#the second one i'm working through chronic illness
Note
For the fic WIP ask meme: warm (and/or cold)
oh man. you hit on this one!!
from a super angsty tos spirk oneshot:
It should be that cold he fears; he was so close to slipping into that forever dark. But it’s the chill of Spock’s skin that he remembers the most, that kept him grounded and in the present. That kept him alive, even as his skin burned.
Jim steps slowly, carefully, into the heat. Spock’s quarters are the warmest on the ship - out of necessity, yes, but also comfort and familiarity. Spock would never admit to that, but Jim knows it. He knows Spock.
and from a super long chaptered aos spirk fic:
He brushes his thumb over the outside of Spock’s wrist, runs his fingertips along the lines on Spock’s palm. Spock’s skin is too cold. His mind unreachable.
Spock touches his fingertips to Jim’s and it is light, life, adoration. He does not suppress the urge to press his lips to Jim’s as well. When he clasps his hands together behind his back again, his skin is tingling and as warm as a Human’s and Jim is entirely too pleased with himself.
#thank you for asking!#existentialcrisistime#my current wips#writing#answered#the first one i'm using to work through ptsd#the second one i'm working through chronic illness#yeah i use fic writing as therapy
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 琅琊榜/Nirvana in Fire.
Nirvana in Fire is a 2015 historical series best described as either a complicated succession drama set in the premodern Chinese imperial palace, or the story of a man who didn't die a decade ago and has decided to make it everyone else's problem.
And really, I almost feel silly giving my glib little summary, because Nirvana in Fire is so well-known of a property. It's a classic for a reason, and that reason is that it's legitimately very good. This show is what happens when you adapt a solid story, get a bunch of very talented actors, and throw a huge amount of money at it. It's incredibly popular and highly acclaimed, and it earned all of the hype.
Still, while I bet there are few people adjacent to c-drama stuff who've never heard of Nirvana in Fire, I'm sure there are plenty who haven't watched it. After all, it looks like one of those slow, serious shows with a lot of ponderous talking and no joy. If that's the impression you've been given, I could imagine looking at the 54-episode commitment and saying, I don't need that in my life.
I am here to tell you you're wrong. It is a banger of a show. It's tense. It's funny. It's heartbreaking. It’s exceptionally clever. It’s jaw-droppingly stupid. It’s romantic. It’s tragic. It has smart plots and bizarre subplots. And that's not even touching the thing with the yeti.
So in case you're one of those people who's heard of Nirvana in Fire, but has put off watching it for one reason or another, I'm here with five reasons I think you should try it.
1. Epic Shit
Did you like the Lord of the Rings? More specifically, did you really like the second Peter Jackson film? Great, then you're all set for this.
I guess I could have called this Game of Thrones without the dragons, but that's not actually the vibe at all. Game of Thrones is much more sensational and salacious, with all the blood and butts and what-not. The Tolkien comparison is more apt, I think, because Nirvana in Fire is equally about as wholesome as you can get in a property where dudes are still getting stabbed all the time.
This is a show about vengeance. And yeah, justice for the fallen, sure, that's fine too. But mostly it's about a bunch of good people joining forces to make sure the bastards who did wrong pay, with their lives as necesary.
The problem, though, is that these bastards are incredibly powerful, which means that a pure brute-force approach isn't going to work. Accordingly, this quickly becomes a story about the power of smart teamwork to exact retribution on some people who can (and did!) legally get away with murder -- and our heroes are some of the people with their necks most on the line if anything goes wrong.
Don't let the Middle Earth comparison fool you into thinking this is all epic swordfights. It's not. (I mean, for one thing, as well-funded as this project is, it doesn't have Peter Jackson Money.) The vast majority of the tension in the show comes from dialogue and slow, terrible realizations. The fight scenes are almost a relief from the nail-biting intensity of intimate conversations about getting a letter from somebody's ex-wife or returning a book.
All told, the show has that incredible almost-RPG vibe of going through all the little subquests and cutscenes you find along the way to defeat the final boss. The plot carefully unravels a multi-tendriled mystery told to you by people in incredible costumes. It doesn't get much more epic than that.
(Nirvana in Fire is also a cautionary tale about how you should be very careful with who gets invited to your birthday party.)
2. A chronically ill protagonist
Okay, right in the first episode, it is established that the main character has three whole completely different names and an old nickname. I'm going to call him Mei Changsu for the duration of this rec post, but let the record show that I could just have easily gone with one of the other three.
What you learn in that same first episode is that Mei Changsu used to be a palace insider, the cocky son of a noble family, only now nearly everyone he used to know thinks he's dead. Also, he's not far off from being actually dead -- he has an unspecified terminal condition that's mostly managed, provided he stays in his little mountain hideaway with his handsome doctor bestie and doesn't return to his old stomping ground and start kicking over hornets' nests.
So guess what he's about to do.
I have to make a note of how brilliant the casting is here: Hu Ge is an action actor! He is a kickpuncher of a man! And I think it's great that you can sort of see his frustration, as well as Mei Changsu's, at having to spend the whole series wrapped in countless layers of fabric and/or lying in bed while everyone around him gets to be the badass action heroes.
Mei Changsu's not faking it, either -- he's actually dying. He expends his energy where he thinks it's necessary, and sometimes that means he has to spend the following week in bed. He's constantly frustrated with himself for what he can't do anymore. He's racing a clock, and that clock is his own failing body. If he dies, the only hope anyone here has for justice dies with him.
He gets two love interests that the show treats pretty much equally. One's a lady general who wasn't even a love interest in the book. The other's the handsome prince who was initially going to be his textual romantic partner in same book, until the author hopped genres from danmei to general historical drama. I can't even call this a love triangle, because there's no competition. He just gets a wife and a husband -- in that he gets neither, because circumstances and his own illness keep him distant from them. He lies to both of then about his condition (among other things). He wants to be with them both and knows he can't be with either. And they in turn have to learn to accept what of him they can and can't have.
(Also, Nihuang (her) and Jingyan (him) are both incredibly gorgeous, which is exactly what bisexual genius Mei Changsu deserves.)
Obviously this isn't a perfect representation of life with chronic illness, largely because Mei Changsu is an incredily wealthy man who lives in a universe with what's basically magic medicine. However, I've seen the story's treatment of him and his condition resonate with a lot of chronically ill viewers, so even with the fantasy layer on it, there's definitely something there.
3. Dave
I have already told the story of how Meng Zhi became "Dave," but long story short, he's such a Dave that I legitimately forget his character's real name. He embodies Daveness. He's The Ultimate Dave.
Dave is an excellent fighter, a loyal friend -- and a terrible liar. He's possbly the only straightforward character in the entire show. When he's asked to be duplicitous, he's comically bad at it. Dave will never do a heel turn. I was misled at first by his semi-evil facial hair, but I have seen the error of my ways. Dave is pure lawful good.
And the reason I list Dave as such a selling point is that having a Dave means you always know what's going on. This is because Dave never knows what's going on, and he has no ego about that, so he asks questions, and other characters have to explain to him what just happened, and that is how you figure out what's going on.
It's an incredibly smart move on the drama's part, because some of the (very fun) schemes are so complicated that there's no way for you, the viewer, to understand them just by watching. Without the internal monologues and omniscent narration of a book, the machinations are opaque. You need things explained -- but why would the schemers explain their schemes? Well, Dave needs some exposition, so here you go.
So if you're worried that you might be left feeling stupid by a show where so many sneaky people are hatching so many complex plans, worry not! Like the good man he is, Dave has your back.
4. A Million Amazing Antagonists
If you like bad guys, this is a show for you. This show has brilliant bad guys all the way down. It has bad guys at every turn. It has bad guys for every taste. Welcome to Big Liang's Big Bad Guy Emporium, where we guarantee you'll walk out of here with a bad guy you like, or your money back!
(And yes, this set of pictures is also to say that their costume budget was entirely well-spent.)
Without getting too far into spoilers, I will say that the basic situation underlying the whole series is this: The emperor has done a lot of bad things, and he has enlisted a bunch of people's help in hiding those bad things, so much so that many of those other people have done even more bad things the emperor didn't even know about -- and then everyone has gone to great lengths to cover those up as well. Our protagonists spend the whole series unraveling this colossal shitshow and bringing people to task for their crimes.
So really, if you're going to spend 54 episodes taking down the baddies, they've got to be baddies you love to see taken down. And these are -- in part because all of them have crystal-clear, rock-solid motivations for their actions. Nobody here is a moustache-twirling comic-book-villain baddie. They're all bad for reasons that are very understandable in their individual contexts. And not a single one of them is going to go down without a fight.
5. World's Best Mom
(Sidebar: The fact that four out of five of my reasons to watch the show are individual or groups of characters should be your strongest indicator that this is an intensely character-driven story.)
This is not a Dead Mom Show. Okay, some moms are dead, but mostly this is a Moms Are Alive And Often Cause Problems Show, which is a lot of what makes the palace drama so delicious. But there is one Good Mom who stands out above all the rest: Consort Jing.
Played with perfect grace and devastating politeness by the stunning Liu Mintao, Consort Jing is a skilled doctor and excellent baker who starts the show with a low-level status among the women of the palace. She swallows down all kinds of mistreatment because she's not in a place to oppose it -- and when she can retaliate, it must only be through soft power. She loves her jock son with all her heart, but because of both their relatively poor positions in the hierarchy, she doesn't get to see him all that much. She wants to be an asset to him, while all the time she has to fear becoming a liability.
She is also the smartest person in any room that she's in, unless she's in a room with Mei Changsu, and even then it may be a tie.
There are lots of great characters in the show that I could have highlighted here, and plenty of them are women, but Consort Jing in particular never ceases to impress me. She is trapped in a gilded cage, married to a man who [lengthy list of spoilers that are traumatic to her in particular], and held hostage by how every time she even looks like she's out of line, it puts both her and her boy in danger. She's the most vulnerable of any of our good guys. Kind of like Wang Zhi, she's got to be clever or she's dead.
Consort Jing is not part of Mei Changsu's original plan. She figures out his plan and makes herself part of it -- and entirely remotely, as she and he aren't even in the same room until episode 40 or so. She puts herself in great danger to make sure he succeeds, not because it will necessarily do her any good, but because Jingyan needs him. This woman has been captain of the Mei Changsu/Jingyan ship for like twenty years already.
Oh, and did I mention her outfits?
I love you, Consort Mom.
Are you ready to watch it yet?
Get it on Viki! Get it on YouTube! Get it on YouTube but in a different playlist! (And also maybe get it on Amazon? Not in my region, but maybe in yours.)
I will warn you that it does take off running -- I think I saw someone say it introduces nineteen characters in the first episode? I was worried that I'd be too innundated by situations and flashbacks and names to be able to follow. By the second or third episode, though, I was rolling with it. So if you feel like you're struggling at the beginning, stick with it a bit. See if you don't feel it start to click.
...Man, reading over this post has left me going, oh, but I missed that! and that! and that guy! And yeah, the truth is that there are just so many great things about the show that limiting myself to only five (and being limited to only thirty images) was tough. I'm sure that people reblogging will add their own must-see elements.
Truly, this is a show that deserves its reputation. It may not be for everyone, but if this is the kind of thing that you like, it is a shining example of that thing.
Besides, you have to love a production where everyone was clearly having just a whole lot of fun being big ol' costumed dorks.
408 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 2
Marcus Pike x female reader
Co-written with @absurdthirst
After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.
Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+
Word Count: 12.6k
Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle* Mentions of sick loved ones, mutual pining, personal guilt, relationship turmoil.
Summary: After only knowing Marcus for a brief time, you can already feel emotions beginning to build. Will that spell trouble for the relationship you've worked so hard to build with Sam, or will something else altogether begun to sow seeds of doubt?
Notes: Once again I'm afraid I have to ask forgiveness in the edit of this chapter. I went away for a few days this week and ever since my chronic illness has been utterly kicking my ass. Hopefully I didn't miss too many errors here.
Game night will probably go down in the year's history as one of the best and most fun times that Marcus has had in a long time. He had laughed until his stomach hurt, his abs aching the next week for at least three days. He's gotten an open invitation back, but he doesn't know if that was a good thing, if he's honest with himself. His attraction to you is something that he's got to get ahold of if he's going to socialize with you more. It seems like everything about you just makes the heavens sing and the sun shine. It's crazy and he hates that, considering you are very happy in a relationship.
Eastern Market is his usual haunt on the weekend, preferring it to a generic grocery store, and he’s lost in thought enough that he doesn’t notice a familiar face at the florist’s stand across the way as he’s walking through the stalls. "Some peaches will be good." Marcus decides, looking through some of the fruits that have been trucked in from warmer states. "Peach smoothies." He decides, walking towards the gorgeous plump peaches on display.
If you were any other person in the world, it would be you who bumped into him and not the Secret Service agent contractually obligated to come along on your errands. As it is, when Agent Bailey defends you from being bumped into by the familiar figure of Marcus Pike, you’re the one who apologizes. “Oh! I’m so sorry, excuse u—Marcus?”
“Oh, hi!” Marcus shakes his head, reaching out and taking your arm. “I am so sorry. I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” He apologizes. “Was focused on getting some peaches and didn’t notice anything or anyone, obviously.” He flushes slightly, feeling that pull towards you and hating that he looks like a jerk, or maybe just thoughtless, in front of you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
"Not at all." The flowers in your hands and the canvas shopping bags on your arm aren't harmed either, and you find yourself smiling much more brightly than you were even a second ago. "No harm done to me or to Agent Bailey, not to worry. Is it errand day for you, too?"
“Trying to eat healthier.” Marcus admits, slightly upset by the prospect but he figures that just comes with getting older. “Figured the produce here would be better than in a grocery store. Are these for the inn?” He asks, looking at the flowers in your hands and immediately reaches for them. “Let me help.”
"I thought my apartment could use some brightening up." He's seen the organized chaos that you live in and you're not embarrassed by it by any means, but there is a small sting to buying your own flowers just a few days before Valentine's Day. Sam isn't a flowers guy and that's perfectly fine, but you're definitely a flowers girl. When Marcus scoops them up without a second thought and stays by your side, you can feel your cheeks heat up. "I, um—thank you.
“Of course.” He huffs, as if newly made acquaintances should always scoop up flowers from you. “You chose brilliantly. They are gorgeous. Have you already paid for them?”
"Yes, so don't even try." It's just a playful warning that comes with a waggle of your finger, but you really have a feeling that he would try to pay for them if you hadn't.
He grumbles at that slightly. “Well, okay.” It’s almost pathetic that he takes note of what kind of flowers you like and he smirks. “So which flower is your favorite in this?” He asks.
"These," you point out a geometrically fascinating flower with petals that seem to spiral endlessly. "They're called camellias. We called them Winter Roses when I was growing up, but I've always loved them." The intimacy of the question goes straight over your head, just excited to have something pretty to split amongst the small vases in your little space.
“Camellias.” Marcus repeats the flower, filing away the information even though he shouldn’t use it. “They are beautiful.”
"Not everyone has them, so I tend to get my flowers here just to make sure they're in the mix." Barely aware that you're standing in the middle of a bustling market with people trying to move all around you, you have to shake away the warmth settling in you that is definitely not due to any kind of attraction. Nope. Not even a little. Not at all. "You, um..." you gesture to the next stall, where he was originally headed when the collision happened. "Peaches?"
“Peaches? Oh right, peaches.” Marcus laughs at himself and shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry, I’m – I forgot.” He snorts. “I was thinking about fresh peach smoothies.”
"Ooooo, that sounds incredible." All of a sudden it's the best idea you've heard all day, and you grin mischievously. "It's not exactly standard, but the next time you're craving a sweet after having Indian take out? Make a peach smoothie. It's got that same vibe as a mango lassi but it's slightly sweeter, and it's the most refreshing thing ever."
“I was actually thinking about having Indian tonight.” Marcus admits with a grin. “To reward myself for eating healthier.”
"Best reward in the world." You agree easily. "I told myself I was going to cook tonight and make sure there were leftovers for another day this week, but I am teetering dangerously close to just calling for take-out as well."
"Well..." Marcus almost doesn't offer, because of the fact that you have a boyfriend, but he is truly meaning this as a friendly offer. "If we went to have Indian together, it wouldn't be as bad as ordering it as take out, would it?" He ventures, raising his brows in offer.
You should say no, You should absolutely say no. Not because the invitation is improper in any way — after all, he's a friend. But because of the way your heart bumps and skips at the offer like you hope he means it as more. He doesn't, and that is a good thing. In fact, Marcus and Sam got along fairly well at game night. But you can't help the way your cheeks burn pleasantly. "DuPont Circle?" You ask, confirming that he means he was intending to order from the same place you were. When he nods, you do too. "That sounds really nice."
"This way..." He's immensely happy you are agreeing to come to eat with him. "We can order the samosas and pakoras and not feel any guilt what so ever." He tells you, grinning at you.
"No guilt, but definitely extra time at the gym." His smile is dangerous, but apparently your self-preservation instincts aren't nearly as good as you think they are, because the only alarm bell going off in your head is the one that says Don't Let It Become a Date! which you just brush off. Surely that won't even be a possibility. It can't, because you and Sam have a good thing going. "Although, you're not masochistic enough to have my little brother as your biweekly gym buddy, so your trips are probably far less traumatic than mine," you offer with a laugh.
"Nope." Marcus chuckles. "I just torture myself by running around the Mall during my lunchbreaks instead of spending it in museums or at the food trucks." He snorts. "I just get to smell them just off the Mall."
"Have you lived in DC for three years without doing any of the food trucks out on the Mall?" That might be the most appalling thing you've ever heard in your life, and you nearly drop the peach that you had just picked up to add to your basket.
"Oh no." He laughs at that. "First six months I was here, I fucking lived off food trucks." He admits. "I was undercover and my contact checked in with me through the food trucks."
"Oh, thank God." The both of you laugh as you wipe imaginary sweat of your forehead as though it had made you nervous. "If you had never had Julia's Empanadas, I might have had to drag you down to the Mall right now."
"Then I wouldn't have room for Indian." Marcus groans, rolling his eyes at the thought of how many empanadas he would try to fit in his stomach if you went to Julia's Empanadas. "And I'm really craving Indian."
"I am too." Although, now you're going to be thinking about empanadas for ages. Maybe you'll have to try making some. "How has your week been?" Making small talk is easy with him, as you poke through the fruit bins to find peaches, apples, and pears to snack on this week.
"It's been alright." He shrugs slightly. "Depositions for a few upcoming cases. So I've had to revisit case files and work with the district attorney's office to make sure that there aren't any surprises."
"Paperwork and meetings," you nod in understanding. "I get that. Being my own boss is a hell of a lot more paperwork and meetings than I ever thought it would be."
"Ordering supplies, creating events to drum up interest. Balancing budgets." He nods. "I can imagine that it feels like it's hard to get a free moment for yourself."
The way you nod is tired but proud. Every ounce of hard work that you put into that inn is worthwhile, and you do it with straight shoulders and as much determination as you can possibly summon. "Today is my first day off in...two or three weeks? It's...a lot. But it's so worthwhile. And it means that Syd has her place, too. I wouldn't trade it for anything."
"So how did you come to have the inn?" Marcus has been curious about that. "Was it always your dream? Or something you fell into?'
"I really, really liked throwing parties when I was younger." That's the easy way to start, as you both move to the line to pay for your bundles of fruit at this particular stall. "That grew up into loving to have guests over all the time. And then dreaming about running a hotel. So I took my sociology and history double major and got a job a hotel in Philly after college, putting myself through a hospitality degree while I started learning the ropes. It was a lot of years of working my way up, but eventually I got hired as the manager for the Inn at Jones Point under the old owners. They were struggling to keep up with new technology and losing clients because of it, and then..." Your eyes flick up to Marcus, almost apologizing for telling him the whole story. "We found out the reason Anita was having so much trouble learning the new technology was early-onset dementia alongside a sizeable brain tumor. I bought the inn from them when they made the decision that a comfortable end to her life was the most important thing they could do. Michael – Anita's husband – he comes around once a week for dinner and to check up on the place now that she's gone. He likes to keep an eye on it for her."
“That’s….” Marcus softens so much at the background story. “Beautiful. You are maintaining their legacy while adapting it to the new realities of time. Weathering time.”
"That farmhouse has been standing since the 1700s. We're just part of its legacy, not the other way around." The pair of you step up to be next in line, with Agent Bailey standing mere feet away managing to look imposing and nonchalant all at once. "The best part is that it could give Sydney her restaurant, and Juan a way to find himself in all the event planning. We didn't know what a team we'd be until we got going and now it's...it's just amazing."
“That’s incredible, and the fact that the place runs so smoothly is a testament to your hard work.” Marcus praises. He’s read some of the reviews and they are all positive, even the ones that had events beyond your control.
“That’s very kind of you.” Kind is an operative word for Marcus. As are sweet, funny, intelli— Nope, stop it, you’re getting dreamy again. Even the momentary distraction of having to pay for fruit is a welcome one if it gets your mind off that track.
Ouch. Kind is such a word that lands him in the friend zone. Which is where he has to be with you, but it still hurts. No longer edgy or cool like he was when he was in his old band. “What else do you need to get?” He asks, swinging his head around at the options available.
“I’m almost done actually.” It didn’t escape you that he flinched slightly when you were trying to be grateful and at least a little complimentary, and suddenly your stomach flips in fear that he might not like spending time with you are much as it seems. Or that you’d done something wrong. “I just wanted to get some fresh bread. But…I don’t know how much more you have to do.”
“Nothing.” He promises, shooting you a grin. “The least I can do is carrying things. Since you are saving me from a night of trying to cook.”
“Never learned to cook or just never got good at it?” There is a difference, after all, and it isn’t about want. Some people find cooking to be an incredible challenge. He gives you a look when you take your parcel of fruit from the vendor and accepts it on your behalf with thanks. Like a damn gentleman, you think with a pant in your chest.
“Never really had the time or the inclination.” He admits. “It’s hard to be enthusiastic about cooking for one, you know what I mean?”
“But that’s when you get to experiment!” Maybe it’s years of being friends with Sydney, whose world revolves around her tastebuds, but cooking has always been an outlet for you. It’s one of the only things you dislike about your apartment —the teeny tiny kitchen. “You can test out new things and weird combinations, and if it’s not great then the only person who knows is you. But if it’s awesome?” You grin up at him like you’re unveiling some kind of ultimate secret. “You become a rockstar at the next office potluck.”
Marcus chuckles. “I’m a rockstar anyway.” He jokes. “I’m the one who brings in the pizza and Chinese for the late nights in the office.”
“Okay, actually, that does count for a lot.” Walking in the direction of the bakery where you get all of your sweet treats and fresh bread, you readjust your shopping bag on your arm and try to glance around the place to survey your surroundings the way Agent Bailey has been teaching you. A comprehensive knowledge of your surroundings, she calls it. “I can’t really cook for my staff much when they have Sydney’s kitchen nearby, but I leave baked goods in the break room from time to time as a thank you. They work so hard.”
“There’s nothing better than snagging a muffin or a cookie when you’re rushing around.” Marcus agrees wisely.
“Or a slice of pizza.” It sounds like he works hard to keep his team in good spirits the same way you do, and you have to commend that in someone who works in such a dour field. Even art crimes — being less violent in nature, according to what you looked up the other night out of sheer curiosity — can’t possible be all sunshine and roses.
“Exactly.” He nods. “Sometimes we have all night surveillance or going through the evidence when something is time sensitive. My teams work better when they are well fed, and know how much they are appreciated.” He shrugs slightly, “everyone could benefit from know that every now and again.”
"Sometimes the weddings we run are just...they're insane. Or last year we had an entire family reunion take over the grounds for four very long days. I can't imagine it's half as stressful as what you deal with but the days can be really long and busy in their own right." For what it's worth, at least, you do love your job. And it's obvious that Marcus feels just as passionately about what he does.
“Oof.” He winces. “I bet the staff wanted to break out a bottle of bubbly when they were checked out.” Marcus jokes, chuckling slightly. “Yeah a lot of people don’t understand that when you love your job, the long hours are worth it.”
"Yeah." A tinge of regret breaks your smile, barely twitching in the corner of your mouth, and you barely nod. He can't possibly know what kind of a nerve he's hit — hell, you barely know yourself and you're the one feeling it. It just...it stings.
“Did I say something wrong?” He asks, immediately concerned when your smile seems almost sad.
"No." You reassure him much too quickly, and flinch in your own right when he looks skeptical. "It's just...not everyone thinks what I do is as worthwhile as, say, something like what you do. A—and that makes sense. Running an inn and upholding the law are—they're not the same. I'm not saying they are. It's just...that important to me. That's all."
“Whoever believes that is wrong.” Marcus insists wholeheartedly. “Running an inn is absolutely crucial. Maybe not to everyone, but to the people who need a little escape, a retreat to relax and revive themselves, your inn is a haven to them.” He is speaking passionately because he believes it. “When I’m out of town on a case, I hope that I can book a little inn. Something more personable than a Holiday Inn, so when I come back, it’s like a little slice of home.”
“I appreciate that. Really. It’s—I guess it’s a sore spot at the moment and I didn’t realize it. That’s all.” And you are absolutely not going to allow yourself to indulge in the image of Marcus coming back to the inn for you. Your place is not his ‘ little slice of home’. Even if you’re wondering what the would feel like if it was real.
“Well, you can always gripe and complain if you need to.” He promises.
“No, that’s—that’s not it.” It’s a little embarrassing, if you’re honest, but that’s only because you’re fighting being attracted to the man beside you. Otherwise you would just be chatting to a friend. “I just…don’t get to spend as much time with Sam as he would like. That’s all. Because we both have busy jobs.”
Marcus winces. “With the job he has, it would be hard unless you didn’t work.” He murmurs quietly. “But what counts is that you make the time you do have together special.”
“That’s what I said. Making the most of our time it’s what is most important.” The topic had come up again in conversation when you and Sam had talked about next steps — through the odd avenue of discussing your commute. His house to the inn isn’t a prohibitive drive, but it will warrant either having a lot of work done on your car or getting an upgrade. Right now you have no commute whatsoever, so you’re barely using your car outside of town.
“My favorite thing to do with my ex-wife was to curl up and watch a movie.” He admits. “Or work on a crossword together.”
“Those…” You laugh quietly, almost self-consciously, and shrug with the air of someone who is just about to give up. “Are the things I do with my good friend Agent Bailey, here. Though she kicks my ass at the Times Sunday crossword every single week.”
He rolls his eyes at himself. “I know it’s an old person’s activity, but I was normally exhausted from the academy.”
“Don’t you dare besmirch the Times Crossword.” A waggles finger and disapproving tsk seems to amuse him and it makes you smile, too. “That’s a mandatory topic of conversation at my mother’s dinner table.”
“Your mother enjoys the Times Crossword?” He asks, grinning at you. “She would get along with my parents. They have two subscriptions just so they can each do their own.”
“I’m keeping that in mind for Dad’s birthday this year.” It’s a brilliant idea. They would love to make a competition of it. It would be the highlight of their week.
“My parents got it as a wedding present and they enjoyed it so much, they kept it.” He tells you, smiling fondly at the memory of the two of them arguing playfully over their crosswords.
“That’s incredibly sweet.” There is a crowd at the bakery, as to be expected, so you and Marcus step into line to wait your turn. “I love the idea of being able to share small things with your partner. They’re every bit as important as the grand gestures, if not more.”
“Sometimes the smaller gestures are the most meaningful.” He admits with a grin. “I love cherry Danishes, and so did my ex. We would find these combo boxes of assorted and she would get the cherry one.”
“Giving up your favorite Danish flavor is not small.” An attempt at lightening the already light and sweet conversation is maybe…just trying to keep your own mind off of things. But that somehow doesn’t keep you from admitting the truth before you can stop yourself. “I have yet to meet the man I would give up my lemon poppyseed muffin for.”
“That’s only because you’ve never traded for a raspberry crumble muffin.” Marcus vows, smirking at the way you look stingy, even though he knows for a fact you aren’t.
“You’re on, Pike.” The smirk on his lips spreads to yours as effortlessly as breathing. “But lemon poppyseed is pretty impossible to unseat.”
“I don’t think you’ve ever had a raspberry crumble then.” He huffs, looking offended at the idea. “But I don’t think this place has them. I get them from a little bakery near the Bureau. I’ll have to bring you one.”
“I’ll get you a lemon poppyseed from the coffeeshop I go to in Old Town.” Even as its coming out of your mouth you know it sounds like flirting, but the fact is that you just feel so naturally comfortable with him. There is nothing flirtatious about muffins, you tell yourself. Nothing at all. “We can compare notes.”
“That sounds like a plan to me.” Marcus is extremely happy that you would like to make plans with him, any plans. Even if it’s just a friendly wager. “I’ll get the raspberry crumble. I say we each get two. And if you like the other one so much, you have to give up both.”
“Deal.” You put your hand out to him, willing to make a friendly bet on almost anything. That’s gotten you and your brother in trouble before, but this is harmless.
Marcus grins as he takes your hand, imagining that lightning bolts are shooting up his hand. Winking, he laughs, “just don’t be disappointed when you break that little rule of yours for me.” He boasts.
“We’ll see.” The tone of the thing really tries for teasing, but you end up so taken aback by the electricity in shaking his hand that you fluster — which is only compounded when you end up next in line and completely forget the word for ‘sourdough’ in the process.
“I, uh, I want-“ you seem completely out of it, and the bored looking boy behind the counter seems to be getting annoyed with you. “Can we have just a second?” Marcus asks, pulling you back and allowing another couple to go ahead of the two of you. “I’ve completely forgotten what I wanted.” He takes the blame, not wanting to embarrass you.
“Bread?” You manage to supply, feeling like a world class idiot for clamming up on something so routine. If being around him is going to be this big of a problem, you need to get yourself in order.
“Yeah, bread.” He nods, wrinkling his nose slightly. “What’s that type that I like?”
At this point he could mean him or he could mean you, or he could even just be speaking in theoreticals, but you have you head in straight enough again to blow out a breath and remember yourself. “Sourdough. I forgot the damn word for sourdough.”
“Thats it.” He snaps his fingers and looks back at the boy. “Could we get some sourdough bread?”
“Sure.” The kid looks at the both of you like you’ve gone insane but turns around to bag a loaf of freshly baked bread without a second thought for his strange customers.
Marcus pays for the bread, even with you huffing beside him and guides you towards the clearing. “That wasn’t that bad.”
“Only because you saved me from sputtering like an idiot.” It’s beside the point that he is also the reason you were sputtering in the first place. That doesn’t matter. It’s the fact that you couldn’t keep it together that bothers you. “Thanks for that.”
“Not at all.” He waves off your thanks. “Everyone has those moments.” He promises, smiling at you.
There is such a moment of relief when you exhale again that you have to make light of it or else you’re in danger of feeling far more grateful than is probably necessary, and that makes your chest ache in a dull and insistent kind of way. “That’s either very sweet of you or a complete placation, but either way I appreciate it.”
“No placation, I promise.” He crosses his finger over his heart and smiles at you. “Anywhere else?”
“That was the last thing for me.” Even though you have plans to have dinner with him that night you still can’t help feeling a little disappointed that the impromptu shopping trip has come to an end. “Unless you needed something else?”
“Well…” Marcus looks around, not wanting to let you leave just yet. “Maybe I could find a plant to kill?” He asks. “Something to brighten up my place?”
"Bit of a black thumb?" The excuse to not say goodbye yet is welcome, and you end up smiling more broadly than you mean to. "Let's see what we can do about that."
“More that I forget to set up someone to water my plants when I go out of town and they die miserable, thirsty deaths while I’m away.” He flashes you a guilty grin. “I’m a murderer.”
“Very rude of you to do to your plants.” The wholesome, straight-faced nod that you cry for cracks on a giggle, though, and you nod in the direction of an entirely different florist stand than the one you were at before. “What you need is a succulent.”
“That sounds a little dirty.” Marcus admits, not even realizes how flirtatious that sounds.
It does. And you didn’t mean for it to. You were just talking about the type of plant he could get. But then there’s that grin on his face and it’s so fucking puckish and * handsome* that you practically groan about how unfair the whole damn thing is. “Whoops?” You offer, obviously not apologetic in the least.
He snorts and winks at you again. “I don’t mind. Sometimes being a little dirty is a good thing.” It’s borderline inappropriate, so Marcus doesn’t say anything else.
“Sometimes it’s the fun of an otherwise boring day.” But since you’re genuinely afraid you might say too much if you go ahead with this line of thought, and since Agent Bailey is steadily avoiding your eyes like an older sister trying not to bear witness to your trouble making, you clear your throat and change the subject. “I think I snake plant would work for you. They’re really easy to care for and great for beginners or busy people.”
Marcus takes your lead and nods seriously. “I’ll take some advice. Any advice.” He shrugs slightly. “I wish I had the time for pets, but I don’t and it’s wrong to do that to them.”
“If I could have a dog, I would have a little corgi or a Yorkie in a heartbeat.” It comes with an almost wistful sigh, but you feel the same way he does. It would be cruel to the animal you’re supposed to be taking care of. “But since I have no concept of work-life balance? I have plants.”
“I’ll start with plants.” Marcus huffs. “If I can keep one alive? Maybe I’ll move on to cats? They are low maintenance.”
“Cats are fantastic. Sydney and Anna Leigh always had a couple when we were growing up and they can’t be the sweetest animals in the world.” There is a florist that specializes in succulents and potted plants further into the market and you head that way, chatting as you go. “I just always said I would want my kids to grow up with a puppy.”
“Puppy, a swing set in the yard and dinner together.” Marcus adds wistfully, having his own version of that same dream. “Every kid needs a puppy pal.”
“That’s exactly what I said.” And the knot in your stomach tells you that that isn’t a coincidence — that the future you’ve dreamt about probably lines up with the one he wants in so many different ways.
“We had my dog for nearly twenty years.” Marcus tells you. “He was my best friend and the best soul I’ve ever met.”
“I got Alex instead of a dog,” you giggle, silliness tinging the edge of his sweet nostalgia. “My little brother.”
“Isn’t a younger brother the same thing?” He asks with a grin.
“Very much so. And Alex is as much Golden Retriever as he is human.” If he were here, he’d give you so much grief for that comparison, but you stand by it. “What kind of dog did you have?”
Marcus chuckles. “A golden retriever.” He tells you without skipping a beat. “I’ve got a picture of him, wanna see?”
“Absolutely!” They say you’re either a kid person or a dog person, but you’re definitely both. Anything cute and squishy is right up your alley.
Digging out his wallet, it might be a little old fashioned to carry a physical photo of the favorite family pet, but he likes looking at it sometimes. He’s holding his dog, Hansel, in the picture. The white around the dog’s snout indicative of the older age of the golden retriever. “Here he is. Hansel.”
“What an angel!” If you could jump right through the photo and squeeze his beautiful face you would — the only problem is that you don’t know if you mean young Marcus or the dog.
“Wasn’t he?” Marcus hums happily. “He slept in my room growing up. Hated me leaving for college, although I hated being apart from him too.”
"How could you possibly leave that face? Look at him!" Yeah, it's definitely the dog that you're talking about. At least right now.
“Yeah.” He smiles down at the photo, unable to resist brushing his thumb over the canine face with happy memories flooding through him. “He was the best.”
"So would you want another Golden Retriever?" Looking between him and the photo, you think you might be able to guess the answer yourself. "Or will no other Golden ever live up to him?"
“Probably not.” Marcus shrugs. “He was from a litter of puppies at the shelter. It was just a coincidence that he was a pure Golden.” He frowns slightly. “I would want to adopt. It’s the best way to give a loving home to an animal.”
"Adopting is the only way." On that, you can firmly agree. But you point to the florist stand up ahead and touch his arm gently in an unconscious moment of casual comfort. "First, let's get you a plant to adopt."
“Yes, I would prefer adopted over nursery grown.” Marcus jokes, trying to ignore how easy it is to be with you. You can just be a friend. It’s possible and it’s possible he’s lying to himself.
"Wild, orphaned plants wandering the lonely roads with all their belongings tied up in a little bandana on a stick," you tease, conjuring the image of a cartoon orphan as best you can. To the girl behind the counter, you turn your full attention and the best conspiratorial smile you can conjure. "We're looking for something he'll have trouble killing," you confide with a chuckle. "Something like a snake plant, maybe? Or if you have a better recommendation we're all ears."
“It’s best to start them out with a plant before having pets or kids, isn’t it?” She asks with a grin, eyeing Marcus in amusement. “But he seems like the trustworthy type to me.”
"A fine, upstanding citizen if ever I saw one." The smirk you offer her is playful, and you glance up at Marcus beside you. "Plus, I'll be keeping an eye on the situation. For the good of the adoptee, of course."
“Of course.” She nods seriously, even though there is a definitely shaking to her voice, like she’s holding back laughter. “Let me show you the best options for a recovering black thumb.”
It's several minutes of back and forth with the florist who parries your playful banter well, and you end up leaving her stand with not just a lovely potted snake plant for Marcus, but an identical one for your apartment as well. "I had to!" You coo, when Marcus laughs at the little plant that you're cradling like a newborn. "It's so precious! And they're twins! I couldn't just leave it abandoned."
“Well, we have to name them.” Marcus decides. “Twin names.” He grins at you, “what do you think?”
"Luke and Leia," you joke right away, because that will always be the first pair of twins you think of in any situation. "Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum? Oh, do the creepy girls from The Shining have names?"
Considering The Shining was his first foray into horror when he was younger, it was also one of his favorites. "No, they were just called Grady Daughters one and two." He tells you. "But..." He whips out his phone. "They are Lisa and Louise Burns, in real life."
“So are the plants Grady and Burns, or Lisa and Louise?” Either way they’re exceedingly silly choices, and you’re going for it.
“Either one works for me.” Marcus laughs. “It depends on if the plants are male or female.” He jokes.
“I think we probably get to pick,” you joke right back, making a show of rolling your eyes at him even though you’re laughing.
“Hmmmmm.” He pretends to take a closer look at his plant. “I’m going to surprise you.” He decides. “My plant is female.”
“Oh, that’s no surprise to me.” The smirk you shoot back at him is probably the lightest and most carefree you r felt in ages, and just for the moment you’re not going to second guess it. You’re just going to revel in the moment. “All my plants are female.”
He snickers with you and then tilts his head. “Lisa or Louise for you?” He asks, before he answers. “I bet you want the name Louise. You’ll pretend it’s for Thelma and Louise.”
“I—how—” Staring at him in utter confusion does not help matters one bit, but you still don’t have any clue as to how he could possibly have guessed that about you after only having met you two whole times. “So?” You ask after a second, realizing you’re laughing with the absurdity.
You have the most beautiful laughs Marcus has ever heard, and he loves that he caused it. There’s a flash of guilt that comes with the thought and he decides to reel it back into the scope of reality. You are becoming a friend, nothing more. “Who wouldn’t?” He asks, still chuckling. “They were the greatest female duo in modern cinema. In my opinion.”
“They line up against Idgie and Ruth from Fried Green Tomatoes.” You’ll stand by that pairing until the day you die, but the way warmth is spreading through your chest and your fingers ache dully from wanting to reach out for him is a special, damning sort of agony. “And I will die on that hill.”
“I had completely forgotten about Idgie and Ruth.” He admits, hanging his head in shame. “Forgive me.”
“Just this once.” There is still a teasing grin on your face when your phone goes off in your pocket. Sam’s name splashed across your caller ID and guilt crawls through your veins immediately. “I’m sorry,” you apologize, glancing up at Marcus. “Just give me one second.”
Marcus catches a glimpse of the name and it’s like he’s doused with cold water. “Of course.” He murmurs politely, turning towards a little book stand to give you some privacy, beating himself up for flirting with another man’s significant other.
“Hey honey.” The second you pick up the phone with a plant in your other arm and your groceries weighing on your shoulder, that is the second you feel most self-conscious.
“Hey,” Sam’s voice comes over the line and he has a straightforward attitude, jumping into the reason for his call. “I’ve had a dinner invite tonight, some potential donors.” He tells you. “Can you make it?”
“I—” It’s not like it’s an unusual request. If he has a work event tonight then the best possible person he can have at his side is you. The idea of having dinner with Marcus had been so uplifting, and now cancelling on him makes you feel awful. But this is your boyfriend. “Yeah. Yeah, I can make it. Where and when? Is there a dress code?”
Sam rattles off the address and dress code. “Thanks honey, I knew I could count on you.” He tells you before he murmurs to someone else. “Hey, I’ve got to go, I love you.” The line clicks off immediately.
“I love you too.” It’s said to the silence, and you look down at your phone for a moment before pocketing it again. Marcus has stepped away to give you privacy, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other before walking back over to him. “I’m really sorry,” you murmur, actually looking as apologetic as you feel. “Can we postpone dinner tonight?”
“Oh….yeah, of course.” He hates the way the feels rejected, but you have priorities, ones that aren’t him. “That’s no problem at all.” He nods quickly and looks around. “Well, we should probably get your things to your car, right?”
“I—I’m really sorry.” Repeating it just makes you feel worse. But both of you feel worse, unbeknownst to you, and you walk in the direction of your car with Agent Bailey her usual two steps behind. “Something came up.”
“Not a problem at all.” Marcus promises you, plastering on a smile as you turn to him at your car. “I understand. Believe me, I’ve had plenty of things come up.”
"It was really nice to run into you today." There is no word of a lie or even exaggeration in that, and you take your flowers from Marcus's arms carefully, loading it into the backseat with your other bags and Louise the snake plant.
“Yeah, it was nice seeing you. Marcus holds up his plant. “Thanks for the help.” He hums. “Hopefully I won’t kill Thelma.”
"If you do, try to make it as spectacular as possible." Offering him a half smile, you realize that you just wish you could give him a big hug, but that would be totally out of line. So instead all you can think to do is shift your weight awkwardly again before opening your car door. "I'll see you around, Marcus."
“See ya.” He nods and turns around to walk to his car. He doesn’t turn around, knowing that it would look weird if he did.
Once you’re in the car with Agent Bailey and focused on getting back home to put everything away and make a cup of coffee before you have to start getting ready for the night, you sigh softly and sit back in your seat. You can feel the curiosity of the Secret Service agent beside you and you wonder if you look as guilty as you. “That was a nice surprise.”
“Yes.” Agent Bailey hums. “Special Agent Pike was quite a surprise.”
“He’s nice,” you defend, very aware that you’re defending yourself and not him.
“He’s very nice.” She agrees. “And exactly who he says he is.” Of course a background check had been done on the agent, which she was glad of now that he had popped back up on radar. Not quite sure what to make of the interaction at the market, it’s also not her place to judge it.
"Well, that's a comfort." The drive back to Alexandria won't take long, but you twist your hands around the steering wheel a few times before pulling out into traffic. "Unfortunately, tonight will be the opposite," you tell her with a dramatic sigh that cushions the blow of having to attend an impromptu event. "Sam asked me to come to a dinner party tonight. Last minute invitation, I guess somebody had a seat they needed filled and asked him."
“I see.” Now she has to find out where you are going to be, who is on the guest least and it means overtime tonight. She doesn’t sigh, but she wants to, much preferring to go to small Indian restaurant over some political function. “I’m sure it will be a lovely evening.”
"I know you have to vet everything." The process seems exhausting, but you would never question the agent's ability to get her job done. "It's a private party at Arthur Connesby's house. The aerospace tech guy? Apparently it's a party for his wife, but everybody invited are Sam's constituents. I have a feeling they're going to spend the night trying to pitch their own interests to him, but if nothing else they might donate to his next campaign if they feel like they got to be friendly with him." It sounds like it will be a fairly boring night of overly rich old men feeling self-important, but Sam asked you to be there and that's why you're going.
“Noted.” The agent is immediately firing off a text to her support team, letting them know about the change of plans tonight.
"I know it's not what we had in mind." The night has gone from staying home and watching a movie and maybe playing cards, to dinner out, to an entire party. It's a lot of jumps in not much time. "And I appreciate you being flexible. Truly."
“It’s my job to protect you no matter what.” She reminds you softly. She enjoys you, has gotten to know you and thinks you are lovely, but you are Hummingbird to her. The First Daughter of the President of the United States and her assignment. She would guard you regardless of what you were doing because it’s her job.
"Right." You nod slightly, eyes cast back out on the road, and try not to slump even a little as you drive. It's not necessary to be everyone's best friend. You know that on a practical level. Right now your energy is better served focusing on the night ahead. "Well, I can still be grateful. So thank you. For...being professional. An very good at your job."
She knows that you are disappointed, but one of the cardinal rules of the secret service is to not be emotionally attached to your assignment. It would be too difficult to make life or death decisions. “Protecting you has been my pleasure.” She promises.
"I appreciate that." For better or for worse, the Secret Service will be a part of your life for the rest of your life. So if you can't be friends, at least you can appreciate each other. For now, though, you ought to focus. A party with your boyfriend's constituents is no place to have your mind wander.
The dinner party is exactly what you imagined it would be. Self important people, boasting about how important they are as they fawn over ‘more’ important people. Or the people who could give them access to the power they wished to have. Sam was in his element, smiling and shaking hands. Listening to ideas with a feigned interest that comes naturally to politicians.
He's charismatic enough to keep their attention but has enough of his own heart left that he does seem to care about issues being brought to him. Unfortunately for these folks, they're talking about a whole lot of things that just one man can't change on their behalf. So all he can really do is listen and express interest in whatever plight it is they have.
You have found yourself in the rather unfortunate position of being inundated by the significant others of these men, and when the party turns to mingling after dinner they somehow manage to whisk you away to the garden where you aren't sure if they're planning on trying to get you to dance with various people, or maybe join their country clubs, You really can't tell which.
“You must tell me, how is living in the White House?” One asks you, under the impression that you are still living with your mother.
“I understand it’s very comfortable.” It’s almost a relief that these women seem not to know a thing about you beside who your mother is. Your greatest fear about the whole thing was being hounded through every day of your life — so far that hasn’t been the case. But it’s been barely more than a month. There’s time. “However, I chose not to reside there.”
“Oh, what a shame.” She hums, wondering why you wouldn’t want to call the most famous house in America home. “I hear that it’s haunted.”
“That is what they say.” And according to your little sister, it’s absolutely true. But an upscale party of relatively stuffy guests like this doesn’t seem like the place to spout tales of your sister taking her homework to the Lincoln bedroom. “And it’s certainly very beautiful.”
“I would love to take a tour sometime.” She tells you, hoping that you might offer to set it up for her. An intimate tour would be amazing.
“I’m sure that can be arranged.” You aren’t the sort of person who would exchange favors, so the thought that this could mean a donation for Sam’s campaign in the near future. Instead, you just know it would be something nice. “I can have something put together for you if you like?”
“That would be lovely!” She exclaimed, sending you a warm smile. “You know, you and the congressman make a beautiful couple. Possibly even presidential one day.” It’s a fishing expedition, feeling you out for your thoughts on a possible run.
"Possibly." And two weeks ago, you might have beamed at that implication. At the idea of Sam moving through his career with such gusto and motivation that he makes it all the way to the White House. But seeing what your father contends with as First Gentleman, the idea of being First Lady sounds overwhelming to you. It's even less likely that you would end up in politics yourself. "Sam takes his work very seriously, and he has high hopes for the future of our country."
“And what about you?” She asks. “You made waves, positive ones in my opinion, during your mother’s campaign about your stance on soulmates.”
"I don't have any political ambitions for myself." Of that, you can absolutely assure her. "While I'm more than happy to support the people around me, I'm very happy with my own career."
“At least until Congressman Chase makes an honest woman out of you.” She hums. “Then it’s so hard to balance your own career while supporting the ambitions of your husband.” There’s a rueful chuckle on her part. “Believe me, I know.”
"I won't be giving up my career." This is always a topic of conversation amongst significant others, you've found, and a topic that your father has contended with on multiple occasions. As your mother's career grew, he became a stay-at-home-dad and raised three kids. Because it was something he wanted to do, not because it was forced on him. And that has always been the key to you. "I own a business. So it's essentially my first child already."
“Oh?” Her brows wing up in surprise. “My apologies. I must have misunderstood.” Her eyes slide past you. “Excuse me, I must go catch Mrs. Jackson before she leaves.” She cuts off the conversation and hustles away.
It's a bit on and definitely abrupt, but the conversation wasn't very enjoyable to begin with so you smile politely and just let it roll off your back. Whatever she 'misunderstood' doesn't really concern you. Some gossip article must have speculated on the next steps of your relationship with Sam and you try not to let that kind of nonsense get to you.
“Having fun?” Sam comes up to you, his hand slipping around your waist and he presses a kiss to your cheek. “You look amazing, especially since it was so last minute.”
"You always like this dress." The first time you wore it was the nominating party after the Democratic National Convention, and then again to a fundraiser in Chicago. That was the night you met Sam, and he had remarked even then that the dress was particularly beautiful. It seemed like the logical choice for tonight based on that alone. "It's a nice party." The food was predictable but tasty, and the drinks are flowing, just like the way you expected the night to go. "Do we think there will be birthday cake?" You ask conspiratorially, looking up at him beside you with a smirk. "Is that something people still do for fancy fiftieth birthdays?"
“Cake is universal.” Sam snorts and nods. “I have it on good authority the cake is a chocolate raspberry mascarpone cream cake.” He tells you, knowing it will be an idea you carry back to Sydney.
"I know exactly what Saturday's dessert special is going to be." Somehow your best friend will turn a classic cake into something elegant and thoughtful, and you know the entire restaurant will go nuts for it. They always do, when Sydney gets to show off. "Are you having a good night? I know you had high hopes for networking tonight."
“It’s going well.” He hums happily and beams at you. “How about you? Working the other side for me?” He teases playfully, aware you don’t usually like campaigning.
"Nothing that will get me in trouble with my Mom's staff." Not that he would ever ask you to do anything like that. Sam doesn't go in for most of the entitled bullshit that other politicians do. "One request for a White House tour that I'll put through the appropriate channels. Nothing too odd."
“Interesting.” Sam looks thoughtful. “Who asked for that?”
"Shelly D'Amario." The wife of District Attorney-turned-Superior Court Judge Raymond D'Amario was one of the few people you had recognized from press coverage of events supporting your mother's campaign. Her husband's politics were lined up with most moderate Democrats, and he tended to hand down verdicts with thoughtful conclusions at the end of each case. He's one of those people you wouldn't have minded at all sitting at this dinner party with, but unfortunately the Judge was not able to attend.
“Oh.” Sam nods. “I was at another dinner with her and the judge just the other night.” He tells you. “Picking his brain about Constitutional law.”
“She was very nice.” Though instinct takes over, and you chew on your bottom lip for a second before going on. “Did you guys talk…about me at all? About us, I mean? At your dinner?”
“Well, naturally you came up.” Sam admits with a slight frown, wondering if Shelly had somehow insulted you. “Not everyone is dating the daughter of the current sitting President. But I didn’t share any private details about you.” He promises. “Or your family.”
“I know you wouldn’t do that.” If he was the sort of person who went around sharing personal details with anyone and everyone, you wouldn’t have been able to trust him. Especially not under the condition you met in. Campaigns are cutthroat. “She just…said something that kind of confused me, that’s all.”
“What confused you?” He asks, trying to recall the exact details of the dinner with the judge and his wife.
Without wanting to imply that he might have said anything, you still glance around you to make sure that Agent Bailey is the only one close enough by to overhear you. “She seemed to be under the impression that I would be quitting my job if we ever have a family. And when I said that wasn’t the case, she said she must have ‘misunderstood’ something and walked away immediately.”
Understand dawns in his eyes and Sam shifts slightly. “Well, that’s not something we’ve talked about just yet.” He reminds you. “That’s a conversation we need to have.”
"Right." You couldn't agree more. "Which is why I was confused that she seemed to have heard an opinion about it somewhere before. But it was probably just some gossip article."
He hesitates and then decides to come clean, you don’t like liars. “I might have voice my hopes for our future.” He admits. “It’s not so unexpected, is it?” He asks. “I’ll be spending a lot of time at different events and I will want you by my side.”
"Sam..." There's disappointment in your voice that you don't bother to hide. Of course he's absolutely entitled to talk about hopes, as he puts it, but you can't believe that he would ever think you would give up the inn. "I own the place, honey. It's not like taking a smaller role in an office or shifting to part time somewhere."
“Yes, you own it.” Sam stresses. “But you can have someone else manage it.”
"But I don't want to have someone else manage it." It's really like you can't believe your ears. Sam has never voiced anything like this before within the dynamic of your relationship and he knows very well how proud you are of your work at the inn and how much it means to you.
By the set of your jaw and the frown on your face, Sam knows that he can’t argue the point right now. He shakes his head, smiling at you and taking your hand. “You’re right. I—I wasn’t thinking about how much you love your inn.” He admits softly. “Let’s just forget about it, hm?”
"O—okay." There he is again. Your understanding, supportive Sam smiling at you and taking the stress out of the situation. The man you started dating almost a year ago. Dependable. "Okay."
“Good.” He pats your hand gently and leans in to kiss you softly. “But I do still want to talk about moving in together.”
"After our date on Tuesday?" The Valentine's night you had settled on together is dinner at a small, family-owned restaurant in his hometown followed by a fundraiser screening of short films made by local high schoolers looking to update their school's resources with the proceeds. Community-oriented is the theme of the night.
“That sounds appropriate.” He agrees with a nod. “For now, let’s just enjoy the rest of the evening.” He looks towards your secret service agent. “Will you be allowed to come to my place tonight?”
"I think that can be arranged." The invitation means you'll be sleeping over at his place twice this week, which is definitely more than you've been able to do lately and maybe that's a good thing. Maybe you just need to refocus yourself. And stop thinking about Marcus, for fuck's sake. You slip your arm around Sam's waist and lean into his side. "I just have to let Bailey know. Her relief agent will have to be told to go to your place instead of mine."
"Of course." Even though it irritates him, he nods. Understanding that you cannot help it right now. After your mother's term, perhaps you will decline protection.
"I know it isn't perfect." He's bristled about lack of privacy before, and though you can't say that you really blame him? There's nothing you can do about it. Secret Service protect for the President's immediate family is mandatory. And hell, you have a Secret Service agent in your apartment every night. At least when you stay with Sam, your agent usually stays in the living room or their car like a stakeout. It's typically left up to them. But still, you do understand the objection. "I'm sorry. It is what it is."
"I know." He sighs softly, hating that the evening has been sidetracked from what he imagined. "I understand. I just don't like them be so close when we are alone." He admits.
"I know." The last five minutes have become increasingly uncomfortable, but you still stick close to Sam and continue smiling, aware that eyes at the party might be on you just like they are anytime you go anywhere outside of your little haven at the inn. "But better that, than someone breaking into your house."
He doesn't point out that he has a security system and his townhouse is in a gate community. There's no point and it would just further cause an discussion that is best left for the relative privacy of his bedroom - with a secret service agent parked outside in his living room. He sighs. "Shall we get more wine?" He asks, trying to change the subject.
"Sure." There are people starting to dance to the music being piped through outdoor speakers, but you're not really in a dancing mood. There's too much swirling around in your mind to be light on your feet. "Wine sounds like a good plan."
Sam leads you over to the bar, ever the gentleman and stands beside you to look at the drink selections. "They have a nice pinot grigio." He murmurs softly.
"Is that what you want too?" The bar is open, of course, but the catering company has allowed the bartender to put out a small and discreet tip jar for the reasonably large party tonight, and you have a few more bills in your purse that you're happy to add to the jar.
"I think I'm going to stick with the pinot noir." He tells you, holding up his almost empty glass.
You order both glasses without hesitation and tip the very pleasant bartender, handing Sam his glass after it's put on the bar top. Just something nice to get the night back on track. At least as far as the two of you go.
"So I think that we should drink our wine and then dance." Sam suggests. It would be a good visual and romantic as a bonus. He's not calculating, but he does understand that optics are important in politics. It's a good opportunity to romance you and look good for the discreet photographers that are roaming around.
"And at some point, eat cake." Trying to lighten the mood a little is really your go-to for diffusing tension in any situation, and the air around the two of you feels a little thick, so you offer him a big smile instead of getting serious again.
"Eating cake is always a good way to spend a night." Sam agrees, smiling back at you.
"Morning." You haul yourself into the restaurant's kitchen the next morning when you arrive bright and early for your eight-a.m. start time looking vaguely less drowsy than usual. The other member of your Secret Service detail — Agent Sisson — has music taste more in line with yours and you'd listened to Duran Duran on your way back to town this morning. That and a cup of strong coffee means that you're feeling okay but definitely in need of breakfast.
“Wellllllll,” Sydney’s grin is bright as she eyes you. “I see the walk of shame has taken on a festive air.” She teases, laughing as she moves over to pour you a cup of coffee. “I take it last night went well?”
“I have enough time to go upstairs and change before work,” you grumble, though you’re smiling and accept the cup of coffee gratefully. “Usual boring party, but I bring you home a new cake flavor combination to try, and it was nice to see Sam.”
She snorts. “Nice to see Sam.” She mimics. “It’s like you ran into him in the store.” She huffs at you. “This is your boyfriend. The man you love.”
“And that’s why it’s nice to see him more than just one measly night a week.” Given that you have a few minutes, you hop up on a stool at the counter beside her work station and groan in appreciation at the slice of sweet Italian brioche and carefully cut piece of frittata she plates up for you without hesitation. “Oh my god, thank you. All I’ve had so far is coffee. We overslept and both had to run out to get to work on time.”
“Overslept…” she rolls her eyes and rubs her stomach. “I wish I could remember what that was like.” She grumbles. “This one is giving me heartburn all the time and keeping my sleep short.”
“They just really want to make sure you remember they’re there,” you tease, picking up a forkful of frittata and not even caring what’s inside. Everything Syd makes it incredible. “Twenty-seven whole more weeks of this, Mama. Get excited!”
“I am, I promise. But the kid can let me sleep in a little, right?” She huffs playfully. “So how was the dinner? You came back from the market in a hurry so I didn’t get to talk to you. Did you forget about this or was it last minute?”
“It was last minute. He got a spontaneous invitation to a potential supporter’s wife’s birthday party.” Oh my god, spinach and artichoke frittata, so fucking good. “She got the gift of bragging rights that a Congressman and the First Daughter came to her party, and a very nice bottle of champagne.”
“Sounds like a ton of fun.” Sydney likes hobnobbing even less than you do, preferring to be on the service side of fancy events. “So you ate mildly bland catered food and drank way too much wine?”
“Exactly. Which is why this tastes even more incredible than usual.” You point at your plate even while scooping up another bite. “So did you and Juanito ever decide what you’re doing tomorrow? I know you scheduled yourself for the dinner rush, but you’ve got to do something.”
“My husband is amazing.” She promises, beaming in delight. “He actually got us reservations at St. Regis for the Valentine’s Day Afternoon Tea.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet! It’s so utterly romantic I could barf.” The momentary flash of jealousy is nothing, and you’re genuinely happy that they’ll be able to get out and do something. They work so incredibly hard and never complain for a second. “It’s perfect, Syd. I want a full report.”
“I’m excited.” She admits, biting her lip and fiddling with her practical silicone wedding band that she wears in the kitchen. “I’ve also been promised a very relaxing massage and a few orgasms.”
“All things which you deserve very much.” You raise your coffee cup in salute to her and grin.
“At the very least.” She huffs, her own grin one of pure happiness. “I am growing Badillo’s baby.” She reminds you, as if it isn’t common knowledge at this point. She’s so proud of being with her soulmate and she cock her head at you curiously. “Have you given any more thought to that tattoo?” She pries gently.
“Yes and no…” It’s much more yes than no, if you’re honest with yourself, but the fact is that it’s probably not good to think about it as much as you have. It’s like a never-ending loop in your mind and you absolutely can’t shake it. “I just don’t know what good it would do to bring it up. Or who I would even bring it up to.”
“You know who you should bring it up to.” She huffs.
“Who?” You challenge, feeling like you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place without doing so much as being awake this morning. “My boyfriend of almost a year who asked me to move in with him and wants to start planning our future? Or the guy I barely know who invited me to dinner yesterday when I ran into him at Eastern Market and looked so hurt when I had to ask him to reschedule that I still feel like I kicked the world’s cutest puppy?” Clearly it’s been on your mind, and Syd is really the one person you can talk to about any of it. But admitting that you’ve been thinking about Marcus feels like cheating and you have always despised cheaters deeply. Being cheated on will do that to a person.
“You ran into Marcus?” Her eyes widen with the new information and she immediately sets down her spoon and walks around the counter to hug you. “Oh honey, talk to me. What happened?” She asks softly. While she might be pushing you to at least ask if you might be soulmates, she doesn’t want you to be upset.
“It wasn’t a big deal…we ran into each other and we finished our shopping together.” It’s such a relief to have a space to talk about it, and yet you know you’re blowing it out of proportion in your head. It was just a coincidence that you ran into him. Not fate. “We were both talking about wanting Indian for dinner so he asked if I wanted to go to the restaurant with him. We were just going to hang out. Then Sam called.”
“And of course you said yes to Sam.” Sydney doesn’t exactly approve of the way Sam seems to think that you wait for his call and will drop everything to accommodate him, but she doesn’t say anything. “How did Marcus take the change of plans?”
“He said he understood and that it was fine.” Which is, technically, what happened. So when you shift your eyes away from hers, Sydney makes a noise and you cave. “He seemed disappointed,” you admit, throwing up your hands. “But I’m probably just projecting that.”
“Anyone would be disappointed to not spend time with you.” Sydney defends immediately, always the best cheerleader for you. “Maybe text him and reschedule?” She suggests. “Friends have dinner, it’s not cheating. You aren’t going out on a date.”
“I know it’s not cheating.” Syd knows better than anyone why you hate liars and cheaters. “I texted him on my way in this morning to reschedule, but I don’t…I don’t know if he’ll respond. He was probably just being polite asking in the first place.”
“I doubt that.” Sydney had seen the covert looks that each one of them had given the other when they weren’t looking during game night. Both of them were curious and she is interested to know about that hummingbird tattoo, it’s not common, despite what you might say.
“Then it’s because I’m best friends with his friend’s soulmate,” you reason instead.
“No, it’s because Juan said that Marcus was trying to be polite but that he was interested in you.” Sydney tells you.
You feel the blood drain from your face shamefully fast, and your eyes dart up to meet your best friend’s. “He said that?”
“Yes.” She isn’t going to lie to you, Juan had told her that. “But, he also said that Marcus respects relationships and he’s not the type of man to make a move on you if you’re in a relationship.” She knows how you feel about that kind of thing and she agrees with you.
“Well…I mean…that’s good? Isn’t it? That just means he’s respectful.” Still , you find yourself sitting on the idea that Marcus likes you and being halfway between mortified and grinning. It feels ultimately childish and yet like your chest is filling full of something very much like joy.
“According to Juan, Marcus Pike is the best man, the best person that he’s ever known.” Sydney acknowledges with a nod, deciding not to comment on your giddy expression. “Even though he was busy with training at the academy, he was always helping with housework or running errands to take care of things.” She shrugs. “His ex-wife was a med student. So I guess she’s a doctor now.”
“It’s just a coincidence.” This mantra of yours is going to get old quick, but you have a partner. A long term one, even. One that until a week or so ago, you had thought you had a future with. Now that resolve is waning and you don’t really know how you started to question yourself so easily.
Sensing that you’ve dug your heels in, she backs off, giving a small shrug. “I’m sure it is.” She hums. “So what are your Valentine’s Day plans with Sam?” She asks. “Did he plan something romantic?”
“We’re going to dinner and then a community fundraiser in his district.” It doesn’t sound romantic, you will admit that, but anything too luxurious you did can be perceived in a very wrong way by the general public if it gets out. A Congressman and the First Daughter going to a spa getaway or the symphony would be seen as being out of touch with the people. “He…wants to talk about the future.”
“And you don’t sound like it’s a conversation that you are eager to have.” She sits down, her own herbal tea in front of her and she frowns slightly.
“I’m…not sure, honestly.” Without hesitation and without filter, the explanation about your conversation with Judge D’Amario’s wife and what Sam said at dinner with them comes tumbling out of your mouth and you can’t help but cringe to yourself when you get it all out in the open air. “Am I overreacting? Please tell me I’m overreacting.”
Sydney winces and gives you a small shrug. “He has known from the beginning that you aren’t the type to want to be a typical politician’s spouse and give up your career.” She reminds you. “Remember that night out in Alexandria? Where we were bar hopping? I had a very frank conversation with him about that.”
“You did?” Your forehead scrunches as you take a sip of coffee. “Then why would he think I would be willing to have someone else manage the inn?”
“I don’t know if I can answer that.” She admits quietly. “But I think he gave them his true ideal. You quitting and being by his side for all his accomplishments.”
“It’s not that I’m not proud of him.” Some would argue that that is what it signals, but you and Sydney are not those types of people. “He’s doing such good work, and I do want to have kids and a house and all that domestic stuff. I just…I don’t want to give up working. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life standing behind a podium waving politely. I’m—I want to be me, not an extension of my partner.”
“I know that.” She reaches out and takes your hand. “But does Sam? Really? I think that he can convince you that it’s what you want.” She huffs. “I know he’s a good guy, but is he the right guy?”
“Not everybody finds perfect,” you remind her quietly, knowing that that is exactly what she has with Juan. Their version of perfect is about support, respect, and unending silliness, and you’ve always craved the same. But there aren’t many men in the world like Juan. Not many at all.
“That doesn’t mean you need to settle.” She tells you, squeezing your hand gently. “If you are happy, I’m happy. All I want is for you to be happy.”
“To be honest?” Closing your eyes for a second to swallow a sigh, the best you can do is shake your head. “I didn’t think I was settling. But now I can’t help but wonder…”
“Then you owe it to yourself, and to Sam, to make sure before you commit any further.” She suggests, knowing that you would feel horrible about divorcing later on.
“How?” It’s an honest question, since the situation is tangled up in guesses and implied maybes. “Break up with Sam because Marcus might be my soulmate? What happens if I’m wrong and I regret the whole thing? Sam would never take me back and I would deserve it.”
“Ask Marcus to show you the tattoo.” She hums. “That’s not cheating. It would be no different than seeing him in swimming trunks.”
“If he ever responds to me.” Which you sort of doubt. You sort of did just drop plans with him the second your boyfriend called. But you are the kind of person who makes your relationship a priority. You always have been.
“And if he doesn’t….” She shrugs. “You just deal with that.” She frowns. “But I would be upset if you had done the same to me.”
“I’m not saying he doesn’t have a right to be upset with me.” Marcus has a right to feel however he feels. He’s human, after all. “This whole thing is just so out of left field. Especially after spending all of last year talking about freedom of affection and being happy with a partner who isn’t your soulmate.”
“Except you had never potentially met your soulmate.” She pauses and shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter, if you don’t want to pursue it, don’t. Juan won’t say anything and I’ll just encourage him to hang out with Marcus on a guys night.”
“I don’t know,” you admit honestly, poking at the remains of your breakfast with a frown. “First let’s see if he speaks to me again. I gotta go change my clothes for work.” A heavy blanket of tension works on you that wasn’t there when you came home, and you drag yourself off the stool with a swallowed sigh. “Thanks for breakfast, honey.”
“I’m sorry.” She murmurs, wishing for a moment that Juan hadn’t run into Marcus. Hadn’t mentioned a tattoo that was throwing you into a spin. “I’m here whenever you need.”
“Thank you.” Coming around the counter, you wrap your arms around her tightly and inhale, trying to remember your yoga and let the stress roll off your shoulders and not carry it into the work day. “And I’m always here for you. No matter what.”
“I know.” She grins into your shoulder. “You’re my best friend, bitch.” She teases. “I will go to war for you, bury bodies and not even think twice.”
"No hesitation." You link your pinkies together, the same way you have since you were little kids. "I really have to go change now. But thanks for listening to me ramble and fret."
“Anytime.” She scoffs, waving away your thanks. “You’ve listened to me plenty.” Lately it’s been about being a good mother and not completely wrecking Baby Badillo, but she understands the need to just vent. You’re there for one another, both of you, through thick and thin.
______
Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer
HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers
My Masterlist!
#Pedro Pascal#Pedro Pascal character fanfiction#Pedro Pascal fanfic#Marcus Pike#Marcus Pike x you#Marcus Pike x reader#Marcus Pike x female reader#Marcus Pike x f!reader#The Mentalist#soulmate au#First Daughter reader#Juan Badillo#Graceland#Juan Badillo x f!OC#Juan Badillo x OC#love triangle
166 notes
·
View notes
Text
On Being a Published Writer: Without a Degree
This is a bit of a vulnerable share today, and I am writing it after a sleepless night, the monster of anxiety and shame weighing heavily on my chest. However, I have come far in life and undergone an incredible amount of healing, and refuse to be ashamed of my past. I hope sharing this can help even one person like me remember that when it comes to craft, when it comes to art, the only thing stopping you from being worthy is you.
This year, I became a published writer. After years of hard work and dedication to my craft, I finally felt good enough to begin submitting my work to literary magazines. I'm proud of that accomplishment. It's a little tag I get to add to my bio now as I submit work that helps make me feel *valid.* But that quickly, all it takes is for someone to remind me that I did not have access to a degree, that I did not learn from the best, and I will spend the rest of my life without a formal education behind my writing, and they achieve the goal they set out: to make me feel less than for not having their background.
In America, the education system is for profit and public school system inconsistent. There are many factors that can contribute to whether or not a person gets through it successfully, and it often has little to do with intelligence, work ethic, or strength of character and drive before the age of 18.
So here is my story:
I graduated high school with a 2.1 GPA.
My first hospitalization (out of the 17 I would have in my life) for edometriomas happened at age 15. I spent the majority of high school struggling with chronic pain, stage four endometriosis and the accompanying endometriomas cysts, and illness. By age 16, social services was threatened by my school to be called on my home for suspected neglect and abuse. I moved out of my house that year, and was given temporary guardianship by a friends family.
By the end of my senior year, I continued to bounce around between friends houses, sometimes sleeping in my car, and struggled to keep on top of my coursework. I was enrolled in the work study program designed for students who had to keep a job during their high school years, and earned school credits for staying employed.
Despite all of this, I still maintained high grades in Advance Placement literature and language, proceeded to get 5's on my AP tests (a perfect score, and a rare accomplishment) as well as near perfect scores on my ACT's. I spent every spare second reading and writing from the moment I learned how. My intelligence and comprehension were not the issue. My health and my home life were.
The only reason I got into college at all was because I decided to audition for a school play freshman year. Much to my surprise, I was cast in the lead role, and thus the course of my life was set. I poured everything I had into acting, I finally had a purpose and something to keep me out of having to go home after school. Still, applying for colleges was one of the most stressful and shame inducing experiences of my life. I got into many top performance programs in the country, then would not get into the university itself with my GPA. The conservatories that did not look into school performance did not provide the financial assistance required for me to attend.
There was one university that offered limited talent admissions that would allow the university admission requirements to be overlooked for students that had displayed exceptional talent in their specialized field of study. I had to put together a request for the school board, complete with letters from my high school teachers providing context for my low GPA paired with high test scores, character assessments on my likely ability to maintain the minimum required GPA in college, as well as a letter from the head of the performing arts department of the university stating that I was worthy of this talent exception. The wait was unbearable. But I was accepted. And I was approved for the work study program that allowed me to gain employment at the university to help offset the cost.
I felt like my whole life had changed in college. I had gotten in. I had gotten out. I was a new person, no one knowing about my past or the stain of my struggles. I had a fresh start. While I continued to battle my illness throughout college, it was manageable with a consistent bed to sleep in every night, as well as access to physical and mental health services. And although I tested out of being required to take any English classes with AP, I still filled my elective credits with writing classes. Screenwriting, playwriting, poetry, creative writing. Performing became my work, and writing became my joy. I took every class that sounded remotely interesting, often filling my schedule more than required on top of my work and performance load.
I am withholding some of the more personal details of my life, but when I finally moved out to LA, I hit the ground running. I accomplished more in a few years than fellow artists and performers who had been out there for more than a decade. And I valued every person I met. I was in small, independent theatre shows with Juliard grads. I was on professional sets with wildly naturally talented people working to get their GED with no formal education but that undeniable *it* factor. People from all walks of life set out for the Angel City to make it, and I was one of them. I also began writing again, this time short films and audition monologues. I began writing pieces for friends and classmates at their request. I secured my first talent agent with a performance piece that I wrote, along with an offer to renegotiate my contract to include literary representation should I complete a script worth shopping. I began to organize applications for writing fellowships at top studios, when my condition became so severe the only option to move forward with my life was surgery. And then my life completely changed again.
I came out of that surgery with nerve damage that left me unable to walk for six months, as well as developed a new permanent nervous system disorder.
My career and my life never recovered. I was permanently changed. However, during that time, I turned one of my sci-fi short films I had written into a 160k word novel, with outlines for a trilogy. While it was one of the darkest times of my life, writing got me through it. I moved out of Los Angeles to a more affordable city and threw myself into writing. I learned that ivy league schools like Stanford, Harvard, and Yale shared their syllabi for continued study coursework online, including the required textbooks for the courses. Example here. I took myself through the textbooks and coursework of top schools, I took every local workshop possible when it was in budget. Any education on craft that was within my means, I reached for.
I will never be able to change the course of my life. I will likely never be able to go back to school. However, this amazing video by Bandon Sanderson helped me overcome my shame, my lack of access to returning to higher education when my life and career were irrevocably changed: Be Anything But an English Major
I had already done what he had encouraged, pick a subject I was passionate about, fill my college coursework with things I found interesting, and let it inform my writing. While this is not to disrespect or degrade English majors or say successful authors think the degree is worthless, I am simply sharing to say this video helped ME combat against English majors who made me feel worthless for not having access to their diploma.
So to anyone feeling insecure today, you do not need a degree in the arts. Whether you want to be an author, an actor, a painter, a fashion designer, a poet. And I say this as someone whose greatest privilege and joy in life was getting a performing arts degree.
We must continue to prioritize art being accessible, value diverse backgrounds, and wish for it to be open and available to all. We must continue to treat art as subjective, and reject ideals that learning from a certain set of paid individuals makes all other opinions, choices, or ideas invalid.
There is no dollar amount I could give to a piece of paper that would make my mind, my intelligence, and my ability to organize and understand words in an impactful way that would make me more valid than I am today. There is no degree that could replace my work ethic, my empathy, my desire to write stories to do good. To give something to the world and help people survive in the ways that I had needed to survive.
Maybe I'll tell this story again one day, and it will help another young person with my background believe there may be more in life than the cards they were dealt. Maybe this will be the first and last time sharing these words. Maybe I'll never get another piece published, but will continue to write fanfic and poetry and prose pieces to share on the internet for free because I believe in my heart it is valuable. To look at myself, and my work, and deem myself worthy of my efforts and passion.
I am proud to be a member of the community of published writers without a degree.
I am even more proud to be a member of online fandoms full of writers, artists, creators, contributors and more who give their free time and energy towards something that does nothing more than make others happy.
So,
to the people who look at the stars and wish.
to the stars who listen— and the dreams that are answered,
this one is for you.
#elriel fic writers#fic writing#writers on tumblr#a03 fanfic#a03 writer#elriel fic#writing#aspiring writer
82 notes
·
View notes
Text
Thinking about chronically ill/immunocompromised infirmary Dew again.
Dew developing a chest infection and all of his pack members having to wear masks and gloves when they visit him in case they spread something to him.
Dew's crackly, chesty coughs racking through him. Sometimes he's glad Omega made him quit smoking, cause he'd be a lot worse if he was still smoking through this infection.
The pack wincing in sympathy with every cough, it's clear it's causing him a lot of discomfort.
Turning away from his pack and coughing up pink phlegm into a disposable basin while Aether rubs and pats his back to help dislodge some of it from Dew's lungs.
"You're alright, Dew... You can't help it..."
"Ffffuck... Hurts."
"I know, it isn't nice... I'm sorry..."
Dew drenched in sweat but still shivering, his skin pasty apart from his cheeks, which are a ruddy shade of red. His hair pulled up in a messy bun, in desperate need of a wash.
Aether helping set up Dew's nebuliser, sitting on the edge of the bed and stroking his cheekbone with his thumb while it works.
Dew falling asleep about half an hour into the visit. He doesn't mean to, he loves his pack and he wants to talk to them, but he's just exhausted. He's talking to Phantom at one moment about his new guitar setup, and then the next he's slumped over, having drifted off within seconds. They let him rest, of course, the only sounds in the room being Dew's crackly breaths and the quiet hiss of his nebuliser.
#ghost#ghost band#ghost bc#papa emeritus#headcanons#my works#dew#dewdrop#nameless ghoul#Sickfic#Ghost sickfic#Ghost band sickfic#Ghost bc sickfic#Chronically ill dew#Chronically ill ghouls#Infirmary dew
164 notes
·
View notes
Text
I made this other post about the Emperor and Ansur once, but I had more things I wanted to say and couldn't quite fit in without muddying my point.
This is perhaps a bit of a reach, but this is not the first time I've found a portrayal of turning into a monster that I relate to as a chronically ill / disabled person who became ill later in life. It has nothing to do with feeling monstrous (I don't feel monstrous) or even body horror, and everything to do with how disabled people are treated by society and even those closest to us.
Obviously disabled people don't go around eating brains. We are not dangerous any more than abled people are. But becoming a mindflayer (or whatever monster) is comparable in the sense that, it can happen suddenly, and then your whole life is different, your body is not what it used to be (maybe visually, maybe the way it works or doesn't work now), and you need certain accommodations in order to thrive or even just survive. But people treat you differently now, you're not really given any help, and truthfully a lot of people would rather you just be dead. You're abandoned by society to figure out your new life and all its difficulties on your own. If you're lucky, you have some people who care enough to help you. If you're not lucky, you do the best you can in your desperation.
And that's why it feels so messed up to me that Ansur just gave up on Balduran/Emperor once he couldn't cure him. He clearly believes this is still Balduran, as shown by how he speaks to him when you meet him. So in his mind, he wasn't even trying to kill some creature that just had Balduran's memories. He was trying to kill Balduran. Who forcibly underwent a change to his body and accepted it and decided he still wanted a chance at living.
Edit to add: I'm pretty sure the Emperor even says it wasn't easy at first, so he didn't immediately embrace being a mindflayer. He came to accept it with some time, and that feels even more significant to me.
Like I said, I know becoming a mindflayer is not exactly the same as becoming disabled because mindflayers are dangerous. But also like I said, in my other post, the game shows us there are options to living ethically as a mindflayer. It's just that no one even helped the Emperor try to find them. And even so, he did his best on his own by eating criminals (which there is proof of, in a transcript).
I don't even blame him for disguising himself to the player at first. Look at how society treats freed mindflayers. Look at how the Emperor's own best friend and lover treated him. It makes perfect sense to assume we would hurt him or refuse to help him too.
Some people are so quick to forgive the companions for all the messed up things they've done because they have trauma. The Emperor has been through shit too though. He wouldn't admit to having trauma, but he was kidnapped, had his body forcibly changed, had his mind enslaved, had his lover try to kill him, had to kill his lover in self-defense, and was enslaved a second time. Sounds pretty traumatic to me.
Anyway. It's probably random to end this by talking about books, but that's what I do (literally, I also have a book blog), so. The other stories I also related to in this way were Dead Collections by Isaac Fellman (vampires) and Bored Gay Werewolf by Tony Santorella (werewolves). Maybe look 'em up, if you like that sorta thing.
#bg3#bg3 spoilers#bg3 emperor#bg3 the emperor#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate 3 spoilers#baldurs gate 3 emperor#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate 3 spoilers#chronic illness#disability
72 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sneak Peek - Spoons In Spades
At a little distance he saw a fire, and beside it there sat three giants, busy with broth and beef. They were so huge that the spoons they used were as large as spades, and their forks as big as hay-forks: with these they lifted whole bucketfuls of broth and great joints of meat out of an enormous pot which was set on the ground between them.
- Niels and the Giants (The Crimson Fairy Book)
[img src]
-----
Intent: To give oneself additional “spoons.”
Ideal Timing: This charm can be made at any time.
Materials:
Spoons
Large Jar
Cotton Balls
Herbs: Hyssop, Rosemary, Thyme, Juniper Berries
When I asked my readers what sort of spells they'd like to see in this second volume of fairytale-inspired spells, one of the most strikingly popular responses was, "Is there a spell to give me more spoons?"
If you're not familiar with the term, "spoons" or spoon theory is a metaphor which describes the reduction in mental and physical energy experienced by people who are disabled or chronically ill, with spoons used as a unit of measurement to represent how energy and motivation must be rationed throughout the day to accomplish necessary tasks. Spoons are only replenished through rest or sleep, so once a person runs out of spoons, that's it for their day.
The term was coined by Christine Miserandino in her 2003 article "The Spoon Theory," in which she uses dinnerware to demonstrate to a friend how living with invisible chronic illness required careful daily planning and prioritization, and how even with the best intentions and efforts, tasks are often left undone due to a lack of energy or an increase in pain. The term has since been adopted by wide sections of the online community in relation to struggles with disability, chronic illness, or mental health, as a descriptor for daily energy and motivation levels, i.e. "I don't have the spoons for this," or "After a full day at work, I have exactly one spoon left, and I need it for laundry, so going out is off the table."
As someone who regularly battles ADHD, anxiety, executive dysfunction, migraines, and depression, I'm a big fan of spoon theory, largely because it makes those invisible daily struggles, which so many of us have, much easier to visualize and explain. So in honor of all my fellow spoonies, here is a spell to help you gain those critical extra spoons.
For this spell, you'll need a fair-sized jar, some healing herbs, and a bunch of spoons. You can use plastic spoons or metal ones, if you happen to have spare silverware lying around. Use as many or as few spoons as you feel you need. If you need more spoons than can readily be acquired, you might draw or print out pictures or spoons and use those instead.
Place the spoons in the jar with a big handful of cotton balls. Apart from their mundane medical and cosmetic uses, cotton has healing magical properties and also represents the comfort that may feel lacking on low energy or high pain days. If desired, add several pinches of Hyssop, Rosemary, Thyme, and Juniper Berries, or a sachet containing the herbs if you'd rather keep things neat.
Close the jar, give it a big hug, and say:
I bless this jar and spoons
And ask for the strength to function;
And when I need a helping hand,
These extra spoons I'll summon,
Set the jar aside somewhere safe. If desired, you might want to label it. You don't want anyone borrowing your magical spoons for their cereal, after all. When you need an extra boost to help you get through the day, simply open the jar and take out a spoon. You can carry the spoon with you, place it on your altar, or discard it to activate the charm.
Please keep in mind that performing this sort of magic should always be accompanied by appropriate medical and self-care measures. Magic isn't going to cure a chronic illness or permanently alter your brain chemistry. But it can help you cope with the symptoms and give you that all-important push to get yourself through the day. Stay strong, witches!
-from the forthcoming book, The Sisters Grimmoire, Vol. II; © 2021 Bree NicGarran
(If you'd like to check out more fairy-tale spells or any of my other published works, please visit the Willow Wings Witch Shop!)
#A gift for all my readers on my birthday - hope you enjoy!#witchcraft#witchblr#spells#spoonie witch#The Sisters Grimmoire II
633 notes
·
View notes
Text
Feel Better
Trafalgar Law x chronically ill Reader
(It's a little bit of a "squint your eyes to see the romance" deal)
Summary:
You’ve never missed a dose. No matter what medicine you were on, you took it at the exact dosage and the exact time needed. This truly is no small feat. You have been on a lot of different medicines in the many years since your diagnosis. Pills, injections, IV infusions.
It didn’t matter what it was: you never missed a dose.
Well… Never until now.
To think the only time you’ve ever missed a dose of your meds is because you got isekaied into One Piece.
It sounds like a bad joke. Who is going to ever believe you?
Note: One Piece belongs to Echiro Oda. Not I, a lowly fanfiction writer, who is just using his characters to cope.
Word Count: 3,249
CW: Chronic illness, medical jargon, descriptions of pain
Other tags: hurt/comfort, angst, second person perspective, probably out of character Law (ya girl hasn't caught up yet. I'm in Wano)
You’ve never missed a dose. No matter what medicine you were on, you took it at the exact dosage and the exact time needed. This truly is no small feat. You have been on a lot of different medicines in the many years since your diagnosis. Pills, injections, IV infusions.
It didn’t matter what it was: you never missed a dose.
Well… Never until now.
To think the only time you’ve ever missed a dose of your meds is because you got isekaied into One Piece.
It sounds like a bad joke. Who is going to ever believe you?
You wouldn’t if you weren’t in that exact situation. You'd laugh if it wasn't for the anxiety raging within you. Sat in your uncomfortable seat, your leg bounced uncontrollably. You ignore the calculated gaze of the man in front of you.
“Can you please explain what happened?” He was quick to the point. There was no nonsense with him. He wanted to talk about what happened.
And, to put it simply…
“I can’t.” You didn’t.
A large part of you was hoping desperately that maybe if you prove you’re more trouble than you’re worth he’ll drop it. Law’s eyes narrowed.
“Can’t? Or won’t?” To your disappointment, he wasn’t giving up that easily.
“Both actually.” You answered, defiance in your voice as you glared at him. “Can I go now?”
“Nope.” His steely eyes don’t leave yours as he sits forward in his chair. “Not until you tell me what happened.”
“There’s nothing to say.” You lied. He let out a tight sigh in response.
“You cannot think I’d believe that given what happened.”
“Nothing happened.” You insist as you stand from your chair. Pain immediately shoots through your stomach that you do your best to ignore. It didn’t matter though because Law definitely noticed the wince. “Anyways thanks for the talk captain! I’ll be seeing you!” You move to push past him but you're stopped when he sticks his arm in your way.
“Sit down.” Law didn’t even move from his seat but effortlessly pushed you back in yours. “Where are you hurting?”
“Umm… Nowhere.” You were pushing his buttons, you knew you were. But you'd rather make the Surgeon of Death mad at you than discuss what he wanted to. Law sighed as he shook his head.
“You’re being stubborn,” You lowered your gaze to the ground. You can’t look at him. “Why can’t you just talk about it?”
Why? Why can't you talk about it? Because you were not in this situation. You couldn’t be! You were not about to talk about your chronic illness with Trafagalar Law of all people.
Because why would you tell him about it? You were in remission, you were fine. Whatever happened that got him so worked up was just… A fluke.
It had to be.
“Has this been an ongoing problem?" He speaks up again as he shifts forward. "Why haven’t you said anything about it?”
“In my defense,” You sat back in your chair and sighed. Your arms circle around your torso. You were looking everywhere but to him. “I didn’t think I’d be here for this long.”
“Defense noted,” He states. "But you are here. You have been." Given how uncooperative you’ve been, you expected him to start getting angry by now. And yet, when you braved a look at him, you saw his gaze was much softer than you were expecting. “I suggest you explain. You happen to be with the best doctor around. I can help.”
You scoff. Gaze darted back to the floor. That wasn’t the first time you’ve heard that.
In fact, you heard those words the day you got teleported here. You had switched health insurance and had to change gastroenterologist. That day you had your first appointment with him.
“I’m the best around.” He had reassured you. But when you started giving your medical history he cut you off. Just to tell you a bunch of basic information you already knew.
"Your condition is an autoimmune chronic disease. There is no cure."
As if you hadn't spent the last 10 years grappling with that fact.
And then when you got home you passed out and ended up in the Grand Line.
At first you thought the scariest part of showing up here was the fact you had no idea where ‘here’ was story wise. Back at home, you were reading One Piece. You had just read about the Strawhats getting an SOS call that told them about a place called Punk Hazard. But you couldn’t get farther in the manga. You were waiting for the next volume to arrive to your apartment. The ironic thing is it probably arrived by now.
But you were wrong to fear the characters and story. The actual scariest thing about being here was what you were dealing with right now.
“Hey,” Law’s soft calling brought you back to reality. A reality you wanted nothing to do with.
“I don’t want to talk about it, ok?” Your voice was smaller than you wanted it to be. He sighs and there’s some note of understanding in it.
“Have you ever thought that maybe talking about it will make you feel better?”
“It won’t.” You say with certainty. Then knowing he was going to have more questions you didn't want to answer you add “Talking about it reminds me it’s there.”
“Oh really?” His voice is still soft but there’s some exasperation behind it. “And the debilitating abdominal pain you were in not 30 minutes ago doesn’t?” Well… Shit. He had a point.
"I didn't say it was abdominal pain." You countered. It was the wrong thing to focus on. But it was something
"You didn't have to. I could tell." His lips quirk up in a victorious smirk. "Doctor. Remember?" You roll your eyes and return your attention to the floor.
"I'm not saying a word." The smirk he had on must have been wiped off by now but you didn't check. You saw in your peripheral as he dragged his hand down his face.
"Come on! You were practically paralyzed." You winced, this time not in pain. But because of the truth his words held. "You wouldn’t move, wouldn’t talk. Your face got deathly pale and patchy. You keep pretending that’s nothing but that… That was not nothing.”
Why do you even care? You bite back the question as your leg continues to bounce. It didn't matter why he cared. What mattered was he was right.
That's when the it hit you...
Paralyzing pain… Mouth sores that’ll make eating impossible. Fatigue that makes me wish I wasn’t awake. Your arms started to tremble, your leg bouncing more and more without your knowing. Vomiting up my meals, the malnutrition. the depression... I can’t escape it.. More and more thoughts flood your head, capturing all your attention. You don't notice Law look at you in concern, opening his mouth to say your name.
You shoot out of your seat, knocking it to the floor.
“I need to go.” You rush to the door. I need to leave this room, this world, I need to go, I need to go back!
Home....
You don't think as your legs move on their own. They're rushing you out of the room. But before you can even get to the door, Law is there. He has a hand on it, preventing you from leaving.
“Hey-” He tried to reason with you but you weren’t having it.
“No, please just stop.” You were shaking at this point. Pain was creeping back into your guts, expanding them, filling you with dread. You can feel your face grow paler, accompanied by patches of hot skin. “I-I need to leave.”
“No.” Law’s gaze hardened as did his voice. His eyes scan your appearance, studying you. You hate it.
"Stop looking at me!"
“You need to tell me what’s wrong with you!”
“What’s wrong is that fact that it took me 3 years to finally get a handle on my last flare up!" Panicked words were bubbling up faster than you could suppress them. "And now all that work was for nothing because I’m relapsing!” Tears were streaming down your face. The pain was unbearable and you squeeze your eyes shut. Your shaky legs were barely holding you up even though you wanted nothing more than to collapse.
You were so happy and so healthy for the first time in so long. This couldn’t end. This couldn’t be the end!
“Let me help you.” Law insisted. His hands brush against your elbows and you snap backwards. Your knuckles were white from how hard you onto your arms. You looked like you were holding yourself up.
“You can’t-”
“How do you know that?” He demanded. He had been doing a remarkable job holding back his emotions but they were starting to spill out too. “You won’t even let me try?!”
“You think you're the first person who wanted to try and fix me?!” The tears in your eyes made if hard to see him. “I got worse with my last doctor! And talking about all of this just reminds me of all the hell that is awaiting me because I've skipped too many doses!” Your body wracks hysterically. You lean again the wall to help you stand as pain ravages your guts. You don’t notice how Law is in front of you again until he gently grabs your hands. He lets them tremble in his.
You can't find it in yourself to stop. “For 3 years nothing worked and now I have something that works and it is about to be ruined because I’m missing too many doses because I’m in One Piece. The best thing I can do for myself is go home! I hav- I have to…” Finally, after holding all it in for so long, you break down into incoherent sobs. Law lowers your head onto his shoulder as you sob uncontrollably. He doesn't say anything. He just holds you against him, supporting you with everything he's got.
You hunch inwards, crying even harder as your insides twist in agony.
You know from much too much experience that once it starts, you can't do anything to make them better. You just had to wait the pain out.
Pathetic cries come from you as you think I can't believe I'm relapsing.
….
It takes so long for you to calm down. The pain subsided after a while but you were still crying when it did.
It didn’t matter to Law. He was patient. Neither of you move from your spots. It's only when you let out an almost relieved sigh that he moves to lift your head up. A gentle grasp on your chin has you tilting your head up for him. And a careful look told you he was studying your features again, looking for signs you were in pain. When he didn’t find any he exhaled a sigh.
You half expect him to spit some sort of sarcastic remark about how dramatic you’re being. But instead he asks: “Can we sit back down?”
You nod weakly and let him guide you back to the chairs. When you sit down you don’t look at him.
But you know he’s looking at you. But he doesn't say anything. Maybe he didn't know what to say. You wouldn't blame him.
It was quiet for a long time. Just the sound of your hiccups and sniffles.
Until finally…
“I had a terminal illness when I was a kid.” He broke the silence. He caught your attention with that. Your eyes slid over to him, eyebrows knitted together in worry. “It didn’t really get bad until I was a teenager. But by the time I was 10 I knew I was going to die. And when the symptoms finally showed I just knew that my life was over.” His gaze was heavy and his usually sardonic smile held so much sadness in it. “I can still remember the pain. I felt like my body would give out at any moment. Everything hurt.” As he spoke his hand drifted to his chest.
He continued. “I had come to terms with my death. But... There was someone who didn’t. And that someone saved my life.” When he looks back at you his eyes brighten a little. He brings his hand to the back of your neck and pulls you forward until your forehead rests on his. “I’m not giving up on you. I know you’ve felt it too, that your life is over before it could begin. It’s not. I promise you.”
You didn’t know what to say.
“How.. How are you alive?” You couldn't help but ask. If his disease is terminal... He gives you a smirk.
“I’m not lying when I tell you I’m a really good doctor.” You’re taken aback. “Is your illness terminal?” He asks and you feel his thumb draw circles on your neck. It's so calming you almost forget to answer his question.
“No, I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of anyone dying because of it.” You speak truthfully. “But it could ruin my intestines and cause them to stop working…And...” The tears start to return. Oh god…
“It’s alright,” He whispers. “That’s not going to happen.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m going to help you. I thought that was obvious.” He laughs lightly.
"Oh... Right." For the first time since he first sat you down, you smile.
“Do we…” You sniffed as another question popped up in your head. “Do we even have the same medical knowledge? O-or vocabulary?” Law tilted his head against yours.
“What do you mean?”
“Well... Do you remember when I said I was from a whole 'nother dimension?”
A scoff escapes from his lips. “How can I forget?”
“Yea so… Doesn’t that mean we have different knowledge?” You leaned back out of his reach, raising your arms. “Our worlds have such different histories. That means we have different medical history right? What if I tell you and you don’t even understand?”
“We’ll never know if you don’t tell me anything.” He gave a small smirk that was borderline infuriating. But you couldn't find it in yourself to be mad. You let out an exhausted sigh but nod.
“...Ok. I’ll talk.” Law gives a genuine smile and gets up to grab his notepad. When he sits down again you have his full attention.
Here we go.
It takes some time to explain your situation. You explain the name, the symptoms. You watch helplessly as Law writes down what you’re saying.
“Are these episodes you’ve been having today normal?”
“Only when I’m flaring up. That’s the abdominal pain. It feels like something is expanding in my guts, past their limits.”
“How do you treat your condition?”
“With medicine.” Medicine that I am more than certain doesn’t exist here. “Every 14 days I take 80 mg over 0.8 ml of Humira or Adalimumab. It’s an injection that goes either into your thighs or your stomach.” As you recite the information you're painfully aware of how it had been since your last Humira shot. Law picks up on this but doesn’t state the obvious that you’ve been on his ship for over 4 weeks. Your leg starts bouncing again.
Law doesn't look up from his writing but says calmly "You have nothing to fear."
Your leg bounces less after hearing that. And a smile grows on his face.
When Law finishes writing you have to ask: “Did you understand anything that I said?”
“Pretty much. I mean your disease is called something else over here. But there is documentation about these symptoms in our world.” He smirked as he glances to you. “And you thought I wouldn't be able to be help.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.
“Wait.." You pause, taking in his words. "You think you can actually help?” Law scoffs.
“I’m pretty offended you thought I couldn’t. Do you really think so little of me?” You shrugged.
“I’ve gone through many doctors, captain. You aren’t the first person to act like you could be my savior.” He rolled his eyes and studied his notes again.
“You mentioned not having control over your illness for 3 years. Was that when you were diagnosed?”
For some reason that question startles you. “No, that was just when it last flared up. I've been diganosed since I was a teenager.” Law looked like his heart dropped as he looked back at you.
“How old were you?
“13.” You try to answer as if this wasn’t the most tragic part of your story. You were just barely a teenager and your whole life got turned upside down in the span of a day.
You could remember lying in that hospital bed. Your doctor spoke to your parents, using terms he didn’t bother to define for you.
"Their condition is an autoimmune chronic disease. There is no cure."
It took you a few years to truly understood what that meant.
“... I was 13 when I got rid of my illness.” Law softly spoke up. Your eyes found his.
“Really?”
“Yea.” He sighed heavily. “It’s insane to think that while I was curing myself of my condition, you were just getting yours.” There’s a distant look in his eyes. “But also… How you talk about this speaks to years of experience. I’ve never had a patient tell me their treatment plan in as much detail as you can.” You give a humorless laugh.
“What a useless skill I have.”
“Clearly not useless.” Law scoffs lightly. "And this disease. It's a problem with your immune system?"
"Yea. It gets confused and attacks healthy cells, mistaking them for unhealthy ones. I don't know the exact science of it."
“That's fine." He reassures you. "It sounds like you just need an immune system rewrite.” You lift your head up and look at him in confusion.
“What? To treat it I just need to block some of its functions so it doesn’t go out of control and attack everything.” You ignore the obvious that you don't know how that would work as you look at Law.
“I’m not talking about treatment.” He stands up and pats your head. “I’m talking about curing you.” The words pass through your ears and make you dizzy.
Cure… Me? I can be cured?
Law starts to walk away, going to a desk and rummaging through it as you process those words.
"...Why?" You speak up as you gaze in his direction. He turns to look at you.
"Why what?"
"Why are you helping me? Is there a catch or something?" He looks a little perplexed, like he didn't know the answer himself. But in the end he just shrugs.
"It's nice having you on my crew. You can offer insight that no one else can, being from another universe and all."
It felt like there was more to it than that. But you don't push it.
“And you can do it? Just completely rewrite my immune system?” Law just smirked and lifted his eyebrows in a cocky manner.
“You say our world is what… A series of comic books in your world?”
“I mean that’s putting it mildly but yea.”
“How far did you get in those comics?”
“Uh… Punk Hazard?”
Law laughs lightly and looks at you. “You definitely don’t understand what I can do.”
Author's Note:
My partner is convinced Law could fix me. So I wrote a roughly 3,249 word one shot about that fantasy.
What a nice fantasy that is.
Originally wrote this for ao3 but thought it might do well here.
Hope you enjoyed this wildly out of character fic. It's my copium :]
58 notes
·
View notes
Note
So like i'm chronically ill and i suffer a lot from pain and fatigue and it can get really disheartening and demotivating at times.
How do you think Anakin would act with a chronically ill partner?
I’m not too well versed on any chronic illnesses other than POTS (family member has it)
But thinking of her/her symptoms/issues here’s what I came up with:
You wake up stiff and and your joints just don’t seem to work properly? Anakin will be late to work just so he can get your heating pad, your coffee and breakfast, along with some snacks for later. He’ll be so sweet and give extra cuddles before he puts on some bio-freeze for you (he hates the smell but he loves you so it’s worth it)
You’ve had a great day, a productive day, so good that you made plans… and now you have to cancel them. He understands, he likes being home and cozy on the couch with you better than being out in public anyway. He’s secretly happy that he gets to skip out on drinks at the bar with your friends, that means he has you all to himself.
You promised you’d fold the laundry and do the dishes before he got home from work, but you only got halfway through before you had to take a break… that small break turned into four hours. Anakin doesn’t mind, he’s just happy you are taking care of yourself and letting yourself rest when you need to. He hates it when you push yourself too hard and you end up worse off.
He takes you to all of your doctors appointments, he takes off work the full day if he can. He knows appointments are stressful for you (they stress him out too). Anakin will make a full day out of it. Coffee and donuts for breakfast, lunch at your favorite place after. If it’s a long distance appointment he packs you a bag for the car ride full of: snacks, water (no soda or juice bc he has to force feed you water; he knows you don’t drink enough when he’s not home!!!), a book, your headphones, chargers, fidget toys, and most importantly Hot Hands bc you can’t have your heated blanket in the truck😕
Your pain is 10/10 and you can’t even pick up the phone to call him like you do every day on his lunch break. He’s immediately on his way home, if he’s not there already. Anakin has anxiety through the roof when you don’t respond to texts so you miss three? He’s coming home asap. You don’t answer a call? You best believe he’s leaving work without a second thought, he’s not wasting a moment to even tell his superiors he’s leaving.
He manages all your meds for you.
He makes all your appointments and keeps them neatly on the fridge calendar.
He surprises you with little treats as much as possible.
Anakin’s a homebody, he enjoys the comforts of your shared space, so even your hospital stays are treated like nights at home. He brings all your favorite things, doesn’t matter if it’s a one night stay. He’s bringing your pillow, your blanket, stuffies…
He knows more about your illness than the doctors at this point. He’s basically a specialist. Countless hours of research and learning not only to understand it better, but also to help you cope.
He keeps a record of all your appointments in a binder to track your medical progresses/declines.
He helps you get a service dog, he’s so good at redirecting/educating people in public when they get too close or try to pet them.
#star wars anakin#anakin skywalker#anakin smut#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin x reader#star wars#anakin x you#sw anakin#darth vader#darth vader smut#hayden christensen#chronic illness#chronic pain
75 notes
·
View notes
Note
Seve or Eddie x reader with chronic pain who is tired often in response to symptoms of their illness please
sorry if this is not what you wanted, i have little knowledge on chronic pain, but i tried! i picked eddie cause it's been a little while since i last wrote for him ( ˘ ³˘)♥
—
"Is it bad again?" he asks, looking up from his guitar with worry.
Eddie hasn't been your boyfriend for long — about a month now, he thinks, the best month of his entire life. And he's not unaware of your illness. In fact, he's so painfully aware of it that he can pretty much always tell when you're experiencing any symptoms, and it kills him not to be able to do anything to really help.
Your head feels heavy with exhaustion. "No," you mumble unconvincingly from your spot in his bed, all curled up. "It's okay- I'm okay."
It barely takes Eddie five seconds to put his guitar away and approach you. "You look tired."
God, he hated it. He would happily exchange places with you and feel all the pain in your stead if he could.
"Gee, thanks," a pathetic attempt to lighten the mood.
It doesn't work. Eddie frowns with concern he can't hide.
"No, baby, you know what I mean," he says softly, laying down behind you carefully. He doesn't touch you yet. He doesn't know if you want him to, so he waits.
It takes all of two seconds. "Can you hold me, please?" you ask, turning around to face him.
As if he could say no to you even if his life depended on it.
"Of course."
His chest is warm when you rest your head against it, and the beating of his heart is oddly calming in your ear. He moves a gentle hand through your hair and you feel like you could peacefully doze off any moment now.
But you fight it. You feel bad for ruining date night because of your stupid symptoms — even if Eddie has told you a million times it's okay and he's happy to just be in your presence.
He's too good of a boyfriend. So good, in fact, that you can't help but feel like you're not being fair to him.
"Close your eyes, lovebug," he says fondly. Convincing you is not always easy, and Eddie will use every weapon in the arsenal — pet names included.
Now he's apparently a mind reader, too.
You hide your face in the curve of his neck, breathing in his cologne. "I'm sorry."
Eddie grabs one of your hands and brings it to his lips absentmindedly. "For what?"
"I feel like I came over just to sleep on you."
He chuckles and the sound is full of affection, fondness and love. "You're welcome to come sleep on me any time you want, sweetheart."
#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fluff#eddie x reader#eddie stranger things
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
idk if you've seen that post, it's from years ago at this point, where someone is surprised to hear that Bucky has a disability. i think it's in an ask with a response like HE'S MISSING AN ARM. remembering that left me thinking,,, what are your thoughts on Bucky's own comprehension of his disability? like, i'm sure he experiences chronic pain, and he's aware of his disability *especially once he has a metal arm that can be detatched as we see in tfatws* but i also feel like he might feel guilty taking the title of disabled because he has the serum and is "super" plus he doesn't feel like he deserves the support/help that can and should be given to disabled people when they need it. ALSO he hasn't had all that much time to process as a human rather than a controlled weapon that he is missing an arm. his prosthetic has been welded into him,, with probably less sensation,, but it functions like an arm,, idk i just feel like it probably hits him out of the blue, too 🥲
Oooh thanks for the interesting ask nonnie! And yes I do remember that hilarious post.
Here's my usual disclaimer that this is just throwing out ideas and that canon lends itself to many different interpretations.
I think the first thing to consider is Bucky's relationship with disability as a concept. He was good friends with Steve, a chronically ill person, but sometimes people have a different bias when it comes to invisible illness versus visible body difference. I have seen people, including disabled people, who are more accepting of one type than the other. He had grown up during a time when disability was considered a "defect" and there was talk of eliminating them from the gene pool, so there might be some inherent fear of being seen as "disabled". At the same time, he had also fought through one of the bloodiest wars of human history but also post the antibiotic era, which means a lot of major injuries became survivable compared to WW1. He likely saw many people around him become physically marked in one way or another. I have a feeling that that experience would have reconciled him with the fact that the value of life is greater than physical wholeness. So overall, I think Bucky probably had a fairly accepting view on disability and illness back when he was able-bodied, and while he needs time to process the loss, that acceptance is probably somewhat protective against self-hatred.
The second thing is the curious subject of Bucky's bionic arm. I have met (lower limb) amputees who reject the "disabled" label, because to them once they put on a prosthesis they could walk and run and work and exercise. I think worrying about being "deserving" might be a small part of it, there's a bigger part of worrying about social perceptions of disability -- they didn't want the "handicap" label to be used to hold them back. I suspect you are right, in that Bucky probably sees himself as very capable, even super-humanly so, with the (very high-tech) prosthesis. He most likely feels that being a soldier is a big part of his identity and sense of worth. I suspect also...going back to what Bucky's relationship with the word "disability" means, his interpretation of that (given he came from the 1940s) might mean something that has a profound impact on function, and he may feel that he doesn't fit that mark.
The third thing is Bucky's relationship with body image, which has varied from movie to movie. The Winter Soldier had no qualms flaunting that arm, but then the Winter Soldier had no mind of its own, and its handlers knew the metal arm was intimidating. In both Civil War and TFATWS, we see Bucky wear gloves and long sleeves to hide his arm, which he removes when he starts a mission. It could be that he doesn't want to scare people or draw attention to it day to day, or it could be that he associates the arm with the soldier part of himself and he doesn't want to see it when he's trying to return to a normal life. Interestingly, in Wakanda, Bucky had been quite content to walk around without any sort of prosthesis at all. This might suggest that he's less bothered by the missing arm than he is by the need to wear a weaponised prosthesis.
But you know, people are fickle creatures, and I am sure when he's hit by PTSD or a bout of anxiety or depression, his views on body image and his physical limitations would take a very nasty turn and he would have to work through all the stages of grief again.
123 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm definitely not the first person to point it out, but look at this:
Guess what Ego replied?
*in Peter Nguyen's voice* EXACTLY!
LMFAO BL SUPREME LEADER
This isn't what surprised me though. Considering the speech he gave in that JFU building, he is definitely a person with a high IQ. But what surprised me was..
...the way he spoke about it with so much clarity. I mean, details are too much specific to NOT be something he DIDN'T experience/see first-hand.
Which makes me think of two theories.
ONE:
Ego himself went through something like this. To be a rival of someone like Noel Noa, he definitely had to be some kind of genius himself. Further, they both are of different nationalities, so either Ego went abroad or Noa came into Japan; the chances of the latter being true is VERY slim.
Edit: I just realised that Ego was his TEAMMATE too, so I think that Ego definitely was out of Japan.
SECOND:
Someone close to Ego went through something like this. It could be that Ego had a partner or something like Snuffy and his best friend, and just like that, Ego lost someone dear to him which changed him completely to the man he is right now.
HOWEVER.
Both of these theories are way too.. simple/generic/predictable. I mean, look at the backstories of other characters: Yukimiya, Kuon, Naruhaya, Chigiri, etc. Do you really think that Kaneshiro-san and Nomura-san will give us something so basic after keeping this man a mystery for so long? Like, what did we think about Ness? Yes, that he had some kind of attachment issues, but what did we get?
HELL YEAH!
Perfectly written God's work which wasn't overcomplicated, but greatly satisfied the readers (at least, it did to me). Imagine we would've gotten a cliché background where Ness got abandoned by a soccer partner or something, then Kaiser picked him up— I would've been disappointed.
*Again in Peter Nguyen's voice* EXACTLY!
So, Ego definitely got to have something with more depth.
But, look at this:
This caught me off guard for some reason. I mean, "..I'm gambling my future on," isn't a bit too intense? Does he have like some chronic illness or something? I hope not though.
On a side note, whatever Ego said could also be applied on Sae, but again, considering everyone's backstories till now, I do think that two of the most anticipated characters will have a lore that goes deeper and is more complex.
.
.
.
Look at him though.
Just look how he is sitting. He'll never beat the babygirl allegations from me.
83 notes
·
View notes
Text
masterlist
***this masterlist took forever because I had to scroll through SIX YEARS worth of work. this is the most updated masterlist on my page so use this one if you need navigation :) ***
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Who I write for:
-BTS💣
-NCT🟢 (mainly anyone that was apart of NCT 2018, but if you want WayV, I can do that!)
-Seventeen💎
-EXO❌⭕️
-Monsta X 🫡 (but I'm emotionally scarred from Wonho so idk...)
& sometimes SHINee
UPDATE 02/28/2024: girlies i have nothing to say about ATEEZ anymore, it's just not gonna happen so I took them out of the ML😥sorry. BUT, I will now be adding *some* second gen groups because the fics are LACKING. I already said in the past I would write for SHINee and I stand by that! I just don't have much to write for them atm. Does anyone want a BF!Minho? idk...Who wants SUJU? Well, it doesn't matter cuz I do😁 I will also add Jaejoong from TVXQ/JYJ, not the whole group for TVXQ cuz I'm really only familiar with him and Junsu. I will also start up again with EXO so keep a look out if you like those fics. Anyways, this was just a PSA I wanted to make.
🔍navigation help + notes🔎
-If a group is crossed out it means I no longer write for them
-Please don't be afraid to request something. idc if it's anon or not. if you want something written, just send in a request :) it will encourage me to get to whatever group someone requested faster. as long as they're mentioned above, I'll write for them (only because I like to be familiar with the members so I can write accurate depictions of them)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*upcoming works*
-NCT something with Johnny *um idk, if not by the end of march then probs early april*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BTS:
BTS reactions:
requested; bts reaction to you having diabetes and not taking care of yourself
requested; namjoon taking care of his chronically ill girlfriend
requested;BTS getting jealous over crush giving more attention to Yeontan or Bam
requested; Giving BTS flower crowns
requested: BTS accusing reader of leaking sensitive info
BTS HEADCANONS
requested; BTS helping S/O with finals
requested;BTS misses crush on tour but is too shy to confess
request; BTS gets jealous and confesses to crush
request; BTS comforts S/O who starts flunking exams
request: BTS Suga, Taehyung, Jungkook and their pets
requested: BTS as your brother
BTS AS BOYFRIENDS:
Hoseok/JHope
Yoongi/Suga
Namjoon/RM
One Shots;
Dinner Date, Jeon Jungkook
Time Off; Jung Hoseok
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
NCT:
*I know this isn't all of nct in the pic, I just like it and it's hard to find unofficial photos of ALL of them, plus Yuta looks hawttt*
*edit:::changed photo in Feb.2024, still can't find a good photo with all of the members, plus some people have left, BUT I will always include Lucas if I find a good one because he was done so dirty by the f-ing saesangs. ANYWAYS...
I will always choose a pic where Yuta looks hot, so you have been blessed by this pic, ur welcome*
NCT headcanons;
a soft day with nct part one (taeil through jungwoo)
a soft day with nct part two (lucas through jisung)
nct as boyfriends (taeil through jungwoo)
nct as boyfriens (lucas through jisung)
christmas with nct (taeil through ten)
requested; how nct would confess to their crush (taeil through jungwoo)
NCT reactions:
nct u reaction to meeting your parents
requested; nct reaction to someone touching you inappropriately (taeil through mark)
requested: NCT reaction to you asking to move in together
nct reaction to you thinking you're fat: -yuta -jaehyun -mark
-taeyong -johnny
requested;NCT 127 commenting on GFs IG post
Individual member posts;
dating jaehyun
requested; dating mark
requested; dating haechan
requested; dating johnny
dating lucas
dating taeyong
dating yuta
requested; soft dom! winwin
NCT MLTs;
requested; NCT 127 MLT break up with current GF for their crush
One Shots;
making time;mark lee
tattoos; Yuta Nakamoto
'I'll Call You; Jaehyun' [part one] [part two] [part three] [part four]
requested; Taeyong fic
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
SEVENTEEN:
SEVENTEEN AS BOYFRIENDS:
-The8/Minghao
-Hoshi/Soonyoung
-Jeonghan
-S.Coups/Seungcheol
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
EXO:
EXO headcanons;
Oh Sehun as a boyfriend
Baekhyun as a boyfriend
a soft day with EXO (hyung line)
a soft day with EXO (maknae line)
One Shots;
insecure; Kai
baekhyun request
requested;baekhyun missing his ex
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
MONSTA X:
MONSTA X AS BOYFRIENDS:
-Changkyun/I.M
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*PAST WORKS/GROUPS I DON'T WRITE FOR ANYMORE*
DAY6:
Day6 headcanons;
day6 as boyfriends
One Shots;
'I Love You'-Jae Version
'I Love You'- Young K
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GOT7
GOT7 as boyfriends
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TWICE:
TWICE one shots
Requested: A Trip With Jeongyeon
BLACKPINK:
BlackPink headcanons;
Jennie As Your Best Friend
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*NON KPOP RELATED/MY OWN ORIGINAL CHARACTERS;
Root Beer Float
#kpop#kpop masterlist#bts#bts masterlist#bts writing#bts fanfic#nct masterlist#nct scenarios#nct writing#nct 127#nct u#wayv#nct mark#seventeen#seventeen headcanons#exo scenarios#monsta x#monsta x as boyfriends#ateez#ateez fanfic#masterlist#one shots#kpop reactions#kpop headcanons#shinee#shinee fics
73 notes
·
View notes
Note
do u have any tvdint fic reccs? <- has been combing through the tvdint ao3 tag several times
If you've been through the AO3 tags, then chances are you've read most of my reccs, but i'll list em anyway as well as the few i've read through on Pixiv :0
Please keep in mind that you should always read through the tags and warnings of these fics (and ANY fic) before proceeding. I tend to like darker/angsty storylines, so just be aware. Most of these reccs are SFW, but there are a couple that dip into NSFW territory.
Besides grouping them from English AO3 fics, Non-English AO3 fics, and Pixiv fics, there is no order to this list
"I'm Not Going Anywhere" by AruiI: Ronaldo gets critically injured during a hunt. Draluc does his best to keep him alive until he can get to a hospital, and is forced to realize just how scared he is to potentially lose him
Stages of Grief by WyvernQuill: Draluc decides to prove to his friends that Ronaldo doesn't care about him, and plays a prank where he seems to have permanently died. Author wrote this fic before discovering that Chapter 47 was a thing that existed, but is a lovely tragic take on the Draluc permadeath concept
Underground by MerrilyAround: Ronaldo and John return to their apartment to find Draluc and his coffin mysteriously missing. Meanwhile, a very vocal anti-vampire group are being very cryptic about what could have possibly happened to him
Don't Lie to Me by AruiI: Draluc gets sick and tries his damnedest to hide it, at the detriment of his own health. Needless to say, Ronaldo finds out, and does his best to take care of him, while having no idea what he's doing
The Invicible's Opponent by tori1116: Ronaldo ends up with a broken arm after a job, and realizes he's gonna have a lot of trouble bathing with one working arm. Draluc offers to help. This is a Chinese fic, but the story is rewritten in English in the second chapter. NSFW warning. Some absolutely killer characterization in this one, chef's kiss
I'm going back to 505 by Insane_fangurL: Ronaldo offhandedly wishes that Draluc would stay dead. Little does he know that someone who is very willing to make that happen was listening
Something Bothered. by CowboyAdvice: Draluc's cousin is getting married, and Draluc and Ronaldo are invited to the wedding. Draluc is less than thrilled for reasons he won't delve into, and the arrangements for their involvement are a little eyebrow-raising. NSFW warning
you're gonna carry that weight by notreally: Ronaldo gets kidnapped by a vampire with a grudge. He has to resist and fight tooth and nail if he wants to survive. Love this one purely cuz it showcases Ronaldo's ability to truly fight that we rarely ever get to see in canon lol
Case #94 by Moana230: A reimagining of Chapter 1 of the manga. Ronaldo is a private investigator hired by a woman to figure out where her kid keeps sneaking off to. This leads him to a decrepit castle with lots of still-active booby traps and a mysterious voice leading him around
The Inverse Relationship between a Gentleman and a Contradiction by ferret: A lovely Inverse!AU story. Draluc dwells on this strange, overly-flowery hunter who has taken a fancy to him, and realizes a lot of their sweet, innocent words don't line up with the rest of them
thinner than water (thicker than blood) by awesomecookies: A wonderful take on Hiyoshi's earlier years. A story of a kid who was thrown into adulthood too early, and didn't want to let go of that freedom that came with being young, even when it came at the detriment of neglecting his responsibilities with his little brother and sister
And I Taste Milk (Please, Please Runaway) by awesomecookies: A Coffeeshop!AU fic. Ronaldo works at a crappy coffeeshop and has begrudgingly taken a fascination with the snarky, chronically ill man who looks a little too much like a vampire for comfort and his two adorable kids. (Sidenote i think this is genuinely the first coffeeshop au i've ever read f;aoiefna)
Okay from here on out, the fics are not written in English and don't have any official translations. I shucked them through a translator, and they read mostly coherently, and these are my favorite ones that i've found
月白 by overdriveojoj: Draluc has a secret that he's never told anyone, not even John: when he dies, he can see the auras of everyone around him. He becomes infatuated with observing the differences between them, and becomes especially entranced with Ronaldo's moon-white aura
昼夜交替 by Qi_U: A collection of oneshots, ranging in tone and humor. My personal favorite is chapter 2, where Draluc decides to move away from Shinyoko and takes many trips down memory lane as he packs his things
【羅納德拉】A Thousand Years by SSilverse: A short fic Ronaldo and Draluc have a discussion about vampire and human romances, and why they typically don't work out.
his little color game by rodionychh: Draluc muses about all his favorite colors, and shockingly realizes that all of his favorites tie into Ronaldo in some way
【羅納德拉】旅行 by leci1028: Ronaldo decides that he wants to escape his current life and go on a roadtrip with Draluc and John with no real destination or ending; he and Draluc discuss the theoreticals of how it would all work out. I will be honest: this one guts me every time
I bet on losing dogs by a_ailema: After another stressful deadline crunch, Ronaldo realizes just how much Draluc means to him and how much he's improved his life. Draluc realizes the same about Ronaldo. A wonderful character study
德拉羅納短篇 by tori1116: Another collection of one shots. Highly recommend chapter 5, where Delta!Ronaldo actually succeeds in dying, and meets Canon!Draluc in the death realm. Draluc recounts just how he got there to satiate Ronaldo's curiosity and make him feel better. NSFW warning for some chapters iirc (admittedly it's been a while since I've read this one)
These last ones are on Pixiv. I don't find Pixiv's filtering system nearly as intuitive as AO3's, so most of these fics are ones i've read off of others' recommendations
退治人と吸血鬼の非公開事件 by みる: Ronaldo is visited by a mysterious lady who tells him that in 3 days, she will die. Investigating leads him and Draluc down a rabbit hole of experimentation, disease, and a strange murder mystery
ワルツはもう踊れない(ロナドラ)【5/4再版します】 by 46/shiro: After solving a strange case where a vampire killed her lover and drained his body of blood, Ronaldo realizes that he can't remember too many of the details surrounding the case. Something is up with his shooting hand, and Draluc is looking for strange accommodations that he's never requested before
深海で息をする by 土鳩: Draluc has fallen into the sea, and his ashes are scattered in the waves. Ronaldo has spent years and years trying to collect his ashes and bring him back. This story is written in a mob character's perspective
Con Fuoco by tomioka: Ronaldo confesses his feelings for Draluc, and the vampire doesn't respond. Soon after, something is awoken in Draluc that makes everything he touches burn.
悪夢を憐れむ歌 by カルノ: Ronaldo goes to the library one night and finds an odd book. On his way home after closing time, he spots Draluc in the rain being attacked by an obsessed fan, and goes to intervene. But not everything is as it seems.
Aaaanndd I think i'm gonna cut it off here for now. My brain is dead fa;oewfinae I have a lot more faves than what's on this list, but some of them are a little too my tastes to really share, some of them are a little to scandalous to share, and some of them are just "I remember liking this one but for the life of me i can't remember what it was about and i don't have the time to reread atm"
But hopefully this helped at least a little! This fandom is very small, but the fics are wonderful ^^
#the vampire dies in no time#kyuuketsuki sugu shinu#anonymous#ask#fic recs#long post#if any of these links don't work or go to the wrong place or smth let me know#i checked them all so they should be good#but also i'm so eepy rn#it is time for me to go snork mimimi
53 notes
·
View notes
Text
'Hold on, I got this' - Chronically Ill Reader x Damian and Jon
Summary: reader is no stranger to sickness, they are chronically Ill and a little on the fragile side. There is an emergency across town in Metropolis, but Jonathan and Damian are stuck in school. They need a distraction before the school goes into lockdown, this time reader comes to the rescue
Y/N knows about the boys' heroism and the boys' know about Y/N medical history
TW: illnesses, syncope / fainting, mentions of food and eating schedules
gender neutral reader
- - -
Metropolis is under attack, yet again.
West-Reeve School is going into lockdown, yet again.
At West-Reeve, safety is a top priority and each threat is given the same amount of response and attention as the next. Security is deployed, faculty are delegated, and students are confined. *ahem* Directed toward the safety-bunkers for their protection.
For their residents Robin and Superboy, all this organization and control is a problem. Their school takes names AND witnesses. Their alarms are buzzing in their pockets and brains about how many civilians are in the red zone, how little time left there is, and how they are not responding. They need OUT.
Jon and Damian meet up for roll call and are visibly worked up. This is nothing strange considering the circumstances, but their anxieties are for completely different reasons than their peers.
"What are we going to DO? I can hear all the screaming!", Jon says.
"I'm not sure yet, I am devising a plan to escape through the school vents and make an excuse we went with the wrong class group.", Damian answers.
"I thought we did that last time! Our escapades are starting to add up, we need something fast."
Y/N finds them in their group as every student from each grade level is corralled in the gym before being separated one by one for roll call. After roll call, they go under. If they can't get out before then, more lives are at stake.
"Hey guys- ohh... Is it that bad?", Y/N quickly notices their expressions.
"YES it is that bad. We need to get out of this damn school. I'll give it 2 more minutes before I conclude we must fake our deaths."
"Damian, do we have to go that far? I have a baseball game this Friday! I can't miss that!!"
"Wait, you two need an escape plan? For superhero business?", Y/N questions.
"Yes Y/N, yes we do. Such excellent detective work.", Damian states dryly while rolling his eyes.
Y/N takes a few seconds, then looks at their watch. Heart Rate is in the 60s, but they haven't checked or reported their blood pressure in a while... when was the last time they had a snack?
Y/N makes their decision before Jon or Damian.
They get their attention and go,
"Hold up, I got this."
Y/N begins hyperventilating, taking huge breaths with no time in between then starts going faster and faster. They start turning red in the face and a familiar kind of tingling starts at the end of their fingertips. Their vision becomes clouded with dark and light spots and right before they lose sight, they hold their breath with everything they can and hinge forward.
Damian understands the assignment and immediately goes into character. Jon follows suit and starts screaming at the top of his lungs to make way. They both start holding up Y/N by the shoulders dragging them across the gymnasium floor. They make a beeline to the Nurse's Office, silently thanking Y/N for their ticket out. They make the excuse that all the chaos and stress got to Y/N before they passed out. They tell the nurse they will stay with Y/N for support and the school nurse reports their attendance to the administrators.
~
Hours later, Y/N is still at the school nurse's office, waiting to be signed out for the day. This time though, Y/N doesn't hold their breath. It takes forever for students to get home post-lockdown due to the strict sign in-sign out policy. There is a line wrapping around the building of parents and guardians waiting to be scanned and checked to take their child home.
They're watching a news report on channel 3 about how Intergang was taken down by the heroic efforts of the Justice League. As the footage rolls, Y/N sees Robin and Superboy in the frame and smiles softly.
At knock at the door snaps them out of focus,
"Y/N, your mom is here!"
"Thank you Miss Robinson!"
Y/N puts down their fruit cup and disconnects the monitors. They carefully stand up and starts cleaning their area before their phone lights up.
"Thank you, Y/N. Wishing you the best recovery."
"Thanks for the distraction Y/N! Hope you're doing okay :)"
Two texts from two friends.
"No problem"
And Y/N goes home.
- - -
* inspired by my many Stood Up Too Fast and Almost Met Jesus moments
* do not try this at home
*do not try this at home, please- do NOT try this at home
- - -
@jejji45
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pedro Pascal Fandom Bingo (+ April Reading Roundup)
@burntheedges is a genius and the creation of this bingo game is proof!
I love how this has been encouraging me to reach out to people and broaden my reading, Kate. I'm posting this even though I'm late to the party because it's also helping me realise that I was actually quite active this past month even though I've been feeling down about not being as engaged! Here’s to an eventual board blackout. 🥂✨
I definitely did not plan to somehow fill so many squares without getting a bingo, it’s kinda wild. 🤷♀️
Spaces I’ve Marked So Far (as of 30 April)
This is just turning into my roundup of April reading because I couldn't handle leaving out any of the wonderful things I read this month!
I’ve tried to provide a super brief summary of each fic as a taster (obvs more info is provided by the author on each fic’s actual page). If you’re an author whose work is listed here and feel I’ve misrepresented your fic, let me know and I can change the little blurb/status! <3
List is alpha sorted by character then by author.
✅ Read and reblog a character that needs more love - Ben (my first!)
visiting - @ladamedusoif - chaptered (ongoing)
> Art history professor Lydia takes a visiting post that leads her to meet a certain lit professor, Ben Morales.
✅ Read and reblog a Dieter fic:
park - burntheedges - oneshot
> Reader encounters a snoozing Dieter in the park
Recovery Road - @chronically-ghosted - chaptered (complete)
> An epic-length tale of an ill-fated affair between actors (and their better-timed second chance at love).
I'm Not in Love (If Wishes Came True) - @schnarfer - series (complete)
> Dieter can’t help but sabotage his relationship with MUA reader (but first we get to enjoy the delightful, enchanting beginnings)
✅ Read and reblog an Ezra fic:
be your hallowed ground - @kedsandtubesocks - oneshot (complete)
> demon!Ezra lures reader off the beaten path and into a bit of delicious sin.
✅ Read and reblog a Frankie M fic:
watch - @luxurychristmaspudding - series (ongoing)
> Frankie and reader’s instant chemistry is brought back into play in their dynamic with Joel and Santi
Be Good for Me - @pascalssbabyy - oneshot
> Subby Frankie gets treated to some tasty pre-bedtime activities with reader.
Up Sky, Low High - @undercoverpena - oneshot
> Frankie and reader have a bit (a lot) of fun while on a helicopter ride.
(Also a major shout out to Jo's Do Me Yourself. I'm an ao3 reader of Frankie & Rainy because of a weird mental hangup, so it doesn't count for bingo, but it's a story that means a lot to me!)
✅ Read & reblog a Javi P fic:
Paranoid Heart - @goodwithcheese - chaptered (complete)
> Two souls who are a bit too worldly wise for Laredo meet through their parents and fall for one another.
✅ Read and reblog a Joel M fic:
Maintenance Request - burntheedges - chaptered (ongoing)
> Lit prof reader and [hey we know his job title now!] Joel meet as he works on facilities maintenance and landscaping around campus
come morning light (safe and sound) - @janaispunk - chaptered (ongoing)
> Joel & Ellie crash land at the reader’s home post Joel getting stabbed.
Most Ardently (Nicest Things) - schnarfer - chaptered (ongoing)
> Reader’s uncle’s neighbor, Joel, is everything her boyfriend isn’t—caring, attentive, and happy to help her read Austen while her hands are busy
✅ Read and reblog a Marcus M fic (my first!):
Afterword - @secretelephanttattoo - chaptered (ongoing)
> New-in-town reader makes an instant connection with local stationery shop owner Marcus
✅ Read and reblog a Marcus P fic:
I'm Here - @davnittbraes - (open?) series
> Reader discovers Marcus is the softdom she didn’t know she could ask for.
in shades of gray and candlelight - @freelancearsonist - oneshot
> Marcus meets reader at a gallery opening for a case.
Raining in Baltimore - schnarfer - oneshot
> Soggy Marcus angsts after a fight with reader.
✅ Read & reblog a Tim R fic:
i don't wanna be me (bloody kisses) - @perotovar - series (ongoing)
> Shane’s gay awakening is full of angst and a bit of getting into trouble. Good thing he has Tim Rockford to turn to as his gentle guide.
✅ Create & share a rec list: discovering lit through fic
✅ Send 3 people a fun ask: I passed this ask meme along!
✅ Send an ask to 3 people you never have before
The pie and bar charts are stowed away this month since I've got this bingo graphic instead, but for my own number-loving brain: In April, I read 320k words from 19 distinct works written by 14 authors. I made 47 comments across tumblr and ao3 (~13k words).
#PedroPascalFandomBingo#reclist#reading roundup#if you know i'm supposed to be packing instead of doing this no you don't#sorry i still haven't quite figured out whether i should tag people when making lists like this or not???#just lmk if you want me to untag you & sorry if i've tagged you for the same thing a lot lately
14 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
hexedrosel-arts
Rose-laced drawings
agftheorist
Just Some Theories About Gravity Falls
matanrozx-blog
MaTaNRoZ
missmisunderstood1204-blog
Untitled
welltwo99
Untitled