#forgotten we have wings at all. and ive done important things like going on a house tour or traveling with my besties (<3). but i have only | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

burnedbyshoto · 3 years

Text

a nurses job

— Bakugou breaks his arms and as a nurse, you have the responsibility to make sure that he is comfortable, even when he needs to use the bathroom.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: pro hero!bakugou katsuki x nurse fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, prohero!bakugou, golden showers/water sports/piss kink, degradation (giving), dirty talk, lusting/pining, handjobs

word count: 5,050

a/n: so, I was going to make this a piss in ur mouth and pussy type of fic, but I kept seeing all those beautiful bakugou piss arts where he’s with a nurse.... so this is inspired and brought upon by all the water sports bakugou x nurse art ive seen for three months.

kinktober day 21 main kink: piss | kinktober masterlist

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

You’re not quite sure what persuaded you into wanting to become a nurse as a child.

Maybe it was because your quirk (when you hum at an A flat, everyone within 5 meters experiences accelerated healing properties) was useless for Pro Hero work, so you realized early on that being a Pro Hero was a distant dream. Maybe it was because medical staff were still hailed as everyday heroes despite being in a world with people who could perform extraordinary achievements. It started as a small obsession to prove to the soon to be jobless, dream broken, and graduated failures of the hero course high schools that you had done more than them. That you, unlike them, were recognized as a hero.

You were decent with math and science, so you strove for medical school. But with the horrendous costs of schooling, your then living situation, and your dislike of unneeded and unwanted competitive stress, you deterred toward the nursing pathway. It was a pathway where you really found yourself, or at least, you thought so.

Empathy, emotion, and the need to see people come out of a hospital better than when they entered was something that grew on you quickly and obviously. Your earliest clinical rounds often left you with swollen, tired feet from walking around for restless hours, but with a smile on your face that was irreplicable. With every semester in school, you got better, connected better with your patients. Your feet still ache after long shifts, and sometimes your smile is hollow and broken, and if you look closely, you could see dried tears and puffy eyelids, but you wouldn’t ever regret this decision to become a nurse.

At twenty-five, newly graduated from nursing school, already working full time at the best hospital in Japan, while studying for your degree to eventually become a nurse practitioner. You loved your job quite a lot. They had placed you immediately within their Post-OP, ICU, and recovery wings, and even though you were somewhat new, you were celebrating a year of working in a few weeks, you already had some… more than familiar faces.

“Well, Ground Zero-san, I guess you owe me a drink because unless my eyes are deceiving me, it looks like both your arms are broken, no?” you hum, your grin bright and wide, not even attempting to hide it’s glee as your high profile patient sat seething on the hospital bed. “It’s been, what? Two weeks since you last showed up here? You getting old?”

“Oh, would you shut the fuck up, you shitty ass nurse?!” Bakugou snarled, his arms obviously trying to tense and move against the large casts that envelope him. “The fuck would you expect to happen when facing off with a quirk that’s specifically meant to break people’s arms?!”

“Deku didn’t break any arms,” you point out with a soft laugh, eyes still scanning and reading through his charts to check his medical needs and medicine prescribed by the attending and when he should be taking them. “A bit weird that only half of the Wonder Duo was indescribably injured, no?”

A loud snarl ripped from Bakugou’s throat, and you stifled your own laughter as you raised your eyesight to look him straight in his raging eyes.

“I took that damn nerds hits because he’s broken his arms so many fucking times he’ll be forced to amputate them if he breaks them again!” Bakugou’s eyes were near white in his anger, but the intensity of his emotions was heavily diminished by the fact that his arms were strapped to his chest in thick, round bandages.

“You can admit you care for him,” you chide, ignoring his ‘like hell I do!’ Placing the chart down and walking to his IV drip, you checked to see if anything he was hooked to required any changes or whatnot. “Besides, this is not the first time I’ve seen you in here! It was quite surprising to see Ground Zero on bedrest on my first ever shift here.”

That much was true.

You had been working at Tokyo Hospital for nearly nine months now. Within the nine months, you saw a lot of heroes; that much was true. Your quirk was versatile as a nurse, and you were bright, young, very good at your job, and definitely a beautiful individual. So, when you were assigned to be working most of your days healing heroes because they were the backbone of the country, it didn’t quite catch you by surprise. It was a common assignment you had as a nursing student too.

You just didn’t expect the head nurse of the floor to assign one of your five rooms to be holding none other than Ground Zero, a.k.a Bakugou Katsuki.

Of course, you weren’t an idiot. You had known about the explosion hero since high school! You had sat in front of your TV in high school, attempting to do your homework while watching the rather intensive first-year battles. He had done well in every stage, placing within the top three each time and even winning the game! You had cringed at the awards ceremony but had been horrified at the news of his kidnapping.

But after that, with the rising tensions of the villain world upon the dying world left behind by All Might, you had forgotten him for a moment. As time went on, and finally, a new support system was brought forth, Ground Zero, much like his quirk entailed, exploded onto the scene alongside Deku and a few other young heroes.

So, sure, you expected to maybe one day run into the ash-blond hero, but you didn’t expect it to happen on day one.

All things considered, the two of you got along rather well.

His... strong personality did make you wary of him at first, taking his near verbal barrage until you, very flusteredly he will argue, told him to ‘shut up, you butthole!’

You were horrified at your lack of professionalism, and Bakugou had gone silent as he stared at you in silence.

“Did you just call me a butthole?” he echoed, his face full of emotions you could not read. You felt on the verge of panicking, unsure if he was going to potentially tell on you! The sounds of a barking laughter rang in your ear, and you looked up to see his grinning, much more relaxed form. “Are you some shitty preschooler?!”

Thus began a working relationship of sorts between you and Bakugou.

He was an asshole, and you tried your best to not let him talk you off a cliff. It didn’t take very long for you to find out what made him tick surprisingly enough, and you used that to your advantage. The best way to tease him right now was by reminding him that he had been hospitalized more times than Deku, who apparently had held the record for the number of hospitalizations between him and his friends.

“Are you going to mention that shit first meeting every time we talk?!” Bakugou barked, his eyes narrowed as he turned his head away from you.

“After you admit you care deeply for all your friends!” you chirp back, stepping away from his IV drip, satisfied by what you saw. “Well, you look good for now. I’ll be checking up on you every ten to fifteen minutes since you can’t press the button until we can get those casts off! Did ya need anything before I go check on my other patients?”

“Open the damn window; it’s stuffy in here,” Bakugou grumbled, his face finally facing you again.

“Of course,” you smile cheekily, your eyes squinting with your broad grin. “It’s a nurse's job to make their patients comfortable and happy!”

Standing at the side of the bed, you stretched over Bakugou to grab the edge of the window and slide it open. Through your stance, you were entirely aware of how this looked, how this felt. Your breasts centimeters from Bakugou’s face, your eyes never once breaking from the window to feign your innocence as you finally pull away. Even with scrubs on, you could feel his hot, sharp breathes expelling through your clothes, his ears tinging just the smallest bit red as you smile.

“Anything else?” you asked sweetly, failing to hide your impish grin.

“Put the water cup close by,” he grunted, eyes staring at the liter of water at his side table. Well, he wouldn’t be able to use his arms until just before he was set to be discharged, so moving the water closer was a good idea.

Nodding, you grabbed a nearby cup, filling it three-quarters of a way full before placing it onto the feeding table and dragging it near his mouth, a bendy straw already secured into the cup. You watched as he shot forward, putting the plastic straw into his mouth and beginning to drink the cold water. His eyes were back on yours, deceivingly cold had you already not been an expert on his personality.

With one final soft chuckle, you waved at Bakugou as you headed out, a cheerful smile on your face as he continued to drink his water.

“See ya in a few!”

Well, you guess there was one more important detail about your relationship with Bakugou Katsuki. For the past five months, you have been doing everything in your power to seduce him — to get him to admit that he wanted you too.

You knew the ethics and the morals behind falling for a patient of yours, much less a high profile patient at that. You knew that if your little crush was ever found out, you would most definitely be moved from his room. You were also damningly aware that you should have brought up your initial feelings for the explosion hero to your admin the moment it arose. But the thought and the way you were always so happy to be around him eventually overruled your logic. Five months ago, you had stayed at the hospital until nearly three am, talking with a severely concussed Bakugou. You were stationed for an overnight round with the task of making sure that he didn’t fall asleep. And for the first time in your time knowing Bakugou, the two of you somehow clicked into place, and when he was discharged the next morning — the nurse who had a quirk to rid of concussions finally arriving — he had thanked you.

It was so benign, so incredibly simple, yet the way the golden sunshine illuminated his blond hair and made his red eyes shine like a ruby, you found your own tired body feeling heated and warm. He wasn’t such a lousy conversationalist, and you had already enjoyed all your interactions together, yet it still caught you off guard to feel your heart pounding in your throat as he pulled on his jacket and left.

So after coming to terms with your sudden infatuation for the stubborn hero, you began to express your desires and feelings for him without having to say it. For all that he was worth and all that he expressed himself to be extremely observant, Bakugou Katsuki still had no idea that you liked him.

Unfortunately, your scrub nurse uniform wasn’t precisely seductive. The light blue of the breathable, sterile uniform was about as unsexy as uniforms got. But that never stopped you from leaning in too close when doing what Bakugou demanded of you. It didn’t prevent you from accidentally dropping papers in front of him and bending over to show off the curves of your ass.

There had never been a time such as this one where you hated that the old, ‘sexy’ nurse outfits were no longer up to standard and banned from use. How you would have loved to be wearing gartered held stockings just to accidentally flash to Bakugou. But, you suppose that it’s alright. Even though your feelings and ambitions to get the Pro Hero to like you as much as you did him, you never tried to push it.

For now, you were just an asshole tease.

You carried out the rest of your rounds in peace, your pager sitting comfortably in your pocket, unused, unneeded for now. The rest of your four patients were doing well for now.

One was asleep, most likely due to the medicine coursing through his veins, but his vitals remained unchanged.

Another was in the process of getting ready to be discharged, her family there to help her in leaving.

The third was eating his dinner, eyes concentrated on a poker game on the TV as he asked you to help fluff his pillow.

The last was busy with a physical therapist, her forehead slick with sweat as she attempted to sit up from her chair.

All in all, they were all doing fine, and you were back to the beginning, back to Bakugou’s room.

You entered his closed room door to be greeted by an empty bed. Your eyes widened immediately, the initial wave of pure horror flashing through you that by some freak accident, some murderous villain had kidnapped the injured hero straight from the hospital bed.

“Ground Zero-san?!” you called out, a pitched voice of concern frilling your voice as you stumbled through the room. Your eyes were frantically searching the room, fingers feeling the lingering warmth of his body on the bed and your eyes noticing the empty water cup on his table still. The sheets of his bed haphazardly thrown off as if in a struggle.

Your fingers wound around the panic button, your ears straining to hear any sort of sign of Bakugou still being here.

A gritted teeth snarl was muffled from the attached bathroom, and you froze, unable to move as you felt the untouched button in your hands turn as light as a feather. You approached the bathroom door with soft footsteps, the smile on your face, unable to be stopped as you pulled the door open.

The sight you happened upon was something that made your lips curl into a wider smirk as the hospital clothed-clad hero absolutely struggled with his lack of functioning hands and arms to pull down his pants. Something he couldn’t do himself because the socks and slippers on his feet kept him from even attempting to tug his pants off with his toes.

In his struggle, undoubtedly miserable attempt to get his pants and underwear off his waist, Bakugou seemed ignorant to your arrival. His back still towards you, his head tilted down in his struggle as he twisted and pulled at practically nothing.

And as you watched him struggle, you couldn’t help but let your eyes drink in his form that stood tall before you. Most occurrences where you found yourself face to face with Bakugou, he was always tucked in a bed (except that time you realized your feeling for him), whether it was because he needed to be or because he was forced to be. So seeing him in his full height, seeing how despite your size, you were still only at his shoulder, made your eyelashes flutter.

He was tall, so deliciously tall, you wanted to climb onto a chair to see if he would be taller even with that added height. And oh how the flimsy material of his hospital outfit was stretched then against the taut muscles of his back. They flexed and shifted with his aggravation, and the only thought on your mind was to rake your fingers against the tempting muscle and skin.

“Shitty. fucking. villain!” he hissed angrily, sweat trickling down the back of his neck as he still struggled to do what nature called him for.

But you couldn’t help it; the flexing muscles of his back, the lower tenor of his voice, and the way he seemed ridiculously larger than life at the moment tipped your restraint over. Your ability to hold back crashing through you like a tsunami wave, drowning you until you found your hand tethered to the tight spot at the center of his spine, your hushed words drifting to his ear like sweet, warm honey.

“You need any help here, Ground Zero-san?” you asked, your voice just loud enough to have your hot breath fanning against his sweaty exposed neck. You could feel him twitch in your hold, his body stiffening as he whipped his head around to look at you, red eyes wild, wide, and dark.

“Don’t ya know how to fucking knock?!” he snapped, his body flushed at being caught in the bathroom, unable to shed his clothes. He doesn’t move from your touch, and that small detail makes you warm, knowing that he wasn’t entirely repulsed by your touch.

“You were missing from your bed, and I called your name,” you smile despite his angry glare. “I know you are susceptible to hear loss, but I thought you were still in the clear.”

“I ain’t fucking deaf,” Bakugou growled, his face twisted with a frown. “And that still doesn’t explain why the hell you’re here!”

“Oh, were you not just completely struggling earlier?” you feign shock, the grin on your face unstoppable at the embarrassed scowl that sets on his face. You step even closer to him so that your torso is perpendicular to his side. Your hand still gently touching his muscled back, and your free hand gently pressing to his own abdomen, the feeling of his flexed muscles, making you dizzy as you peer down at the white toilet. “Is there a villain in the toilet? I didn’t think that was possible!”

“Of fucking course not, there’s not a shitty villain in the toilet.” Bakugou flushed, his body entirely trapped by you, but he made no play to escape.

“Oh, so did you need help?”

Bakugou stares at you, his mind whirling a kilometer a second as he contemplates his next course of action. The both of you know he needs help, and still, the both of you are aware that his ability to ask of that from you is slim to none given he couldn’t even wait for you to return to his room.

“Tch,” he clicks his tongue angrily, annoyed, completely fed up. His eyes rolling to the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge you as his head nods once. “Help me, shitass nurse.”

“Of course!” you chirp, your eyes finding his hooded ones.

You give him one last warm, sweet smile before the hand on his torso lightly drags down his stomach, soft in its unashamed way of feeling him up. Your head tilted as your fingers hooked into the tight waistband of his pants and pulled it down, the heat of your palm accidentally dragging itself over the imprint of his cock behind his boxers.

The slight, flustered choking noise at the back of his throat didn’t go ignored by you, but rather but aside for later. Your eyes flashing up to see his red eyes wide, his cheeks so lightly dusted with pink as you managed to pull down his boxers too.

“There!” you exclaim, your eyes closing in your grin before you turn your attention back down to his exposed dick.

Immediately, you had to hold back a noise of pure want and lust at the sight of him. He was long, undoubtedly eight inches, definitely more. Although you couldn’t tell how thick, you knew his dick would fill your palm without a struggle. The trimmed, dark blond pubes and the protruding veins are what did it for you, your tongue poking out for a millisecond to wet your lips as you stared at his dark pink head.

“Stop staring at it!” Bakugou hissed, clearly embarrassed if the slight voice crack said anything about it.

You looked back up at him, fake confusion swimming in your eyes as you tilted your head. “It’s only a penis. I see millions of these all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s fucking weird!”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, your eyes rolling softly as you sighed in retreat, “Fine, fine, let's pee big boy and get you in bed.”

With your dominant hand, you grabbed his dick with a soft grip, pleasure simmering through you at the confirmation of the thick dick in your palm. But it seemed you weren’t the only one who thought that for the moment you tried to steer his dick toward the toilet to assist in aim, Bakugou hissed loudly. His flesh twitching to life in your warm, soft hand as it began to grow upward.

You didn’t say anything; your jaw remained as tight and closed as your vocal box despite the egging need to tease him and celebrate his apparent approval of your touch. So, eventually, in a voice that defied the nervous energy coursing through your veins, you asked: “Didn’t you need to pee?”

Bakugou let out a throaty, guttural groan, his anger hissing between his teeth as his dick twitched again in your hold, growing longer and harder still.

“I can’t take a damn piss with a hard-on, you idiot!” he roared despite the strawberry red blush on his cheeks. You admired the way he was still fighting for control of an upper hand here despite — clearly — not having any.

“Oh, haha! Silly me!” you laugh, your hand shifting against his length, your warm palm getting closer to the base of his cock.

“W-What are you doing?!” Bakugou spluttered, your soft butterfly touches sending him through a loop he clearly wasn’t expecting. “You could just wait for it to die!”

“It’s a nurse's job to make their patients comfortable and happy,” you repeat your words, your hold on his dick growing firmer and harder just as his cock continued to do. “You clearly need to pee, and there’s no telling when your cock will go down.”

“I’LL MAKE IT GO DOWN!” Bakugou yells, but the usual sharpness to his tone has deflated, diminished to nothing but whining embarrassed yell. You look up at his clenched jaw and how a pretty pink glows on his cheeks, and you’re mesmerized.

Looking back down at his growing cock that warms your hand immensely, you hum, slightly twisting your hand around his length. Bakugou shudders, a whine hidden in his throat as you open your own mouth.

“Do you want me to stop?” you question, your eyes fluttering up to look at his clouded red ones. “Do you not need or want me?”

That was a double-headed question if Bakugou ever heard one. He looked at your glossy lips, the way they were pouted, so ready to be kissed, to be claimed, and that delirious look of want and need in your eyes. And he knows better; he knows that this is not the place, not the time to act on emotions like this. The need to pee sits heavily on his lower belly, just like the need to cum makes him twitch and pace uncomfortably. God fucking damn his broken to smithereens arms.

But you already know this, of course, you do. But you also know how stubborn he can be, how anal he can be about the littlest thing. So with no answer, you weaken your grip, making him think that you’re ready to leave, and he falls right into the trap.

“Make it fucking q-quick,” his voice cracks, the embarrassment nearly tangible as you nod your head firmly, your fist tightening around his cock.

Your warm fingers pressed onto his length, beginning at a slow leisurely pace, your eyes glued onto his face, detailing how he reacts to every small flick of your wrist, every little difference of grip in his hands. Your strokes began to grow larger, your fingertips tracing the bulging veins on his cock, your eyes hypnotized by the way his face pinches in his pleasure, the blush on his cheeks, the way the hot pants expelling from his mouth curl warmly in your lower belly.

“Y-You do this with all your shitty patients?” Bakugou growls, but it sounds weak, too blurred and slurred with his increasing pleasure.

Your fingernails drag against the underneath of his cock, tracing the incredibly sensitive skin until he’s slowly thrusting his hips into your fist. “Only the hot ones,” you tease, your thumb pressing against the tip of his beading tip, the warm pre-cum slick and spreading quickly against his flushed tip.

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Bakugou continues, his head tipping backward, exposing the slenderness of his neck that begs for your teeth to sink into. “Just needed to take a fucking piss.”

“Nervous, you’ll pee all over me, and I won’t want to suck your dick?” you ask, your fingers brushing near his scrotum, eyes blazing dangerously at the sight of his gasping, jaw-dropping face. His hips rut forward, leaking cock dripping with his pre-cum, and you giggle softly, fisting him faster, spreading the pre-cum against his heated sex.

Your fingers run against his throbbing length, your palm tight and hot against his cock, the veins you drag across searing against your flesh, ingraining itself onto your skin and memory forever. Despite it all, the obvious near tangible horror Bakugou has on the thought of pissing on you, he continues to fuck into your fist.

“Damn bitch like you would probably l-like it if I pissed on you,” Bakugou pants, his casted arms twitching at his chest. His head tilted away from you, but his eyes burning into you, the red eyes hot as fire against your skin. “You want me to piss on you? Make you my bitch.”

The words burn against your skin, your teeth biting onto your lower lip as you meet his gaze. You’ve never considered it before, never thought you’d be into it. As a nurse, you’ve been around piss, shit, and vomit, and while you had grown unfazed by it, you never considered the prospect of a man pissing on you. But you thought of it, of Bakugou standing above you, free from his casts, hands on his cock as he smirks down at you with golden liquid spraying from his cock, soaking you where you lay.

You shudder, pleasant chills running down your spine as you stare into his eyes yet again.

“And if I do?” you ask, fingers rolling the head of his cock between your forefinger and thumb, relishing in the way that he snarls low in his throat. “What’re you gonna do about that, Ground Zero-san? You gonna piss all over your bitch after you get out of here.”

“You want me to piss on you here?” he asks, his voice snappish, strained, his hips drilling harder into your hand that was quickly speeding up. A battle of power and speed between the both of you as he looms over you, face flushed, pink, and lips demanding to be kissed. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you do.”

“Why’s that?” you breathe, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, a breath away as your hand grips and tightens even more around the base of his cock, causing a pained-pleasured hiss to rip from behind his teeth as he looks at you.

“Don’t act like your shitty ass hasn’t been trying to seduce me every time I show up,” Bakugou gruffs, his hips continuing a drilling rhythm into your fist, his body no longer shy or embarrassed.

“So you noticed but never said anything?” you counter, your fingers shifting over to his swollen, hot balls. You fondle them, tugging at their weight gently, taking in the way his eyes roll to the back of his head and the way his teeth tear into his lip. “Coward.”

“Hah?! Who the fuck—”

You can’t help yourself anymore, your mouth coming to slam against his in a piercing, searing kiss. He moans into the kiss, and you gasp back, tongues clashing together, teeth knocking into each other as awkward, nearing uncomfortable kisses are exchanged. His sweet scent of caramel wafts into your nose, and his grunts and groans are addicting, entirely enthusiastic noises that send your own thighs clenching shut to quiet the heated need in between your thighs.

Your hand increases in its speed, his whines and groans so pretty and piercing into you.

“How fucking gross,” you laugh into his mouth, the slicked heat of his precum lathering your palm until soft noises of your fisting hand begin to fill the sterile bathroom. “You’re a child, wanting to piss on things that you shouldn’t. You came to the bathroom and got a hard-on instead of pissing, Bakugou, aren’t you embarrassed.”

“Y-Y/l/n,” he hissed, his jaw falling slack against your mouth. His hips are drilling into you faster and faster, the throbbing of his cock, the growing, thick scent of his caramel sweat filling the room and your senses. “F-Fuck!”

“Such a dirty, childish pro hero,” you smile your tongue curling into his mouth and dragging against the roof of his mouth as he shudders helplessly against you. “Cum already, Bakugou, cum and piss over yourself like some small brat.”

He shudders, and you find your mouth leaving his own as you stare down, spurting white ropes of cum pour from his tip, completely covering the toilet seat with his sticky white cum. And you watch as soon as his body collapses onto you, entirely spent from the orgasm, yellow piss streaming from his tip.

The toilet fills with his cum and piss, and you grin once his balls and bladder are completely drained. His cock limp and weak in your hand as you hum, your quirk activating and causing the exhausted Pro Hero to recompose himself so that he wasn’t entirely weak against you.

“Such a good patient,” you coo, pulling up Bakugou’s boxers and hospital pants without a second's thought. Patting his butt gently, you watched as his still exhausted red eyes stared at you. You walked over to the sink, washing your hands so that you could continue to finish the rest of your shift.

“Don’t think this is over, shitty nurse.”

You look at him over your shoulder, your fingers curling under the warm water as you grin.

“I expect to be fucked and pissed on next time,” you counter, your smirk devastating and sending a fire right back to Bakugou’s groin. “No freebies anymore.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bbs kinktober 2020 #tw: water sports

2K notes · View notes

une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir · 3 years

Text

random thoughts on jon connington’s chapters

The last time I read this was over four years and I had a different take on Aegon, so I was curious to see on what changed with a second read.

----

The Lost Lord ~ ADWD

Sansa and Aegon

Alayne II (Sansa II) ~ AFFC

When Robert dies, Harry the Heir becomes Lord Harrold, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie. Jon Arryn's bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon . . . and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back . . . why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright."

The Lost Lord ~ ADWD

"We have gone to great lengths to keep Prince Aegon hidden all these years," Lemore reminded him. "The time will come for him to wash his hair and declare himself, I know, but that time is not now. Not to a camp of sellswords." (...)

"The plan was to reveal Prince Aegon only when we reached Queen Daenerys," Lemore was saying." (...)

The prince wore sword and dagger, black boots polished to a high sheen, a black cloak lined with blood-red silk. With his hair washed and cut and freshly dyed a deep, dark blue, his eyes looked blue as well. At his throat he wore three huge square-cut rubies on a chain of black iron, a gift from Magister Illyrio. Red and black. Dragon colors. That was good. "You look a proper prince," he told the boy. (...)

Sansa and Aegon are supposed to reveal themselves by washing the dye out of their hair and wearing their house colours, in an event that involves a wedding with someone that will facilitate claiming their birthright.

However, Aegon said “fuck that bitch Danerys” and getting married, revealed himself somewhat (to the Golden Company higher-ups only) wearing his house colours and went back to Westeros to reclaim his birthright on his own, unware that his cousin from his mother’s side is coming to him to offer aid in the war.. Aegon washing his hair of the blue dye and doning his armour will only happen wieh he sets foot in Westeros.

Likewise, we can draw a parallel scenario for Sansa and considering the “Sansa is grey girl who flees from a marriage” it all fits, Like Aegon, Sansa syas “fuck that bitch blonde Bobby B Harry and getting married, like Aegon she wears a grey cloak, and like Aegon she’ll be meeting her cousin and eventually claim her birthright.

I somehow doubt Sansa will be getting an army that soon, but in the show she got the Wildlings (via Jon, who can be seen as “sellsword” type of warriors) and the Vale army. In the books, there’s the mountain clans both in the Vale (loyal to Tyrion, whom she’s married to) and the north mountain clans (those that protected Bran because he is Ned’s son and joined Stannis also because of Ned and his daughter).

Another thing of note is Aegon ended up cutting his hair but dyed blue once more, so this may be true for Sansa as well. She may cut it shorter (a parallel to her sister Arya as well) but keep dying it for awhile still. Such, she may reach the Wall and meet Jon as a brunette (a parallel to Jeyne Poole as well as Alys Karstark). ETA: Likewise Aegon only revealing himself by washing his hair and doning his armour when he invades Westeros (his birthright), Sansa may only wash her hair and done her armour when the northern campaign starts.

Regardless, This is a smart choice because...

Cersei IV ~ ADWD

The queen bristled. "I most certainly have not forgotten that little she-wolf." She refused to say the girl's name. "I ought to have shown her to the black cells as the daughter of a traitor, but instead I made her part of mine own household. She shared my hearth and hall, played with my own children. I fed her, dressed her, tried to make her a little less ignorant about the world, and how did she repay me for my kindness? She helped murder my son. When we find the Imp, we will find the Lady Sansa too. She is not dead . . . but before I am done with her, I promise you, she will be singing to the Stranger, begging for his kiss."

The Lost Lord ~ ADWD

"His because they're bought and paid for. Ten thousand armed strangers, plus hangers-on and camp followers. All it takes is one to bring us all to ruin. If Hugor's head was worth a lord's honors, how much will Cersei Lannister pay for the rightful heir to the Iron Throne? You do not know these men, my lord. It has been a dozen years since you last rode with the Golden Company, and your old friend is dead."

Cersei’s attention on Aegon is also a parallel to Cersei’s attention to Sansa, interestingly enough Tyrion is mentioned in both instances. Cersei’s attention on Sansa also come attached with the “singing the Stranger for a kiss”, which is interesting because if “Sansa is the Grey Girl” theory holds to, the guy she’s running to for protection is in fact.... dead or close to (the Stranger is their god and in the show... the episode was aplty named, the Book of the Stranger).

The bells tolled for all of us that day. For Aerys and his queen, for Elia of Dorne and her little daughter, for every true man and honest woman in the Seven Kingdoms. And for my silver prince. (...)

He had grown fond of Lemore, but that did not mean he required her approval. Her task had been to instruct the prince in the doctrines of the Faith, and she had done that. No amount of prayer would put him on the Iron Throne, however. That was Griff's task. He had failed Prince Rhaegar once. He would not fail his son.

Let me live long enough to see the boy sit the Iron Throne, and Varys will pay for that slight and so much more. Then we'll see who's soon forgotten.

I grant that the obsession that Jon Connington has for Rhaegar Targaryen is milder and more honourable, compared to the obsession Littlefinger has for Catelyn Tully, but the fact is this is yet another parallel between Sansa and Aegon. They both have mentors with an unhealthy obsession with one of their parents and hate the other, which they project onto the kids. Last, but not least, both mentors are passing off as parents of the children while they remain disguised under a false indentiy.

However, as Sansa will have to run from Littlefinger’s toxic shadow, I suspect Aegon will do much the same. I have suspicions. Sansa escaped Littlefinger because of Jon, as he took the role of protection. No matter how people see the ship, the fact is Jon is a lot like Ned V2 (at least, that’s how Littlefinger will see it and he hated the man) but the truth is Jon is Ned’s nephew and Sansa’s cousin from his mother’s side.

Likewise, Aegon is about to meet Arianne Martell, who’s the niece of his mother Elia Martell, which makes them cousins from his mother’s side. Elia Martell, whom Jon Connington... hates, often speculated in fact that he was in love with Rhaegar Targaryen himself. The symmetry of all this, not only the mentor’s obsession with the children but also the love / hate hey have for their parents.

Connington’s wish to see Aegon crowned and the giant chip he has on his shoulder for not being recognised. For the former, I have not found any reference to Littlefinger wanting to sit the Iron Throne in the books, but this was basically his goal in the show. To be king with Sansa by his side. For the latter, well that’s the drive of his character, he’s a social climber seeking recognition.

Sansa VII ~ ASOS

I will tell my aunt that I don't want to marry Robert. Not even the High Septon himself could declare a woman married if she refused to say the vows. She wasn't a beggar, no matter what her aunt said. She was thirteen, a woman flowered and wed, the heir to Winterfell.

The Lost Lord ~ ADWD

"Why should I go running to my aunt [implied marriage] as if I were a beggar? My claim is better than her own. Let her come to me … in Westeros."

Eh. Same energy. They are not beggars and they know their birthright, they will not be forced to marry someone they don’t want to to facilitate it.

----

TL;DR: I think these concurrence between Sansa and Aegon suggest that Aegon is real, but also glimpse into their characters beyond their toxic mentors and their ascencion to power. It will be interesting to watch their common points in future events, even if by the fact that they’re different genders and that makes PLENTY of difference in ASOIAF.

Jon and Aegon

Jon II ~ ASOS

A few tents were still standing on the far side of the camp, and it was there they found Mance Rayder. Beneath his slashed cloak of black wool and red silk he wore black ringmail and shaggy fur breeches, and on his head was a great bronze-and-iron helm with raven wings at either temple. Jarl was with him, and Harma the Dogshead; Styr as well, and Varamyr Sixskins with his wolves and his shadowcat.

The Lost Lord ~ ADWD

I personally ignored Aegon because I started with the show and didn’t know he was a (living) character until I read the books. I wasn’t even all that convinced he’d be particularly important. So I always looked at Jon’s interactions with Mance (associated with black + red) as "preparation” for Jon’s internactions with Daniella.

Hoewver, that changed when show!Cersei took over some of book!Aegon role: sitting on the Iron Throne, the Golden Company, and loved over Daniella in the last to final episode. It seems to me now that Mance can also (at the very least if not all) be seen as “preparation” for Jon’s interactions Aegon. As said, Mance dresss in a black and red cloak which associates him with Targs, the cloak being “copied” by Aegon. Mance united the notorious “give no fucks about authority) wildlings under one idea (run from the Others), while Aegon united a sellsword compay (sellswords are untrustworthty).

Moreover, it’s my conviction that Jon and Aegon are probably going to war against each other for a time (this is illustrated by what I believe are their respective dragons and a natural consequence if Aegon sits in King’s Landing while the Starks declare Northern Indepdencen), until they sommehow make peace (in case of Mance and Jon it was because of the Others, but for Jon and Aegon it could be their fire counterart, Danerys).

TL;DR: I think these vague connections between Mance and Aegon are rather interesting and may be “preparation” for Jon and Aegon’s intereactons will involve war AND peace. Interestingly, Connington’s next chapter feaures battle.

#aegon vi targaryen

66 notes · View notes

atinytokki · 4 years

Text

Distant Daylight

iv. Apprenticeship

Yunho tried not to flinch at the slap delivered across his face. It stung, but the image of that bloody body, unmoving in the dirt, stung worse.

He knew he deserved it for what he did to the scar face boy, but the contempt in the headmaster’s eyes was solid proof that he had lost the only potential ally in this orphanage. Probably forever. His earlier mercy on that first day was forgotten.

It was several moments before steam stopped coming out of his ears and the man finally spoke.

“I’m moving you to the delinquents room in the south wing.”

Yunho looked up at him in shock.

“But you said we wouldn’t be separated—“

“I said you would not be separated if you didn’t cause trouble,” the headmaster was quick to cut him off. “You’ve only been here a month and already you’re starting fights.”

Yunho shook his head and began to plead. The composure he had maintained thus far was thrown out the window when it came to Gunho.

“But I didn’t start it, the boy attacked Gunho first! And he threatened him before, I tried to tell you!”

“Silence! Speak without permission again and I’ll hand you over to the jailhouse instead. They won’t be so forgiving there.”

Yunho’s mouth clicked shut. He was completely helpless again. With his bare hands, he had destroyed everything he had built in the past month. Everything he had done to try to feel normal again.

And worse, he didn’t even know if the scar face boy was alive.

Yunho was roughly escorted back to the east wing to pack up his things.

Gunho sat on his bed and sobbed, begging him not to go. It rent his heart in two because he wanted more than anything to stay, but there was nothing that could be done. The headmaster’s word was final.

That first night in the delinquents room, he pulled the blankets over his head and tried not to cry.

Gunho was sleeping alone without him, and the scar face boy’s friends were probably waiting to finish what he started.

No one would listen to a word out of Yunho’s mouth.

“No one’s going to adopt you now.”

Yunho looked up from where he had been staring across the great hall at Gunho and met eyes with the boy that was looking at him.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re in the delinquents room,” the boy said matter of factly. “Adopters don’t even glance in our direction.”

Yunho sighed and swallowed a tasteless bite of breakfast. He had figured as much, and it didn’t bother him as much as it ought to. He hadn’t wanted to be considered for adoption anyway.

“There is hope for your brother, though,” the boy went on, mouth full of food and paying no mind to it. “He seems nice and if he masters the pitiful orphan act, he has a chance.”

It was a passing remark from a stranger but it made Yunho’s heart skip a beat, because he was right.

There was a chance that Gunho might be adopted.

He had expressed interest, however briefly, and he was younger, cuter, quieter... not to mention that he didn’t have a delinquency record.

He could very easily be adopted and leave Yunho behind.

As Gunho gazed back at him longingly from the other side of the room, Yunho knew there was no way Gunho would let himself be permanently separated from his older brother.

But perhaps he wouldn’t have a choice.

“My name’s Sangwoo by the way.”

Again Yunho was drawn from the depths of his thoughts to rest his attention on the boy who was talking to him.

“Yunho,” he responded simply. It was hard to tell if this boy was actually being friendly or if he was just pretentious and couldn’t keep his nose out of other people’s business.

He wasn’t willing to toe the line more than he already had with this character. He looked older and bigger and the older boys were intimidating.

“I know,” Sangwoo said cheerfully. “All the others are talking about you.”

Yunho’s eyebrows shot up at this and he peeked at the rest of the delinquents table. “Really?”

“Of course! You’ve only been here a month and you beat another orphan within an inch of his life.”

The fact that Sangwoo and the other teenagers were impressed by this flew over Yunho’s head. “...He’s alive?”

Sangwoo shrugged and returned to his meal. “No one knows. He was moved to a hospital, though, so that means he wasn’t already dead when you finished with him at least.”

Yunho sighed with relief and sat back. It wasn’t a definitive answer but it was better than the bloody image ingrained in his mind alone.

“Your technique could use some work,” Sangwoo was saying. “But then again, you’re, what? Nine?”

“Eight, actually,” Yunho corrected him, ears burning red with embarrassment. He wasn’t hungry for breakfast anymore.

“And that boy was at least two years older than you, not to mention bigger, so well done for a first fight,” Sangwoo smiled at him. Something in that smile loosened Yunho and he decided to keep talking to him.

“How old are you, exactly?”

“Twelve. My voice hasn’t dropped yet but when it does, I’m going to read scary stories to the little kids,” he winked at him and Yunho frowned back.

“I’m not a little kid.”

“No, you’re not,” Sangwoo agreed, reaching over and ruffling Yunho’s crazy mop of hair. “You wouldn’t be scared, would you?”

Yunho shook his head resolutely.

“I was, at your age,” Sangwoo hummed, more serious now. Like he was remembering something Yunho didn’t know about.

“Did...something scary happen to you at my age?” Yunho’s voice was barely above a whisper, but Sangwoo’s nod indicated that he had heard it.

“My whole life has been a scary story,” came the quiet whisper.

Yunho didn’t get to ask him about it until that night as soon as the caretakers left. He wrapped his blanket around himself and padded over to Sangwoo’s bed.

The two sat there picking at stray threads while Sangwoo told him his life story.

Abandoned as an infant, in and out of orphanages and workhouses— even jail at one point.

“That’s because I stole a matchbox,” Sangwoo chuckled. “I didn’t use it for anything other than a light to read by, but they thought I was going to burn the orphanage down.”

His expression tightened into a grave mask as he entered his preteen years. “A family adopted me. Except it wasn’t because they liked me, they just wanted me to work for them.”

Sangwoo sighed and picked harder at the blanket. “They were downright abusive. And then they had the gall to return me and adopt someone else. I swore never to be adopted again after that.”

Yunho swallowed. So that was what awaited Gunho should he be chosen.

“What are you planning to do, then?” He asked when there was a pause in the hushed conversation. “What choice is there, apart from adoption?”

“As soon as you’re of age, they release you. Then you go out into the world and... try to make a living, I guess.”

“Without an apprenticeship? Or any inheritance whatsoever?” Yunho remembered from his lessons at the Academy how important these things were.

Sangwoo simply smirked at him. “There are other ways to become someone. As long as you can fend for yourself, you’ll be fine.”

As long as you can fend for yourself.

Yunho had what it took. He had the blind anger at the world that could be concentrated into pure power. He had the cleverness to survive from each meal to the next. But what skills he possessed had yet to be honed. There was something he still needed.

“Sangwoo, will you teach me?”

Through the low light of the lantern sitting between them, Yunho saw Sangwoo smile and nod.

“You’ll become even better than me.”

...

A/N: No, I didn’t forget this one ;) So begins the cycle of spinoff updates. If you want to vote for which member gets a spinoff next, send an ask or a message to let me know <3 Thanks for reading!

← Previous | Masterlist | Next →

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez au #ateez imagines #ateez angst #ateez yunho #jeong yunho #yunho fanfic #ateez pirate concpet #ateez pirates #distant daylight #distant daylight.iv #tokki writes

9 notes · View notes

evien-stark · 4 years

Text

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 75

Fear turned into rage all too quickly. While you were completely susceptible to Tony’s sudden overload, your mind was racing for other reasons. Why was the Mandarin going after your family? That had to be it, right? Though, not because of you, it must have been because of Tony. The Mandarin was involved with the Ten Rings. An organization that had worked with Obi to try and snuff Tony out way back when. They’d double-crossed Obi and asked for more money when they realized it was Tony Stark who they’d been asked to target.

They asked Tony to build weapons for them- Obi had been selling weapons to them- and it all came to a head with Obi triple-crossing them (that was how it worked, right?) by killing one of their top leaders all while Tony had made it his own mission to find and destroy the weapons that did not rightfully belong to them. Sure. Sure they had reason to target Tony. The people close to him. But why now? Tony’s flights to the middle east to try and clean that whole mess up himself had been quite some time ago. The two of you have been far more preoccupied with other worldly needs.

...why now?

The question wouldn’t leave you alone. Before this, there apparently had been nine random bombings that had nothing to do with you or Tony or Stark Industries, or any of it. Nine. Nine separate random bombings in nine random separate places. Then the bombing on the air base that Rhodey had been stationed at. And now the bombing last night- nearly claiming a completely innocent life in all of this.

Happy had never done anything to anyone. So what, he was Tony’s security- your security- Stark Industries’ security. So what? Rhodey, maybe, you could understand. He’d probably been on more than one mission to clean up the Ten Rings nonsense, and he may have been keeping an eye on the Mandarin’s activities when the first few bombings occurred. That made sense.

But now Rhodey and Happy? Why? How did this all fit together? It was killing you, not to understand it. That it just didn’t make any sense. But it had to, right? It couldn’t all be completely random nonsense. The Mandarin had a target- he had a message. God knew he wouldn’t shut up about it on national TV. His message seemed centered around America’s failings- and President Ellis most of all. So then why Tony’s closest confidants all of a sudden? Because Ellis had a direct line to the both of you? Was that it? He was trying to circumvent his final plan of taking out Ellis by taking you and Tony out first?

Was that how this all made sense?

It took a long hour after JARVIS’ initial report for the two of you to stop clinging to one another and get out of bed. After that there had been an onslaught of questions, as the two of you put on clothes, that JARVIS couldn’t answer. How critical was Happy’s condition? Was he going to be okay? What had happened? Why had it happened? The bombing had been at the Chinese Theater. Happy had asked for the night off- had he been meeting someone there? God damn it, none of it was making any sense. And that was probably part of the reason Tony was so agitated.

Aside from the fact that the Mandarin had put one of his closest friends in the hospital, for seemingly no reason. There were really two things that could piss Tony off more than anything else in the world. Going after his family- and not being able to make sense out of something. It was culminating in an angry black storm brewing in his heart. And he was sucking you in with him.

You’d called ahead in those early morning hours to put extra extra security at Happy’s doors- assuming he made it out of surgery. But he would. Of course he would. There was no planning for a scenario where a doctor came out of those hospital wing doors and told you we’ve done all we could. You and Tony weren’t preparing for that. Because it wasn’t going to happen. Happy would pull through this and tell you what the hell happened. Who attacked him. And why.

In your haste to prep a security team for Happy’s room, you’d forgotten, stupidly, to get a squadron for yourselves. Though it was barely five in the morning, media was parked out in the front of the hospital, hemming and hawing at each other for top spots as Tony pulled the car around. It was a tough slow crawl, wading through them, hand in hand, keeping your heads down. Now was not the time to answer any questions. You didn’t even have any answers. You had nothing to say. Tony seemed to feel the same way.

Their shouts died down behind the hospital sliding glass doors in the lobby, and you took up the arduous task of filling out a million pieces of paper. Tony was too busy pacing around, waiting for news. Waiting for anything. There was no point in asking him to sit still or to just calm down. It was just a shame that every time he crossed in front of you again, it ticked your nerves. Now was not the time for that. You had to be stronger than ever before. For him. You had to hold this together. Because from the feel of him he was a few pulled stitches short of breaking apart completely.

It took absolutely too long for a surgeon to finally arrive- and- ...thankfully, as planned for, she let you know Happy was going to make it. He’d had internal bleeding, had had ruptures and needed sutures and-... was lucky to be alive, so close to a blast zone. But he was alive. The most important part. So at eight in the morning, the two of you were allowed to go up to his very private and closed off room. The walls were a darker color. It was cozier than that medically pristine white everyone else had to live with.

Happy would like it, you thought. It would be a good environment for him to be awake in. Once he regained consciousness. He was hooked up to a few different machines, and had an IV drip going. While you sat aside him, Tony took to pacing for another half hour before dropping to sit in a chair by the door. Then getting up to pace some more. Then turning on the TV. Then sitting again.

A few nurses came in and out, mumbled condolences and took too long a look at all three occupants in the room before leaving again. What were the two of you doing here? How long would you wait for? Was it likely that Happy would come to soon? How long could you afford to sit here? You could tell Tony was wrestling with the same questions. Sitting here idle was making him anxious and angry. But he didn’t want to go if there was a chance Happy was going to wake up. Not just because the two of you desperately needed answers, but because you didn’t want him to be alone when he did.

The next nurse that came in just at twelve in the afternoon tended to Happy’s IV and looked at the recordings on his machines, took some notes…

Tony finally found his voice. Tired and drawn. “He gonna wake up soon?”

“It’s hard to say. If I had to guess…?”

“Please do.” You were surprised how tired you sounded.

She sighed. “Probably not for a while yet. Maybe not until tomorrow. He needs rest, anyway.” As she turned away, she stepped over to the TV and reached up to turn it off.

Tony waved a weak dismissive hand at her. “Uh… mind leaving that on?”

Quickly she dropped her hands and gave him an understanding smile. “Sure.”

Finally he found his feet again, and motioned for you to stand. You had a much harder time. It felt like your body was just on the verge of giving up, really. Tony turned to look at happy, and spoke to no one in particular. “Sunday night's PBS 'Downtown Abbey'. That's his show, he thinks it's elegant.” Even though the TV was showing a rerun right now. It crushed you- that he knew that. You didn’t even know that. “One more thing...make sure everyone wears their badges. He's a stickler for that sort of thing, plus my guys won't let anyone in without them.”

It killed you, in fact. Not so long ago Happy had been questioning whether or not Tony needed him. Maybe whether or not Tony even cared anymore. But Tony had never stopped. Because that was just who he was. Happy was part of his family. Close to his heart. Nothing would change that. You just wished Happy was awake to hear it.

But he would be, you reminded yourself. Sternly. He would. Soon.

Hand in hand you and Tony walked back down through the halls. In the elevator he slipped on his sunglasses. Probably a great idea, considering. ...considering the media nightmare was probably still poised on the sidewalk waiting for any sort of sound byte they could get their hands on.

Reaching up you squeezed the left side cuff on your ear. “LUNA, can you just give me the sunglasses?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

A function you had not utilized. But if she could do the visor, you were sure she could shape the little whatever it was into colored lenses. Which she did promptly after you asked.

Returning your hand to Tony’s, you gave him a squeeze as the elevator doors opened. “Don’t say anything to them. We’re not prepared to make a statement. We don’t have enough information. Alright?” This was a very sensitive issue. Too close to the vest. To the both of your hearts. And before you could start saying anything to the press, you had to try and understand the deeper meaning behind all of it.

His weak murmur of understanding was not particularly convincing. His car was waiting for the both of you outside on the front walk- as were the terrible flashing lights and mounting voices all crying over one another so that they could be the one that got the story.

Tony clutched your hand harder, and already you could tell. “Tony-” Trying to quietly, calmly warn him not to give in.

But he was riled. His core was shaking. He was angry. Bleeding with fury. And he needed to put it somewhere.

They were all crying the both of your names, shoving recorders in your faces. Trying to get your attention. His attention. The two of you physically had to push through them to walk to the car.

It wasn’t until a scruffy looking reporter- with just his cell phone recording- shoved through the crowd, the both of you looked at him. A mistake. You should have just shoved everyone aside and put Tony in the car- and yet-

“Hey, Mr. Stark! When is somebody gonna kill this guy? Just sayin'.”

You tried to volley that bait away from Tony. “At this time, we-”

Tony’s hand let go of yours and he turned to the kid. “Is that what you want?” That’s when you knew it was all over. Something stupid was about to happen. You just severely underestimated the limits of how far Tony’s anger would push him. The voices all died down and Tony stared directly at him. “Here's a little Holiday greeting I've been wanting to send to the Mandarin. I just didn't know how to phrase it until now. My name is Tony Stark and I'm not afraid of you. I know you're a coward, so I've decided-”

In one clean move he removed his sunglasses and you barely glanced up at him. It was hard to know what to do. Speaking like this was giving him a sense of catharsis. It was healing him. But it was also such a terribly stupid mistake to be making.

You kept your head held up. Standing in solidarity with him. Trying to be strong. The two of you couldn’t fall apart now. Especially not with what he was saying-

“You just died, pal. I'm gonna come get the body.” He suddenly looked back and forth between all the cameras pointed both your way. “There's no politics here- it's just good old-fashioned revenge. There's no Pentagon- it's just you and me. And on the off-chance you're a man, here's my home address: 10-8-80, Malibu Point, 90265. I'll leave the door unlocked.”

You were so very glad you had darkened lenses covering your eyes, blocking the image of your reaction from the public, because you were quite sure they just bulged out of your head. What the fuck was he doing? You grabbed on to him harder. Both because you were suddenly pissed he’d do something so wildly dumb, and also now more terrified than you ever had been before.

Tony reached up, yanking the cell phone out of the guy’s hand. “That’s what you wanted, right?” Then turned suddenly, chucking it against the nearest pillar, shattering it into a million pieces. Turning back, he looked the guy square in the eyes, opening the door for you at the same time, guiding hand at your back to help you in. “Bill me.”

It became a literal media frenzy after that, voices shouting, crying, complaining- all after something. But he shut your door, silencing them, only slipping in for a few seconds as he got in on his side. He was quick to rev the engine pointedly and screech out of the lot, probably leaving tire marks on the pavement.

You wanted to hold it all together. You really wanted to try and rationalize this and come up with a plan. Calmly. But that’s not what happened. As soon as you were clear of earshot and possible picture shots, you turned to him and yelled. “What the fuck are you doing, Tony?!”

Did he really just do that? Were you asleep right now? Just having a nightmare? One could hope.

One would also be wrong.

His hands clenched on the wheel. “I don’t- I know, okay? I’m sorry. It’s done. It’s over. We can only move past it.”

“No! I think we need to talk about what you just did!”

“I know what I did- I was the one doing it-”

“Really? I don’t think you do. You just fucking threatened a terrorist that’s been bombing every place to kingdom come- and gave him our fucking address- you basically just told him to come and blow up our house!!”

“I know!”

The two of you had very suddenly entered into a screaming match in the very small space of the car. And his voice thundering out from him like that not only startled you, but it unearthed the loose ground you’d been clinging to throughout this entire ordeal. Way before this. Way before Happy was put in the hospital.

Your hands shot up to your face as the tears started, and an unintelligible string of weeping words escaped you. Even you weren’t sure what you were saying. The car stopped, Tony pulling to the side of the road, realizing the utter devastation- the sheer damage he’d caused.

Without a second thought after the car was put in park, his shifted to wrap his arms around you, pulling you half over from your seat, not an entirely comfortable position- but it hardly mattered, as you sat in his lap with his seat angled back and hit your face in his chest. Clutched to him. Just letting that darkness that you’d been bottling up for so long just stream out of you. It hadn’t had your permission to come out like this, but it really hadn’t never needed it.

Just waiting for the right moment.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” He kept saying it, over and over while you struggled through tears and hyperventilation. Struggling to find a good place to stop, if you even could. The worst part about it all was that it didn’t make you feel any better.

Tony was ill, Happy was in the hospital. Your life was falling apart. And he’d gone and threatened a terrorist with the absolute means to try and destroy all of you.

Why had he done that? Why?

But you knew why. Because he was lashing out. His unwinding over this situation was on the opposite extreme from yours. And he was realizing it now. How devastating his anger was. The destruction it had caused- and was about to, even further still.

It took you a long time to stop. He’d been talking you through the whole thing. Asking you to try and find your breaths in between continually apologizing. Telling you that he knew how stupid he was. But over your own sounds you were just getting wisps and murmurs. Half sentences. You understood the meaning.

Felt it in his sorrow. He really was sorry. He really was just as broken over all of this as you were.

But there was no point to this. Just like there had been no point in arguing in the first place. It was over. Done. What would come of it was what you should have put your attention to. Not what had gotten you there. Even if you knew the two of you had to work through all of that. You had so much work to do, didn’t you? This, and the other thing you’d talked about just the brief day before- and… the rest of it…

It felt like it was never ending. Like it was just never going to stop.

“What are we going to do now?” Your voice was hoarse when you finally found it. You felt about as dead as a living human could, just sitting there against him.

“We’ll figure it out.”

An easier way of saying I don’t know.

How could he? How could you? How could either of you even truly begin to understand?

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter Seventy Five

8 notes · View notes

whumpqhs · 5 years

Text

Whumptober alt #11: Infection

Continuation of:

Part 1

Part 2

“You done?”

As her hands kept moving to secure the last bit of tape, Sonora looked up at the familiar, smirking face. “No.”

“No… what?” His tone changed, firmer, more threatening, and she couldn’t help but shiver, remembering the way he’d pulled her out of bed at gunpoint with the same voice. For the hours it had taken to bring the patient out of septic shock, he’d been almost professional--asking what she needed, stepping in to help her reposition. As if they were working together, which, in a way, they were. He’d even put the safety back on his blaster at one point, and it was still holstered on his belt. But his voice made it clear: the change wasn’t permanent. Now he was back to his usual self.

“...no, Keeper.”

His usual, asshole, self.

“That’s more like it. What else is there to do?”

“I…” she paused for a moment, considering. “Permission to speak freely… sir?” It was a test, a little one. Would the patient’s needs get back into the way, like they had before? Make it harder for him to be such an ass, make him just a fellow medic again?

“Granted.” A small victory. He accepted “sir”, too, which… she’d prefer not to call an enemy operative sir. But it was better than Keeper.

“I’m not going to be done in the near future. You wanted him out of septic shock, so I performed emergency treatment to get him stable. His infection is still severe and he could go back into sepsis at literally any moment. Besides that, he experienced complete respiratory failure due to the infection and his cardiovascular numbers are… bad. His heart and lungs are overstressed from the infection; they can’t even keep up on their own, which is why he’s been placed on EVACS…” she pointed out the machine to one side of the hospital bed, beeping and chiming along with several others responsible for keeping the patient alive. External Ventilation And Cardiac Support, a heart and lung that functioned outside the body, sort of like dialysis. “EVACS patients need constant, continuous monitoring by a specialist. Unless you can get someone else with the certification?”

“You know we can’t.”

“Then I’m not done.”

“Did you talk to your old Keeper that way?”

She looked away, trying not to fire back with another smart remark. “You asked if I was finished, presumably to take me back to my cell. I’m telling you that I can’t leave this patient if you want him to live through the night. Those are the facts of the situation. Unless you want me to teach someone here to run the machines, I have to stay nearby, in case something goes wrong.” A part of her wished they’d let her rest, and damn the consequences: being paralyzed hadn’t been restful. She’d been awake all those days; every muscle ached and her arm was only getting worse.

“Fine…” he pulled up a chair beside her and sat down, indicating the other seat beside the bed for her. “I’m a medical agent, just like you are. Teach me.”

Sonora took a deep breath and sat down in the chair. She was still wearing all of the isolation gear that had taken the place of letting her clean up and shower, and it looked like she’d just performed surgery. She wished she could take it off, or do something about the throbbing pain in her arm. At least they’d finally taken the saline lock out, and given her some water to drink, but the site was still tender, still feverish. It still hurt all the time.

“Alright… so…” Where was she even supposed to start? The class she took for the certification was years back. “He’ll need labs Q2… we have him on blood thinners because there’s a big risk of clots. Big risk of air embolism, because we’ve got a lot of connections, so check those all the time. Here, and here… and here…” she pointed out the places where the prisoner’s blood entered the mechanical lung and left it, the pump to keep it circulating, the port for IV fluids.

He nodded at her. “Alright. What else?”

She heard the shift in his voice and tried not to notice how it no longer sounded like he wanted her dead.

“Neuro checks are important, but since he’s sedated and on a vent, you’re limited in what you can do…” as she slowly worked from the patient’s head down to his feet, the way her instructor had done, it seemed like he got more attentive, and less... assholish, in general. When she looked up at him, he’d lost that punchable smirk and was watching her, listening. Some small part of her dimly realized that this might be a good time to escape, but in a locked ward full of SIS, one mildly distracted medic wasn’t going to give her much of an opening. She kept going and then started at the machine again, turning to him.

“Okay. Now you do it.”

“Huh?”

“Walk me through it. What are we looking for?”

“Oh. So, he’s on blood thinners… right now we have Kordal on board at one milligram per kilogram, nearest 25, which works out to seventy-five milligrams per 24 hours…”

“Kordal?”

“Oh, you know. Tesinexterase sulfite.”

“Oh, I know.” She tilted her head at him. “I’m just… surprised that you do. Republic doesn’t use trade names… don’t call or label their meds that way…” Even the supplies in their medkits were all generic names, she knew from having to rely on captured supplies on Ossus. When Imperial forces captured Republic medics, they usually had more important things to talk about than meds, but every so often, a back alley cartel deal or incoming shipment would come up during questioning. She remembered “encouraging” the answers out of more than one... and none of them rattled off brand names like that.

What it could possibly mean hung in the air, but as his gaze snapped up and met hers, she got the sudden feeling that saying it out loud was not a good idea.

Keeper glared at her as if she’d insulted most of his ancestors. “What’re you implying? I’ve been a loyal citizen of the Republic my entire life.”

“Nothing, sir. Nothing, just unusual, that’s all. You’re doing really well, so--why do we have him on blood thinners, again?” She felt the little spike of adrenaline rushing her words as she tried to change the subject. A few cycles passed of teaching each other the overview, and he seemed to relax. She hoped he’d forgotten all about it. She tried not to notice when every long and complicated generic got reliably reduced down to its trade name, as if she were back at headquarters on Dromund Kaas, working in their covert medicine wing. Tried not to wonder what, exactly, it meant… and why he was so touchy about it. The patient, meanwhile, seemed to be holding steady. Keeper looked over at her and back to all the variables pulled up in the chart, and sighed.

“...you can sleep in here. When you sleep, I’ll watch the both of you. While I sleep, someone else will come in to watch you and the prisoner.” He finally seemed to be getting it: sending her back to her cell, even though it was just a five-minute walk down the hall, was simply too far. Sonora breathed a sigh of relief, blinking as he tapped a few times on his comm.

“Already?”

“No, I’m calling someone to come get you for a short time. You’ll live, for tonight… so you need to clean yourself up for the next shift. And… when you get back, I’ll look at your arm. Seems to have infiltrated a little.” For once, just once, instead of talking to a prisoner, he sounded like he was talking to another healer like himself.

“...thank you, Keeper.” The words still tasted bitter, but she knew what he wanted to hear. As she turned to walk out of the room with her escort, letting the guard fit the cuffs onto her hands, she caught a glimpse in the reflection of the room’s window: he’d already started his neuro checks, right on time. Her feelings swirled in confusion as the door shut, leaving the patient’s room behind them.

She’d taught an enemy asset how to better save the lives of his comrades. The SIS who dogged their every step, who’d captured her and put her through this… so where exactly was this surge of pride coming from?

I’m late again aaaaaaugh. My brain decided that my whump needed a plot. Why, brain? Why?

#whumptober2019 #altno.11 #swtor #imperial agent #torture mention #medical whump #i guess this needs a title now it has three chapters #oh no #Bitter Medicine

5 notes · View notes

maternalcube · 5 years

Text

i did an art summary so now im doing a fic summary. i was tagged by @jamthedingus also!! ive never done one of these before!! lets go!!!

Rest (13106)

Keith & Lance's Island Adventure (20631)

Atlantis (10014 words)

The Way to a Man’s Heart (6858 words)

nobody's business (2096 words)

leave, and take (557 words)

dead girl walking (1661 words)

the course of fate (1039 words)

who ya gonna call (465 words)

come here often? (806 words)

til kingdom come (1950 words)

stars in the sky (pt 2) (5404 words)

a song of falling (630 words)

Eyes to the Sky (3683 words)

Feet on the Ground (4050 words)

Divergence (6669 words)

homecoming (1426 words)

Window of Opportunity (11144 words)

along that wilderness of glass (3801 words)

string theory (2327 words)

Katt Week (1062 words)

The Pining-Plant (3860 words)

at the end of many worlds (21684 words)

you're my home (19646 words)

Believe Me (3177 words)

Starchild (3568 words)

Summer Heat (2285 words)

third time's the charm (5349 words)

Blackbird (59546 words)

The Sixth Planet (9444 words)

all the infinite realities (1197 words)

Total Fics: 31! (plus one i posted anonymously lmao) Total Words: 229999! (except parts of string theory and the sixth planet were actually posted last year... but still, what a number)

more under the cut!

Ship/character breakdown: i didnt filter out my prompt collection or abandoned wips here so /shrug Ship breakdown:

klance - 6 sheith - 5 shance - 5 katt - 4 heith - 3 pallura - 2 and one each of plance, kallura, allurance, shatt, shkatt, kidge, kidgance, and shunk. and keiths parents lol. let it never be said i am not a multishipper.

and i know gen isnt a ship but it tied with klance at 6 (plus whatevers in the prompt collection) which was a surprise

Character breakdown: man if theres a way to get ao3 to show me ALL the stats, i dont know it. but.

keith - 25 (shocker) shiro - 23 lance - 21 pidge - 17 hunk - 16 allura - 12 matt - 12 and then coran and sam are at 4, and zarkon ats 3 and presumably many others are at 3 or less

Characters that had the main focus: well ~9 were from keiths pov, and ~5 each from shiro and lances povs. i think i also had ~5 from multiple points of view. its safe to say that keith has my heart tho lol

Specifics:

Best/worst title? Best title: i still like “at the end of many worlds.” i weirdly still like “Blackbird” too even if it has nothing to do with anything... Worst title: “Rest.” :/ also like all of the abandoned wips bc i didnt care. and “Keith & Lance's Island Adventure.″ some of my zine fic titles were also... bad. im bad at titles.

Best/worst first line?

Best: Keith & Lance's Island Adventure. ok the title is bad but this line? this really sets the tone for whole fic. you know what youre getting yourself into here.

When Pidge invited Keith to a fully-funded graduation party aboard the Holt family boat (“the smaller one, anyway,” she’d said), this is not exactly what he'd pictured: three of them standing on a wobbly dock, packed bags at their feet, sky cloudy and gray, while the Holt siblings stand on a little ledge off the back of the boat and deny entry.

Worst: ive got two for this lol

at the end of many worlds: even i have to read this a couple times to figure out what i was trying to say. at least you know youre in for pain...

Keith’s mother shows up to interrupt movie night often enough that, this time, Keith almost doesn’t realize anything’s wrong. Almost, because she’s silhouetted by the movie, but she’s clutching her arm and panting for breath, and in the thin edge of light around her he sees a wet and vibrant red.

Divergence: because all your friends being dead is EXACTLY like losing at dodgeball. yeah, theres a reason i abandoned this one.

Hunk always hated playing dodgeball. Not because he was bad at it--though he was--but because he always ended up the last one standing, and therefore the only target for the entire other team. It was due to a tendency to hang unnoticed in the back, he knew, but that didn't change the sickening, empty feeling of looking around and realizing there's no one left but him, and there's no way he can win. Only wait for the inevitable.

This, Hunk decides, is a lot like that, only, like, a billion times worse.

Best/worst last line?

Best: The Pining-Plant. there are a few others that were cute too but this one is also good out of context so

And then the pod swishes open and he's scrambling to catch Pidge as she stumbles out. She clings to his arms to steady herself and his heart swells.

"Falling for me again, huh?" he asks, and she groans loudly.

"Let me go, I'm getting back in the pod," she says, and he laughs. He doesn't let go, and neither does she.

Worst: if im bad at titles, im worse at endings. most are bad. i suspect the ending to “Rest” is terrible but i cant bring myself to even open that shit again so: Believe Me. if weather were a recurring theme in this fic, itd be fine, but as is its just... a weird note to end the fic on lmao

Hunk rocks back on his heels. "We aren't counting this as our official first date, right?"

"I dunno," Keith says, and now he smiles at the rain instead of frowning. It shows no sign of easing up, but whatever—they're soaked anyway. "This seems pretty good to me."

“...All right.” If nothing else, it’ll make a good story. And, Hunk had to admit—he’s pretty happy with how it’s turned out, rain and all.

But next time, he's double-checking the forecast, just in case.

General questions:

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?

more than i expected! considering ive been in grad school all year!! i wrote about the same amount wordcount-wise in 2017 which i spent only half in school so. idk how i managed it.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

the anonymous fic was a surprise but im not gonna talk about that lol. otherwise... nah, its all been my usual stuff.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

blackbird, probably. i like working on that one. summer heat was also fun, id sort of forgotten about it bc it was a zine fic but coming back to it, i really liked it. likewise with third time’s the charm. and i like t6p a lot even if i kinda hate drawing for it :’)

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

depends on your metric. window of opportunity has the most kudos, keith and lance’s island adventure has the most hits, and t6p has the most comments and subscriptions.

Story most underappreciated by the universe?

AT THE END OF MANY WORLDS. oh man i killed myself over that fic. it was important to me. but i think the mcd scared everyone off :’)

Story that could have been better?

i realize “all of them” is kind of a cop out answer but like

Sexiest story?

i have written nothing sexy, ever, in my whole life

Saddest story?

i mean, ateomw. considering all the death. blackbird def has its moments too.

Most fun?

i feel like i answered this in the favorite story q lmao. you’re my home also gets a shoutout, that thing was,, super self-indulgent lmao. and id be lying if i said i didnt have fun with parts of ateomw, even if its mostly sad.

Story with single sweetest moment?

man i write a lot of fluff but so much of you’re my home is just tooth-rotting. heres part of the proposal scene lmao

"Lance!" Keith yelps, barely rescuing the ring from falling into the sand with them. Lance pushes himself up on his arms, silhouetted by the sun and glowing with it.

"Really?" he asks breathlessly.

"Yeah," Keith says, and maybe he should've prepared something to say, that's a thing people do, right? Hell, he's winging it. "I know we can't stay here on Earth forever, 'cause we're paladins, and there's still stuff out there we gotta do. And I know you probably want to stay because this is your home—but you're my home, and if we gotta go, at least you'll have me, good or bad." He grins crookedly. "Or rocket science. Whatever happens, I'll be there."

Hardest story to write?

well t6p gets a shoutout, but its not the writing thats the hard part for that. uhhh ive struggled with parts of blackbird. i remember k&l’s island adventure giving me a LOT of trouble, i think i posted late lol

Easiest/most fun story to write?

anything short uhhh for all the infinite realities, i kind of just sat down the other day (actually i was in bed but) and was like “im gonna write this” and then in the morning i just sat down and wrote it in one go. i dunno if id call it fun, but it was easy. t6p is super fun to write but, as mentioned, drawing it sucks.

Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters?

no... my perceptions probably have shifted but not due to anything i wrote in particular. i did talk myself into liking allurance with a prompt fill, though, but im not sure that was 2018...

Most overdue story?

all the infinite realities lmao. at the end of many worlds needed that happy ending. and another shoutout to t6p, because thats been going on over a year and im still nowhere.

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

does posting my abandoned wips count? ive still got some of those hanging around... blackbird was a bit of a risk bc my last longfic was written while i was unemployed and out of school, so like i had the time for it, and now i kinda dont. still chugging tho. ateomw b/c of all the death but it turns out i really like writing whump woops. and writing any sort of kissing always feels like a risk bc i suck at it but im getting better lol... i hope...

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

write more! finish things! do more sheith! i really want to work on this sheith longfic i came up with the other day... but i want to get blackbird over with first.

Tagging: eh! do it if you want to!

#i need a fic tag #HOO BOY

3 notes · View notes

godtier-rose · 6 years

Text

healing is hard

I’ve recently went through something so unreal to me that I’m still honestly pretty emotional and still working through it. I kept a little measly journal while I was in a psych ward, and I have now been home for almost a week and have typed up all six days I had spent there. This is going to be such a LONG post, but if you are struggling, or just curious about what a psych ward was like from my point of view, go on and read this.

I want others to know that they aren't alone with their suicidal thoughts. I feel shy and a little embarrassed talking about mine, and my depression, but thats what landed me in there. I didn't ask for help.

My sister gave me “It’s Kind of a Funny Story” while I was in there, and it just felt nice to read something that someone else went through that I was then going through. Thats why I wrote every day in my little booklet while I was in there.

I was given a second chance that others do not get. People have already denied my experience. I don’t care. People who try to tell you that what happened to you wasn’t real, literally don’t matter. I didn’t try to kill myself to prove anything to anyone. I didn’t plan on surviving. But I lived.

Here are my days, as best recalled and sloppily written as I can manage, not being the best writer:

day 0 - last day

the walk to publix is simple. after spending an hour or so browsing the web for lethal doses of drugs, I settle on tylenol pm. 8 is dangerous. I can do that, I tell myself. I buy a bottle and a lunchable ( I have beer at home right? I think so), last meal goals? I almost run home, i’m grossly excited to die. sickening. but I was told one that I would never be remembered. I feel at peace. I won’t have to think about living after i’m gone, not about my depression, not about my feelings, money, stress, no consequences. living is so hard and dying is so easy.

no one else is home, I planned this perfectly. one handful, one beer. repeat. repeat. feel dizzy. fall around the room. knock shit over. people come home. I babble nonsense and say i’m going to bed. my note has been written. I tell no one what i’m doing, I don’t want to be stopped. I don’t want to survive this. no texts and no tweets, people will find out eventually. who cares, not my problem anymore.

drink. swallow more pills. drink. swallow. I stopped counting at 9 beers and 20 something tylenol. I hadn’t eaten all day, my lunchable is long forgotten. i’m a 5’1”, 98 pounds, this should do it. I don’t remember how much I ingest after that.

I black out, finally. i’m ready to die.

day 0 part 2 - not yet

and then???????

I wake up. mouth dry. vision so blurry I panic. I can barely stand. I think i’m going to be sick but nothing comes out. breathing hurts. everything hurts, everything is heavy, wavy,confusing.

i didn’t die. I was given another chance. panic, my body is shutting down, I text my sister, I call poison control, i’m too scared to dial 911. i’m not important or worth it.

I decide to get a fucking uber.(someone told me an ambulance ride is $1,000, fuck that) he pulls up and goes “...hospital???” and i’m standing there, swaying. Yes. please. he freaks out and seems confused, but drives fast and rushes me in. a man has me fill out paperwork and then he asks what’s wrong. I tell him I swallowed more than 20 tylenol to kill myself. I don’t remember how many I swallowed after 20, I don’t know how much I drank after that. he calls out a stretcher and i’m rushed away. all of my things are taken from me. i’m changed into a hospital gown (butt cheeks OUT, hospital gowns are embarrassing ) they take my blood, they put an IV into me (I almost pass out when I feel the cold go inside my vein, what the fuck) I don’t know what they pump into me but it feels weird and i’m freaked out. tabs are placed all over my body, i’m hooked up to an EKG machine. charcoal tablets( I think ? something for my stomach or liver they say? I'm not a doctor I don't know ) are taken. the nurse asks “honey why would you do this? why are you sad? what is there to be sad about?” a lot. she says i’m lucky that i’m still alive, the amount of alcohol and acetaminophen I consumed and still had in my body should have killed me or shut down my liver. I wanted to say “that was the goal” but I shut up as she took my vitals.

hours pass, I ask for my phone and they say I can look at it once...only once, and make it just a few minutes. then they put it in a bag with my clothes and purse. nurses and doctors walk past my room and peek in and whisper. one finally goes “is this her? the suicide ?” a woman from another room yells back “Yeah that’s the baker act”. i’m embarrassed. nurses and doctors keep stopping by my room to look in and I keep trying to avoid their eyes. I ask to use the restroom and I have to pee with the door open in the middle of the hospital, i’m not allowed to close it (suicide means 24 hour watch).I hate this. I ask my nurse if i’m going home tonight, she says “no baby, we can’t let you go home” I start crying. I call my sister from the nurses flip phone and tell her i’m not coming home.

it’s almost midnight now, hospital food is awful and i’m watching chopped on the tv above my bed. another nurse told me god saved my life. another tells me i’m “too young to be sad”.

“the baker act is being transferred” that’s what i’m called, i’m the suicide. the baker act. another stretcher comes, i’m loaded on. another hospital. I get to ride in an ambulance for the first time, the paramedics think it’s funny when I tell them that I took an uber to the hospital. “I bet it was cheaper, that’s for sure.”

they take me 10 minutes away, to a place that has a mental health unit. I have to sit downstairs in a room to wait for a bed. I go to the bathroom and a nurse yells at me and he slams the door open, saying “you can’t close this, you have to go with the door open!” i’m given a turkey sandwich and a little fruit cup, sitting in a reclining chair, it’s 2 am when they say I can go upstairs now. a screaming man was brought in when I was leaving, the nurses yelling at him saying he’s here because he was found naked in the bushes waving a samurai sword. I laugh and a nurse asks me what’s so funny.

I meet someone up on the 6th floor, the psych ward floor. She takes me to a room and I have to strip down. she marks a body chart with my tattoos, my burns, my cuts. i’m asked for the millionth time why i’m there. she gives me a new gown and brings me to my room. it’s a plain as it gets, and my roommate is asleep. it’s 2:30am.

I lay down in the most basic bed with this pillow that’s literally filled with something paper like. I sleep like shit.

day 1 in the psych ward

i am woken up again at 6am for vitals. I fall back to sleep until my roommate and I wake up to an announcement at 8:30. we stay in bed and talk a little. she’s here for swallowing 50 xanax, I say “shit, you beat me, I blacked out at 20 something tylenol” she’s impressed. she’s a 46 year old mother. kara. a doctor comes to see us and talks about the severity of what we both have done, tells us what meds they will be putting us on. we leave our room and look around, a nurse tells us we missed breakfast, but she gets us some cereal and juice. this place is full of interesting people, I watch in awe. a woman (marlene)keeps saying she’s frank sinatras daughter and that someone keeps burning her with cigarettes (no smoking allowed and she just yelled that it was happening just then, when no one was around her) another woman (isabelle) claims she works for the phone company, and takes one of the hospitals phones and takes it apart (breaks it) and says she got the bug out. a man (joe) won’t stop yelling for nurses. another woman (mary) keeps petting everyone’s hair. me and kara stick close to each other that morning. I speak with a case manager, who tells me i’ll be here a few days because of how severe my case is. whatever. I call my sister on the cord phone they have on the wall, ask her to bring me some books and clothes. I feel embarrassed to be walking around in the hospital gown. I tell her “it says we have arts and crafts today at 1:45”, she can’t stop laughing, “are you fucking serious???” it literally says Arts and Crafts on the daily events whiteboard.

I ask a nurse if I can shower, she gives me a towel and unlocks the shower door, where an open shower with no cover or curtain is, but I can lock the door.a broken soap dispenser holds a shampoo/bodywash combo (LAME), and there’s a few bandaids on the shower floor. I have to stand on my tiptoes to get close to the water. this sucks. after my shower it’s “process group” time, where kara and i get to meet some of the others, talk about our feelings, the works. kristie, sherri, carl, natalie, andrew, and myself and kara are the most sane and coherent. we all sit near each other at lunch. kristie is here for cutting herself, sherri for OD’ing, carl for suicidal thoughts, andrew for trying to slit his throat on drugs. I️ get mystery meatloaf for lunch. kara asks the nurse where to get a toothbrush after lunch, the nurse goes “maybe if you left your room and ask, you’d get one earlier.” I get defensive of my roomie and say “well ma’am i’m sorry we didn’t exactly pack for this, the plan wasn’t to make it here alive” kara, kristie, carrie, and andrew lose it, they can’t stop laughing. the nurse walks away.

someone tells me that after lunch a woman comes around with a menu, and you can order your lunch for the next day. I order chicken parm and mac n cheese and breakfast for others and cereal for myself. I order dinner for kara because she’s napping and I don’t want her to be cursed with the mystery meatloaf again.

after lunch is arts and crafts, where I make my sister a bracelet and then help a man from the other wing make a bracelet for his daughter.

after arts and crafts is a bit of free time, me and kara sit together and talk with a few of the others. the days feel so long here. my sister brings me clothes, makeup, toiletries and books, but i’m not allowed to see her. she gave me “Its kind of a funny story” and said that I️ had to read it because the kid gets baker acted. she brought me the extra clothes and stuff I asked for, I wander around and give clothes to some of my friends who aren’t able to have someone bring them any. I get conditioner, face wash, shampoo, body wash, and lotion, and become the toiletry mom who hands out and shares it with everyone who wants to use it in the shower.

eventually it’s dinner, and since we only got to order for the next day, kara and I are stuck with meatloaf again. I call elspeth after dinner and tell her about my day, tell her not to tell anybody i’m here, not even my parents, tell her to tell them my phone is dead and i’m at a friends, I don’t want anyone to know yet. i’ll y’all when i’m out and ready. she says she got mad and told some people what I did, but they didn’t believe her. that’s fine, I tell her they can never contact me ever again because they don’t care. I have nothing to prove. I lived and am now locked in a god damn mental ward. I have more important things in my life besides caring about people acting like they know what I did and why I did it. my goal was to be dead and not have to deal with this, but I got another shot so let me fucking be. i tell her there is visitation tomorrow from 6pm-8pm. I tell her that one of my friends was going to hang out with me, and that I can’t make it. also that I was messaging another friend and that she can tell him what happened, he will be understanding and caring. (shoutout to my sister for holding everything together while I could only contact the outside world through her via a phone with a cord)

after that I lie in bed and read my toradora manga elspeth also brought me. vitals are checked. a doctor ask me how i’m feeling, etc.

eventually we get snack time? which is juice, popcorn, bananas, and bread with PB&J.

finally it’s bedtime, my first day is complete. this all feels surreal. I write everything in the back of a booklet I was given earlier. I sleep like shit again.

day two, the days are still so long

6 am, vitals again. back to sleep. an announcement at 8 am gets me and Kara awake, it says there’s “grooming” taking place, where you’re allowed to shave your facial hair or armpits in front of the nurses, in a sink, and also they have mouth wash. great.

8:30, breakfast. the board says that there’s pet therapy today, and visitation tonight!!!!

process group again. I shower. lunch. my food isn’t as awful as the meatloaf but it’s still hospital food. carl tells me I have to go to the meds window to ask for my meds, but warns me they will have me sign a paper. they don’t tell you, but the paper is a voluntary admission form that once you sign, your baker act is no longer valid and you can only leave if a doctor says you can. I say that’s BS because I wanna go home after my 72 hours. he says if I don’t sign, they just re-baker act you. no way. I go to the window and ask for my meds, and the nurse gives me a paper and says “sign this to get your medication”. it’s the voluntary admission form. I ask her if I sign this, what happens. she said it’s the “first step towards getting better”. I said “if I sign this my baker act is removed and i’m becoming a voluntary patient right?” she says “well....yes, but it’s the first step towards getting better.” I ask her what happens if I don’t sign it. she goes “....well then you will probably be here a longer time :(“ I end up signing the papers, i’m fucked either way. I didn’t even want to take prozac or be i’m this place.

pet therapy gives us a golden retriever named JR who is so cute and licks my face. I love him. it brightened a lot of people’s days. after dinner we get visitation, everyone eats fast and me and kara stay behind to help the nurses clean up.

i’m so excited for visitation. i️ told my sister she can bring someone with her. kara’s family and daughter are coming too, I get to meet them. elspeth comes and brings an old friend, I hug her and him for so long, it feels so good. you find out who is really there for you. I tell them all about my crazy day and how there was a bra left on the floor in the public room and how people keep acting out. I give elspeth the bracelet I made her in arts and crafts, I meet kara’s family. it made my day. after visitation is snacks, a young girl comes in and I feel instantly protective of her. I ask her if she has clothes and she says no, so after I sneak extra snacks for her, I run to my room and gather up a shirt and pants, lotion, and some of the graham crackers packs i snuck from snack time, I run back and give them all to her, tell her that i’m in room 604 and she can ask me for anything. I tell her how this place runs, as if i’m a pro even though i’ve been here for 2 days. she’s so thankful, her name is Destinee.

eventually, it’s bedtime again. I journal and fall into another shitty sleep.

day threeeeee...get me out of here

once again, 6 am vitals. back to sleep until 8 am announcements. I decide to get my butt up and shave my armpits in a sink during grooming time. we aren’t allowed to shave our legs, but whatever i’ll take what I can get.

my day follows a constant schedule. always breakfast at 8:30, process group, I shower, the board tells me today is more arts and crafts and bingo tonight. kara, kristie and I sit in our room and talk about cam girls and people who buy feet pictures. kara is fascinated that kristie and I know so much about the dirty web.

I start reading “It’s Kind of a Funny Story” and it’s so similar to my situation. Craig is baker acted and he’s taken to the 6th floor (i’m on the 6th floor, are all psych wards there??). he talks about the food, the people, even the shape of the ward (shaped like an H), which is what my psych ward is shaped like ! it’s a good book, I feel like the author right now, as I type up my experiences. being here is honestly so crazy I just had to write about it.

there’s another group and this time it’s a mix of all the wings, (I am in the East Wing, the west wing is the violent or dangerous patients.) one guy from the west wing tries to start a fight with Cheryl, the rec therapist. he leaves angry.

in arts and crafts I become notorious for being able to find any letter bead asked of me, maria from the west wing says any letter and I dig through the bead box and find it for her. I help another guy make a ring. I make a bracelet for someone who cares about me.

lunch is late because the guy who got mad during group, started a fight in the dining hall and all of us from the east wing watched from the window. he threw his tray and food was everywhere. we see him on the floor and find out he was probably sedated.

we eat, continue our day. I read my book and hang in my bed. kara’s family brought magazines for us, so we share those and read about the outside world. I miss my phone and the internet. I talk to a doctor who says I won’t be going home this weekend. (it’s friday today, so she says maybe monday because of how severe my case is.) kara gets the same news. the doctors all say “well imagine how bad it would look if we release you now and you kill yourself, you were in our care, that would be on our hands.” what a lame excuse.

later is dinner, our table always consists of the same group of people, a nurse says “why do you all sit together always???” we love it. we laugh and all share what we have witch each other.

bingo is next, where carl says you can win prizes, and he’s gonna try to win some deodorant because the nurses keep refusing to give anyone any. that’s so sad. I win a game and give carl the deodorant, he says I didn’t have to do that.

snacks. then bed.

day four!!!!!

same basic schedule, except today it says game day for our activity.

we get to the dining hall and it’s decked out with a wii, basket ball hoops, a ping pong table, and a bunch of other board games. andrew and I play wii bowling, and then I play jenga with kara.

kristie and carl have gone home, I miss them already but I hope they are doing okay. a new guy named paul joins us all, we tell him what’s up. me, destinee, sherri, and paul all sit on the hallway floor and talk about crazy shit. a new woman named virgina walks around and spills her tea everywhere, talking about being american and carrying a stack of 8 books that she occasionally reads out loud to nobody in particular.

we have a different night nurse, his name is richard and he’s literally the best. he tells us at snack time that he’s opened the “patio” (a gated in balcony connected to the dining hall that none of the nurses ever feel like opening because they don’t want to watch us) I literally run and andrew makes fun of the faces i’m making because i’m so excited to breathe outside air.

after that, richard pulls out a box full of movies and say we can all have a movie night in the community tv living room. everyone decides on jeepers creepers 2. it was a great night.

I continue to sleep like shit, and I have a dream about my ex.

day 5! when can I leave???

it’s sunday and kara has to miss her mothers surprise party. we want to go home! there aren’t even any case managers here today, so we can’t even talk to anyone. we MIGHT go home tomorrow, we are told. not for sure. sherri goes home tomorrow!!! I give her one of my sweaters to keep and we exchange numbers for when we are on the outside.

football is on the community tv and I call my friend and say “watch this, your team is gonna win and this other team is gonna lose.” his team wins and I can’t stop laughing, I was just kidding but it somehow worked.

my day still follows the basic schedule.

day 6: FALSE HOPE

i’m not going home today! lame!!!!! a doctor tells me there’s no discharge order for me today, but there’s one for tomorrow! i’ll take it.

the board says today is music and drum therapy. also there will be games tonight in the dining hall.

the loud guy who yells constantly, joe, is leaving today. we all secretly cheer when he leaves, because he just yelled at people to make his bed and to come to his room. now i can read without having to here someone yelling “NURSEEEEEEE” down the hall every 3 minutes.

drum therapy is fun, we all get to sit and bang in drums to describe how we are feeling.

music therapy is just “pick one song on youtube and toni the rec therapist will play it on the TV” I pick human by the killers.

kara and I play jenga for games night, it’s our thing now. richard is here again and we are so happy, that means patio and movie night. my last night is spent surrounded by my support group as we laugh on the patio, sharing a blanket with kara as we watch Disturbia, and drawing pictures for destinee until it’s time for bed. I make sure I have everyone’s numbers written in the back of my booklet. I ask the meds window for something to help me sleep, i’m too anxious and know I won’t fall asleep tonight. they give me ativan ? and I go to bed. I finally don’t sleep like shit.

Day 7: Freedom

IM GOINNNG HOMEEEE!!!!!

I wake up excited and make sure I get together my belongings. I’m visited by doctors and case managers, nurses give me plastic bags to put stuff in. I make sure I give nurse millie a big hug. kara isnt leaving until tomorrow, so i give her a big hug too. the community board says tonight is karaoke night, and I feel bad that I have to miss it, but I leave before lunch. the hospital drives me home in a van, and i’m so excited when I step outside. I start crying and the driver brings me home. I cry again. I take the worlds longest shower and I go get some chick fil a. I sit outside for hours. I hold baby kitty and start crying. I check all my social media. I reply to texts. I sit my mom down and tell her what happened. I do not tell my dad or my brother. my stepdad is in germany and I will tell him when he’s home. ———- afterthoughts:

the mental health system is fucked. not one doctor or therapist or psychiatrist really helped anyone in that psych ward. if you asked for underwear or deodorant the nurses wouldn’t want to give you any, they said “well you have one pair of underwear already.” some nurses and doctors were kind, but not one of them had any type of sensitivity or empathy. my first three days there, half the nurses assumed I was one of the drug addicts and kept trying to give me nicotine patches and tried having me go to AA meetings. in group “therapy” we were asked how we felt and that was it. the doctors asked us from 1-10 our depression and anxiety, and then gave us meds. we were told if we tried to leave after our 72 hour baker act, that we would just be re-baker acted and be there longer. asking questions was like a game of “which nurse do we ask so that they don’t say no or ignore us” I was not given any type of one on one sessions with a therapist. I was just repeatedly asked “why would you do this? what do you have to be sad about?” they made an appointment for 7 days after I left, never contacted my sister, and let me leave. I swore every night when I prayed (I feel cheesy but I also feel like I owe god my life at this point) that when i’m out, I will put together a box of clothes and books and stuff for arts and crafts and game nights. they have six books and hardly any crafts, and almost no clothes for people who come in with nothing and have to wear the hospital robes. people deserve better. everyone in there survived something that others don’t get to, people need help. this felt like the hospital just wanted our money for keeping us there longer. it’s not fair. I felt like a prisoner. everyone did. a man raped his roommate in our wing and all they did was move him to the west wing. kara and I had to ask to have our room locked from the outside so that we didn’t have to keep going to bed scared.

it felt surreal, but now i’m home and want to help in any way I can. i’m blessed to have met my roommate, we just went to church together and had a fake thanksgiving with my family and her daughter. we call each other every day. i’ve only been home 6 days, but every day I remind myself that i’m alive for a reason. I take my meds. I text my friends. I do my makeup and eat every day. i’m finally 102 pounds and not 94 pounds. I have grand openings for work lined up. i’m going to puerto rico with my church for a missions trip in a few months, to help with hurricane relief. i’m going to help as many people as I can.

I hope that writing all of this just kinda helps. I don’t want people to think they are alone. I did not plan to live, I planned to die. I didn’t die. there are people who literally said i’m faking it. but those people don’t matter. I didn’t get drunk and swallow over 20 tylenol pm and survive, and spend 6 days in the hell that was that psych ward, to have anyone tell me my experience didn’t happen or was for attention. I don’t care if you are trying to die or if you commit and survive, you’re important and deserve care, attention, and help. I deserved every hug and kiss and call and text from people when I was out of there. I have such an amazing support system. I have friends who aren’t judging me, who say “i’m so happy you’re alive emily, let’s hang out. i’m so glad you failed, I love having you in my life.”

I have only told hardly a few people, this is my public account of as much as I can remember. I don’t want any pity. I lived.

I’m going to keep living. I’m going to work hard, I’m going to buy nice clothes and makeup, i’m going to travel and open new stores for my job, I’m going to pour myself out and connect and train my teams, I’m going to stay up late watching anime and cartoons, and eat junk food and party with my friends, i’m going to get tattoos, pet every cat, make art and finish school, i’m going to hang with my sister and my family, and i’m going to heal and find love and care for myself and for another person again. i’m gonna give as much as I can and love and be kind. I’m not perfect but neither are you. We all have flaws so just damn love and embrace and smile at each other. Help each other.

Thank you to everyone who has been so patient and caring and supportive. I love you all so much and I can’t wait to continue my life with a new passion and outlook. 💘

#personal #tw suicide #long post #sorry its fucking long

63 notes · View notes

up-among-the-stars · 6 years

Text

Cycle 307

The five times Kaizo forgets his birthday, and the one time he doesn’t.

Kaizo is sixteen when he first forgets.

Granted, he forgets a lot of things these days, but none of which he actually means to. He's taking his time with the mask, and while the side-effects aren't disabling, they're not exactly productive, either. It's annoying, how the memories he wants buried stay vividly clear, but Imus forbid he remember his own naming day.

So when his grandfather walks in the training room, a whole shift early and wondering why he hasn't started cleaning up, his first response is a very eloquent, "What?"

The general stares at him. "We're going to the plaza."

"...why?"

"It's your naming day," the man says with a slight frown, watching as Kaizo blinks in realization.

"Oh. Right."

"You forgot." It's not a question.

Kaizo hums, looking back at the sentinel he's pinning on the wall. He releases his hold and ends the simulation with a quick command, idly watching the bot sink back to the floor. He can still feel his grandfather watching him, but he honestly doesn't know what to say.

It was his choice to keep the mask, and the consequences were something he just had to live with.

He settles with a simple, "It's a work in progress."

Kaizo meets his grandfather's eyes, lets the other search his face for a few moments, and waits. His mouth quirks upward when he gets a small nod, knowing that the general has seen his resolve. Out of habit, he does a quick salute, before heading off to his room for a quick shower.

Training can wait; for now, he has a celebration to attend.

ii.

There are... things outside his room.

Kaizo is barely back from his latest mission when he spots the colorful mess in the hallway. He was gone for a couple of lunar cycles to patrol the Latsyrk quadrants, having picked up a couple of frequencies that belonged to powerspheres.

He'd managed to collect five of them before deciding to head home, which is how he finds himself in this current situation.

Frowning at the storage blocks scattered at his doorway, Kaizo wonders if someone dropped them, before pushing the thought away. Everyone in the East Wing knows where his room is, if only to avoid it. He's not the... kindest of people, especially after long-term missions. He blames Bora Ra for that one.

Upon closer inspection, he notices one that looks like Maya's. Bronze has always been the mechanic's color, so he picks that one up, half convinced that it's safe. If anything ever happens to him, he can always drop by her shop for an unannounced visit.

He's turning the cube over when he notices the storage date, then everything clicks.

Oh, Kaizo thinks. It was my naming day.

He hadn't really been paying attention to the date recently, but he supposed those close to him still did. Pressing the release button, Kaizo steps back just in time to catch a metallic blue slab, sleek sides tapered off to a handle.

He shifts to hold it properly and watches as it morphs around his arm to form an ion blaster.

Maya really doesn't hold back, Kaizo thinks, smirking at the possibilities for his next mission. The sword may be his preferred medium, but even he wouldn't refuse something with twice the power. He shuts it down before grabbing the other blocks still at his feet, wondering what the others got him as he finally enters his room.

iii

He's still bleeding.

Kaizo pants as he stares at the wound on his side. With a grunt, he lets his head thunk back on the tree behind him and tries to catch his breath, fairly content with being idle for the first time in two cycles. He knows Lahap enough to assume that the lieutenant has kept the data chip safe, so for now, he has only one problem.

He counts to ten before trying again.

"Xek'trs," Kaizo hisses, voice sharp in his mother tongue as he presses his activated sword against his side. It's one of the messier ways to deal with his injuries, but the wound has been bleeding enough to make him worried. He'll have to clean up better once they get out of the system.

It's after the fourth try that he finally manages to cauterize the cut successfully.

Damn Iaku and their traps, he thinks darkly, remembering how their target had worked with bounty hunters. It's not every day that they went to a mission with half the specs they needed, but this one happened to be more of a surprise than the captain was expecting.

Absentmindedly, he thinks how bad of a surprise it was.

He doesn't exactly remember the day.

iv.

There's a missed call, and from a direct line.

Kaizo narrows his eyes at the yellow triangle blinking on the screen. There are three options: either he's been found out, his planet is under attack, or it's a really important tip that he's been waiting for from the few contacts he has.

Whichever it is, he's going to have to call back.

Pulling up a few lines of code, Kaizo sets a frequency. The holographic display lights up a few moments later, and on it is -

"Aeron?"

From the screen, a guy visibly lights up as he signs a greeting. Kaizo offers a quick smile, before asking, "What's with the call?" He watches as the other signs, brows raising with the speed and every cut-off sentence as the man on the other line turns more sheepish.

"A," Kaizo interrupts after the fifth attempt is waved off, "As funny as this is, can you at least tell me if there's a problem?"

Aeron freezes mid-motion, before slowly signing, 'no.'

"Okay." Kaizo blinks. "Why'd you call, then?"

"He wanted to greet you, idiot."

Kaizo can't help the smirk that makes its way on his face at the reply. "Still ratting people out, greaser?" he asks, waving off Aeron's panic at Maya's sudden comment, "Same as always, I see." There's a snort, and Kaizo can practically hear the eyeroll in her reply.

"So are you. You would've forgotten your naming day if A hadn't called."

"Fair enough."

"Captain?"

"Yes?"

"Do you... think we could visit home?"

Kaizo looks up to see Fang staring at the ground, hands fiddling with his gloves. It's a little amusing how nervous his brother still gets around him, though it's not surprising, with all that he's done. He's not exactly the best sibling in the world.

Although -

"I don't see why not," he says, tilting his head at how the other seems to perk up at that. "Something important?"

Fang blinks at his question, before looking away and mumbling, "Sort of."

Interesting.

If he's going to be honest, the last thing Kaizo expected Fang to be worried about was his naming day celebration.

Their parents had been surprised, to say at least, but so was he when Fang pressed to have the trip in a cycle. Kaizo watches as his brother talks animatedly with their parents, telling them about adventures he had with his friends.

It's... nice, seeing them again.

Though it's not something I can always afford, Kaizo thinks.

He stares at his soup as he takes another sip.

(+ i.)

So, the kids know when his naming day is.

But did they really have to do this? Kaizo thinks, three parts amused as he stares down at the pile of... presents outside his ship's control room. The other fourth of him is feeling an odd sense of déjà vu, but that's mostly ignored for the shocked look on his lieutenant's face.

"Lahap," he says, startling the other to attention, "You start the ship."

The lieutenant makes a face. "Captain?"

"I'll deal with it," he replies, crouching to pick up the a-little-too-bright bundle. Color-coded, he assumes, eyes automatically finding his brother's gift, as well as Boboiboy's. There are three green packages, though, so he assumes that the twins were in this, too.

Really, what is it with people and naming days.

a bunch of important notes (read: headcanons) for those who are confused:

- i have this headcanon that kaizo’s grandfather is a general??? idk, it sounded pretty cool, and kaizo had to get his military background from someone

- another headcanon: kaizo’s mask is an incomplete weapon, kind of like a prototype, so sometimes it messes with his brain and makes him forget things

- birthdays are called naming days in their planet (as features in another fic of mine).

- edit because i forgot ajjsjahs: Imus is one of their planet’s three major deities

- when he’s not at home, kaizo stays in the garrison. his room is in the east wing.

- Latsyrk quadrants: a bunch of quadrants opposite from the one that has kaizo’s planet.

- Xek'trs: made up curse word because i want kaizo and fang to speak alien languages!!! or something, just let them have a mother language, please.

- Iaku: another made up thing, but now an alien race. they’re known for hunting, hence the traps.

- maya and aeron are my ocs!!! read more about them here.

- ps. i know very little about interstellar communication omg, im sorry sdjfhsdak

- the kids would totally give the captain gifts, if they found out about his birthday. they’d throw him a party, but they’re not close enough, and most of them can see that kaizo isn’t one for huge celebrations.

- gifts the kids probably gave: tea (from boboiboy, and yes, he asked fang to help), a cupcake (from yaya, bUT DON’T WORRY, THE OTHERS HELPED), a pin (from ying, and it definitely says ‘rebel’), a glass figurine (it’s kaizo’s sword, gopal didn’t know what to give but his friends kept bothering him, give him a break), new gloves (from fang, because kaizo actually goes through them pretty quickly), and alien tech (sai gave him the latest comm link in the market, and shielda gave him a holopad, also the latest in the market)

a/n: i feel very conflicted about this because i feel like i haven’t shown my view of kaizo as well as i wished??? but thats because too much of what i have are headcanons and i cant write well enough without making you guys confused??? anyway, this doesnt look like it fits the theme much either, but hear me out: the thing that makes it not-so-happy is that kaizo doesnt really care for his naming day. it - it would’ve made sense had i published my first entry for kaizo week, but then it would need more explaining and its 1 am and i need to sleep. bUT ANYWAY, i hope u guys at least enjoyed the fic skdjfhjksa

#IM LATE AS HECK BUT AT LEAST I FINALLY FINISHED IT ASKDGAKSHGL #((incoming a/n now that ive gotten sleep))#legendary space rebel #fanfics #boboiboy #boboiboy galaxy #kaizoweek2017 #hbdcaptainkaizo #((almost everyone is here tbh but kaizo's the main focus so im only tagging him))

50 notes · View notes

whiteladyofrohann · 7 years

Text

Sansa Stark and her ‘Starkness’/’Least Northern’

Recently, I’ve seen many posts about how Sansa is the least Northern/less of a ‘Stark’ in comparison to her siblings and so I wanted to make a post to demonstrate how Sansa is very much a Stark, and has a lot of connections to the North. Some people have tried to almost deny the connection Sansa has with the North/being a Stark. By the way, this is not me bashing other posts, I just wanted to give my opinion.

I fully believe that Sansa will end up at Winterfell. It is where she was born and where she has always and will always belong, even if she herself hasn’t always known that. She will not be on the Iron Throne or become the Lady of the Vale/Westerlands. Her place is at Winterfell, ruling there or not. I feel the southern aspects of her story were there so we notice the difference in her character. We see the development from this young girl in AGOT who dreams of the south and wants to live in the pretty castles to the woman who will be in ADOS and the bits in between where Sansa realises she belongs in the North, that she is a Stark.

(Rest under the cut because this is big)

I’m not going to deny that her ‘Northness’ is less obvious than the other Stark POVs because Arya and Bran’s chapters are full of many Stark and North connections. But Sansa’s fascination with the South begins to fade when she realises what it truly is and after AGOT, her Starkness is cut off outwardly because she is surrounded by enemies, trapped in KL, but internally we see how much she longs for home.

There were many problems with the Winterfell plot this season, but I still believe in the books that Sansa and Jon will be the first to reunite and the first to return home. At the minute, Arya and Bran are still training, and while they will definitely return to Winterfell, it won’t be just yet. Right now, I feel that it is far more likely that Sansa will leave the Vale before Bran or Arya will return from beyond the Wall/Braavos.

Stark Identity

Like Arya, Sansa has identity problems. She is forced to assume a fake identity to keep her safe. Whilst on the outside she can’t admit to being a Stark, on the inside, she never forgets who she truly is. This parallel has fascinated me between the two because they are both in completely different situations, but have to throw away their true identities. But they don’t lose it, just like her sister, Sansa remembers who she truly is:

‘I am a Stark of Winterfell, she longed to tell him’ - A Storm of Swords, Sansa VII

‘I am not your daughter, she thought. I am Sansa Stark, Lord Eddard’s daughter and Lady Catelyn’s, the blood of Winterfell.” - A Feast for Crows, Sansa I

‘She was a Stark of Winterfell.’ - A Game of Thrones, Sansa I

Even in the show, she reassures himself and others of her identity.

“I did what I had to do to survive, My Lady. I am a Stark, I will always be a Stark.” - 6x07: The Broken Man

“My name’s not Alayne, it’s Sansa Stark. Eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark.” - 4x08: The Mountain and the Viper

“I’m Sansa Stark of Winterfell. This is my home.” - 5x06: Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken

Thoughts of Winterfell

This I feel is an important one. There are many instances where Sansa is thinking of Winterfell, of her home, just as the other Starks do. She knows she belongs at Winterfell, and she longs for it.

‘I pray for Robb’s victory and Joffrey’s death...and for home. For Winterfell.’ - A Clash of Kings, Sansa III

‘That was such a sweet dream’, Sansa thought drowsily. She had been at Winterfell, running through the Godswood with Lady. Her father had been there, and her brothers, all of them warm and safe. If only dreaming could make it so.” - A Storm of Swords, Sansa IV

Even when Joffrey taunts her and takes her to see Ned’s head, Sansa is thinking of her home, far away while she is surrounded by enemies.

‘...Yet she knew that beyond them was open country, farms and fields and forests, and beyond that, north and north and north again, stood Winterfell.’ - A Game of Thrones, Sansa VI

And lets just talk about her entire final chapter (Sansa VII) in ASOS. I counted the mention of Winterfell 17 times. Along with one of my favourite quotes:

‘She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams’

She actually makes Winterfell out of snow in this chapter. If that isn’t longing for her home and demonstrating a connection then I don’t know what is.

Lannister/Bolton Marriage

I see people argue ‘but she’s a Lannister/Bolton because she married Tyrion/Ramsay.’ Not a single person has ever referred to Cersei as Cersei Baratheon. You have women like Catelyn, who still clings on dearly to her Tully side, but fully embraces the family she was married into and becomes a Stark in all but blood. Cersei doesn’t embrace being a Baratheon, and clings onto her Lannister heritage proudly and defiantly. No one has a problem with Cersei identifying as a Lannister, and Sansa will always identify as a Stark, never as a Lannister. She identifies with her father’s family, the line she comes from and she would never embrace the families who murdered her own. She always has done and always will consider herself a Stark.

Suffering for the North

As @hopepeaceandblackgirlmagic stated, Sansa has been beaten, abused, sold and raped for the North and her Stark name. Sansa was beaten as a punishment for Robb’s victories, she has suffered at the hands of enemies because her family were fighting for the North. She has been the victim of southern oppression, a hostage at the mercy of the cruel Lannisters in King’s Landing. I fully believe Sansa suffering this much in the south is a direct pointer to the fact that she belongs in the North.Still on the topic of Northern independence, Sansa actually wants it. She acknowledges her family’s history, what has happened to them in the south. Her mother and brother died for Northern Independence and she fights for it now. But it wasn’t her who gave the North away. She wants the North separate from the south but Jon, who is seen as the most Northern, gives it away, not Sansa.

Lady

A big thing that people use to ‘prove’ that Sansa is the least Northern is the fact that Lady dies very early on. Grey Wind is the only other direwolf who has died, but Robb is also dead. People sometimes forget this scene:

‘“Choose four men and have them take the body North. Bury her at Winterfell.” “All that way?” Jory asked, astonished. “All that way,” Ned affirmed. “The Lannister woman shall never have this skin.” - A Game of Thrones, Eddard III

Ned orders Lady’s body to be taken back to Winterfell, the place where she belongs. People often say that the direwolf mirrors the person, and Sansa’s place is also North. The thing is with Lady, people say that Sansa is less of a Stark because she didn’t form the connection with warging etc that the others did/will do. This is unfortunate, but had Lady lived, Sansa would have that connection. Lady’s death is another way of signifying how alone and vulnerable Sansa will be in King’s Landing, but her body being back at Winterfell shows Sansa’s heart is at Winterfell, and that is where Sansa herself belongs, beside her direwolf in her home.

Stark and Bravery

I remember once reading that Sansa uses her Stark identity and link to Winterfell as a way to be brave. I can’t remember who wrote it, but credit to the original person who did, I’ve just added slight bits to it.

"Do as you’re told, sweetling, it won’t be so bad. Wolves are supposed to be brave, aren’t they?” Brave. Sansa took a deep breath. I am a Stark, yes, I can be brave.’ - A Storm of Swords, Sansa III

‘She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. From Winterfell, she thought. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell.’ - A Storm of Swords, Sansa VII

‘The hot water made her think of Winterfell and she took strength from that.’ - A Game of Thrones, Sansa VI

This is so important. Starks are known for their strength and Sansa knows this. Sansa is often seen as the weakest of the Starks because she’s more gentle, not as fierce etc. She gains her strength from her home. It is Winterfell that makes her feel brave and strong. It is her being a Stark that gives her the confidence, the link to wolves. This is so important in Sansa being Northern.

Other Quotes

Other people have even connected Sansa to the Starks, to Winterfell and to wolves etc.

‘The Queen bristled. “I most certainly have not forgotten that little she-wolf.” - A Feast For Crows, Cersei IV

“For what crime? She did not fight her brother’s battle.” “She has the blood of a wolf.” - A Clash of Kings, Sansa III

“I forgot, you’ve been hiding under a rock. The northern girl. Winterfell’s daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterwards changed into a wolf with big leather wings like a bat and flew out a tower window” - A Storm of Swords, Arya XIII

‘Not Sansa; his first wife, Tysha. The whore wife, not the wolf wife.” - A Storm of Swords, Tyrion IX

Now, Cersei and Joffrey’s are meant to be insults, but they still demonstrate that Sansa has a connection to wolves. All of these examples come from people who aren’t exactly Sansa’s best friend (excluding Tyrion). It shows that she is Northern, she is a Stark. Any mention of her as a ‘wolf’ or with ‘Winterfell’ is proof of her connection to her Stark heritage. People may disagree with me, but it’s used to show ‘Starkness’ whenever Arya or Lyanna are referred to as ‘she-wolves’ etc (and I’m pretty sure in the show, not sure the books, that Jaime refers to Cat as a she-wolf as well), so Sansa should be included with the two other Stark women.

Other Ridiculous Claims

I have previously seen ridiculous claims as to why Sansa is the least Northern. Here they are:

Sansa lies, acts sly at times therefore not acting Northern as people from the North: Northmen do lie, and lying occasionally does not equate to perfect honour. While for a good purpose, Ned lied to his wife for their entire marriage. Roose Bolton is very much a Northmen and is one of the sliest characters in the series.

Sansa is the most like Catelyn, who is not a Northerner: Actually, I fully believe that Arya is the most like Catelyn and Sansa is more like Ned (see here for my meta). Arya being like Catelyn doesn’t make her less of a Stark, and Sansa sharing a few similarities to Catelyn does not make her less of a Stark. Catelyn herself adapted to the Stark way and herself actually very much becomes a Stark and was loved by the Northmen.

Sansa looks like a Tully, whereas the others look like Starks: No, it is only Arya (and Jon) who have the Stark look. Robb, Bran and Rickon all have the red hair and blue eyes, and no one doubts their Starkness. Just because Sansa looks like a Tully doesn’t make her less Northern

Sansa is the only one without a Northern name: First, Robb is not a Northern name, it is to honour Robert Baratheon. Second, Sansa is a Stark name, has been used before. Out of all the Stark kids, only Brandon and Rickon are very common. I’m sure there have been more Jons, but we only know of one. And we only know of one Arya and Sansa as well. So, Sansa’s name is as Northern as her siblings.

Some of these are ridiculous, but I have genuinely seen some people claim this.

The Show

Sometimes, the show and the books obviously overlap, but I try to distinguish the books and the shitstorm that is the show because of how vastly different they are, but there are still things only in the show that prove Sansa’s connections to her heritage.

In the show, it is Sansa who convinces Jon to take back Winterfell. She is the one who has the idea to remove Roose and Ramsay from their father’s seat. She is the one who convinces Jon that Winterfell belongs to the Starks and that it should be returned to them. Jon didn’t want to fight, but Sansa convinced him. Sansa wants to fight, as the Starks have always done. Here are some quotes demonstrating the link that Sansa has with Winterfell

“There’s only one place we can go. Home.” “Shall we tell the Boltons to pack up and leave?” “We’ll take it back from them.” - 6x04: Book of the Stranger

“Winterfell is our home. It’s ours. And Arya’s and Bran’s and Rickon’s, wherever they are, it belongs to our family, we have to fight for it.” - 6x04: Book of the Stranger

“This isn’t a strange place, this is my home.” 5x05: Kill the Boy

“Welcome home, Lady Stark. The North Remembers.” 5x03: High Sparrow

“I’m Sansa Stark of Winterfell. This is my home.” 5x06: Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken

Just because as a child, Sansa liked pretty things, was more feminine, was more into knights, wanted to see King’s Landing, does not mean she is less of a Stark. Just because she is not a warrior like other Northern women does not mean she is less of a Stark. Just because she wanted to live in the South does not make her less Northern (People forget that her father grew up in the South). Lady being killed and Sansa not developing the connection the others do, does not make her less of a Stark. This post was just to try to point out that Sansa is as much of a Stark and no less Northern than her siblings.

Sansa Stark is far from perfect, she is incredibly flawed but her childhood has been marred by horror, beatings, deception and lies and the things she has done in order to survive do not make her any less Northern or any less a Stark.

#sansa stark #sansa stark meta #got meta #asoiaf meta #wow that was long #i just have lots of feels about sansa's northern connection #and i don't like it when people just ignore or dismiss it

101 notes · View notes

ravenwytchbytch · 7 years

Photo

The Beggar Princess

Ch: IV - Loyalty

Elijah was as restless to continue his evening duties in the one placed he detested the most. The high council, where all business involving the crown, the realm, and its people were discussed and as always he listened to Ser Donovan read the account for the evening. High on the priority list as every evening since he had sat in the council was the rebellion, the only minor issue that needed the attention of the council was the date of his brother’s marriage.

“If we can begin I would like to settle on a date of the union for our Crowned Prince and Duchess Forbes.” He looked at the list of dates chosen by the Eminent Eüllo. “His Eminence believes that an auspicious day would bring great blessings for the union while providing hope to those in the land.”

Kol smothered chuckle, “Why not have them marry on the day father took the crown. That was truly an auspicious day.”

Kol’s comment earned him a disapproving look from Elijah, “What day is more auspicious than the Treath celebration.”

“As you say brother the festivities along with the celebration should lift the spirits of the people.” Kol gasped in a feign attempt of surprise, “but I had forgotten about the rebelling lords and commoners.”

“Reports from the Southeastern camps have seen a dramatic drop in rebel activity. The lords in the region report that the calm brought to the countryside has seen a return to commerce to villages and the fields harvest is on their way“, Elijah announced in a steady tone.

“Yet, Lord Elijah, in the West I have heard by my own brother’s account that the forces there have tripled in the last few days.” Lord Salvatore Damon, a raven-haired upstart that had somehow been elevated to a Lord important enough to be in the chamber.

“Who cares about the West? Nothing but bought title lords, no offense Lord Salvatore, and vineyards.” Kol said mockingly. “Moreover what do we care for a region of field peasants?”

“These are our people-”

“Who are killed by their neighbors, their countrymen.” Kol interjected, “Honestly brother, we didn’t have much issue killing them before when we were seizing the throne and kingdom, but now split hair over them liking us.”

“I hate to agree with his highness but he is right. Crush the Western lords; the longer we wait In hope that they will be pacified by the marriage the more time we give the disgruntled villagers to side with them.” Damon seemed far too pleased at his idea.

“And if we continue we ignite the tempered flames of the nobles who have settled down in other regions.” Elijah slammed his fist on the table.

Staring down the three individuals in the room Kol and Lord Damon were like vicious dogs ready to strike the first blow between one another; meanwhile, Ser Donovan was the only one who had remained silent on the matter

“And you Ser Donovan, while do you choose to remain silent on such matters?” Elijah had a hard time containing his anger.

Ser Donovan cleared his throat pausing for a moment to stare at the three noblemen before him, “The people are not so easily distracted my lord. They certainly desire a return to normalcy but to wager it all on a royal marriage, forgive me, but it seems a foolish gambit.”

Elijah’s control was waning he was at his wit’s end; Elijah slowly rose from his seat his eyes locked on all three.

“I see we will not have any progress today gentlemen. I think we can end our conversation for today.” Elijah dismissed the three councilmen present.

He was quick to the door passing by the three and not bothering to offer his hand for courtesy, Elijah was in no mood for courtly decorum. While in the past the appearance of Niklaus was sporadic, the King’s was completely absent. As always his father, and brother, Niklaus, had left the running of the country to him, and while 10 men were to sit at the table few bothered to come insulted by the absence of their King and Crowned Prince Niklaus, but it was nothing new for Elijah

Elijah could hardly remember the softer years of his youth, a vague image of what his father remained in his mind but since the day his mother remarried Mikael Mikaelson had shown to be far more hands-off, especially when it came to him and his older brother, Finn, well-being. If it was a task that was not to his liking he would ignore it completely. In truth in his younger years, his step-father had a great distaste for him and his brother. When his younger siblings had been born he did well to push them behind. After all, Mikael was a Duke; so naturally, his children took precedent over step-children whose father had been an Earl.

Despite the effort he threw to separate his siblings Elijah had been close to each one. Niklaus had carried the years of Mikael’s pressure of perfection as well as his criticisms when he fell short of his expectations. He was good at shaming the two of them simultaneously; one for not meeting his expectation and the other for realizing his best wasn’t that. Yet when the war had started Mikael had called on him for the support of his claim. He had given Mikael control of his father’s army all in the hopes of receiving in some vain attempt at acknowledgment.

It was in those months that Mikael proved the ever masterful manipulator, praising Elijah for his genius over his tactics, but giving the credit for the victory to Niklaus. Elijah scowled at the memory of his jealousy and truthfully his desperation for fatherly affectionate.

Even in his darkest thoughts, Elijah would recognize the familiar voices of Lady Petrova whose soft voice echoed up the courtyard. Simply fashioned in a long sleeved dark emerald linen dress her hair was done in a plaited fashion, atop her dark crown of hair was a silver circlet encrusted with emeralds.

“My lady the fabrics you’ve chosen were beautiful.” Her cheerful tone was uplifting tugging a small smile to the somber lord.

“I hope Prince Niklaus approves of it.” Lady Caroline had a soft smile and a softer way of speaking.

“What a sight to behold, no Lord Elijah?” Elijah mood spoiled in an instant as he slid his glance to his side.

“Yes, I am glad that Lady Caroline is in good spirits.”

“I was more interested in the tasty little brunette.” Elijah swallowed his building rage.

“You know very well that disgracing a lady-in-waiting for her royal highness is a punishable offense.”

“I’m glad to see that Prince Kol has been spared of such punishments.” Damons eyes locked with Elijah’s, “anyway she isn’t a princess yet,”

Lord Salvatore leaned lazily against the balcony railing his eyes always holding a mocking gleam.

“What do you need?” his patience thin with the upstart noble.

“I’m appalled by your gruffness. I only wish to admire the view.” his voice was perverse it was enough to earn him a threatening look from Lord Elijah.

The cheery laughter below was the only thing that could divert his attention from the smug face of Damon Salvatore. Spinning and leaping gracefully below, Lady Petrova’s danced for her Lady Caroline. Elijah was mesmerized by Katherine’s graceful steps and dainty movement as she seemed to lose herself to a song only she could hear.

“She has quite a skill doesn’t she?” A growing anger burned in Elijah’s stomach at Damon’s remark.

Before he could retort he spotted a familiar faced heading towards the joyful scene.

“Sister!” Caroline called out in joy stopping in mid-step to curtsy as if remembering herself.

A look of disgust fell on his sister’s face, “Hello, Lady Caroline.”

“How is your day, your highness?” Caroline asked pushing past Katherine to grab Rebekah’s hand.

“Dull as always.” Her eyes scanning the chipper duchess, “Would you care to take a stroll?

“I’d be delighted.” She motioned to her ladies once more leading the way with Princess Rebekah on her arm.

He felt a mixture of feelings at the departure of Katherine Petrova but the winning feeling was relief that she was no longer within Damon Salvatore’s leering gaze.

“It’s odd, there isn’t much to see on the eastern wing, just one way to the city walls.” He could hardly hold back the amused look on his face, “Isn’t where the former Queen-” Elijah did not need to hear the rest his feet had taken off before the old snake could finish his false realization.

He ran quickly down the stairway, he could not understand his siblings’ obsession of making the girl miserable. After all, no one in his family was free of their own crimes; each had a stained hand in the bloody aftermath of the noble family. From afar he spotted the group near Aurous Keep he was stunned by his sister’s viciousness, a false smile on her face but cynical look in her eyes was enough of a confession of her intentions.

Caroline hadn’t understood why Princess Rebekah had insisted on the east wing, the battlements, the city wall, and Keep was the only thing to see there.

“I’m sure you know the full history surrounding the Aurous Keep?”

“No, unfortunately, the keep must have been built during my absence.”

Rebekah pursed her lips whether trying to hold back a laugh or smile Caroline did not enjoy not knowing.

“At your time it may have been known as the Beata Keep. Do you want to know why it was changed?”

Uneasiness seemed to pass Princess Rebekah’s ladies something was not right. At the moment she glanced for the briefest of second to Katherine as she played around the small ring on her pinky finger.

“Why yes, yes I would,” she said with a steady voice and a soft smile.

Rebekah velvety laugh did little to shake Caroline’s resolve as she followed the blonde up the steps to the city wall.

“As you may have heard my father’s army was less than a fortnight away from the city gates.” Princess Rebekah this time had linked her arm around Caroline’s arm, a chill running down Caroline’s body, “The late Queen Justine had been going mad since the departure of your uncle, late King Emil, into battle. Many in the castle were worried for her, but mostly for her children’s safety, so in her paranoia, she did the only thing she thought safe. Immurement.”

Rebekah’s fingers dug into Caroline’s arm keeping her close to her side, “She ordered the guards to seal them in Beata keep until the King’s return, but as you know my brother Nik had slain him during the Battle of Stead. Her madness seemed to quicken behind those walls, one guard recalls hearing her shouting for her mother. Once the gates were open my father was quick to locate Queen Justine but what they found,” she gave a haughty laugh and devilish smile to Caroline and the murmuring group of ladies.

Rebekah moved onto the allure of the wall the view of the kingdom and the majesty’s road was breathtaking but Caroline could hardly admire the view as Rebekah pulled her closer to her.

“They found her ghastly white her once luxurious hair of gold matted and wild. Her clothes were covered in her own filth and blood. The smell of the keep was daunting and well,” she chuckled once more, “many of seasoned soldiers could not believe the things they saw. In one corner laid the tiny body of the princess her head bashed in by her mother. In Queen Justine’s bed were the bloated bodies of the young crown princes. For such a heinous crime my father hung her from the castle-“

Rebekah head jostled from the force of the blow, there was a gasp of shock from all that were present. Caroline watched in disbelief as Katherine stood in front of the injured princess her eyes burning. Rebekah cupped her injured cheek the warm feeling of blood flowed slowly in her hands.

“How dare you!” she screeched madly staring wildly at Caroline and Katherine. “I will have your hands for daring to-“

“Rebekah!” Everyone turned to the short of breath noble. Rebekah looked frightened for the briefest of moment.

The gathered ladies knelt in unison their eyes downcast as they cleared the way for Elijah. Katherine exchanged the briefest of look at Elijah before stepping behind him. There was no hiding the fierce anger of his sister but he would not make a spectacle in front of gossiping tongues. Taking her by her forearm they walked further down the walkway.

“I want that bitch’s hands!” her words trembled out with rage as she shot a daggered look to the defiant brunette.

“What are you doing here? Why would you bring Lady Caroline?” he shook his sister with anger.

“You’re mad at me!” she pulled away from him her anger redirected to him, “I did nothing wrong that rabid bitch-“

“Enough! You brought Lady Caroline for some malicious game and you’ve paid the price for it.” He dabbed his sleeve against his sister’s wet cheek, the wound was small but her face had already begun to discolor, “have your ladies take you to my chambers. I will summon a physician to tend to this.”

“I want that girl punished.” She slapped his hand away tears of rage burning in her dark blue eyes.

“We cannot or risk upsetting her mistress.” Rebekah scowled pushing past her brother her eyes burning with unquenched anger.

Caroline stepped back as Rebekah stormed down the stone steps Caroline flashed a condemning glare to Katherine.

“Lady Caroline, I apologize for whatever my-“, Caroline rose her hand finding it harder to control her anger.

“Thank you for showing mercy, my Lord.” Caroline turned away from him making her way down and away from the accursed place.

Katherine remained behind her eyes low and her head down as Elijah stood before her, “I am deeply sorry.”

Elijah tipped her head back his eyes locking with her own eyes, he was somehow always prone to losing himself to their dark pull, her scent was intoxicating and for a moment his rage turned into frustrating control. He scanned her delicate face, her gentle eyes, her pouty lips, and her slender creamy neck that had a silver chain resting around it. An all too familiar silver chain that had once rested on his mother’s neck now adorned itself between the valley of Katherine’s breasts.

It had been her wedding gift from his step-father and it was never far from her even in her final moments she had clutched the metal in her hand as she clung onto it for some strength. Elijah pushed her away far too roughly but he felt betrayed and embarrassed. The sudden realization that the innocence he had seen in her had been all in his mind. This confused and frighten beauty was no better than any of the title seeking wretches that clung to his brother Kol’s attention.

“Excuse me.” It was all he could muster as he hurried away from Katherine.

With Elijah’s hasty departure Katherine stood by herself on the city wall steps Katherine had a terrible feeling of loneliness that she hated admitting to herself.

Katherine dragged her feet as she made her way back to her lady and for good reason; she had acted irrationally to Princess Rebekah’s taunts. Rebekah’s plan had been obvious the moment she had uttered Caroline’s family members’ name. Even with that knowledge, she had felt the rage and disgust that Rebekah had provoked from Caroline.

Caroline would certainly be harsh with her for the next few days but she was certain she was not hated by her. Outside her ladies chamber door, she took a deep breath to brace herself for the silent treatment Caroline would surely give her.

Katherine was wrong as she felt the palm of her lady’s hand against her face, the barrage of strikes alternated from subtle blows to head to close-fisted whacks to Katherine’s back.

“I should have you whipped!” Caroline ragged breathing made her words shake, “How could you be so foolish!”

“I do not apologize for defending-” Katherine snapped back as she stumbled away from Caroline’s assault, “-you.”

Katherine stared in stunned disbelief, the ragged breathing had not been Caroline pent up anger but that of a distraught and sobbing friend. Trails of tears came down like a waterfall on Caroline’s face as the stained her cheeks.

Caroline struggled to compose herself, struggled to turn off the anger, the hurt, the fear, that had all come out after Rebekah had been struck. The awkward silence of the on looking ladies had Katherine motioning them out. Taking Caroline in her arms she whispered gently her apology.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered softly.

Caroline’s shoulder shook violently as she let her guard down, despite it being against her better interest, she showed the weakness she had been afraid of others seeing, “I don’t- I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“I don’t think I’m strong enough to withstand such viciousness.” her words came out in a jumbled mess.

“You are Caroline. You are.” Katherine reassured as she gently guided Caroline to her bed, “I promise you, you will not break. I’ve seen you survive on nothing but on that strength.”

Easing her lady into bed Katherine spoke softly as unburden her lady of her slippers and loosened the lace on her tight bodice. Katherine stood silently by Caroline’s bedside for a few minutes until she was certain she had fallen to sleep, she could hardly blame her for the emotional exhaustion she felt. Taking a seat by the edge of the bed Katherine watched in silent vigilance of her sleeping mistress.

A/n: Hi guys I’m back with another long, unedited, chapter and I hope you guys could bear with me on these upcoming chapters and I promise that the next chapter there will be more Klaroline. Promise! I hope you guys enjoy it and again please review.

#Klaroline #klaroline au #klaroline fic #klaus mikaelson #caroline forbes #KC AU #kc fic #caroline x klaus #klaus and caroline #klaroline forever #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fandom #thebeggarprincess_Kc

34 notes · View notes

creamew · 5 years

Text

Quotes etc 1

Show me a man with no hope and I'll show you a man who knows how to dream.

Show me a man without a dream and I'll show you a man who's dead..

Those who wander are not always lost.

When you loved someone it feels like you cant make it a day without them, until one day you wakeup and realize you're doing just fine.

Often by living in fantasy we avoid living.

Walking a fine line

An angel satan left behind

There are things I want to tell you but I dont know how. I want to show you who I am but I dont even know that myself..

I dont want you to ever feel like you have to lie to me. I accept all of you, whether its good or bad, and I truly want you to be happy, so please dont ever fake anything with me. Please be yourself so you can be your happiest self, because I love all of you and I need you to know that.

You are still my sun moon and stars, and life will stand still without you in it..

When I was a river dried up

You came to rain a flood

And said drink from me, drink from me

When I was so thirsty

Put your wings on me, wings on me

When I was so heavy

"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked..and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting under this fig tree, starving to death, because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet."

Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

My learning curve isn't a bell, it's a steep.

Sometimes putting a question into words is the only thing we need to find the answer for ourselves.

"Twice the pride, double the fall"

"I miss what I wish he was and I miss what he should've been but I dont miss him."

Betrayer

Betrayal

Betrayed

Some wounds cut much deeper than flesh

"You can't open the book of my life and start in the middle"

"If you want something you've never had, you've got to do something you've never done."

"Im done chasing butterflies, I'll be the one who soars now."

Beautiful or rotten, memories can be forgotten.

But they can still change who we are, as we live each day with scars.

No one will know the truths that Ive shed

No one will know this path down which ive been led

No one will know the thoughts in my head

Tik tok

On the clock

How much time

Do you think you have

Before your life

Turns awfully bad.

There is always an end

Not if, but when

Tell me, when it comes

Will you be there, my friend?

Ive locked my heart away

No one will ever get close

Never another day

For the one i miss the most

Love isn't a cage, it's what sets you free.

Ive completely lost my mind,

And no I dont wanna be fine.

"It's all just for show. A commercial of how normal we are, when we're anything but."

"She was't given a choice,

His desperation stole her voice.

She never had a chance,

Sacrificed without a fight, victim of circumstance. "

I don't want to see your name,

I don't want to hear your words,

you're gone and for my sake,

I just want to see you purged.

No such thing as a good ending, only beautiful beginnings.

I was always told

that time would heal the pain

But even though it's been so long,

it still hurts just the same

"Wondering around lost in the moment can be fun for a bit. But it is just that...lost."

I love him, but He has a full life, I only fit in it because he makes time tor me. It makes me feel pathetic, like I'm leeching someone else's happiness..

Love is worth fighting for, but you can't be the only one fighting.

Sometimes just knowing that you reached their heart, is enough to find peace.

Its said that time's a healer

Im not sure this is true

There's not a day goes by

That I dont cry for you

"Sometimes it takes surrender to finally be happy"

It's hard to see the road ahead when you can't stop looking down for fear that cracks will open up beneath you.

"Begging to be loved is suicide. It's like skydiving naked, and expecting gravity to overturn."

I looked into the water and saw fish so bright they hurt my eyes

Like gems, they shimmered, beneath vast clear skies

And there I stared upon another world

An eden of green and blue

Paradise

My whole life I've only ever wanted one thing, and it is the one thing I cannot find.

I need a reason to breathe

I need a reason to believe

"Most shadows in life are caused by standing in your own sunshine" - Ralph Waldo Emerson

It's even harder trusting someone, after knowing what it's like to be someone else's secret life.

Straight from Shakespeare "I wish we could become better strangers"

No one knows the real me, only the shell that they created.

They call it 'breaking up' because it is broken.

There's the person we think we are, and there's the person we actually are, and I assure you there is a difference.

Everyone has moments that only they can ever witness, and a perspective which only they can wholly know.

I don't want to hang but I'm reaching the end of my rope.

"You never know how somebody's going to destroy you"

The most important step in failure is taking ownership of your own mistakes and shortcomings, lest you repeat them forever.

"I wanted to write down exactly what I felt but somehow the paper stayed empty,

and I could not have described it any better."

Eyes only see what the mind is ready to comprehend, and mine have been playing tricks on me.

0 notes

voiceactinguk · 7 years

Text

Final Fantasy 4 Radio Show! Casting!

Now casting for Season One of the Final Fantasy 4 Radio Show! Final Fantasy IV (known as Final Fantasy II in the U.S.) was a video game originally published by SquareSoft for the SNES in 1991. It has since been re-mastered and re-made multiple times for multiple systems and now we are creating an unofficial radio adaptation of the classic story of sword and sorcery. The game follows Cecil, a dark knight, who begins to question his king's motives, which sets off a chain of events that leads him on the path to righteousness. Along the way he and his friends discover an ancient forgotten history of their planet (and beyond!). Season One (6 episodes) follows the story of FF4 up to, and including, Cecil's climactic transformation into a paladin. Season Two will see the heroes valiant efforts to stop Golbez turn deadly. Season Three will follow their time in the underworld of the dwarves. And, finally, Season Four will reveal the secret of the crystals as well as Cecil and Golbez's tragic shared past before culminating in a battle for the fate of the world that you will not want to miss! This is a FULL RE-SCRIPT of Final Fantasy 4 into radio play format, and will be published on YouTube and as a Podcast on iTunes (fingers crossed). I'm taking full artistic license with the plot, characters, and dialog; pulling from every different version of the game. It is still very much FF4, but delivers a fresh, exciting new adaptation! using the format: AUDITIONS ARE OPEN UNTIL WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 1st Send your audio files (one file per character) to [email protected] using any standard audio format Listen to the PILOT EPISODE or take a look at my previous project, The FINAL FANTASY 6 FANDUB To contact me directly with any questions email ff4radioshow(at)hotmail.com *The actors for Cecil and Rosa are continuing their wonderful work from the Pilot episode. Apologies to anyone hankering for those roles. *A NOTE ON ACCENTS* I love accents! I want you to try any accent you believe you can do well consistently or you believe fits the character. BUT be warned that I am a HARSH CRITIC of sub-par accent work. No Dick Van Dyke nonsense. OPEN ROLES NARRATOR Male/Female, Ageless Delivers an intro and outro for each episode. Warm, pleasant voice tone. Able to project excitement and generate interest in the show to come. Audition Lines: Quote:This is a tale of far away and long ago... A time when knights and kings gripped the world with fists of iron and steel! A world where magic and technology clash together in awesome competition for power! This is The Final Fantasy Four Radio Show! Quote:The airships of the mighty Red Wings from the Kingdom of Baron race across the sky on their way home after a successful mission in the mystical country of Mysidia. The crew look forward to their return to hearth and home, but one man, their Captain, Cecil the Dark Knight, casts his gaze backward... --- EXTRAS! Male/Female, Varied Ages Crew of Red Wings (x3), Merchant, Baron Soldiers (x2), Cap'n, Chancellor, Sailors Nine varied background roles. Nine chances to try out your crazy voices! THESE ROLES ARE VERY IMPORTANT! I love to have a bouquet of extras available just in case. Please audition here if you are unsure of which role to try for! Audition Lines: Quote:Hey! How's it going? You doin' anything later today? Quote:Y'arr. Fifteen souls went ashore that day. An' only ol' Flint himself sailed away. Quote:Bilbo Baggins was a hobbit who wanted to be left alone in quiet comfort. But the wizard Gandalf came along with a band of homeless dwarves. Soon Bilbo was drawn into their quest, facing evil orcs, savage wolves, giant spiders, and worse, unknown dangers. Finally, it was Bilbo -- alone and unaided -- who had to confront the great dragon Smaug, the terror of an entire countryside... --- BAIGAN Male, age 20-40 Baigan does not care about you. Baigan only cares about Baigan. Sarcastic and apathetic. A drawling, sneering, douchey voice. This character may return in Season 2. Audition Line: Quote:Hmph, isn't killing what you do? You are a Dark Knight after all, Cecil. I didn't think you could still feel pity. --- KING BARON Male, age 40+ King of the country of Baron. Regal and imposing. He has a secret plan for which he is gathering the world’s Crystals. This character will return in Season 2. Audition Lines: Quote:Ah! Cecil! The Kingdom of Baron hails your return! We trust you have the Crystal? Quote:If the state of the Red Wings so concerns you, Dragoon, that you would eavesdrop on the Royal Chamber, then you may join him in his penance. Take the ring! And do not enter Our sight again until it is done! --- KAIN HIGHWIND Male/Female, age 18-30 Cecil’s closest friend. A sporty sort of person who enjoys fighting for it’s own sake, rather than for any cause or loyalty. Kain was abandoned as a child and now clings to Cecil and Rosa. Perhaps Kain clings a little too closely though, and wishes for things to always stay just as they are between them. Kain has noticed Rosa’s affection for Cecil and is beginning to grow jealous. Voice type: Athletic and yet also oddly indolent. Think Jaleel White's Sonic the Hedgehog, or Ashleigh Ball's Rainbow Dash I would prefer to cast this role female to balance out the skewed gender ratio of the original story, but am accepting male voiced auditions. Audition Lines: Quote:Majesty! I petition on Cecil's behalf. Please reconsider! He has done no wrong, he questions out of care for his subordinates. He meant no disrespect, I assure you! Quote:Ahh, I woulda come with you anyway. Slaying monsters is right up my alley! Anyhow, the King'll relax as soon as we finish his "mission of contrition". We are his favorites. --- CID POLLENDINA Male, age 30-50 A rough, tough, jolly sort of fellow. Cid takes life as it comes and is enthusiastic about everything he does, damn the consequences! He has a daughter whom he is very proud of but not very close to. Cid is always working on airships and other mechanical inventions. Cid's voice should feel bombastic and loud (without actually clipping out, plz!) Think Brian Blessed or perhaps John Lithgow. Audition Lines: Quote:What's the matter, kiddo? You and your goons better not have wrecked up my airships! Quote:The King's been acting mighty peculiar. You know, the other day he asked me if I could design an airship that can torch an entire city? I mean, obviously I could! But... makes me wonder if Baron will be going to war soon. --- MIST DRAGON Female, age 20-40 A mysterious dragon made of living mist. And also Rydia’s mother. The strongest of the valley’s summoners and it’s chief protector. One time, Non-recurring role Audition Line Quote:Leave at once and no harm will come to you. We will not allow further trespass. --- RYDIA Female, age Child/Teen A young child just beginning to learn the way of the world and find her incredible strength in summoning and taming beasts. Rydia has a kind heart and has been taught to never kill or injure. She is able to sense the feelings that others carry, even if they are not aware of it themselves. Rydia will be aging for season 2 to teen age. Priority may be given to actors able to play both ages. Voice Type: Childish but not immature. Sounds like 10-14 years old. Audition Lines: Quote:Mother! Get up! Please! The fire- *gasp!* Quote:He kills everything. Do you think... can I help him? Or is it too late? Quote:I'm coming with you! You'll need all the help you can get to tame that creature! --- DOCTOR Male/Female, ageless A blustering medic. Will talk anyone’s ear off if given half a chance but has a kind heart and a charitable streak a mile wide. *First season role only Audition Line: Quote:Oh, you poor lamb. What has happened? Oh, but, no. You needn't say if you don't wish to. Lost your parents. I'm sure, I'm sure. Tragedy! Oh cruelty! But let's just look at you! All worn and filthy from traveling. The earthquake, no doubt? Thought we might see a few come through here, I did. But you're the first. And such a dear young thing! --- TELLAH Male, age 40-80 World renowned sage of the mystical, magical arts. Tellah settled in the desert to raise his daughter, Anna, and to meditate on the mysteries of the shifting sands. Tellah has lived by his own code for a very long time and believes wholly in his own judgement. Stubborn to a fault, Tellah’s strength is his greatest weakness. Voice Type: Cranky old guy, slightly reedy or nasal. Audition Lines: Quote:You there, Knight! Did I hear that right? You aim to clear the waterway to Damcyan? I beg you, let me come with you! I have tried to get through the waterway alone to no avail. The beast is strong. Strong, I warn you! But perhaps the three of us together... Quote:It is vicious. A writhing mass of tentacles and malice. And I am too old now to face it alone. Once, perhaps... But I fear something else may be waiting for us. I sense a darkness beyond. A doom yet clouded in the fog of the future... Quote:Stay and weep if you must! Do what you will; I don't care! Anna will be avenged. You keep your nose out of it! This death will be mine alone. --- EDWARD CHRIS VON MUIR Male/Female, age 18-30 The prince of the country of Damcyan and husband of Anna. A highly skilled musician and a born diplomat. Edward believes that any disagreement can be solved with communication. He detests violence. I would like to cast this with a female/feminine voice but keep Edward as a male role. Audition Lines: Quote:You're right. I'm nothing but a coward, just as you say. I only wanted him to leave. Leave us in peace. My Anna... and me... Quote:Put your sword away! There has been enough death today. Antlions are docile creatures. I shall get you your pearl. You stay here. Quote:Anna... what can I do now that you are gone? Everything is lost. Our kingdom is fallen, and I... I could do nothing. I still can do nothing. You loved to hear me sing and play but what good are they? What good is music in a world falling apart!? --- ANNA Female, age 18-30 Tellah’s daughter and wife of Edward. Anna is just as headstrong as her father and has eloped with Edward. A powerful magic-user, but not strong enough to stand against Golbez. Audition Line: Quote:Father! Stop it! ... just stop. There's... nothing you can do. Edward is... my husband... I love him... --- YANG FANG LEIDEN Male, age 20-50 Master of the monks of Fabul. Yang is highly disciplined Despite this, he is a humble man, and so does not bask in his glory, but rather tries his best to be respectful. Voice type: A deep, gentle, calming voice. Audition Lines: Quote:I was lucky. We are all lucky. Most of their force already left, certain of victory. My comrades... we were ambushed. Drawn out onto the mountain by a decoy. Quote:Had enough of my friend's sword? Then perhaps you'd like to try my fists!? Hy-aahh! --- GOLBEZ Male, ageless Unknowable master of darkness. Golbez is the Dark Knight who replaces Cecil in the Red Wings. Little is known about him, but he shows a callous disdain for life and only a grudging respect for power. Golbez hides a terrible secret in his past. Voice Type: Deep and scary. Vader-esque. Audition Lines: Quote:Hmm? Ah. You must be Cecil. My predecessor in the Red Wings. Enough. I did not come to gabble with insects. Kain! Take the crystal. Quote:Ask not the eagle how he soars, little prince. My motives are beyond your ken. Quote:Fighting? This is no fight. I am simply collecting crystals. You are the ones who insist on throwing yourselves in my path. --- YIN Female, age 20-50 Wife of Yang. (AKA Sheila, Ursula) Not much is known about Yin. She is fiercely protective of her husband and home. Audition Line: Quote:Soon after you left the sentries spotted those airships coming in from the west. The King ordered the city to evacuate. But I stayed put! None of those Baron thugs are going to touch MY house. --- "KING" FABUL Male/Female, ageless Ruler of the country of Fabul. All the more regal for their humility. Can be "Queen" or "King". Could be a child ruler or an aged monarch. Audition Line: Quote:Yes, we have been informed of the situation. And I must apologize to you, Master Yang. I unwisely sent your monks to their doom in the mountains, and shamefully fled when the airships appeared. --- PALOM Male, age Child/Teen An apprentice Black Mage from the land of Mysidia. Though young, Palom has proven himself a skillful, if arrogant, student of magic. He is a casual show-off, even to adults, and refers to himself as "The Mysidian Genius" or "Prodigy". Audition Lines: Quote:Watch it, buddy! You're talkin' to the most powerful dark wizard in the whole world! Quote:Some people say that a monster from the depths of night resides at the summit. Others say there's nothing there. Like, it's a metaphor or something. Like, the whole time, YOU were the obstacle. --- POROM Female, age Child/Teen An apprentice White Mage from the land of Mysidia. Mature for her age, Porom is already an accomplished spellcaster. She is respectful and polite, and often has to keep Palom in line. She loves her brother and supports his quest to become a Sage, but believes he lacks the discipline. Audition Lines: Quote:Perhaps you were unaware, sir. I just so happen to be one of the most puissant white witches in the world. Quote:Well, I WAS just gonna lead him quietly into a cell in the tower. But you're right, Palom, yelling and making a scene is a much more sensible option! --- ELDER OF MYSIDIA Male/Female, age 40+ A leader of the town of Mysidia. Unusually long-sighted and kind. They are Porom & Palom’s teacher and an old friend of Tellah. Audition Line: Quote:Escort this man to the summit of Mount Ordeals. I see a dim star shining in the once-dark night sky... this will be a test for all of you. --- SCARMIGLIONE Male/Female, ageless The archfiend of Earth and appointed guardian of Mt Ordeals. It is an undead monster which Golbez has set to keep Cecil out of the summit cavern. Audition Line: Quote:I am the gaoler of this forsssaken peak. Golbez set me here and now I have company at lassssst. Come! I shallll pulllll you into my embrace. --- KLUYA Male, 30+ A mysterious reflection in the summit cavern? Or something more? He is only a dim, echoing voice now. Audition Line: Quote:I have waited for you for an age, it seems. And yet our meeting has come too soon, for now I must do as I have been dreading. The time is come! Hold your sword of darkness to the light! FF4moonLogo3.png (Size: 366.21 KB / Downloads: 0) http://dlvr.it/PvCr4m www.voiceacting.space

0 notes

itsworn · 7 years

Text

A Week Of Daily Driving, Pie Pickup, And A Goodbye To Conner Assembly In A 2017 Viper ACR Voodoo II

Elana’s Story

The big wing jutted up in the parking lot like a mesa on the edge of Texas flatland. “Drop me off there,” I instructed the airport shuttle driver, and she raised an eyebrow at my schlubby travel clothes and ripped purple suitcase as she opened the bus doors. I was in Detroit for a week of filming with Roadkill, culminating in a Viper plant tour and the Roadkill Nights racing at M1 Concourse. Dodge asked if I needed a get-around car for the visit, and nothing gets you around like a 2017 Viper ACR special edition Voodoo II. The Voodoo first came out as a limited model ACR in 2010, and the 2017 model uses the same glossy black base with accents of red and silver, more black widow spider than snake. “Does Batman know you have his car?” asked my husband when I texted him a photo.

I squeezed my ragged luggage in the trunk and scooted the seat up until I could reach the clutch. I couldn’t really get out easily from that position, but I had a Viper for a week. Why would I ever want to get out? “Oh this car, this car is a man-catching machine!” said the parking lot attendant as I waited for the arm to come up, and she was right. I got two rings waved at me on the highway as I headed for Pontiac, Michigan. “Marry me!” shouted the passenger in a beat-up Cavalier.

Any of you who are regular readers know that if I was in a marryin’ mood, it would be the Viper I’d propose to. I’ve spent some serious daily driver time in various models of the snake, and I’ve enjoyed every second of it. The ACR is a nastier animal than the SRT or GTS configurations. It wanders and argues about low-speed steering changes and uneven lanes. It stops so fast you’ll punch the center display with your downshifting hand if you don’t have a grip on the shifter baseball, and it transmits every pothole and pea of gravel directly to your lower back no matter how many mattresses you’re sleeping on, princess. I loved it anyway, and a good thing, since Freiburger and Finnegan were filming at Milan Dragway, a good 60 miles from my hotel in Pontiac. 120 mile roundtrip for multiple days? Pricey for gas, priceless for joy.

In between commuting to the dragstrip, I also used the Viper for normal activities, like finding the best pie in the area (Achatz Pies in Beverly Hills, MI), creeping it nervously through a thunderstorm, and teaching one of our video guys how to drive stick (he did real good, no clutches harmed). My love for the Viper remained undimmed, and I was happy to get to win a few other people over to it. At the end of the week, Hot Rod Garage host, Tony Angelo, and I managed to fit all our gear into the back, and I offered him the keys for the drive to the airport. “I don’t really like Vipers that much,” he said, but he was willing to give the ACR a try. A few strong pulls later and he was giggling as foolishly as I had been all week. “It’s like a real race car, oh, it’s fun!”

2017 is a bittersweet year for Viper fans. Dodge is ending production, and Viper clubs all over are gathering to pay tribute to the snake. With that intro, let me turn it over to Benjamin Hunting, who took the Voodoo to the closing of Conner Assembly plant–the nest where Vipers are hatched.

Ben’s Story

“What serial number is that one?” I’m asked almost immediately after parking at Detroit’s Conner Ave Assembly Plant and stepping out of my ride for the day. This is the birthplace of Chrysler’s most potent – and most significant – sports car, where Dodge is celebrating 25 years of Viper production, and the front lawn is replete with as many examples of the V10-powered coupe as I’ve ever seen gathered in one place.

“001,” I reply, after hastily checking the dash plaque. This conversation would repeat itself throughout the day, requiring me to repeatedly assert my non-ownership of the black-with-red-striped Voodoo II packages Viper ACR, a one-of-31 edition that loads every single option into the track-ready monster. It’s a testament to the staying power of the Dodge SRT Viper’s over-the-top image that rolling in to a field of over 200 similarly-styled snakes in a Voodoo II package ACR still draws a crowd.

“Oh, I’ve got #006 waiting for delivery next week,” came the reply from the man admiring the car’s “I”LL CUT YOU!” vents on the front fenders and overpass-threatening wing perched on the rear deck. “I’m going to try to see if they’ll let me near it inside the factory. I honestly can’t wait.”

That’s right – they’re still building Vipers here at Conner Ave, although for how much longer is anyone’s guess. If you were to judge by the exuberant atmosphere on this sunny Saturday morning, you’d be hard-pressed to call this gathering a funeral for a friend – or, more accurately, a beloved family member. Dodge may have canceled the Viper after a quarter century of near-continuous production, but judging by the high spirits of the owners gathered here today, the party has no plans of stopping any time soon.

The inside of the plant is almost completely open, letting us wander throughout its massive confines hemmed in only by the yellow safety tape that keeps us from accidentally activating any important Viper-making machinery (or walking out with a souvenir or two). The further down the line you get, the more complete the frames, body panels, and engine assemblies become, culminating in the snake pen at the end of the building where finished rides await the chance to put a smile on the faces of their new owners. I strain to spot Voodoo II #006, but it remains elusive.

Of course, customer cars aren’t the only denizens of Connor Ave, as Dodge has put a number of significant Viper models on display for the faithful. There are Le Mans winners, prototypes, one of the earliest RT/10 models known to still exist, and land speed record holders all sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, along with a single Plymouth Prowler (that easily forgotten son-of-Conner-Ave) tucked way off in a corner. Wall art tracks the development of the Viper from Gen I to Gen V, with unusual, never-produced variants mixed in to catch the eye of the devoted. On my way out the door I overhear an SRT engineer talking about how he snagged one of the six dual-cam VVT Viper engines that were ever built before it could be sent to the scrap yard. As job perks go, that’s a pretty damn good one.

Back on the lawn, it’s time to take a picture and then get this show on the road. After being captured in all their multi-colored glory by the photographer dangling high overhead, most of the cars around me get ready for the next stage in the day’s celebrations, a 15-mile, police-escorted parade from the plant to the M1 Concourse in Pontiac where Roadkill Nights is staging street legal drag races on Woodward Avenue and reserving a paddock just for Viper owners. In a cacophony of choppy cams and flashing blue lights a phalanx of Detroit’s finest sail in on their police bikes, lining up along the side of the road to lead us from the promised land.

Just before getting back into the Voodoo II, I find myself talking to Wes from Maryland, a self-described “military knucklehead” who’s in the middle of transplanting a Gen V body onto a Gen IV frame. “I picked up a wrecked Gen V for $25,000, but I couldn’t get a new frame anywhere,” he tells me. “So I’m here at the plant taking as many pictures as I can of all the chassis and platform details so I can figure out what needs to get cut, stretched, and moved to make everything play nice together.”

He says that ever since he put pictures of the project online, he’s gotten so many questions and messages of support about it that he’s gotten more done in the last 30 days than he did in the first six months. “It was originally a Carbon Edition car, but when I’m done with it it’ll be a T/A.” This fantastic Frankenstein creation will also probably be the most Roadkill Viper on the planet.

Our conversation is cut short by an official looking finger pointed in my direction by someone holding an equally official looking clipboard, directing me to line up two cars behind the Dodge Law Enforcement Viper that’s leading the pack (behind the actual, badge-carrying officers riding in the Dodge Chargers). I’m honored to be at the tip of the fang as we pull out of the assembly plant to begin the slow, raucous, and exceptionally loud convoy to M1. My side mirrors are filled with gearheads of all ages taking pictures and waving from the sidelines, Vipers stretching back as far as the eye can see (it’ll take one and a half hours for all 200 cars to make it to the paddock) police bikes that blaze by with startling regularity to block off side streets and make our lives easier while introducing misery into the weekend commutes of unsuspecting Detroiters.

Suddenly, I’m distracted from the reverie around me by an insist message on the Viper ACR’s gauge cluster. It’s not telling me how awesome the car is, or how incredibly fortunate I am to be given the keys to this beast for a ceremonial cruise: it’s pointing out how stupid I must be to have forgotten to fill the tank before leaving the hotel this morning. LOW FUEL, LOW FUEL the car complains, and it’s with a cold clarity that I realize I’m about to be “that guy” – the one who ran out of gas driving in car he doesn’t even own in a parade of Vipers.

Anxiously, I text Elana, Roadkill EIC and the caretaker of this ACR for most of the previous week to ask how far I can drive with the gas light on. “Maybe 30 miles,” she replies, but at these slow, stop-and-go speeds I can foresee a flatbed in my future should I decide to push my luck. It’s then that fate intervenes. In a bid to bunch up the long trail of cars behind us, the entire parade grinds to a halt at an intersection marked by a Marathon station, its faded logo shining like a beacon to under-prepared idiots like me.

I crank the wheel and screech in to the closest fuel pump, which of course refuses to accept my Canadian credit as a legitimate form of legal tender. Cursing my useless plastic, I run into the gas station where I accost a very confused attendant holding a mop and a bucket. “It’s the car with the giant wing!” I exclaim, stuffing a $20 bill in his hand and spinning on my heel to run back to the pump. Seconds later 91 octane is flowing into the ACR’s greedy tank in my best approximation of a NASCAR pit stop, to the hoots and laughter of genuine Viper owners passing me by at speeds low enough to register the shame on my face.

My twenty bucks spent, the pump clicks and I’m back behind the wheel, angling the ACR’s aero-laden front clip carefully back down onto the street. Eventually, another snake wrangler takes pity on me and a hole opens up in the line, letting me sneak into the parade, tail between my legs. It’s then, however, that I realize I’ve been presented with perhaps the rarest of opportunities: four clear lanes of boulevard, a sympathetic police escort, and a chance to snag my number 3 spot and extend the stock car racing metaphor as much as possible.

Throwing caution, and perhaps my last ounce of reasonable doubt to the wind, I pull out of line and hammer the throttle as much as I dare, blasting past ten, then twenty, then fifty crawling Vipers at a whopping 45-mph, fingers crossed that the cops still zooming down the street in the far lane will ignore my lack of decorum until I can regain my position at the front of the pack. In my mind I can picture scowling faces in imaginary Detroit Race Control screaming into headset mics and commanding my crew chief to send me to the “tail-end of the longest line,” but fortunately for everyone my fantasies don’t ever manifest themselves that fully in the real world. It’s not until the lead car is in sight that a uniformed officer in a patrol car pulls up beside me and suggests commands me to “get back in line!”

Once I’ve obliged, the rest of the trek to the M1 grounds is pleasantly uneventful – or rather, as uneventful as a train belching over a hundred thousand horsepower through sidepipes can realistically be on public streets. Parking the car on the concourse, I look down at the fuel gauge before shutting the car off and realize that had I not made my pit stop, I definitely would still be out there on the boulevard instead of here with the Roadkill Nation, celebrating not just the Viper, but every car out there killed by bean counters, market forces outside their control, or changing tides at the company that brought them into the world. As row after row of ACR, GTS, RT/10, GTC, GT, and T/A cars pull in alongside each other, however, I realize that the Viper family isn’t just steel, glass, and big honkin’ V10s – it’s muscle, love, and heart. And none of that is going away any time soon.

The post A Week Of Daily Driving, Pie Pickup, And A Goodbye To Conner Assembly In A 2017 Viper ACR Voodoo II appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

from Hot Rod Network http://www.hotrod.com/articles/week-daily-driving-pie-pickup-goodbye-conner-assembly-2017-viper-acr-voodoo-ii/ via IFTTT

#IFTTT #Hot Rod Network

0 notes