

"You are illogical."

It is her turn to bristle. "I am not!"

"You are always angry. Anger is illogical. Therefore, you are illogical!"

T'Pring remembers how this is meant to go--she should consider her fruit for a long second, the colors red and orange and juicy in her palm. "If you wish to see angry," she should scoff, and then reach over to shove the fruit in his face.

But this time she is older, in her thirties and sitting next to a Spock so small she could easily hold him aloft with one hand. Her fingers are still sticky; she can still feel the heat of her planet's sun against her shoulders--now bare, in the modern style of the rebellious Vulcan woman. A flyaway of hair is caught in the breeze. She stares at the fruit in her palms, feels the roughness of the rocks against her ankles, and something inside of her is screaming. It has been for a very long time now.

"Yes," she says. "I am often angry. I think perhaps that is why our minds were found compatible. You have always struggled to maintain a Vulcan lifestyle, and I have always struggled to accept one. That has not--gotten easier.” She breathes out into the air of a dead planet. “Since this.”

"I do not understand," Spock says.

He is so small. It is illogical to doubt her own memories and more illogical still to question the realities of biological aging processes, and yet still she finds herself questioning how it is possible that either of them were ever so small as he is sitting next to her.

"You would not," she says. "We had not lost this, yet. The innocence of childhood. Our people and our planet. Each other." T'Pring does not look at him in pity, because he does not need it--not as a child, trying to find a place on a world which could not accept him, and not as an adult who has found his place on a starship far away. "There is nothing so illogical as grief, Spock; not even anger, for all that they so often go hand in hand. You have not learned that yet. I regret that one day you must."

"You should not say such things," he tells her, looking worried. In time, he will grow better at hiding these feelings, but she will only grow angrier. "T'Pring, you are being emotional."

"Yes," she says. "But no one is around to know. You do not exist outside of my mind, tiny Spockling." She reaches out to ruffle his hair, and he squawks much the way he had once upon a Vulcan afternoon, with his face covered in fruit.

"I find your behavior illogical and unsatisfactory," he says, all harsh and small. It is adorable. "This will be the first thing I say to you when we complete our private code."

"That is exactly so," she tells him, fond. "Although I think you have secretly always enjoyed seeing another Vulcan behave in this way, no matter how you raise your little eyebrows."

She grows quiet, pensive, and then says quietly, "I miss you, illogically. I was the one who ended this easy camaraderie, fearful that the scrutiny our classmates placed on you for being half-human would reflect back on me to reveal my own struggles. It was the logical move to protect myself, I believed. Now I must wonder if I did not hurt us both instead; we were never on the path to romance, but there was a time when I regarded you as a friend."

There is no one here but yourself, she chides. You need not twist your words to obscure the truth.

"That time continues now," she admits, begrudgingly. "I maintain sentiment towards you, despite our divorce. After all, though it was I who initially suggested our severance, you held nothing but support for my decision despite the future peril in which it places you, should you enter pon farr without our bond to fall back on."

(It had not been her motivation behind the divorce, but she is grateful in a desperate and primitive way that she has been spared from the decision to either kill him by inaction or be forced to cure his fever herself--she is grateful because she knows what she would have chosen, and his agreement to divorce her has denied her conscience the weight of his death.)

"Is this what your meditation seeks to have you acknowledge?" Spock asks in that young voice, but with all the perception of his older self. Or her own, perhaps, since there is no one in her mind but her. "That your path of solitude is a choice you have made on your own?"

T'Pring peels the rest of her fruit, and feels the heat of a sun that she will never again encounter outside of memory. "If that is the case," she says, "I struggle to see the logic in regretting what has already come to pass. My family has perished in the genocide of our people, my friendship with you has long since wilted, and I cannot bear to set foot on our supposed new homeworld. I am alone, but for the humans among whom I live."

"You like these humans," the Spocklet says. He has a handful of freckles along the bridge of his nose. “But you find it difficult to trust them.”

T’Pring does not see a point in answering, even within the meditative construct of a conversation.

The crew of the Martinstown is a self-described family, and that T’Pring finds difficulty with such a concept should be self-evident. They are also of a largely psi null race; to obtain mental intimacy with them would require a deliberate conscious undertaking, and to trust without knowing the inside of another's mind… The very concept is unnerving.

There is a role she plays for her crew, much as there was a role she played for her family on the lost sands Vulcan. Unlike the silence and stoicism of the past, she enjoys the teasing and bluntness of her new persona--but it is a persona nonetheless.

"You like me," her diminutive companion says, thoughtfully. "Do you trust me?"

She slants a sharp, sideways look at him. "I might," she says begrudgingly. "Though I do not prefer to say so, even within the privacy of my meditation. Must you force me to admit these things?"

"The only one here is you," he reminds her. "You are, as you always are, alone."

"I prefer it that way," she says. "Isn't that what we decided a moment ago?"

"No." Spock stares up at her, his thin arms wrapped about his knobbled knees, and his too-human eyes are small, and dark, and troubled. "We decided that it is what you have chosen; not that it is what you prefer."

T'Pring's heartbeat is quick and loud in her ears. "I see," she says. "I shall need to meditate on this properly at a later date. And there is no logic in telling you goodbye, as you do not exist."

"Very well," he agrees.

She opens her eyes.

The smoky haze of incense fills the air of her quarters- barely large enough for her to stretch her arms to either side and not brush the wall with both fingertips- and her ankles chafe not on Vulcanic rock but on the fibrous fabric of her meditative mat. That this particular hour is classified as “morning” is, of course, arbitrary, but she can smell coffee percolating and hear the distant sounds of movement as the Martinstown’s other habitants likewise stir.

Upon waking after a poker game, the crew is often quiet by their usual standards; Cristobal and Elina will sit in the kitchen among the detritus of the festivities, sharing their dark, bitter coffee as they skim their PADDs for the news, and Pinga and the Captain (whose camaraderie stretches back the longest) can often be found sharing a peaceful silence- and occasionally a stiff drink- on the ship's modest bridge.

(No matter the circumstances, the Leiman siblings independently and uniquely refuse to arise before the theoretical sun. "Artists," Pinga says, as if this word explains everything.)

T’Pring rises from her meditation, first dousing the last smouldering heat of her incense before bending loosely at the waist to roll the mat into a neat cylinder and tuck it beneath the austere desk which takes up nearly a third of the room.

(She uses the surface and the wall behind it to meticulously track not only the Martinstown crew's path through the stars, but also their adventures within them. T'Pring had been hired on, originally, as a record keeper; it has proven a difficult habit to break, even now that her position aboard this ship has little to do with a need for employment.)

T'Pring moves about her routine without haste, but neither does she linger in reflection as she brushes her teeth and hair and sheds the simple robe- of a silken, Terran style- which she had chosen for her meditation.

The revelations of the hallucinatory Spock-child are undoubtedly worth considering--but at a later date, in the darkness and stillness of her quarters, among the smoky haze of the alien scents she has adopted as a meditative focus. (Not only have many Vulcanic spices been lost among the rubble of her planet, but those that remain are difficult to obtain this far away from major Federation outposts.)

She thinks of other things, instead, such as how the braid of her hair is not entirely unlike the elaborate hairstyles of her youth--though less cumbersome, not being piled high atop her head. It is left hanging loosely down between her shoulder blades, tracing the straight slope of her spine.

So too does her manner of dress evoke a reminder of Vulcan without mimicking it; there is the freedom of movement of a traditional robe, combined with the metallic sheen of formal dress. T'Pring typically clothes herself in a simple, lightweight, sleeveless jumpsuit which cinches at her ankles but flows loose about her legs, as well as a stiff, tight vest in a heavy fabric which cuts a sharp line at her shoulders and reaches high up her throat. Both are a deep purple in color- matching her gloves- though the vest is slightly darker and shimmers with the play of light across its surface.

T'Pring has found this combination of garments to be comfortable, casual, and in keeping with the common fashion trends across the galaxy, thereby rendering it inconspicuous.

For economy of space aboard their small ship, the crew have few items of clothing and opt instead to clean them frequently; their choices in attire must therefore be well-suited to a variety of tasks. The combination of sleevelessness and drapery allows her a wide range of motion, while the stiff vest provides additional protection to her torso--a flawlessly logical combination, given the life she leads.

Flawlessly logical. She would roll her eyes if she were human. As if logic is something more than a tool--as if it is the beginning and end of the argument, when incomplete or incorrect data can result in a perfectly logical decision which is nonetheless wrong.

Such scandalous thoughts. T'Pring wishes she could blame the humans for them.

#a tramp stamp original #t'pring #t'pura #femslash #spock #re-reading this after having not been messing with it for a while tells me it needs some remixing #it's still a bit choppy here at the end #and I know the conceit of this scene is......... a bit odd? but it introduces some important concepts #and I really like most of it #I actually adapted it from one of the four or five false starts I took at writing a t'pura fic before I hit on this concept #because I liked it so much #I also spend a weird amount of time (for me) describing fashion in this fic #because I'm really trying to imbue it with that bright funky TOS vibe despite it being an AOS fic #the reboot spends too much time trying to make everyone look modern day stylish. where's the glitter.#me putting everyone in jewel tones and coveralls: it's not wish fulfillment I promise

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the-recusants-sigil · 5 years

Photo

Back again with Part 3- going in numerical order, that would be Vexen!!

I’m having a lot of fun with this prompt. Hope you like <3

Vexen

Words: 1939

-The first thing Vexen became aware of was the sensation of waves generally lapping at him. He could hear the faint roar of the ocean, feel the soft sand give way beneath him. The water was cool, pleasantly cool, a welcome relief from that suffocating trenchcoat, now soaked and filled with kelp.

-He felt the afternoon sun beating down on him, and at once he became acutely aware of the situation: this wasn't Agrabah. Agrabah didn't have an ocean. He was barely conscious, lying spread-eagle on a beach in all black; wherever he was, there was simply no way he didn't stick out like a sore thumb. The man tried to get to his feet, but faltered as soon as he placed some weight on his ankle. It was broken, no doubt, and he felt the pain shoot through his body, up his spine and into his shoulders. So he couldn't move, but he could at least look around and try to gain his bearings.

-This world was far different from any other that he'd been to. Vexen could make out small white dots moving incredibly fast off in the distance. Boats, perhaps? Further down the beach, he could see a couple strolling along with a fluffy dog in tow. Behind him, he heard footsteps on what he supposed was a boardwalk.

-”Hey there!” Vexen bristled; rule number one was to never be seen while out on a mission, and he had just failed miserably. Not that he could have done much with a broken ankle, he supposed, but this was still bad. “Do you need some help, sir?”

-”Er- no, no! I'm fine. Thank you, really, but I am quite alright, I-”

-”Okay,” the voice continued, “but you should really try to move. You've been there for a while, and the tide is about to come in. So if you don't want to drown...”

-”You know, actually,” he cut the good Samaritan off quickly, “I think I've broken my ankle. Perhaps I could use some assistance after all... if you are willing?”

-The man was tall- very tall- but you had no trouble helping him off the ground once you had a good hold on him. His long, blonde hair was tangled, green eyes weary, but he wouldn't allow himself to lean too heavily on you despite the obvious pain he was in. You carefully guided him up onto the boardwalk, steadying him when his legs wobbled, then across the street to the cafe your parents owned. It was a small place, normally bustling during “beach season”, but it was getting late in the afternoon, and most seemed to opt for ice cream instead. You deposited him at a booth and ran into the kitchen to grab him some water. In all likelihood, he was dehydrated.

-Vexen took the ice water from you gratefully, and when you sat down across from him, he didn't protest. After a few minutes of silence, he finally asked, “Why did you stop to help me?”

-This question gave you pause. “If somebody drowned right across from our shop, it might negatively impact business?” You shrugged weakly; it hadn't been entirely untrue, but you also didn't really know why you stopped. Call it a random act of kindness.

-”Sound logic,” the man sighed, finishing the water in his glass. “Well, thank you, kind stranger.”

-You smiled. “Please, call me Y/N. Now... do you need to see a doctor, sir?”

-”Nonononono. NO doctors,” he practically screeched before collecting himself. That was the last thing he needed, and the Superior would surely have his head. “Just... oh, goodness that hurts- just something to immobilize it and an ice pack, please, Y/N. And... my name is Vexen. Apologies for not introducing myself sooner.”

-Behind the cafe's storefront, through the kitchen, was the master's suite where your family lived. It was small, with a cramped living room, two tiny bathrooms, and two bedrooms: one for you and one for your parents. Luckily for Vexen, there wasn't much walking to be done to get to anything in the house. He made himself at home in your room, studying the contents of the bookshelves that lined the walls. There were some children's books mixed in with more advanced novels, and a few textbooks from your time at university.

-”Have you lived here your whole life?” he asked, trying as hard as he could to be pleasant. He wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of here and get back to the Castle before Saix demanded his head on a pike, but for now, it was wise to play nice.

-”Perceptive,” you replied with a nod. “Yep- Born and raised here. Went to college ten minutes away, but came back home after because my parents are getting older and need some help running the place. I wanted to be a marine biologist, but...” Vexen thought of little Ienzo, then, always his little helper, and he felt his chest tighten.

-“But maybe that can happen later. I still have big dreams,” you finished quietly.

-”Ah. So you studied Biology,” he mused, “it is always nice to make the acquaintance of a fellow academic. So, in this area...”

-The two of you went on and on for hours about the local wildlife, your misadventures in education, the swarm of idiots that seemed to flock to the Jersey shore in the summer. You reminisced about the semester you'd been a Teacher's Assistant giving lectures and grading assignments, and you remembered the one student in the last section of the day that wrote every assignment in crayon. Vexen assured you, with a quiet chuckle, that he had a colleague exactly like that.

-Just past midnight, you finally passed out, and Vexen took it as a prime opportunity to down the last potion he had left. The throbbing pain in his ankles subsided within the minute, and much to his relief, he found that he could once again put weight on it. If you asked in the morning, he'd tell you he just sprained it.

-Yet, there was a part of him, deep down, that wanted to tell you the truth. After all, you had helped him. Even after knowing you for such a short amount of time, he couldn't deny that he felt some kind of a connection with you. You could keep up with him in conversation, unlike the troglodytes he called colleagues, and you were interested in what he had to say. Without going into too much detail, he told you a bit about the work he did before... before the Organization. You'd shown genuine interest, and if he had a heart, it would have fluttered.

-Vexen, no. Think of the mission. You have to go back, he thought to himself. But... maybe one more day here couldn't hurt.

-So when he awoke the next morning and strode into the living room to find your family gathered there, his blood practically turned to ice in his veins. Your parents sat on the couch, eyeing the strange man warily; your father reached for something behind the couch and Vexen panicked inwardly.

-”Mom, Dad, he's fine,” you called from the kitchen, and they relaxed somewhat. He nodded awkwardly and made his way into the kitchen, nearly hitting his head on the doorframe as he entered.

-Vexen was surprised to see you waiting with breakfast ready. He gratefully accepted the food, the two of you discussed plans for the day. You inquired about his ankle, and he fed you the pre-rehearsed line; when you didn't push the issue, he sighed in relief. You wanted to make sure he was alright with a bit of a walk; a tour of the town would be the perfect thing to do, since he didn't know where he was or how he got here, and it might help him regain his bearings.

-Vexen, on the other hand, was thankful for a much-needed vacation day with someone whose company he actually enjoyed.

-Wait, did he just think that?

-Vexen strolled along the boardwalk with you, enjoying the breeze in his hair. He made sure to take smaller steps than normal so that you could keep up without jogging after him. He breathed in the scent of brine, watched the gulls drift lazily through the sky, and smiled, ever so slightly. Even the crowd seemed not to bother him- normally, a boardwalk bustling with rowdy beachgoers, dogs, and children would have been far too much for him, but for today, the presence of others was inconsequential.

-You pointed out various historical landmarks as you walked: an old inn that had been running for two hundred years, the original lighthouse that had fallen out of use in favor of a newer one that wasn't crumbling, the childhood home of an influential musician and, of course, the university you went to. He took it all in, but more and more, he found himself noting the smallest details about you.

-There were the little things, like the way your nose crinkled when you laughed or the way you stubbornly sipped at your coffee even though you knew it was too hot to drink. The breeze in your hair, the way you said his name, the quiet remarks you made about passersby that only he would pick up on...

-He came back down to earth when you took his hand and led him into an antique shop. The oldest one for a hundred miles, you told him, and his focus shifted to the densely packed display booths. Nearly all of them were chock full of furniture and various artifacts of eras long gone, like soldiers' uniforrms, milk cans, and record players. His eyes landed on a tall bookshelf packed with all sorts of volumes, and he immediately reached for a tattered hardback with yellow pages. The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe.

-Zexion will love this, he thought.

-That book was the only purchase the two of you made, and by the time you decided to leave, the sun had already begun to set. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but Vexen had to tell you goodbye sooner or later.

-”Y/N, thank you for spending such a lovely day with me,” he began slowly. You knew exactly where this was going. “But I really must get back to-”

-Vexen's face went bright red as your lips collided with his, stopping him mid-sentence. It was a quick kiss, but in that moment, he wished he could have stopped time and made it last longer. You pulled away quickly, face flushed, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously. “I- I'm sorry. You have to go back to work. I know. Well... Don't forget about me, okay? Come visit again sometime. Maybe without a sprained ankle, though.”

Still beet red, he stammered and scrambled for some kind of dignified response. “Uh, I- Well, yes. Yes, I will be back to visit. I promise you. Cafe at the Shore. I would not dare forget.” he turned to leave, but stopped abruptly. “...Thank you, Y/N. Really. I will see you again, sooner rather than later.”

-He turned away and walked further down the boardwalk, ears still visibly red from the encounter. As you watched him leave, you couldn't help but feel a little sad. He would be back, though. You knew it.

-It took Vexen a few minutes, but he eventually found a narrow alley he could duck into and open a corridor back home. He'd likely be in deep shit for failing so miserably in Agrabah, but after today, he wasn't sure he minded all that much.

#considermeafriend #kh imagine #vexen x reader #vexen #organization xiii #in which vexen visits the jersey shore and doesnt hate it #modern!reader #kh

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