#TOP 7 WAYS TO PREVENT HEART ATTACK

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.7

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Ch. Notes: Angst, Violence, Emotional, translations: Moye ditya= my child moye serdtse= my heart

Summary: Y/n, Wanda, and Pietro are forced to prepare for the worst after learning of the one on one meeting Dragos has set up with Kingpin.

An: Hey 🫣, Please don't be mad. It feels wrong to say I hope you enjoy this one but... I hope we can recover from this together 💜

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

The sound of your office door slamming was enough to startle some of the other employees working. You were relatively good at keeping your cool, but your skin felt like it was on fire. Your fists keep clenching and unclenching, trying to find some outlet for the anger.

Pietro and Wanda watch carefully from outside your door as you try to subdue your anger. Wanda wants to go in and comfort you, but Pietro stops her.

“She doesn’t need you to go in there and coddle her,” he speaks to his sister.

“Well, I’m not planning to just watch her like this,” Wanda tries again, but Pietro’s grip on her becomes firmer.

“Wanda she’s not the same- “

Wanda cuts him off, “Y/n told me, that anything I want to know about her can come directly from her. So, if you want to stand out here and watch her suffer, that’s on you. However, I’m checking on our friend.”

Wanda softly raps on the door before entering your office. You don’t move, it’s like she’s not even there. Not until she’s kneeling on the floor next to you. Her hand rests gently on your knee.

“Talk to me little krolik,” it’s soft, merely a suggestion. Wanda is content with the silence, but she wanted to give you the option to talk.

“Wanda she’s not in the mood to-”

Pietro is cut off, by your eyes locking on his. The gaze is harsh enough to shut him up immediately. Even though tears are building behind your eyes, anger seems to be the primary emotion coursing through your body.

“I can’t believe he’s doing this,” you speak not looking at either sibling. “It’s reckless, it’s careless, it’s naïve. Why would he put himself in danger like this? Does he not know that we need him?”

“Papa is doing what he thinks is best to avoid war,” Pietro states, though he barely believes his own words.

“Or he’s giving Kingpin the opportunity to start it with a bang,” you counter.

Wanda takes a sharp breath, “All we can do is prepare for the worst.”

“Wanda, you don’t think that papa will be, okay?” There’s something in Pietro’s tone that sounds fragile. He sounds like a scared little boy. You had almost forgotten that he could sound that way.

“We all think he’s making a mistake. There will be consequences and fallout regardless of the outcome. Papa seems to think he’s preventing a war, but the true war has already started. Kingpin is flipping our associates, encroaching on our properties, and trying to make us a non-factor. The war is here. If he does anything stupid during this meeting, we could end up without a leader.”

“Vulnerable to attacks, we could lose everything,” you add, rubbing your temples.

“What are we going to do?”

Your hand absent-mindedly finds Wanda’s that rests on your knee. You play with her digits as you speak, “If anything happens to Dragos we can’t afford to fall back or lay low. Kingpin and everyone else will assume we are weak and that would be the end of us. We’d have to make a power play, something to show that we are and always will be on top.”

Wanda takes in your features as you speak. Your eyes are hard, and your jaws clenched. There’s a vein along your neck that’s pulsing with your words. As tense as you look, there���s something so calm around you. The hand that’s playing with Wanda’s fingers moves delicately across her knuckles, a complete contrast to the rest of your body language. Wanda thinks you look like a leader.

“We can make an example out of someone?” Pietro hypothesizes.

Wanda adds in her thoughts, “Or something.”

“The docks. We’re getting out shipments primarily through planes and trains, but everyone else uses the docks,” you begin to explain.

“If we target the docks, which means people would have no choice but to come through us for their goods,” Wanda finishes your thoughts.

Pietro is in disbelief, “You guys want to blow up the docks?”

“We could blow them up or we could just make them unable to be used,” Wanda offers a different option.

“Oil spill; stopped the ports for months in California a few years back. No materials could be sent through and the stuff at the docks had to be thrown out because of contamination,” you try to suggest, but it sounds like you made up your mind.

Wanda nods, “I could send Natasha some resources and she could make this concrete enough to put into motion.”

“She’d need to have this ready in potentially 2 to 3 days. If something happens at that meeting, we will need to have this ready quickly.” You begin typing on your computer, to see if you can locate any ships transporting oil passing through in the next few days.

“What can I do?” Pietro asks.

“You need to support Natasha. Wanda’s going to be sending her a lot of information and if you’re there to go over the nuisances it’ll make things easier for everyone.”

“I can head over now,” he says, and you give him a curt nod. He leaves the room once again leaving just you and Wanda.

Wanda breaks the silence, “You’re a natural leader, little krolik.”

You blush at her words and shake your head, “I’m just trying to make sure this empire that your family built doesn’t fall apart. It’s the least I could do after all that you’ve done for me.”

“Our family; you are a part of it,” Wanda corrects you.

“Flora and Dragos are the parents that mine couldn’t be. I know they’re your actual parents and that maybe it's selfish of me to worry, but if anything were to happen to either of them; I don’t know what I’d do,” your hands shoot up to cover your eyes.

You don’t want your tears to fall in front of her. Wanda had seen you cry a lot when you were younger, softer, but this version of yourself; she didn’t cry. She was supposed to be able to hold her emotions. However, the thought of losing the man that had given her everything in this world, was terrifying to her.

Wanda is gentle as she runs a hand through your hair, “It’s a scary thought, losing mama or papa. I’ve thought about it a lot, and it never becomes less scary. The only thing that helps is that I know I won’t have to feel this way on my own.”

“I hate that we have to talk about him like he’s already dead,” your hands stay over your eyes.

“Me too.”

Wanda’s hand in your hair is the only thing keeping you from breaking down. The speaker in your office breaks the building silence.

“Y/n, I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Maximoff has just left,” you hear Kate’s voice announce.

“Thanks for letting me know Katie,” you answer her, as you feel the gravity of the situation set in.

“Y/n… there’s a car in the parking garage with his destination programmed into the GPS,” Kate gives you the information and your ears perk up.

“Kate, did you-”

“Perks of setting up a meeting is knowing exactly where it is. If you go now, you can tail him at a respectable distance just to make sure he’s safe.”

You waste no time getting out of your seat, “God Katie, you’re the best.”

“Anything for you Y/nn and anything for the family of course.”

With Pietro already out of the office, it would be just Wanda and yourself tailing Dragos. When you got to the car Kate had ready for you, Wanda offers to drive. You let her and take the passenger seat quickly texting Pietro the location of the meeting but telling him to stay put unless you message him again.

Your leg bounces recklessly as Wanda drives. The nerves you worked hard to tame seem to be back in full force. The ride feels uncharacteristically quiet, but there isn’t much to say.

“So, you and Kate?” Wanda breaks the silence.

If you weren’t so stressed maybe you’d laugh, “You sound just like your wife. Kate is just my friend, that��s all.”

“I’m just curious. You’ve grown into quite the young women, I’m sure you’ve had a long line of lovers,” Wanda speaks nonchalantly.

You can feel your ears heat at her comment, “I’ve been on some dates, but they don’t usually stick around.”

Wanda’s eyebrows raise as she keeps eye focus on the road, “My little krolik is a player then?”

You sputter, “I am not.”

“It sounds to me like you go on few dates, get what you want, and move on to the next,” Wanda’s eyes cut briefly to you.

“You need to stop getting information about me from Pietro, he’s delusional,” you shake your head, face nearly red with embarrassment.

“Then enlighten me.”

You sigh, “I go on the date, it’s just fine, and then I go another date. It’s just that simple.”

“You sound rather unhappy with that.”

You shrug, “This line of work, it’s dangerous. Anything can happen to me, and I have to date someone that I think could handle that. If I don’t think they can, then dating them would be a waste of both of our time. Not all of us can find a hot Russian spy.”

Wanda’s hand rests on your knee, “I suppose not, but I know there’s someone out there for you. You’ve always been a catch Y/n, anyone would be lucky to have you.”

It was easier to run with the narrative that there were other fish in the sea when Wanda wasn’t around. Having her back here was stirring up emotions inside of you. You thought that your liking to Wanda was simply teenage hormones, but you aren’t a teenager anymore. It’s been two days of having Wanda back and you can feel your feelings for her returning in full force.

“Less on my love life, and more on protecting Dragos,” you refocus on the task at hand.

When you’re close to the location, you recognize it as an abandoned construction site. You can see two other cars parked side by side further ahead.

“Park there,” you point out a secluded area where the car won’t be spotted.

Wanda does as you say. As soon as the car stops, you’re exiting it. In your heart you want to run to search for Dragos, but professionally you know that’s not the call.

You and Wanda walk cautiously though the site, the sand around made the walking a more difficult than solid concrete.

You went to take a step, but Wanda’s hand on your shoulder pulls you down into a crouching position. Following her line of sight, you see Dragos and Kingpin talking. You can’t necessarily hear them, but you can tell it’s not a pleasant conversation.

You look around hoping to find a spot close enough to hear, but not close enough to draw attention to yourself. Before you can find anything, Wanda’s hand slips in yours and she’s tugging you along.

She finds a spot with the criteria you were looking for. You two can now hear the conversation between the two men.

“Wilson, I’m telling you, you don’t want this war,” Dragos tries to reason with the man.

“Why not, Maximoff? I ain’t got nothing to lose, but I’ve got everything to gain,” his laugh makes your hand twitch.

You could pull out your gun right now and shoot Fisk in the head. Your hand goes to grab your gun, but Wanda stops you. She’s not even looking at you. Her eyes are scanning around, to make sure you are the only other people here.

“Fisk, I will put you down if you step out of line again.”

“With what army old man? I’ve been taking your allies and gathering your enemies. Step down gracefully and maybe I’ll let you keep some of your business,” Fisk takes a step towards Dragos.

“You’re not taking the empire that I built.”

He sticks out his pinky, showing off his big ring, “It’s time to kiss the ring, Maximoff. It’s time for the kingpin to take his rightful spot at the head of the table.”

“Over my dead body,” Dragos doesn’t back down.

“I knew you would say something like that.”

It happens fast. The gun goes off and instinctively your hand goes over Wanda’s mouth. The cry that was leaving her lips died in it’s spot. Fisk aims his gun again at Dragos’s head but before he can pull the trigger, your other hand starts to shoot at him.

Your hands are shaking, but the shots are enough to cause Kingpin to run away.

“Call the police, go check on him. I’m chasing the bastard,” you don’t give her a chance to protest.

By the time you get back to where the cars were parked, Kingpin’s car is gone. You can’t help it but slam your fist against the nearest pole. You run back to where Wanda is.

Once your next to Wanda and Dragos you take a knee. The man is struggling to breathe with a bullet lodged into his sternum. Wanda shakes as she runs her fingers through his hair and tells him he will be ok.

You’re trying to stay strong, but the tears have already begun to fall. Dragos hand reaches for yours and you let him take it. His grip is weak, and it causes you to lose your composure.

“Papa, I’m sorry- I should’ve shot faster,” you speak what could possibly be your last words to the man who had given you a better life.

He looks at Wanda and then at you. It’s mangled, but he says, “T-take care o-of each other."

“Papa these are not your final words, stop acting like they are. The paramedics are coming, you are going to leave. You have to live,” Wanda snaps at the man.

“You’re m-mother will ne-ver forgive me f-for this,” he wheezes.

“As long as you're breathing, she will forgive you,” you respond.

He laughs but ends up coughing up his own blood. Dragos squeezes your hand, “I’m proud- of both of y-you. Wanda, moye serdtse I- have always believed in y-you. Y/n, moye ditya, I loved b-being your Papa.”

You see his eyes fluttering and you make eye contact with Wanda, “How long did they say Wanda?”

“30 minutes.”

You shake you head, “That’s not fast enough. We have to go now.”

“Y/n-"

“We don’t have time to argue, Wanda. Help me lift him,” you say steeling your nerves.

“Y/n we-”

“HELP ME LIFT HIM.” You weren’t asking anymore.

You start to lift the older man hearing him groan slightly. It’s a good sign, he’s still living. Wanda helps reluctantly. Once you’re at the car, you’re sweating, but you keep moving. You lay him across the back seat.

“You stay in the back with him,” you tell Wanda, getting in the driver’s seat.

As soon as she’s in the car you step on the gas. It’s something akin to the high-speed chase but the stakes are higher. You swerve through traffic and backstreets as much as you can. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins. All you could think about was saving Dragos.

“Wanda, how is he?” You call back to her knowing you had about 5 minutes until the hospital.

“His breaths are shallow Y/n. His eyes are closing,” she updates you with a shaky voice.

“Papa, Wanda’s going to squeeze your hand, squeeze back if you can. Keep squeezing until we get you there,” Your voice is raised but you aren’t yelling.

Wanda puts her hand in her father’s. He squeezes it gently, the pressure is weak, but it’s there.

You continue to swerve around traffic but each minute his grasp grows weaker. You pull into the emergency parking section at the hospital and start to scream for help.

People start to crowd around your car, and everything seems like it’s moving too fast. People are getting Dragos from your car. Wanda is in hysterics as it seems like dozens of people start wheeling her father away. You sit at the wheel of the car unable to move, unable to think.

You make the calls, so Wanda doesn’t have to. It doesn’t take long for the family to get to the hospital. They’re all wrecks. The Maximoff’s all have identical puffy red eyes as they hope to hear something from the doctor.

“You aren’t going to sit with them,” It’s Natasha who takes a seat next to you.

You shake your head, “I can’t, not right now. They need their space.”

“You’ve shed just as many tears as them lisichka,” Natasha cautiously brings her finger to your face wiping a stray tear.

“You should be comforting your wife, not me,” you say to her.

“She’s not the one sitting away from her family mourning alone when it isn’t necessary,” Natasha stands and extends her hand to you.

For awhile you just stare, but she’s unrelenting. You sigh taking her hand, it’s not soft like you expected it to be. It’s a little rough and warm, but it brings you comfort all the same.

Natasha sits next to Wanda, and you take a seat next to Pietro. Instantly his arm wraps around your shoulder pulling you close. The action breaks you as you bury your head into his chest and begin to silently sob.

He places a kiss on the top of your head and rubs your back. It makes you feel like a kid again. It had been so long since you needed something like this. The adrenaline was wearing off and all you were left with was an empty feeling.

You start to mumble that you’re sorry against your friend as your body softly shakes.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” Flora calls to you from her seat next to Pietro.

You do as she says, “This isn't your fault.  There's nothing you could've done.”

You open your mouth to protest, but the woman gives you a stern look. It quiets you, but you continue to feel guilty.

“Stop thinking so much. We don't know anything until the doctors tell us,” You wipe your tears at her words.

“Yes, mama,” you say it without realizing and when you do, your face heats up.

Flora opens her arms for you, and you switch from Pietro to her. Her hug is warm and strong. She wipes the tears from your face and looks at you with caring eyes.

“Everything will be ok moye ditya,” her words bring you great comfort.

“Family of Dragos Maximoff,” the doctor calls out and you all stand swiftly.

This is the moment of truth. You pray that you acted fast enough; that he would be ok. The somber look on the doctor’s face crushes those dreams instantly.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok

[kick-a-long]

jewish american safety tips for upcoming oct 2 to oct 7th 2024

ok, so this is not a post about looking for trouble. but if trouble finds you from oct 2 to oct 7 and you don't pass enough to feel safe, and even if you do, there are some simple ways you can carry things to defend yourself while still deescalating a bad situation long enough to escape.

the important part is to either make you just enough of a problem that they don't want to spend the effort or a good little jew who doesn't fight back. don't hit them, try to stall and deescalate until you can run or get some distance. walk with people, travel with people, don't expect anyone to fight for you (being in larger groups is just a detergent) so the same rules apply alone as with someone else.

carry a bat or cane. these are pretty easy to get at a sports shop or a pharmacy. they are good for keeping attackers at a distance and in that time someone might pass by and get them to run off. these will not win a fight. carrying them is a way to make them think twice, keep their distance and regroup because jew bashers won't expect you to be able to do them any harm and it can give you time. don't hit them even if they faint at you because they will attack.

if you have a dog with you, be sure you can hold him back for both you and the dog. dogs are usually perfectly happy to attack and give you a chance to run but they will hurt that dog and you might try to save it which is worse than having no dog. the ideal dog is a barker not a biter, or a big scary dog you can control.

carry a rape whistle. these can do fuck all but the sound might scare them off. especially if it's the electric kind that sounds when activated. this method makes them feel like they will get caught and they are all cowards.

mace is a bad idea but if you think you know how to use it without spraying yourself it might give you time to run but it will get that now very pissed antisemite an opportunity to run after you.

third if you wear a yamika, you are now also wearing a baseball cap on top. if you wear religious garb or gay identifiers of any sort, you have to make sure it's only visible on your front so you can see who can see you or don't wear it at all if you can. stick to places you know and residential areas.

don't be afraid to knock on strangers doors if you even get a whiff of being followed. most people love to be a hero and if you don't want to let you in ask if they can watch for trouble coming from their door or window while you wait by the house. even if you are just walking to an apartment try ringing bells. if you are in a shops area, head into a shop and explain that you are unsafe and ask if you can stay for safety. you should call police but police take time to respond and they can't charge someone that hasn't done anything... and the whole point is to prevent them doing anything.

NO KNIVES. NO GUNS. no weapons, although some chunky rings can't hurt. no earings to grab, no necklaces to grab, keep your hair up. no nutzo weapons, you are not john wick. you want them to keep their distance not engage. the people who do this want easy targets and they are cowards at heart.

the most likely thing to happen is getting yelled at on the street from a car. that's fine. those dudes usually drive off. if they stop, you can run off by the time someone gets out. they only brought the car to get away and they don't want their car stolen so they probably wont get too far from it.

second most likely is drunk assholes spontaneously following and heckling and yelling slurs. keep your ears open and don't respond and run off if they stop. drunk guys want trouble but don't usually attack unless you engage. play it off as a silent uncomfortable joke where you smile if you have to because they might see it as "just a little fun". don't talk. don't laugh. don't engage.

the third situation is the real danger. if you see a lone guy or a group of guys in a car or on foot who don't look rowdy, drunk, aren't speaking but are looking at you. run. the easiest thing to do is walk towards a house. no waiting.

the fourth is a large violent riot/protest. don't look scared. chant whatever they chant and get to the nearest house.

i know a lot of jews are feeling unsafe. it's very, VERY unlikely that anyone in America is going to be physically targeted or attacked (except orthodox jews. sorry but your community probably already has security in place. rely on them it's not their first rodeo.)

if you are outnumbered by people joking on a bus or public transit you can't get off immediately, stay safe and subservient. that's what antisemites consider a good jew. scared and knows their inferior place. try keeping your head down and get off on the next stop. don't think the other passengers will help you and don't assume they don't have weapons.

i know it's scary but it's very unlikely you will encounter any of these situations. stay inside as much as possible, only travel by day or by car if you have to get out, a quick trip to pick up beer or dinner is not worth it if it puts you in danger.

stay safe.

edit for good advice from @angryjewishcockroach : Another tip re: cars: if you’re walking and someone is following you in a car, or you’re afraid they’re going to start following you, do a 180 and go in the opposite direction. The amount of time it takes to turn a car around will give you a good head start, and most jerks won’t even bother. If you’re in a neighborhood or something similar, you can also cut through lawns; cars can’t follow you there, and you should hopefully be able to lose them if they try to follow anyway.

[it-was-too-cold-always]

Always Read the Fine Print Chapter 12

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

Who actually reads all the terms and conditions? After mindlessly checking a box years ago, our Reader unintentionally agrees to be part of a scientific study to create super soldier babies. To make matters worse, her fellow test subject is the brooding and intimidating Bucky Barnes.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Reader struggles to accept this colder relationship with Bucky. Meanwhile's he's up to something...

Warnings: arranged marriage, forced proximity, lots of angst, violence, PTSD/nightmares, panic attacks, language, SMUT 18+ only, oral fem receiving, unprotected sex, size kink, let me know if I'm missing anything

a/n: Hi friends, I'm sorry it's been so long. My depression came at me like a b*tch. But I'm here now and will hopefully be posting more regularly 💕

Every night, Bucky would hand you that stupid syringe. Your heart sunk a little each time he’d knock on the door. You were hoping he was coming to spend time with you, to tell you everything was going to be okay, to hold you. But instead, he would put the syringe in your hand, kiss your forehead, and leave the room. That was it. 

As if that wasn’t bad enough, he was spending all his time with Steve - almost every day. You could hear them talking downstairs. You could never actually make out what they were saying, but you could hear their serious tones murmuring through the thin walls. You considered standing at the top of the stairs so you could eavesdrop, but you knew better than to spy on two super soldiers. So instead you paced around the bedroom–the one that you were supposed to be sharing with Bucky–and waited for Steve to leave. Although no one outright said it, you got the feeling that you weren’t invited to their little chats. One time, you went downstairs with the excuse of needing a snack. They immediately shifted the topic to Steve’s recent mission. Steve, ever the gentleman, would greet you with a warm smile and invite you to sit with them. He’d ask you how you’re feeling, how your day was going, if you’ve read any good books lately. You appreciated his kindness but felt a little awkward – surely they were itching for you to leave so they could return to their conversation. Once the small talk became unbearable, you’d fake a headache and excuse yourself. You claimed you were going to go lie down, but they could hear your faint footsteps pacing on the hardwood above them.

~

Bucky was completely and utterly miserable. He was still fuming about the sensors they implanted in you. You were his wife, and he couldn’t protect you. It made him feel powerless. He couldn’t stop thinking about how panicked you were the last time you had sex. He could feel your anxiety. He couldn’t help but think he violated you in some way. This prevented him from giving you any affection; he was terrified of crossing a boundary with you. The forehead kisses were as far as he dared to go. Deep down, he knew he should sit down and have a conversation with you about it. But if he heard you say outright that you don’t want to be intimate with him anymore, he would be devastated. 

~

After three weeks of doing this ridiculous syringe routine, you couldn’t take it anymore. He handed you the syringe, kissed your forehead, and turned to leave. Just like every other night. But this time, you reached out to grab his hand.

“Please don’t go,” you whispered, tears already welling up in your eyes. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate for his attention. 

“Oh, doll…” Bucky wasn’t sure what to say. His heart was breaking, seeing you like this. 

“Please, just stay the night. We don’t even have to talk. Just spend the night with me,” you begged, tears freely falling down your cheeks. “I miss you.” Your confession was all it took for Bucky to realize what an idiot he was. He was so desperate to protect you, he didn’t even occur to him that he might be hurting you. 

“Of course, sweetheart. I’m right here. I’m sorry I left you alone so much,” Bucky admitted, pulling you into a tight hug. “I was so scared I’d upset you, but I seriously screwed up.” He rubbed your back as you let all your tears fall. All those weeks of feeling so alone, but you finally had your Bucky back. You wanted to smack him and kiss him at the same time. 

He helped you with the syringe, which was oddly romantic. He was very gentle. Once that was over with, he pulled you into his chest, running his hands through your hair and down your back. You let out a long sigh – you had missed this so much. You forgot how your head felt resting on his toned muscles, how warm his chest was, how safe you felt. It was like a dream. A wonderful, euphoric dream.

“Do you trust me?” Bucky asked softly. The question caught you so off guard, your finger paused before it could finish tracing the scars on his chest. Propping yourself up, you looked at him quizzically. “Of course I do. What kind of question is that?” you replied. You were trying not to be offended that he would doubt you. 

“All I’ve wanted to do is protect you,” he began, sitting up to fully face you. He took your hands in his, mindlessly fidgeting with the diamond ring on your left hand. “But I’ve failed every time.”

“Bucky–“ you tried to cut him off, but he continued.

“No matter how hard I try, you end up getting hurt. I hope you can forgive me. Some days I can barely live with myself, knowing how much pain I’ve caused you.”

“Bucky, for Christ’s sake. This is NOT your fault!” you interjected, hating to see him beat himself up like this. 

“Doll, please just let me explain. It’s important,” he said, giving your hands a small squeeze. You nodded slowly and stayed silent, letting him continue. The urgency in his voice was scaring you. “You deserve better than to stay here and pay for my sins. I can’t stand to watch you suffer like this. Okay? I need you to understand.” His pleading eyes looked deep into yours. The more he talked, the more fearful you became. “I’ve told you some of the atrocities I’ve committed as HYDRA’s assassin. The things I’ve done to further their agenda, to get them in power,” he sighed deeply before continuing. “With the number of times they scrambled my brain, they assumed I couldn’t remember anything. That I wouldn’t recognize faces. But I do. I remember all of them.”

Your heart was breaking for the man in front of you. All those people he killed and all the ones that made him do it. They all take up space in his mind. No wonder he never sleeps. 

“The HYDRA members they arrested when I was freed…that was only a small fraction of them. HYRDRA is everywhere. If I break you out, there’s nowhere we could go that would be safe. I can’t rescue you until I dismantle HYDRA.” He paused and waited for your reaction. He wasn’t sure how you’d respond to all this. 

“Wait a second…are you saying HYDRA is behind all this? I mean that would make sense, this whole reproducing super soldiers thing is messed up, and they’re not exactly known for being ethical. But HYDRA working inside SHIELD? All this time? That’s…” You wanted to say impossible, but ever since your world got turned upside down, you don’t know what to expect anymore. You’ve completely lost sense of what’s normal. “So what do we do? If it’s as big as you say, there’s no way you can take them down alone.”

Bucky let out a deep sigh, looking around the room as if the words he’s trying to find will reveal themselves in the wallpaper. His gaze meets yours, but he won’t find the answer in your eyes either. He held your hands in his and took a deep breath.

“Steve and I have a plan. But we’re gonna need your help.”

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[ashtheketchum]

A new family Part 9

A/N: I sat on this chapter for an incredibly long time because I had to look up all of Vi's text and then type it out completely (Picture from Pinterest!)

Warnings: Mention of death, mention of alcohol, slight panic attack

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

Masterlist!

_______________________________________

PoV (Y/N):

I just looked at (D/N) confused while she looked at Daryl with tears in her eyes. After thinking for a moment I understood what her problem was and I looked at Daryl too. He was drunk, but didn't behave the same as he did last night. He was aggressive, loud and didn't pay attention to anyone. "Honey…why are you on the floor…?" I then asked her. I placed my hand carefully on her shoulder, but she was still shaking badly. She couldn't say anything, was she in that much shock?

"It's better this way!" I heard Dr. Jenner suddenly speak up. I immediately stood up again and looked at the doctor. Rick spoke to him and asked him what would happen in 28 minutes. But the doctor didn't answer. "Doc, what happens in 28 minutes!" Shane shouted again, but this time the doctor didn't stay silent, he screamed loudly. “Do you actually know what this place is!?” Dr. Jenner looked around, but then his gaze settled on Rick. He had a mild panic attack, screamed loudly and eventually sat weakly on the chair.

We all remained silent for a moment before Jenner spoke again. "In the event of a catastrophic power failure, in a terrorist attack for example, HIT's are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out." That's all he said. "HIT's?" Rick came closer and closer to the doctor. Dr. Jenner remained silent for a moment, his gaze falling before he looked up and sighed quietly. “Vi, define.” He simply said. The computer voice was heard immediately and we all looked up.

,, HIT´s Definition: High-impulse thermobaric fuel-air explosive consist of a two-stage aerosol ignition that produces a blast wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other known explosiveexcept nuclear. The vacuum-pressure effect ignites the oxygen between 5.000 and 6.000 degrees and it is usefull when the greates loss of life and damage to structures is desired.“ Vi was finished with her definition.

I immediately pulled (D/N) towards me, she had slowly stood up again and I hugged her tightly. I looked around anxiously to see everyone else's reaction. Carol hugged Sophia tightly, Rick hugged Lori and Carol tightly, and the others stared into nothingness. Nobody knew how to react. "It sets the air on fire…" Murmured Dr. Jenner ultimately. Now I looked at him in shock. (D/N) had wiped away her tears and was now looking up at me. "No pain… a quick and painless death for all…" The doctor added. I couldn't believe what I had just heard. This scientist had lured us into a death trap and we couldn't escape.

Rick, Shane, Tdog, Glenn and Daryl tried to open those doors so we could get out. Lori, Carl, Carol, Sophia, (D/N) and I sat on chairs or the floor and we held each other tightly. However, (D/N) and I sat further away from the others. I wanted to calm her down first because she was still a little in shock. "Honey…please talk to me…" I then murmured quietly. (D/N) just stayed quiet but clutched my top. She had her face buried in my shoulder.

I sighed quietly and closed my eyes. "I don't want to die like this, mom…" But then she finally murmured. I jumped, startled, before wrapping my arms around her tighter. "You're not going to die here, sweetie…" "That's not what I meant…" Confused, I pushed her away slightly to look at her.

Her eyes looked down, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I don't care where I die or how I die… but I don't want to experience Daryl like Dad… I don't want to die with one last picture of him like that…" She finally spoke up. My heart was breaking and I felt tears welling up in me too. (D/N) looked at me slightly angry. "Daryl isn't like Dad… but I saw him like that just now…" My grip around her became a little tighter.

So Daryl had really scared her. Even if it wasn't intentional, I was right. (D/N) saw her old father in Daryl. The smell of alcohol, the bottle of alcohol in his hand, the aggressive behavior, everything. "He didn't mean it… Daryl is just scared…" I then tried to change her mind. But (D/N) looked at me even angrier and stood up.

She walked away, leaving me to sit alone on the floor. She slowly limped to Carl and Lori, who gently hugged her.

What did I just say? What had I done? Did I just defend a man from my daughter? Daryl had scared her, whether he wanted to or not, it wasn't right of him.

Meanwhile, Dr. Jenner is still trying to convince us to let it go. "You know it's for the best… it's a terrible life out there… if you die out there, it's painful…" Dr. Jenner looked at me. "Your husband died, right?" His question hit me and I opened my mouth. But I couldn't get anything out. Tears streamed down my cheeks, so I looked down and stayed quiet. "No." (D/N) suddenly spoke up.

We immediately looked at her in shock. She looked at Dr. Jenner angrily. "We killed my dad… we watched him die." Her words immediately made me jump and I ran towards her. "Don't say something like that, honey…" "But it's true! Dad wasn't good…! He should die, it was right!” Her words shocked me and I trembled violently. The doctor just remained silent before turning to the others. "The world changes us… until death…"

Now Shane and Daryl tried to open the door with axes. But she still didn't move. "These doors were built to withstand a rocket launcher…" Murmured Dr. Jenner briefly. Suddenly Daryl ran towards him, ax in hand. "But not your head!" We immediately saw Daryl swinging the axe. Shane, Dale and Tdog stopped Daryl, but he still fought back.

"Daryl, stop it! He’s the only one who can get us out of here!” I immediately screamed and I ran towards him to take the ax away from him. Daryl looked at me angrily for a moment before pointing to (D/N). “Do ya wan´ ta die here with the lil´ one?” “You don’t have anything to say about my daughter!” I just growled quietly. My words silenced him for a moment before he hissed, took the ax away from me and went back to the door. Breathing heavily, I watched him before turning to the doctor.

"You can't do that…! You can’t do this to us!” Carol whimpered loudly. "My daughter doesn't deserve to die like this!" "But there will be no pain… isn't it much better to hold your lovers while they can pass from this world without pain?" Dr. Jenner asked her then. "No! No it's not!" However, Carol cried out and hugged Sophia tighter.

It was quiet for a moment before we heard a gun being loaded. I immediately looked around in panic, Shane ran towards the doctor and pointed the gun at him. I ran to (D/N) and pushed her away from Shane, behind me. "Shane, don't! Stop it!" Rick and the others wanted to stop him. "Open those damn doors or I'll blow your head off!" Shane growled threateningly. The doctor looked at him unimpressed as the others tried to lure Shane away. Eventually, Shane fired wildly until Rick took the gun away from him and he lay on the ground.

We all stayed quiet again, I hugged (D/N) tightly to me. I breathed heavily and then looked down at (D/N). She just looked at Shane angrily but held onto my top. "Shane is crazy…" I heard her mutter quietly. Before I could react, Rick was talking to the doctor again. The doctor told us about his wife that she had achieved much more. He would have only continued because he promised her he would. "Let's try this as long as we can…" Lori just murmured quietly. The doctor looked at us briefly before walking to a table. "I said the doors would stay closed…" When he muttered this, I had given up all hope.

But suddenly the doors opened and Daryl called out to us. "Come on! Get out!" I immediately picked (D/N) up again and we ran to our rooms to go out. I didn't look behind me, not when people stopped, not when they spoke. I just wanted to get my daughter out of here.

Next Chapter ->

[kittyplushy]

She Loves You (2/2)

Cathedrals are everywhere for the eyes to see.

Thank you all for being patient with how long this took! Happy 2nd month, House Guest! This crazy hyperfixation has me holding on and recovering from everything.

Read the 1st part and the Midfic to fully understand everything going on here.

In which our beloved couple present themselves happily long before they need to defend their existence to their imagined public.

December 12, 1987

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You want to look up and pretend it isn't snowing. you want to see the autumn sky again but no. It's flat. It's a pastel lavender. And the weather freezes everyone's paws as they read the morning paper. You're unwrapping this notebook that's been sitting snuggly in the wrapper for the new season. and as you transfer important notes and numbers from the old book, a pink sticky note has her name and telephone number on it. It was only yesterday when you first called but the numbers are already burnt into your mind. Then your eyes look at the clock, monitoring the hours, scratching in impatience, anticipating…

Then you realise what’s happening. You thought that you had kept her at arms-length, close enough but not comfortable. You kept most people at a distance but not her. She begins to tap dangerously close into your mind and you can only shut down to prevent any more ideas from flowing. But she’s multiplying, burrowing everywhere you can hide. How annoying.

Then you may stop to think to yourself: “Is it likely that I’m falling in love again?” Again? Since when have I loved someone? Like Lola? I’m not too sure if there’s a calibre we can weigh the intensity on. Maybe a heart attack, but I never had any of those either. In any case though, I don’t believe I do that sort of thing. The feeling is far distant from it. I could say that I love different things- like the autumn breeze, black coffee with hazelnuts, or the feeling of control. Those are just extreme expressions we throw around. Nothing else special. 

I walked out of the shop expecting a yellow sky but it was still covered in lavender. The feeling was beginning to make me go mad. Dressing up in new garb, looking directly at myself in confused rage. I’ve had this conversation before. I like women. I prefer women. I am not above killing them though. But love knows its ways around me. I’m blushing. I’m fixating on every clumsy sign of affection she shows me. Her kind gestures. Her smile. The way she scrunches her face when her glasses begin to slip. Her unusual voice. I’m beginning to feel it again. A quickened heartbeat. The blurry vision. Sweaty palms. Slurred thoughts.

Maybe I do.

Then she shakes my shoulder when she finds me sitting near the ticket booth with my arms crossed. I sit up properly taking a good look at her. Julianne finally wore her glasses outside, the red frames matching a ribboned top. It was something a little nicer than any of her usual outfits. I curiously wondered though who was inside the silver locket she was wearing.

“Hi, I’m sorry if I kept you waiting.”

“No, you aren’t late at all.” I replied “It’s not even 4 yet but let’s hurry. I have a secret to show you in here.”

Her ears popped up hearing the invitation. She nodded and followed behind me when I bought our tickets and made our way into the cinema. The theatre lights were still on, but as to be expected, there were handfuls of families crowding the theatre this Saturday. Thankfully seats 6 and 7 on Row L were empty and everyone else was courteous enough to not surround our bubble as badly as they could have. 

“Don’t tell anyone about this spot.” I whispered “This has the best view in the cinema even on a packed night.”

Her eyes instead focus on the architectural quirks and details swirling around the space, drawn immediately to the gold cat centrepiece hanging above the screen. She looks back at me and nods.

 “It is…seems just right in the middle..” Her voice tones down to a shy whisper. She rubs her hand on the plush of the velvet seat. The lights dim and the projection begins. The doors are closed for the next hour. Time was moving slower in that red box. I could barely focus on the movie. I know I’ve seen it before somewhere. Julianne on the other hand had her eyes focused on every minute and every detail. She was holding back her excitement to not be so rude. The entire time I was squinting, making out her face in the dark and she only caught me staring once just to tell me her favourite scene was coming up. I forced myself to look at the screen, avoiding suspicion but my hands wandered, landing on top of hers, comfortably sliding my fingers between the gaps, neither of us aware what we were doing to one another.

I could not resist it. My signals were jammed, and they were all directing me to hold her hand or her arms the entire time. I regained autonomy when I asked myself if I could take it a step further. Then the excitement of momentum drowned. 

Julianne continued to hold my hand though even outside the theatre an hour later, humming the songs happily and swaying her arms.

“Hey Julianne, your glasses are fogged.”

“Aw, are they? Thanks.” She let go and grabbed a napkin to clean them up.

She leaned her head on my arm, purring as we continued walking downtown to her apartment. Lively Saturday nights have returned slowly but surely. Christmas lights and displays illuminated the stores around each corner, decorated with trinkets or dioramas of religious imagery. Julianne would stop every now and then to admire a few of them. 

“Thanks for taking me to see Annie tonight. You really didn’t have to.” 

“It’s my pleasure. I don’t know what to do with myself on December nights. Everyone is either out of town or closed early.”

“Everyone is home in December where I’m from. Woodbrook would be twice as busy. Everything would be open til 11!”

I gently smile.

“Oh, I should make it up to you..uhm..do you like magic shows? Not the birthday party sort of ones, the ones that are a lil more mature.” Julianne asks almost excitedly “It’s more of a comedy thing than it is kiddie entertainment. I could take you with me..”

“I’m sorry, I don’t. It’s not my cup of tea.” I said between half-gritted teeth, feeling awful for rejecting the offer. 

“Well, is there any hobby you have that we can do together? Something we can do over the weekend?” Julianne begins insisting. 

“I don’t really have a lot. I’m getting old, so maybe woodwork but most of my hobbies are solitary”

“We can always meet at the library then. I don’t mind. Also, have you eaten dinner? Do you want to go out? I’ll pay tonight since you paid for the tickets.”

I struggled to reply to that. I really had no appetite today. Maybe a few pieces of bread would do today but the thought of the movie meet up tonight weighed upon my head even after the fact, I had lost the will to. I shook my head. 

I’ve been down this road before.

Except she was a lot more merciful in her methods. She left disappointed but she at least understood when to stop pushing my buttons.

“I’m being so pushy, am I? I don’t want to force you to do anything. You’re just so nice to me. I also wanna be nice to you.” She frowns, wrapping her tail around her waist for her to fidget with. We stop at the entrance of the red building. She looks back at me and slowly blinks.

“I’ll leave it at that for now. You really should eat dinner though. Thank you!”

I stood at the doorway for longer than I would have liked to admit.

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December 15, 1987

Last night, Woodbrook experienced its first gleanings of winter. This morning, my driveway was covered in snow. I figured that I should get the front of the house and shop cleared up as early as now to avoid delaying opening. And so I was up since 5, shovelling through snow and greeting school children before it was time I drove to town to do more of the same. 

Coming into the town proper, an alarm bell began ringing in my mind- it was calling for me to look around. I did not understand what I was watching for suddenly. There were no signals in the snow this morning. From the reflection on the glass though was a bright rose parka that my eyes followed into the corner to the church. Nobody else wears that bright of a color here.

Following the butterfly into the pews, I hung my head low and pretended to have a reason to be there. She was seated rows away from me, spending 20 more minutes praying the rosary. She broke out of that solemness and looked around her, turning her back and finally acknowledging my presence. Her cheeks warmed up as she smiled then hid her blushing as she quickly got up and signalled I should follow her. 

“Did..did anyone see that?”

“See what?”

“See me…”

I playfully wrapped my arm around her shoulder. Her cheek got redder, cautiously looking around the street for any onlookers. 

“Most people can’t put up a fight about it. Cut it out.” I reassured her “Wanna get a chocolate at Betsy’s?”

“I’m fine, I’ll be making pancakes at home. Do you want to come with me?”

We looked at a clock inside the still closed stationery store. It was 7 in the morning. The storefront was already clean anyway. 

“I’ll help cook them with you. I’m glad you asked, ‘cause I haven’t eaten anything since 5.”

“Five? I’ve been in church since five. It’s the first snow too.” She was holding out her tongue to taste the snow. 

“Yeah, just clearing out my road, and you don’t have work today?”

“Woodbrook Elementary suspended classes today due to how intense the snow was last night. I also thought that, yknow, 10 days til Christmas. Isn’t there a vigil mass leading up to Christmas at the start of the day? Guess not.” She was talking her head off, eyes still looking behind us. The church had long disappeared into the horizon and she was still distracting me from actually asking what I had come there for.

“No, they don’t. But there is a mass during Christmas Eve. Do you want us to go together?”

“No, no, no, no, I don’t..want to..go to Mass..going with..I’m just saying God would know I’m coming there with impure intentions or what have you.”

Her eyes avert away from where we’re walking and she tries to let go of the grip I have on her. I just continue to hold her closer. The heat in between us was already far too comfortable to let go of. She tried again and my hand just lowered itself to where it was holding her hip.

“No, I’m not letting you go, we still have a block away to walk. Nobody is out here anyway.”

It was an unusually empty Tuesday morning. Half the stores on this avenue were shut down and the foggy air obscured whatever might just be waking up right now. Everything was washed in cream and blues that Christmas ornaments and lights would cut through later in the day. But it was 7 in the morning. To the two of us, this could have been a 3 pm on any other season. 

“It’s safe for two girls or guys to hold hands at least here. Anything other than that is a gamble. I don’t think anyone has any balls in them to punch anyone over what we’re doing right now.”

“I mean..we’re just friends though, right?” Julianne quickly corrected me.

“Of course, of course. That’s why I was thinking if we could attend mass together then we’ll have Christmas dinner. How does that sound?”

“You’re Catholic too?”

I could feel myself trying to not burst into laughter at her silly question. That’s the worst you could assume of me. 

“Sorta” I lied.

“Then we can, as..you know..friends..and you just don’t have to look at me during Mass but..”

“Julianne, don’t think about the Mass part, think of what we’ll do when we get back to my house–” I held my breath and thoughtfully constructed what I would say next “-- What food we’re gonna be eating or what drinks I should prepare..do you drink alcohol? No, bad question, do you have an allergy somewhere? Are you okay with salmon steak for us both..?”

Julianne pulled out her keys when we got to the lobby of the apartment building, eyes following us to the room at the top of the complex.

“I do love salmon, what if we bake it though with buttered vegetables and cheese?”

Her face was red and warm, a hand similarly holding on to the small of my back in front of more people than she worried about. She excitedly talked about what she could cook for the night or what we’d be doing after.

The rosary on her neck heard every intention and desire regardless.

They know. And they’re rewarding her for it.

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December 25, 1987

“I told you” She whispered “Don’t look at me during the Mass.”

“Where else was I supposed to look?”

“I don’t know…the altar?” Julianne pouted again. She toyed with the silver heart on her chest since we got inside the truck. 

We were stuck in the traffic between the busiest roads in town. New cars were flowing in and out of town for vacation while most were rushing home for dinner or their reservations. Last year I spent the day in bed, watching movies alone, and hiding from the world. I was still well fed by at least three families sending me everything I wanted. I was eating a casserole and cookies under my table waiting for Spring. I did miss the formality of the night though. I used to spend it with the Albrights for over two decades. Now with them away, I was getting calls from all around town to stay over. But the message was clear this year. Julianne placed her hands back on the handles of her tupperware when the light turned green.

“It’s so nice that you made that baked salmon too. You didn’t need to.”

“You just wouldn’t tell me what else I could do for you after Annie. It’s all I can do.”

Regardless, I was fine with returning routine back into my holiday schedule. I was wandering in the dark again earlier this year, trailing off of last year’s habits. I remember I still absentmindedly bought a certain somebody’s favorite cakes on a Monday afternoon for what was our afternoon tea time. Luckily, I now had someone at awe of such simple treats like raspberry tarts. Her tail was happily straightened up admiring the gussied-up kitchen. A table for two, sharing two big casseroles of food, strawberry shortcake, raspberry tarts, and a whole bottle of wine. She straightened her white dress, looking back to me to politely gesture we take a seat.

“As friends, right?”

“To my dearest friend, Julianne.”

I know she doesn’t only think of me as her friend.

I’m a special case. An eyecatcher. And then a crush. Then a friend. Now her first suitor. 

She’s crawling inside and finding her space.

Her hand rests on top of mine as we eat.

Many, many more wordless gestures.

The lamb rests inside comfortably.

I could lock it inside now.

But when her eyes curiously glance over to mine, the pressure drops and I feel similarly airy. A fever rushes back to me. The feelings become reciprocal for a glean of a second.

It’s poisoning us both.

This Christmas I watched a girl put a whole strawberry in her mouth. Then she helped me wash the dishes and pack away the Christmas garb on my dining table. For one night I was not angry. I felt fine. I felt fuzzy around her.

She gave me a few new shirts and hid stickers at the bottom of the box because she noticed I had this notebook with me all the time.

I hid one of my old sweaters in between the folds of the dress I bought for her.

In the safety of my house, just before she left, I asked her to come closer when I began thanking her for coming over. I lost focus of what I was intending on doing then leaned over and kissed her forehead before telling her to run along now. It looked like she wanted to reciprocate back but she walked away from my porch with her hand on her head. 

If I was thinking clearly, I may have asked her to be mine instead.

But some things take time, right?

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January 1st, 1988

I wondered where she was last night. I called her up in the morning of the eve, then the afternoon, and later left a message on her machine instead the minute a new year passed. My eyes were always looking for her. She had to be wearing any sort of shade of pink or red. Rose was absent from the crowd of onlookers tonight. Last night I only looked at the display with a solemn emptiness. I figured that maybe Julianne would have preferred a plain sky. When the smoke cleared, I looked up to see her windows shut. Her lights were still on but not even a hint like the sound of my keys prompted her to open them.

But I could feel myself develop a dependence on her presence in an environment ever since. I see flowers spelling her initials or colors I’ve sworn looked out of place in a town dull without eccentricity. And even before anything was finalized, I was asked- “where’s Julianne?” by at least 3 people.

I guess we go in pairs now.

I couldn’t be embarrassed about it anymore. It was my lifestyle now, knocking on their door to come inside the red bricked apartment. It’s like they were almost expecting me, telling me she’s been in her apartment since December 30th. I’ll admit, I began to worry when I got to her front door. I was imagining the poor girl depressed on the floor. But when she opened the door, she just sighed in relief and told me to get inside as soon as possible. She was feeling a bit jumpy, she described staying far, far away from the windows as possible. The sound of firecrackers and fireworks startled the poor kitten. It was not isolation but caution.

Fireworks displays were anxiety inducing to her. She voluntarily hid away from the parade to keep her peace of mind.

“And yet…” Julianne whispered to herself “...people were still looking for me.”

“You’re already such an integral part of the town. People are going to go look for you.” 

“Days ago, I was approached by Guy near his store, and he confidently called me ‘Amy’.”

“But have you heard what they’re calling you, though? Like Pinky. Pinky is a popular nickname now.” I chuckled.

“Pinky…”

“I’m sure they all understand.”

“But were you disappointed I wasn’t there?”

“I guess I was. But you should just tell me fireworks freak you out sometimes..”

She wrapped her arms around me in loving suggestion, almost immediately retracting before resting on my chest fully.

“I heard there’ll be another fireworks show over at the edge of Centerville though… if you want to watch something with me tonight..”

“I’m fine..let’s just stay where we are.”

“Stay…” She echoed back to me, crawling closer and closer.

“You’re so close now, woah, what’s going on?”

“I’m not sure either. Do you?”

She sits herself on my thigh, arms wrapped around my shoulders as she lightly imitates initiation. She couldn’t keep a straight face though.

“Stay and watch the stars with me later.”

I tilted my head in flustered confusion. Sure I will. At least by now the smoke has settled. She slips her glasses off and leans into me, taking the initiation to kiss me first. 

The jumpiness transfers, shaking from her hand to mine to everybody. The burning and the electricity. How shocking. 

She loves me.

[asktheahogesandblondes]

Miu, what are your top 10 favorite inventions of yours?

And does Shuichi like them?

Miu:In no particular order, number 10:Do your homework while you sleep.

Shuichi:It's very useful.

Miu:Number 9:Make coffe while you sleep.

Shuichi:Not my thing but it has it's uses.

Miu:Number 8:Clean your room while you sleep.

Shuichi:Another useful one, especially for us.

Miu:Number 7:Prepare breakfast while you sleep.

Shuichi:What better way to wake up than with breakfast in your bed?

Miu:Number 6:Organize your detective case information while you sleep.

Shuichi:She made it on purpose for me, isn't that sweet?

Miu:Number 5:Take your contraceptive pills while you sleep.

Shuichi:Very useful for preventing heart attacks.

Miu:Number 4:Send messages telling disgusting vulture bitches trying to steal your man to fuck off and die while you sleep.

Shuichi:...

Miu:Number 3:Remind everyone who ever doubted your do it in your sleep inventions how successful they are while you sleep.

Shuichi:I feel bad for Kaede...

Miu:Number 2:Additional device so you can share do it in your sleep inventions with your partner.

Shuichi:...I like that one.

Miu:And number 1:Device so you can share your dreams with your partner together.

Shuichi:One of my favorites too.

[wulfrann]

10 Fandom, 10 Characters, 10 People

Thanks @moondal514 for the tag!

Rules: name 10 of your favourite characters from 10 different fandoms, then tag 10 people to do the same

This is an impossible task so I'm filling this up with how I'm feeling right now, impulsively, without thinking about it too hard. Ask me tomorrow it would be different. Also the order is arbitrary and means nothing.

1) Edward Elric from Fullmetal Alchemist

THEE original gender envy. The boy. I thought I wanted to be with him when really I wanted to be him. and kiss Winry. Manga of all time. What else is there to say.

2) Ellana from the Ewilan & Marchombres Series by Pierre Bottero

She's the best Marchombre that ever was. She writes poetry. She's hot. She has claws. She is my childhood hero and role model. She is the best Bottero character ever. I am in love with her.

3) The Biologist from The Southern Reach by Jeff VanderMeer

I don't know her name and I don't care. If the first tome wasn't from her perspective I probably wouldn't have been so invested. I would never want to fix her because whatever's wrong with her is way more interesting. I wanna go look at tide pools with her even though she'd hate that because she'd much rather be alone.

4) Joy Wang from Everything Everywhere All At Once

Honestly choosing just one character from this movie is impossible, but Joy telling her mother that she's just tired is Top 10 moments of cinema that made me burst into tears. Also: she's gay. Also: she's depressed. Also: what a fucking icon. Also: her costumes.

5) Dean Winchester from Supernatural

Choosing between him and Castiel is fucking impossible but I had to follow my heart of hearts and if I had to choose I knew I had to make this choice. It is very cringe of me to shun THEE gay angel like this and I am very ashamed of myself but he would agree with me, so. I had to. Dean is simply too deeply unwell in such specific ways that I cannot resist the brain worms. Although, without destiel? He would be nothing to me.

6) Captain K.P. Hobb from Dimension 20: A Court of Fey and Flowers

Tragic furry goblin man. His pathetic devotion to a court and its values in spite of their being drastically at odds with his honorable and rigid nature has bewitched me.

7) Fi Carmichael from Planetes by Makoto Yukimura

Everytime I re-read the arc that's centered on her and her family I sob like a little kid. Also she almost died to prevent a terrorist attack just because she wanted to smoke a cigarette.

8) Cliopher Mdang from the Lays of the Hearth-Fire by Victoria Goddard

Kip my best friend Kip. He invited the Sun on Earth, God-emperor of the world, to take a vacation, and it changed the fucking world. Number one most epic secretary ever. He has 50-something cousins. I want to be invited to one meal with him so bad, I just wanna talk to him like for 5 minutes, I know he's the busiest man in the Empire and also he's not real but like. Pretty please.

9) Sam Gamgee from the Lord of the Rings

THEE holder of hope for the whole trilogy. He's in gay love with Frodo and he can't carry the ring but he can carry him. I wish to kiss his forehead.

10) Andrew Minyard from All for the Game by Nora Sakavic

It's really hard to pick one character from this insane series but I mean. I had to.

Tagging: @aoquesth @lackluster-violet @poetic-ivy @planavarium @polzkadotz @newbornmoon @svnroom @cupcakedyke @herobrineawakening @makebelieveanything

[awildofnothing]

Some mental health stuff under the cut

Never had a panic attack before and holy crap I underestimated how horrible they are. One of the top 3 worst experiences of my life so far.

I’ve had about 7 in the past 4 days (some lasting hours) and I think at this point it’s just fear of having another one triggering them, which feels very inescapable in the moment.

Being prescribed a rescue medicine has helped me prevent them from escalating* over the past day but it still feels like something lurking that I have to force down anytime my heart rate rises or I get dizzy or any one of plenty of other normal physical reactions happens

(*As in, just knowing I have access to a rescue medicine has helped me mentally shut them down after having taken it once, since the idea of an off or turn down switch breaks into the cycle of panicking about not being able to stop panic attacks).

Not sure why I’m making this post except to say to anyone else who has never experienced a panic attack, they are no joke.

The things your brain will force you to think about when you are overwhelmed can be really scary. This single 3 day period has completely upended how I see myself. I feel totally separate from the thoughts I was having during the worst moments of panic and now need to figure out how to reconcile all that in a healthy way. Ugh. So much work ahead.

I also am a very lazy / depressed person for the past decade and a half, and value nothing so much as free time to sit down with a new book/show/game. I’m wildly terrified of task-free time now but a large part of me still craves it, and I have no idea how I’m going to balance all this going forward.

[starhospitalseo]

STAR Hospitals in Hyderabad: Leading the Way in Cardiology and Emergency Care

Hyderabad, the dynamic capital of Telangana, is known for its advanced healthcare system, offering top-quality medical services across various specialties. Among the most sought-after healthcare providers in the city, STAR Hospitals stands out for its excellence in cardiology, emergency services, and comprehensive healthcare solutions. Whether you're looking for the best hospital in Hyderabad or need an urgent cardiology hospital near me, STAR Hospitals is a name that guarantees exceptional care, especially for heart-related concerns.

In this blog, we will explore the best hospitals in Hyderabad, specifically highlighting the cardiac care services provided by STAR Hospitals. We will also delve into the top cardiologist in Hyderabad and how you can benefit from their expertise, ensuring your heart health is in the best hands possible.

Best Hospital in Hyderabad for Cardiology: Why STAR Hospitals?

When it comes to heart health, Hyderabad is home to a variety of medical institutions offering specialized care. However, STAR Hospitals has earned a stellar reputation as one of the top hospitals in Hyderabad, especially for patients seeking cardiologist care. With its commitment to high-quality healthcare and a strong focus on cardiology, STAR Hospitals has become a leading choice for people with heart conditions.

State-of-the-Art Facilities and Expertise

STAR Hospitals is known for its modern infrastructure, cutting-edge medical technology, and a team of skilled professionals. The cardiology department at STAR Hospitals is equipped with advanced diagnostic tools, enabling accurate diagnosis and timely intervention. This ensures that heart patients receive the best care, whether for preventive measures or critical heart conditions.

24/7 Emergency Cardiology Care

A 24-hour emergency near me is crucial when dealing with heart-related emergencies such as a heart attack or severe chest pain. STAR Hospitals offers round-the-clock emergency services, particularly in the cardiology department, ensuring that patients receive immediate attention. The hospital’s emergency care units are equipped with state-of-the-art monitoring equipment, and its team of emergency specialists is always ready to provide urgent care.

Their 24 hrs hospital near me ensures that critical patients are stabilized quickly, minimizing the risks associated with delayed treatment. Whether it’s a cardiology hospital near me or a general emergency, STAR Hospitals provides efficient and swift services to save lives.

Why Choose STAR Hospitals for Cardiology?

1. Experienced Cardiologists

When searching for the best cardiologist in Hyderabad, STAR Hospitals offers an exceptional team of heart specialists. The hospital has some of the most highly rated and experienced cardiologists in the region, specializing in a range of heart conditions, from basic consultations to complex surgeries. These experts provide individualized treatment plans based on the patient's specific needs, ensuring optimal outcomes.

2. Advanced Cardiac Diagnostics

STAR Hospitals integrates advanced diagnostic tools for cardiac screening such as echocardiograms, stress tests, CT angiograms, and 3D imaging, ensuring that cardiologists can accurately assess your heart condition. Early diagnosis is crucial in heart disease management, and the hospital’s cardiology department ensures that any potential issues are detected before they turn into life-threatening conditions.

3. Cardiac Surgeries and Interventions

STAR Hospitals excels in providing surgical treatments for various heart conditions. Whether you're facing coronary artery disease, arrhythmias, or heart failure, the hospital offers minimally invasive surgeries, such as angioplasty, bypass surgery, and valve replacements, ensuring faster recovery and fewer complications.

The hospital’s heart specialists in Hyderabad work together with multidisciplinary teams to offer holistic care, ensuring patients receive the highest standard of treatment during their hospital stay and post-surgery recovery.

4. Patient-Centered Care

STAR Hospitals places a strong emphasis on patient-centered care. From the first consultation to post-treatment follow-ups, the hospital’s team of cardiologists near me ensures that every patient receives personalized attention. They focus on educating patients about lifestyle changes, proper medication, and cardiac rehabilitation, ensuring long-term heart health.

The Best Cardiologists in Hyderabad at STAR Hospitals

When you're looking for a cardiologist near me, choosing someone with a proven track record is essential. At STAR Hospitals, you will find some of the top cardiologists in Hyderabad with years of experience in diagnosing, treating, and managing various heart conditions. Below are some of the leading cardiologists at STAR Hospitals who are known for their expertise:

Check out: https://starhospitals.in/blogs/the-power-of-exercise-your-best-defence-against-heart-disease

1. Dr. S. V. Raghunath

Dr. S. V. Raghunath is a senior cardiologist at STAR Hospitals and is considered one of the best cardiologists in Hyderabad. With a career spanning over two decades, Dr. Raghunath specializes in interventional cardiology and has performed thousands of successful coronary interventions. He is known for his personalized approach to treatment, focusing on preventive care and lifestyle management for heart patients.

2. Dr. Rajesh Kumar

Dr. Rajesh Kumar is another highly respected heart specialist Hyderabad at STAR Hospitals. His expertise lies in non-invasive cardiology, focusing on diagnosing heart conditions using advanced imaging techniques. Patients seeking treatment for arrhythmias, hypertension, or heart failure can trust Dr. Kumar to provide thorough, accurate, and compassionate care.

3. Dr. Sumanth S.

Dr. Sumanth S. is an expert in cardiac electrophysiology and a renowned cardiologist at STAR Hospitals. He specializes in treating irregular heart rhythms (arrhythmias) and is skilled in advanced procedures like radiofrequency ablation and pacemaker implantation. His expertise makes him one of the top cardiologists in Hyderabad, especially for patients dealing with heart rhythm disorders.

4. Dr. Prathima Reddy

Dr. Prathima Reddy is a consultant cardiologist at STAR Hospitals with expertise in treating heart diseases among women. With a growing focus on heart health for women, Dr. Reddy offers comprehensive consultations and treatments, ensuring that women receive the best cardiac care.

5. Dr. Naveen Kumar

Dr. Naveen Kumar is a highly skilled cardiothoracic surgeon at STAR Hospitals. He specializes in heart surgeries, including coronary bypass, valve replacement, and heart transplant procedures. His vast experience in cardiac surgeries has made him one of the most sought-after heart surgeons in Hyderabad.

How STAR Hospitals Offers 24-Hour Emergency Care Near You

It’s essential to know where the nearest 24-hour emergency near me is located when dealing with a cardiac emergency. Whether you’re experiencing chest pain, shortness of breath, or dizziness, immediate care is crucial. STAR Hospitals, the best cardiology hospital in hyderabad offers 24/7 emergency services, ensuring that you don’t have to wait long for medical attention in a time of crisis.

STAR Hospitals has emergency units staffed with dedicated doctors, nurses, and medical technicians who specialize in dealing with heart-related emergencies. From performing life-saving cardiac resuscitation to advanced procedures like thrombolysis for heart attack patients, STAR Hospitals is well-equipped to handle urgent cardiac care.

Comprehensive Cardiac Services at STAR Hospitals

STAR Hospitals offers a broad range of services to manage heart health. From preventive screenings to advanced surgeries, the hospital provides complete care for every stage of heart disease. Here are some of the services available at STAR Hospitals:

1. Preventive Cardiology

One of the most important aspects of heart health is prevention. STAR Hospitals provides heart health check-ups, including blood tests, ECGs, echocardiograms, and stress tests. These screenings can help detect risk factors like high blood pressure, cholesterol, or arrhythmias before they lead to more serious conditions.

2. Advanced Diagnostics and Imaging

STAR Hospitals is equipped with some of the latest diagnostic technologies, including CT angiography, MRI for heart conditions, and Echocardiography, which help cardiologists assess the heart's condition with incredible precision.

3. Cardiac Rehabilitation

For patients recovering from heart surgery or a heart attack, cardiac rehabilitation is essential. STAR Hospitals offers specialized programs designed to help patients regain strength, improve cardiovascular health, and reduce the risk of future heart problems.

4. Pediatric Cardiology

Heart disease isn’t just a concern for adults—children can also face congenital heart conditions. STAR Hospitals has a dedicated pediatric cardiology department offering advanced treatments for children with heart diseases, ensuring that young patients receive the highest quality care from birth onward.

5. Cardiac Surgery and Interventions

Whether it’s a coronary artery bypass graft (CABG) surgery, angioplasty, or heart valve surgery, STAR Hospitals provides a comprehensive suite of cardiothoracic surgery in hyderabad. The hospital’s skilled cardiac surgeons use minimally invasive techniques whenever possible to ensure faster recovery and fewer complications.

Conclusion: STAR Hospitals – Your Trusted Partner in Heart Health

If you're searching for the best hospital in Hyderabad, especially for cardiac care, STAR Hospitals stands as a leader in the field. With world-class facilities, experienced cardiologist in Hyderabad, and a focus on patient-centered care, STAR Hospitals is your trusted partner in maintaining heart health. Whether you need a heart specialist near me or are looking for an urgent 24-hour emergency near me, STAR Hospitals has everything you need for comprehensive cardiac care.

From preventive care to advanced treatments and surgeries, STAR Hospitals provides top-tier services that can help you live a healthy, heart-healthy life. Don't wait for heart problems to worsen—consult with a top cardiologist in Hyderabad at STAR Hospitals today and take the first step towards a healthier heart.

[drgyana]

The Role of Sleep in Heart Health: Tips for Better Rest

Sleep plays a vital role in maintaining overall health, including the well-being of your heart. Often overlooked, a good night's rest is essential for reducing the risk of heart disease. Top cardiologists emphasize the importance of healthy sleep habits in managing heart health. Let’s explore the connection between sleep and heart health and learn tips for improving your sleep quality.

Why Sleep Matters for Your Heart

During sleep, your body undergoes processes that help regulate blood pressure, repair tissues, and restore energy levels. Poor sleep can disrupt these processes, leading to an increased risk of high blood pressure, obesity, and diabetes – all major contributors to heart disease.

Sleep also affects the balance of stress hormones, inflammation levels, and insulin sensitivity, making it a key factor in preventing cardiovascular problems. Chronic sleep deprivation, in particular, is linked to higher risks of heart attacks and irregular heart rhythms.

How Poor Sleep Affects the Heart

High Blood Pressure Sleep helps regulate blood pressure by allowing the heart to rest. Without adequate rest, your body experiences prolonged stress, keeping blood pressure elevated and straining the heart.

Increased Inflammation Inadequate sleep triggers inflammation, which can damage blood vessels and contribute to atherosclerosis (narrowing of the arteries).

Irregular Heart Rhythms Poor sleep quality is associated with arrhythmias, which can lead to serious complications if untreated.

Weight Gain Lack of sleep can lead to overeating and weight gain, which increases the strain on your heart.

Tips for Better Sleep

Improving your sleep habits is a practical and effective way to boost heart health. Here are some tips to help you rest better:

Stick to a Routine Go to bed and wake up at the same time every day, even on weekends. Consistency helps regulate your body’s internal clock.

Create a Comfortable Sleep Environment Ensure your bedroom is quiet, dark, and at a comfortable temperature. Use blackout curtains and a fan or white noise machine if needed.

Limit Screen Time Before Bed The blue light from phones, tablets, and computers can interfere with melatonin production, the hormone that regulates sleep. Try to avoid screens at least an hour before bedtime.

Watch Your Diet Avoid heavy meals, caffeine, and alcohol close to bedtime. Instead, opt for a light snack if you feel hungry.

Get Regular Exercise Physical activity can improve sleep quality, but avoid intense workouts close to bedtime as they may have the opposite effect.

Manage Stress Practice relaxation techniques like deep breathing, meditation, or gentle yoga to calm your mind before bed.

How Much Sleep Do You Need?

Adults typically need 7–9 hours of sleep per night. However, quality matters just as much as quantity. If you find yourself waking up frequently, feeling tired during the day, or struggling to fall asleep, these could be signs of underlying issues that require attention.

When to See a Specialist

If sleep problems persist, it’s a good idea to consult a healthcare provider. Top cardiologists often recommend sleep studies to diagnose conditions like sleep apnea, which can severely impact heart health. Treating sleep disorders not only improves rest but also reduces the strain on your heart.

The Link Between Sleep Apnea and Heart Health

Sleep apnea is a common condition where breathing repeatedly stops and starts during sleep. This disrupts oxygen flow, increasing the risk of high blood pressure, stroke, and heart failure. Recognizing and treating sleep apnea is crucial for protecting your heart.

Final Thoughts

Taking care of your sleep is as important as eating well and exercising when it comes to heart health. By adopting healthy sleep habits and addressing any sleep-related issues, you can reduce your risk of heart disease and improve overall well-being. If you’re experiencing persistent sleep difficulties, consult a top cardiologist for personalized guidance and support.

[carbuyersinfo]

Presenting the Mercedes Benz AMG SL55 - Redefining Luxury and Performance

The Mercedes Benz AMG SL55 isn't just a car; it's a symbol of automotive excellence, meticulously engineered to deliver an unparalleled driving experience. In this comprehensive article, we'll delve deep into the extraordinary features and capabilities of the Mercedes Benz AMG SL55, showcasing why it stands out as a top choice in the world of high-performance automobiles.

Design: A Fusion of Elegance and Power

Exterior:

When it comes to design, the Mercedes Benz AMG SL55 is in a class of its own. From its sleek silhouette to its aggressive stance, every aspect of its exterior exudes sophistication and performance. The iconic Mercedes Benz grille, flanked by LED headlights and accented with AMG-specific styling elements, commands attention on the road, while aerodynamic enhancements such as a sculpted hood and side skirts enhance its sporty character.

Interior:

Step inside the Mercedes Benz AMG SL55, and you'll find yourself immersed in luxury. The cabin is meticulously crafted with high-quality materials, including premium leather upholstery, genuine wood trim, and brushed aluminum accents. Every surface is designed with both aesthetics and ergonomics in mind, creating an environment that is as comfortable as it is visually stunning. The seats are sculpted to provide ample support during spirited driving, while the intuitive layout of the dashboard puts essential controls within easy reach of the driver.

Performance: Thrills on Demand

Engine:

At the heart of the Mercedes Benz AMG SL55 lies a powerhouse of an engine. The handcrafted AMG 5.5-liter V8 biturbo engine delivers exhilarating performance, producing an impressive 577 horsepower and 664 lb-ft of torque. This potent powerplant is paired with a lightning-fast AMG Speedshift MCT 7-speed transmission, allowing the AMG SL55 to accelerate from 0 to 60 mph in just 4.0 seconds. Whether you're launching off the line or overtaking on the highway, the AMG SL55 delivers relentless acceleration and a spine-tingling exhaust note that will leave you grinning from ear to ear.

Handling:

But power is only part of the equation; the Mercedes Benz AMG SL55 is also engineered to deliver exceptional handling and agility. Its lightweight aluminum body structure, combined with a sophisticated suspension system and electronic stability control, provides razor-sharp handling and precise steering response. Whether you're attacking a twisty mountain road or cruising along the coastline, the AMG SL55 instills confidence with its surefooted grip and nimble handling characteristics.

Technology: Innovation at Your Fingertips

Infotainment System:

Stay connected and entertained on the go with the state-of-the-art infotainment system in the Mercedes Benz AMG SL55. The COMAND system features a high-resolution 12.3-inch touchscreen display, allowing you to access navigation, music, and vehicle settings with ease. Apple CarPlay and Android Auto integration are standard, enabling seamless connectivity with your smartphone, while a Burmester surround sound system delivers concert-quality audio throughout the cabin.

Driver Assistance Features:

In addition to its performance prowess, the Mercedes Benz AMG SL55 also offers a comprehensive suite of driver assistance features to help keep you safe on the road. Adaptive cruise control with stop-and-go functionality maintains a safe following distance in traffic, while lane-keeping assist helps prevent unintended lane departures. Blind-spot monitoring, rear cross-traffic alert, and a surround-view camera system provide additional peace of mind, ensuring that you're always aware of your surroundings.

Comfort and Convenience: Luxury Redefined

Comfortable Seating:

Long journeys are a pleasure in the Mercedes Benz AMG SL55, thanks to its supremely comfortable seats and generous interior space. The 16-way power-adjustable front seats offer a range of customization options to suit your preferences, while available features such as massaging seats and heated armrests provide added comfort during colder months.

Convenience Features:

From keyless entry and push-button start to a hands-free power trunk lid and automatic climate control, the Mercedes Benz AMG SL55 is loaded with convenience features designed to enhance your driving experience. The AIRSCARF neck-level heating system keeps you warm with the top down, while the MAGIC VISION CONTROL windshield wipers ensure optimal visibility in all weather conditions.

Elevate Your Driving Experience with the Mercedes Benz AMG SL55

In conclusion, the Mercedes Benz AMG SL55 is more than just a car; it's a statement of luxury, performance, and technological innovation. With its breathtaking design, exhilarating performance, advanced technology, and unmatched comfort and convenience features, this vehicle sets a new standard for excellence in its class. Whether you're a driving enthusiast seeking thrills on the open road or a discerning consumer in search of the ultimate in automotive luxury, the AMG SL55 delivers on all fronts. Experience the thrill of driving a Mercedes Benz AMG SL55 today and elevate your driving experience to new heights.

[childofchrist1983]

The way of the just is uprightness: thou, most upright, dost weigh the path of the just. Yea, in the way of thy judgments, O LORD, have we waited for thee; the desire of our soul is to thy name, and to the remembrance of thee. With my soul have I desired thee in the night; yea, with my spirit within me will I seek thee early: for when thy judgments are in the earth, the inhabitants of the world will learn righteousness. - Isaiah 26:7-9 KJV

As we reflected upon yesterday, if we are to die to self, then we must seek the way of Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ, who is forever holy and just. This is the path that is pleasing to God. We are preparing to once more remember the destruction of the Twin Towers at the World Trade Center in New York, the attack on the Pentagon and the flight that ended in a field in Pennsylvania. The thousands of people that died came from many different countries, and traditions. It doesn't matter what the motivation was that brought about such destruction, it was not just. Hatred and violence and sin overall are not just.

God created a world that was good, and we were given the responsibility to take care of it and that requires love not hate, peace not war. I am saddened by the fact that almost twenty years after this event, people still reject God and His Holy Word, and they still hate and destroy one another. For a few weeks following September 11, 2001, people gathered together and prayed for peace and a more just world. But, just like the Israelites that Isaiah was speaking to, we don't learn. The Israelites would turn back to God and repent for a short time. Their kings would get rid of the idols and tear down their altars and only worship God. But it wouldn't last, and they would once again be under attack and complain that God had abandoned them.

Only God knows when and where the next attack will come from, but unless we have a change of mind and heart, putting our faith and trust in God and we all work together for Him and for justice, it will come. When bad things happen to us, we complain that God has abandoned us when it is really us who abandon Him. The reality is that like the Israelites, so many of us in today's world and society have foolishly abandoned God. I pray that we will not see another September 11 massacre, but God can only prevent it if we are willing to turn back to God and do the work He calls us to do and act with justice and righteousness. We must turn ourselves and our hearts to Him and His Holy Word peace, our minds to works of justice so that acts of violence, especially towards children, will end. May we humble ourselves before God always, asking Him to forgive our sins and make our hearts and lives anew through His Holy Word and Spirit. May He help us make Him and His Holy Word top priority, so we can grow spiritually and grow in our relationship with Him as we apply it to our daily lives. Thank God that we can focus on Him and everything about Him, for that is what keeps us sane and at peace. May our words and actions always be a reflection of Him and His Holy Word and Spirit and will for all our lives.

Everyday, we must remember to thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for the grace that He poured out for us on the cross at Calvary. He has freed us from the burdens of sin and guilt. May He help us to always walk in His grace and Holy Spirit, not by our own measure. May He give us the humble humility to know that our freedom and eternal salvation is found only in Him, so that His grace may sustain us, and we may never lose sight of His love and light and mercy. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for calling us to Him and to serve Him. May He equip us to do all that He has called us to do so that as He works through us, He may use us to produce fruit, to reach others, and to encourage all brothers and sisters in Christ. May He work all of these things in us and through us for His Kingdom and His glory. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all His creation, for His miraculous ways and for everything He does and has done for us! Keep the faith and keep moving forward in your walk with Jesus!

Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Word and for sending His Holy Spirit so that we might have His grace, not only to awaken us and transform our hearts in our spiritual rebirth and guarantee our eternity with Him, but to also call upon Him whenever we are in need. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all the reminders of His love and mercy and faithfulness within His Holy Word. He is bigger than any challenge or circumstance in our lives. Knowing this within our minds and our hearts, nothing can deter our faith in Him and His Truth. May we all accept Him and His eternal gift of salvation and ask that He would transform our hearts and lives according to His will and ways. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Spirit who saves, seals and leads us. May we always thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His almighty power and saving grace. For He is our strength, and He alone is able to save us, forgive our sins and gift us eternal salvation and entry into His Kingdom of Heaven.

May we make sure that we give our hearts and lives to God and take time to seek and praise Him and share His Truth with the world daily. May the LORD our God and Father in Heaven help us to stay diligent and obedient and help us to guard our hearts in Him and His Holy Word daily. May He help us to remain faithful and full of excitement to do our duty to Him and for His glorious return and our reunion in Heaven as well as all that awaits us there. May we never forget to thank the LORD our God and our Creator and Father in Heaven for all this and everything He does and has done for us! May we never forget who He is, nor forget who we are in Christ and that God is always with us! What a mighty God we serve! What a Savior this is! What a wonderful LORD, God, Savior and King we have in Jesus Christ! What a loving Father we have found in Almighty God! What a wonderful God we serve! His will be done!

Thanks and glory be to God! Blessed be the name of the LORD! Hallelujah and Amen!

[bharatvarsh22]

Top Health Benefits of Organic Foods | Bharatvarsh Nature Farms

In the hectic world of today, health is paramount. Over the years, people have become more aware of the benefits of healthy eating. Are you thinking of starting a healthy lifestyle, but aren’t sure where to begin? How about starting with organic food?

The popularity of organic products has been on a continuous increase over the years. People enjoy meals made with organic products as they believe them to be a healthier option. In addition, if you care about the environment and want to safeguard it, organic products are the most appropriate options.

Being free of harmful chemicals, pesticides, artificial colorants, and other similar chemicals, these are safer and more affordable products. Let’s discuss the top 7 benefits these organic products have on your health and the environment too!

Top Health Benefits Of Organic Foods

Free from Toxins: The first health benefit on our list is that of organic products being free from toxins. A great deal of your everyday food products are protected with pesticides to prevent pests from attacking and decaying them. Though these chemicals damage the pests, these neurotoxins can have harmful effects on your nerve cells and brain. Once they enter your body, they adversely affect the brain and your body as a whole. Therefore, consuming organic foods like vegetables and fruits, which are free of pesticides and other harmful toxins, becomes a healthier option for you and your family.

Rich in Antioxidants: Organic foods are healthier options as they are loaded with beneficial antioxidants rather than harmful toxic elements. These antioxidants help in preventing cognitive dysfunction, vision problems, and premature aging issues.

Better Taste: Apart from being super nutritious and loaded with minerals, vitamins, and other nutrients; these foods taste way better than regular ones! You can find organic foods fresh in the market. This naturally has a better taste and helps in enhancing your appetite along with supplying all the important nutrients to your body. Commercially produced products are generally stocked for long in the market and are filled with toxins and chemicals towards their preservation, thus leading to varying health issues!

Enhances Heart Health: Taking care of heart health is something that you should never ignore! Do you know organic food has positive impacts on heart health? Yes, you heard it right! Grass-fed animals produce high amounts of conjugated linoleic acid or CLA. This fatty acid is heart-friendly and improves cardiovascular protection. This acid is present in high amounts in livestock raised freely amidst nature without restricting them in cages!

Lowers The Risk Of Cancer :One of the most dangerous and widespread health concern these days is cancer! And the major contributor to this severe health condition is none other than harmful chemicals present in food products. As per the data of the EPA of the United States, around 90% of fungicides, 60% of herbicides, and 30% of insecticides present in all commercial food items are majorly responsible for the formation of cancer! With organic food items, you can prevent the risk of cancer and can opt for a healthy lifestyle.

Reduces the exposure to hormones & antibiotics: Farmers generally use hormones and antibiotics to produce more milk and meat. But, in the case of organic farming, hormones or antibiotics are not administered when raising livestock. Thus, consumption of organic foods helps you prevent the consumption of these harmful chemicals!

Suitable for Overall Health: Adding a few healthy things to your diet and subtracting the harmful ones will have a positive impact on your overall health. To lead a healthy and happy life, you can switch to organic food and notice the positive impact it has on your body.

Read More: https://bharatvarshnaturefarms.com/what-organic-foods-can-do-for-you-7-top-health-benefits/

[sayeedaqsa]

Diet After Stent Implant- What to Consume and What Not?

Overview

Heart disease has cast its shadow over India in the last few decades. As per research, one out of four Indians dies in CVD(cardiovascular disorder). While stent placement is not the only solution, it’s time that we take care of our heart after surgery.

Experts suggest heart disease is preventable and, in many circumstances, reversible if dietary modifications are made. Simple lifestyle changes and healthy eating habits can go a long way to fighting against heart disease. Here we will discuss which diet you should plan after heart treatment and what to avoid after stent. Continue reading to learn more.

Understanding angioplasty- How diet can affect the treatment outcome after angioplasty?

The arteries of your heart might get clogged or restricted as a result of an accumulation of cholesterol, cells, or fatty plaques.

As a result, the flow of blood to your heart may be reduced, causing chest tightness or blood clots, and finally leading to a heart attack.

The angioplasty procedure can be life-saving to open up the clogged arteries by placing a stent inside the artery. But can not cure atherosclerosis or narrowing of blood vessels.

With minimal dietary changes, you can reduce the risk of developing heart diseases by severalfold.

Diet after stent implant- What to consume?

A well-balanced diet enriched with heart-protective nutrients can help your heart to score a long run. Vitamins, minerals, antioxidants, dietary fibers are necessary to improve your overall cardiovascular health, lower the cholesterol level and prevent any recurrent plaque build-up after angioplasty or stent placement.

Conclusion-By simply packing their medical journey to India, heart treatment can substantially benefit the patient. We also offer a comprehensive range of counseling for coping with emotional changes to our international patients.

How can we help in the treatment?

If you are in search of a cancer treatment hospital in India, we will serve as your guide throughout your treatment and will be physically present with you even before your treatment begins. The following will be provided to you:

Opinions of expert physicians and surgeons

Transparent communication

Coordinated care

Prior appointment with specialists

Assistance in hospital formalities

24*7 availability

Arrangement for travel

Assistance for accommodation and healthy recovery

Assistance in emergencies

We are dedicated to offering the highest quality health care to our patients. We have a team of highly qualified and devoted health professionals that will be by your side from the beginning of your journey.

[parodyroyalle]

Reblog

Hmms well if we follow it across the pond to the young woman who alleged the BRF blackmail and open source confirms UK and Canada locations. We have intelligence to look into major crimes in the area such as gold theft and the link to location and link to similar attack on to reporters with video from live open source ( YouTube ).

I would say by guess they either paid out an inside job for hush money and will try to discredit witness from coming forward again as they were privy to all case files allegedly and confirmed on social media. That is if they are being blackmailed and trying to cover up.

Blue Jay Game timeline: This goes back 2016 and will be vague. Spot the two and two photos separate however do the same signal in the photo's. These photos are with other people and interpreted as signal of their comrade or agenda. If hinch is correct that could help JM and that circle in Toronto redeem themselves as it is seemingly a political thing with possibly Conservatives. All links to a past political scandal in the 911 community connecting to the same circle abusing badge, names, titles, networks and connections to elevate whatever agenda in same area that gold theft taken and the same departments. If the casualties were not animals, children, young people and seniors maybe I would not care as much to read into but sorry not sorry and yes, we are all linked and yes, people talk shop on the golf course.

If BRF are investigating I would say this is because they still have a perceived security breach this is still a possibility. It is always a possibility. Possibilities are endless and should be treated like such. They should always be vigilant as intel leaks after people leave their post can also occur. Maintain and Tale. Protect. Preserve. Prevent.

I did read there was something of a breach in the Intelligence in UK by someone gunning for top position inside the department? Got ousted and cried racism. So it would come as no surprise that Canada could have one too in the Toronto and extended region? Was there not a big lump sum stolen? Rumor has it was an inside job and people with relatives in the RCMP are allegedly laughing about it.

I read the above comment and cross referenced with the news and I don't think it makes KC look weak. I think it reveals weak links which is actually a learning point that circles world wide. I think it identifies the level of burn out around the world and how lax a daisy ppl are which in turn can potentially leave the system open for vulnerable attacks. Forgive me, I am human even though may sound robotic.

It not rumored and reported that MA was the love child of someone and from the Toronto area in the Eastend lol sorry just thought of Eastenders and S Club 7. It is a rumor heard on both sides of the pond and throughout the film industry. It was also recently circulating the relation between MA and OS and MM so the 3 way prong and then SOHO and of course the roasted chicken remarks on PH and the winner winner chicken dinner give away lottery hot sauce gumbo all in the same radius. Not for the faint of heart. Dirty rice. Jerk chicken is better in my opinion and generous with the gravy. This is where I'm going to have to toss in PC Jonas roti be roti. PC Jonas also said something like birds of a feather all sleep ... errm ... flock. They flock together... to the local "roti" shop... ... toss what? Birds and their Beards. I didn't come up with that one. someone posted a comment about Princess Anne wanting the beard to come off. Love is love and no discrimination please! X

Open reports showcase two indie reporters one in the US and one in Canada were both 1 degree of separation from camp Markle endured serious incidents and one of them was reported on International Trafficking and has a letter from HMTQ on open source social media delivered to the same Area location the money from the Airport was stolen, markle mayhem, etc went down around the time that PH was visiting before the engagement as posted in an old article from Metrolinks. When reading the news paper shows two hot spots for some shady crime that looks like department and insurance related. It is clear that we have two hot locations and very obvious that it's an attack that warrants defence of some kind. Unsure on the level of Intelligence however it seems one part totally f^ucked up and one part f^ucked up yet salvageable thanks to Anonymous and Indie. Something tells me to be f^rank and all the f^ckery wouldn't be without some git f^uck booys in mix so x o x o m^f winehouseiOs.

It is a tad embarrassing I could see why someone's would have an ego trip and want to cover the whole thing. I'd say go to the local waffle house get stacked. smother it with butter and maple. top up your java and a side of Orange juice and keep the pulp. It's good for the digestive system. Consider tapping a tree and jinggle all the way.

PB.S. education opinions and snark open source jabber waffle sauce

The King is investigating how letter was leaked..this is concerning…..you mean to tell me, after ALL that her and that one have done….he still has to investigate? So, when it is confirmed it was her….then what? Case closed? This is really making KC look weak….or blackmailed!

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

prūmӯs ñuhus (my heart) │Chapter 6: Retribution (NSFW!)

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 │Chapter 11 │Chapter 12 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Childbirth is the duty and dismay of all highborn women. Together, you and Daemon experience the trials, tribulations and triumphs of expectant parenthood. Your husband seeks justice.

(Set post-episode 7, though Daemon never married Laena or Rhaenyra.)

Thank you to @angelqueen04 for beta-ing! Thank you also to @evisnotok​, @ewanmitchellcrumbs and @ajthefujoshi for holding my hand throughout the drafting, teehee!

Triggers: incest, age gap, purity culture, detailed depictions of pregnancy, graphic violence, graphic depictions of blood and torture, graphic depictions of murder, erectile dysfunction.

He can hear you screaming the moment he alights upon the top of the stairs.

“Guards! Guards!” he roars, already running.

Bolting down the corridor, his mind whirls with terror. What will he find when he gets to your rooms? He braces himself, thoughts whirling uncontrollably. Thoughts of stained sheets and the scent of copper and death upon the air, your tear-stricken face wild and wretched with the anguish of being ripped apart by babes too small to survive, the still forms of infants in miniature, slick with blood and already greying upon the ground below you—

What he discovers is infinitely worse.

The Mallery knight is engaged in a tussle with an unknown assailant, the clash of steel ringing in his ears and reminding him of battles past. You lay on the stone floor beside a body, one of two, your face and hair and gown wet with gore. A man straddles your legs, brandishing a knife that inches its way toward your belly. Toward his heirs. You’re giving him a good showing, kicking your legs and shoving at his weight with all your might and shrieking—but you are not strong enough to sway the encroaching threat of the blade in his hand.

“Shut up, girl!” The malefactor grapples against your stubborn hands preventing the knife from reaching its target, holding it at bay. “Not ‘ere for you… just them babies in you. Hold still!”

“No!” you yell, spitting in his face. The man snarls, backhanding you. You yelp.

Daemon moves instantly, unsheathing Dark Sister and striding toward the fray with barely a second thought. The Valyrian steel slides through flesh like butter, piercing straight through the assailant’s back and up through his ribs while being careful to miss his heart.

Non-lethal, painful. I want him to feel this.

The man shouts, dropping the knife. He yanks the sword out and kicks him away from you, sneering as he watches his prey scramble through the ooze of his own life essence. He’s still alive. Daemon casts aside his sword and falls upon your attacker, taking up the other man’s blade and slicing cleanly across the jugular, just enough pressure to release a gruesome spray that wets his face and tunic. He wants this creature to die bloody.

“Daemon—”

He presses his thumbs into the cut, smiling darkly as the man thrashes and gurgles. Ichor stains his skin and fills his nostrils with the stink of metallic warmth, humanity reduced to its basest form and lashing about in its final throes—

“My Prince—ah!”

In his periphery, he catches a figure scrambling from the room through the narrow server’s passageway, Mallery falling to the ground and clutching his leg. The man below him is still twitching. He cannot let him go until he is certain he’s dead, until he has paid the price for daring to lay his hands on you.

The guards burst into the room from the main entrance, taking in the scene with shock. Fucking useless.

“What the fuck took you so long?” he growls, releasing his hold on the man below him. He’s dead. The knowledge that he has taken care of this immediate threat to your safety soothes him somewhat. And yet, not all have been vanquished. Jerking his head in the direction of the opening in the far wall, he says, “One of the attackers escaped. After them!”

They nod hastily, sprinting away with a clang. Daemon readies for the influx of more people; the Kingsguard, the servants, the nobles, his fucking brother—

“Daemon…”

Your weeping reaches his ears, little fingers brushing tentatively against his shoulder. The gentleness of the motion breaks him from his violent spiral. His gaze jerks to yours, the burning rage cooling to a simmering ember as he takes in your terrified demeanour: wide eyes and quivering lip and tears tracking through spattered crimson akin to grisly warpaint.

You swallow. “He—he—”

He is momentarily struck by fear. What if you’ve been wounded? What if your pains have started? That old urge to run at the first sign of strife rears its ugly head, but he tamps it down viciously. I am not that man anymore.

“Sh.” Pulling you bodily to him, he feels the weight of you solid in his arms and on his lap, a reminder that he has not yet lost what is most important to him.

She is safe. She is safe. The rest can wait.

He runs his bloodied hand along your jaw, down your spine, across your belly, cataloguing every iota of you as though it is the first time he has ever held you. It might have been the last. He cannot help that the movements are rougher than he’d like, frantic and desperate.

“Are you alright?” he asks, trying to keep his voice gentle so as not to plunge you further into hysterics. “The babes?”

You nod shakily, tugging his hand back to your swollen middle. And oh, what a moment to feel the thudding motions of his children, the first time he has been able to lay a palm there and experience the sensation himself. They are active within your womb, small thumps and jabs that are more delicate than he had expected—but they are alive.

Tears burn in his eyes, angry, boiling things that he cannot, will not let loose. Not now.

He bands an arm beneath your knees and lifts you from the ground—the cold stone is no place for his little niece, his sweet baby wife—reassured by the heaviness of you and his heirs all. Conveying you swiftly to the bed with hardly a care given to the large stains smearing across the covers, he supposes you shall need an entirely new set of chambers, what with the mess soaking the stone ground.

Several arrivals occur in quick succession. Four of the Kingsguard enter and move immediately to secure the perimeter, one breaking off to aid Mallery across the room by tamping the ichor oozing steadily from his leg. Good man. He’d have hated to have to slay your sworn shield for incompetence, but his performance had been admirable in the face of the odds laid before him. It looks likely that he will not be able to use the limb again, though.

The healer woman is the next to toddle in, exclaiming in dismay at the sight. Your lady-in-waiting—and oh, fuck, the body that had been beside you is the other, he realises—follows swiftly on her heels, immediately bursting into tears when she absorbs the carnage.

Ūlla picks her way around the debris in a manner that is almost comical. “Princess! Princess! Are you safe?”

One of the Cargylls—he can never fucking tell them apart—steps before her, blade pointed in her direction.

She scoffs. “Move, boy! Pah—are you ‘Princess’, then? Go away!”

As much as he’d love to see the ensuing standoff, now is not the time. It’d be best to have the physician verify that you and his heirs are well. No doubt the shrew will bring you a measure of matronly comfort that he cannot.

“Let her through,” he commands.

The knight steps aside reluctantly, allowing her to proceed onwards. Daemon moves away for the woman to begin fussing over you, for your attendant to step into place so as to comfort you. He is wrenched by the sound of your plaintive whimper when he has gone too far for you to reach.

But needs must—this is not over.

He rolls over each of the attackers lying dead on the ground with a foot, examining them with pursed lips. There’s a blotch on each of their cheeks. At first, he assumes it is no more than a discolouration of the skin, perhaps a curious disease or a sign of familial relation—but leaning closer and wiping some of the blood away reveals that they are in fact identical stars carved and scarred over. Seven points.

Mellos makes his way inside, no doubt summoned for Mallery. It is a rare occasion indeed to see him act decisively; he dithers in overdramatic fright but for a moment before moving along to his task.

Lord Cunttower himself appears then, accompanied by his bitch of a daughter with the King in tow.

Daemon sees red.

“You,” he whispers, or maybe he shouts it. He can barely hear anything over the pounding in his ears as he shoves his brother’s prized lackey against the wall, cursing his lack of a blade. “You’ll die for this.”

“Daemon!”

“Look at her!” he snarls.

Hands wrapped around the man’s throat, Daemon revels in the distressed gasps and choking gags as the lord’s face slowly turns purple. The snake tries to pull at his grip, but a pompous fuck from the Reach is no match for a seasoned Targaryen warrior. Viserys is at his back, pulling at his shoulder with his one remaining hand. No doubt that is the Hightower whore crying out from further away.

“Look at my fucking wife, Otto! Mark my words”—he hounds ever closer to see the panic and the fear in the eyes of a man so usually unshakeable—“if this is your doing, not even the King or the gods themselves will stop me from taking your head—”

“Guards!”

“Kepus!”

He is dragged back by the nearest of his brother’s soldiers, forced to release his punitive grip. Otto sags with a guttural heave, water streaming from his eyes and clutching at his neck. Alicent rushes to her sire, staring between him and Daemon with sheer distress painting her features. Her hands flutter uselessly over the bruise already blooming across the flesh, though her overtures are quickly batted away.

“What is the meaning of this?” Viserys asks, even greyer as he looks about the scene of your attack; the blood, the bodies, your sworn shield emitting a muffled howl through a strap of leather between his teeth as the Grand Maester cauterises the wound. “What—”

“They ca—came for the babes.” Your speech is slack and monotone now that the shock has properly set in.

I can’t fucking do this, Daemon thinks.

He nudges the healer out of the way and ignores her grumble to sit beside you on the bed, to clutch at you once again and remind himself that you’re here. You grip his hand for support, heedless of the dried gore flaking off between joined palms.

“Three of them,” you say, numb. “They—oh, gods. They killed Miriam. They killed her.”

“Sh.” He presses his lips to your head, the smell of the rose oil apparent even through all the blood. She’s safe. She’s safe. He turns to your present company, to the figures of the King and Queen and Hand, arranged in various poses of horror. “This was not an accident. These—these scum knew what they were doing. They made their way into your Keep. They meant to slaughter your daughter’s babes, and in doing so, murder my wife. This is treason, Your Grace, of the highest order.”

Viserys looks as though his spirit is about to part from his body, pallid and desolate in the face of this hidden menace. “But why?” he asks, a child at prayer.

Daemon scoffs at the naivete. Is his failure to acknowledge the wound he has let fester for so long really so great? Of all the people in this room, the King ought to know best that all choices have consequences.

“My daughter’s never caused harm to a single man, woman or child,” the King continues. “Who would do this?”

“Ask him.” Daemon glowers at Hightower, who is still covering the line of his neck with his own hand.

The man makes a noise of incredulity. “I have been ever loyal to your King and your House these many years, Prince Daemon,” he says, or tries to. His voice is gravelly, raspy in the way that belies a considerable trauma inflicted upon the area. He affects a moue of outrage, though the alarm lingers. “To accuse me of such a—grievous crime—as to engineer the slaying of the Princess’s babes is simply preposterous!”

“And to what cause?” his daughter asks, forcing an aura of regality. It does not suit her. She’s far too common to view as anything more than a descendant of wildling savages. “Where is the benefit to doing such a thing?”

This time, Daemon cannot help but snort aloud. He stands, passing you back into the care of the healer, who has gathered a basin of water and some rags with which to start shedding you of the layers of congealed blood upon your face. You do not need to hear this part, and so he strides closer to the trespassing forms before him.

This time, he directs his poisonous inquiry to the Hightower woman, finally laying the truth of the matter bare.

“Have you yourself not openly alleged that the Princess Rhaenyra’s sons are bastards, my Queen?” He keeps his tone deliberately light, though it is clear all can sense the danger lurking beneath each intonation. “It stands to reason that, to those who might be persuaded to believe such falsehoods, my wife would be her heir by right of precedence. And if my wife should bear a son? Well, that makes your son’s claim rather difficult to advance, doesn’t it?”

“How dare you accuse me—”

“Enough!” his brother say, hushing himself when he notices he has caught your attention across the room. His next words are spoken far softer. “Did I not say that such rumours would incur a stay in the Black Cells? I do not wish to hear speculation as to the legitimacy of my grandsons!”

“Your Grace.” Daemon genuflects.

His rage is a seething, smouldering thing, but he needs Viserys on side if he is to tear the capital apart to find this cunt and rend him into pieces. There are plenty who believe him to be an unreasonable beast when the fire burns through his veins, but he is more than just an unmoored conflagration; he’s a fucking Prince, and he knows how to play the game when the occasion calls for it.

Assuming a countenance as servile as he can manage, he appeals directly to his brother. “Close the city gates,” he begs quietly. “Give me the City Watch. Let me root out the last of these cu—these reprobates, street by street, door by door. Let me gift my wife the justice she is owed.” He steps aside so that Viserys can see straight to you, to the way you have begun to tremor despite the huddled warmth of the women who are tending to you, to your face streaked scarlet with the blood of others, to your hands clasped tightly against your belly in protection of your children. “Please. If not for me… then for her.”

Viserys may be a wretch, but he loves Aemma’s girls.

“This affront must not be allowed to go unpunished,” the King says, suddenly weary. “I give you leave to find this assassin, brother, so that we may learn who has placed a price on my daughter’s life.”

Daemon is one step closer to meting out punishment. He can already taste the death and destruction that awaits. Staring down the Hightowers, he says, “I will find the perpetrators, Your Grace. And there will be no mercy for those responsible.”

Let this be a warning to all who believe the Rogue Prince to be a tamed man. He is a fucking dragon, and this city will soon feel the flames of his wrath.

He gives Rollingford the orders to start the search without him.

“Thin build, dark hair, has a star cut into his right cheek. An old wound.” He rattles off all he has gleaned from his observations and yours and Mallery’s testimonies to the Commander of the gold cloaks. “Likely to be bleeding, probably limping on his left leg. I want him located. I want him surrounded until I arrive. No one is to touch him. This one is mine. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Ser,” the solemn soldier says, snapping to attention jerkily before striding off with his captains in tow. He is already issuing directives as he rounds the corner.

Ser. It is easy to sink into the role of combatant, doing away with titles and courtesies to embrace the mortality and mayhem of battle—but he cannot allow the bloodlust to consume him just yet.

Though you insist in a small whisper that it is not necessary, he carries you from your (old, spoiled, defiled) chambers to the King’s rooms himself. It is a temporary respite for you and your staff until the final attacker has been caught. He chafes at relinquishing you to your father’s care—it tastes strangely of defeat—but even he cannot deny that these apartments are the safest in the city, if not the Realm.

There is a self-indulgent joy that seeps through the cracks of his fury at the sight of Viserys so flummoxed by your insistence that he remain as you are bathed and dressed in nightwear, finally free of the wash of thick crimson that had crusted in your silver hair and stained your blossom-soft skin. His brother’s own bed has been stripped and redressed for your use, a surprising concession—or perhaps not. You are one of two pieces left of Aemma, after all.

Daeron had been brought to you for comfort, and you hold him as tightly to you as you had held your dolls in gummy fists as a tot, meek and withdrawn. It makes his chest ache to see you so terrified.

He uses the very last of his patience to help the healer woman coax watered dreamwine to your lips, to bundle you in tight in the bed beside your brother, to stroke at your hair and your belly and hum some half-recollected lullaby from your childhood or his until your eyes droop, exhausted and overcome.

As he rises to depart from the room—to seek his retribution—he shares a glance with the King, one that is mayhaps a beat too long to lack meaning. In it, he tries to convey what he cannot say aloud. ‘Protect her for me. Keep her safe while I cannot. Do this for me, brother.’

It is the first time in many a year that he is united in common cause with this man. A single nod, and then he exits, the Kingsguard closing ranks and barring the door from all who may seek entry.

The air is sharp with the chill of night and the stifle of smoke wafting from lit torches, the dim orange smoulder a gloomy spotlight throwing the shadows of soldiers into stark relief. Daemon can hear the cries near and far of alarmed citizens and distressed patrons as the City Watch raids homes and taverns and storefronts. The sound is intoxicating, a pulse of vicious pleasure loosening the strain in his shoulders and the tightness of his breath.

This is what he does best—bringing chaos and cruelty to his enemies’ doorstep. It’s a reminder of the fate that awaits those who dare to cross the House of the Dragon. Until this man is found, the entire city is his enemy.

“My Prince.” Rollingford falls into step beside his horse as he crosses into the Great Square, seemingly appearing from the shadows. An impressive skill. He slides down from the saddle, absently patting the mount’s flank when he chuffs at the motion. With an arched brow, he wordlessly prompts the Commander to continue. “We have guards manning all seven gates, as well as postings along the Blackwater. The harbour has been closed and the ships at dock searched, and the men are working their way through the city.”

“Good. What of the High Septon? I want him questioned. Make use of Largent.”

“The—the High Septon?” Rollingford asks. He does his best to sound carefully blank, but Daemon can hear the underlying pitch of nervousness.

“Yes, the fucking High Septon,” he snaps. “He’s here, isn’t he? Some business with the King. Tell him that the Prince wants to know why three assassins bearing the Seven-Pointed Star attempted to murder my wife and heirs earlier tonight. If he resists—bring him to me. I care not for the wrath of his gods.”

“Ye—yes, Ser.”

He doesn’t actually believe the Faith to be responsible for the attack. Those petty worshippers have become unmanned since the days of Jaehaerys, and the High Septon is far too gutless a creature to conjure up such a scheme. He also doubts any of the man’s underlings have the capacity to act without first being thoroughly vetted by the circuitous bureaucracy of the Most Devout. But it will send a message that none are safe from his wrath, one he hopes will lure forth the real culprits.

It nears dawn when the search bears fruition. One of the soldiers—Cressey, he thinks, or perhaps Hayford—brings forth a location.

“We’ve got ‘im surrounded, milord,” he says, “so ‘e’s not likely to escape. But those nearabouts all say they saw a bloodied man with a star on ‘is cheek limp inside and not come out. That was some time ago.”

It might just be a form of irony that the answers I seek are to be found once more in the whorehouses of King’s Landing, he thinks to himself.

He retraces the familiar route to the Street of Silk—straight down the Street of Sisters, left onto the Street of Flour, right along Copper Street—the sound of hoofbeats against cobblestone overloud in the early morning. It is easy to tell which of these establishments houses his quarry, the glimmer of the gold cloaks easily recognisable even in weak light.

The men part for him as he stalks along the way directly to the heavy oak door. Curious. Run-down, moth-eaten and hosting some of the most common girls in the Realm, this particular brothel had been one of the cheaper bastions of debauchery in his youth. A fuck was a fuck no matter which way it was dressed, though, so it is not as though he had refused their attempts to solicit his coin. A good Prince is a fair one, after all. The door is new, and already he can see signs of refurbishment in the scrubbed-clean stone and the pale thatching of the roof.

Daemon barges directly inside, immediately being struck by the thick clogging scent of incense and sweat and bodily fluids. Gone are the thready chaises and faded portraits and the half-destroyed staircase. Instead, the space is dark and richly furnished in deep reds and blacks, the walls inlaid with lacquered wood and gleaming with the flicker of burning braziers.

Several whores squeal at the suddenness of his importunity, turning wide kohl-lined eyes to his form from where they sit in the laps of strangers in various stages of undress about the open foyer. He scans each of the patrons critically, seeking out one who matches the description of his target.

Bald, pot-bellied, pockmarked, old, young, yellow hair, black hair… A veritable array of men soused on drink and desperation, and yet there is no sign of your assailant.

A woman moves from the shadows, her speech carrying above the sighs and moans despite the soft, lilting cadence. “Welcome to the Gilded Doll, good Ser. What pleasures do you seek this day?”

I know that voice.

“Mysaria.” His long-time paramour smiles teasingly at his shock, flicking her dark hair over her shoulders at the recognition. Little about her has changed since their separation. “I thought you’d be in Pentos.”

He had left her there in the Prince’s palace what seems like so long ago now. It is strange to think upon the version of himself who had been so afflicted by desire for Rhaenyra. Sometimes, he forgets you have only been wedded to him for a comparatively short period. There is a settled comfort in his life with you, a conviction and dependence that still surprises him. Peace is not a feeling he thought he’d ever find in marriage.

“My place is in Westeros, My Prince,” she says. She steps closer—too close. His tense demeanour does not go unnoticed, for she wisely elects to drop the carefully cultivated mask of temptation to speak honestly. “You are not the only one who has been called back to these shores by those in need.”

He scoffs. Ah, yes—I’d forgotten about her delusions of grandeur. “And you’re doing your great philanthropic work as the madam of a brothel? I suppose it’s not a terrible advancement for a common whore.”

“Not so common, perhaps.” Her crimson lips twist, the old insult stinging still. She will accept a great many indignities, but never has she abided being regarded as someone unexceptional. “My women are well-cared-for, which is more than I can say for most of the brothels along the Street of Silk.”

He rolls his eyes, already growing bored by the conversation. He’s not here for a reunion. “Such a noble cause. Effigies ought to be built for you, I’m sure.”

“What brings you here, Daemon?” she asks.

“A trio of assailants tried to murder my wife earlier this evening,” he says, afforded some measure of privacy by the collection of sounds filling the room. Though his blood is up by the promise of violence, there is none left to fill his cock—and truthfully, he does not know if the sight of whores’ tits or the wet squelch of overused cunts or the shrill performances echoing from the second floor are even enough to elicit such a reaction now. He’d much rather stare at your tits and hear your moans and fuck your cunt. “Two have been dispatched, and the last has been tracked to your establishment. You’d do well to tell me where he is.”

She stares up at him but for a moment, something unreadable in the set of her features.

“I have a great many customers walk through these doors, My Prince,” she says, brow arching challengingly. That veiled insolence had been what had drawn him to her in the first place, when she was just an exotic dancer from Lys baring her body for him and his lackeys in the Blue Pearl. So few dared to test his famed temper, fewer still who’d let him fuck them whichever way he pleased. It rings hollow now. He wonders if her defiance had always been so trite. “You will have to describe the man to me.”

He rattles off the description in a short tone, a warning that she ought not to tarry much longer lest his malice seek out the nearest recipient. Her answer is prompt, wary: “Second floor, fourth door on the right.”

He pulls Dark Sister from its sheath in a pre-emptive motion, again startling those nearby, and makes to climb the steps.

“Daemon.” She lays her hand on his arm, stopping him briefly. “Try not to destroy the furnishings. It costs a pretty coin to maintain such luxury.”

She knows me well. He nods, and then pulls away.

The surprise of Mysaria’s return is one he discards to the recesses of his mind for the time being, allowing the ire to scald in his veins as he trudges to the far quieter upper landing. The sounds of groaning and rustling are muted, almost far-off, a mere backdrop to the thunder of his heart in his ears.

So close. I’m so close.

The fourth door does not open on first attempt. He tries again. Locked. Once more. He takes a few steps back and slams his full weight into the barricade, bursting the wood clean off the hinges.

The whore inside screams in fright, clutching her shawl to her chest. ‘Tis strange to see a clothed whore in a private room, he thinks, surveying the mousy-haired woman and her dull brown eyes and too-thin lips. How drab. That she is still dressed is a promising sign, one that suggests that mayhaps she is not alone. He looks around the room for another; there is no evidence of any company.

Then, he spots the wardrobe ajar, a slight wobble to its frame—as though a heavy being has flung themselves inside. There.

“Get the fuck out,” he growls, levelling the whore with the most vicious look he can muster. She squeaks and darts out into the hallway, vanishing from sight.

His focus affixes itself once more to that sliver of darkness, within which he is certain his mark has tried to hide. He tarries, waiting to see if the other will make the first move; he cannot help the incredulity that arises when he encounters nothing but silence.

Does he honestly believe he has successfully concealed himself from retribution?

With a baring of teeth that is more a grimace than a smile, Daemon strikes, darting forward to fling the door wide and grasp onto whatever part of the man he can reach.

“Lemme go!” your assailant yells, crying out as he is dragged free from discarded gowns and thrust onto the floor.

How… disappointing. He’s already pissed himself, and Daemon hasn’t even had the opportunity to make him regret ever stepping foot in this world yet.

“I didn’ do nuffink, good ser—”

He cuffs the man across the face, a return upon the strike so callously landed across your sweet little face. It knocks more than one tooth loose, leaving him dazed and groaning on the ground, the fight abruptly beaten out of him.

“You were in the Red Keep earlier,” Daemon says, pulling the commoner upright by the hair and dealing another wallop to the nose. An audible crunch sounds out as the bone gives way beneath his knuckles, and the man moans weakly, stunned and bleeding from his leg and his face. “Your co-conspirators are dead. Tell me what I want to know, and your end will be quick.”

He matches your account exactly—dark hair, thin, and that fucking star emblazoned in scar tissue across his cheek. There is a curious pin on his lapel, an insect of some sort rendered in metal.

“I dunno what you mean,” the wretch moans, caterwauling when Daemon steps down on his fingers and grinds them into the ground. Each digit gives way with small pops, pulverising into jagged puzzle pieces no healer is skilled enough to patch together. “I wos here visitin’ my sister, and I ain’t done nuffink in no Keep, Ser!”

I’m almost glad for the resistance.

“A pity,” Daemon says. The man relaxes at the affected resignation in his tone. His mistake. “We’ll do this the hard way, then.”

He shoves the man against the wardrobe and drives Dark Sister cleanly through the meat of his shoulder, pinning him to its surface like a butterfly on canvas. His screams are piercing, surely disrupting the business taking place throughout the brothel. The scarred star stretches grotesquely as he vocalises his agony.

“Who sent you to murder the Princess? Who?!” Daemon snarls, twisting the blade for good measure. Scarlet trickles from the wound, blooming dark down the fabric of the man’s shirt. The howl that releases itself from his throat is nearly inhuman, a drawn-out choking heave that tingles in his extremities. “Talk!”

“I—I—I’m sorry, we wos offered coin—there ain’t none to be had wif the Order—”

Pathetic. Daemon had hardly needed to incentivise him overmuch and yet the scum is already spilling everything. No wonder he had run. Cowards never change their stripes, after all.

“A Poor Fellow, are you?” he asks, angling the blade up slightly and pushing in just a little further.

Daemon had suspected as much. The Seven-Pointed Star is a sure indicator that the attackers are sworn to the Faith Militant, though it is obvious that the evening’s trials had not been the work of those particular sycophants. It seems that an attempt has been made to lay the plot at the High Septon’s door—which means the architect is intelligent.

He continues his line of questioning, manipulating the hilt of his sword to widen the wound, each press shredding fresh slices into overwrought tissue. He basks in the squalling and weeping below him, the singular sound of flesh rending apart, the rich heady aroma of fear and gore. The desire to split open his guts and feed him his own entrails is tempting, but this is not the time. He needs information.

“What price was enough to make you abandon your precious Faith and risk eternal damnation, hm? Three stags? Four? A gold coin?”

The man gasps, spasming with each shift of the blade. “Three! Three, Ser—”

Three gold coins. A wealthy mastermind, then. It narrows the field considerably. Only the nobles at court would have that kind of coin to spend on a plot with a variable chance of success.

Daemon brings his foot down on the Fellow’s knee, crunching the joint beneath his steel-capped boot. With an almighty crack, the bone gives way, its owner leaning to the side to vomit. The acrid stench of sourness permeates the air, tangling with the scents of blood and piss.

He sneers, kicking the man’s leg for good measure. It splays at a misshapen angle, bent back upon itself on the ground. The jagged edge of his shinbone has pierced clean through the back of his knee, a macabre lance of pearl-white tearing through skin and muscle.

“A measly three coins to murder a girl heavy with child,” Daemon mocks. “A Princess. Your gods must be so proud.”

“Please!” The craven weeps, spitting blood and bile from his mouth. “Please.”

“Tell me what I want to know. Tell me who ordered the attack.”

“I—I—I dunno his name, Ser. He wears a hood. Calls himself the Firefly.”

Daemon nods absently in acknowledgement, his mind ruminating over this discovery. It is not an epithet he recognises. Firefly. He’ll have to conduct a careful search to find the owner of this sobriquet.

He refocuses his gaze upon the last of your assailants, the remaining member of the trio who had so callously threatened your life and the lives of his children. As pathetic as this creature is, he has been rather valuable in providing enough intelligence to further his own search. But the man has outlived his usefulness. Daemon cannot afford for his benefactor to learn of his loose tongue.

“In the name of the Princess, I—Daemon of House Targaryen—sentence you to die.”

In a single swift motion, he wrenches Dark Sister from the place where it is embedded and basks in the vile satisfaction of hearing the man release an unearthly squall. He swings the sword in a high arc, the momentum slicing cleanly through flesh and sinew and bone and cutting the shriek off at its full. Blood sprays over his armour and across his face, the wayward Fellow’s head rolling across the floor.

Daemon removes the pin from the man’s shirt and stows it away for later examination, using one of the whore’s ruined dresses to wipe his blade clean of gore. He surveys the scene. The door is splintered upon the ground, the wardrobe soiled and defiled, the room itself a painting of crimson upon lumber and metalwork, silks and leathers.

Fuck. He’s made rather a mess of things. Restitution will have to be made.

He leaves the body where it lay, having little care for the remains now he is dead. For now, the job is done. It is with a sense of relief that he retraces his steps back to the lower level of the brothel. The whores and patrons stare at him with mingled shock and fright, taking in his red-soaked armour and ichor-stained face. At the sight of him, the whore from earlier darts up the stairs. She will find her brother dead in her rooms, his life essence puddling out upon the floor and seeping into the wood.

He turns to Mysaria, fishing out a handful of coin and holding it out to her. She takes the proffered gold with an arched brow, surveying his dirtied form with an unimpressed expression.

“For the damage,” is his gruff explanation, tipping his head in the direction of the upper landing. “Unavoidable.”

The whore starts to wail her lamentations from above.

“I see.” Her feline eyes glitter dark and mysterious, lips tipped up ever-so-slightly. She had always found his aggression captivating, and it seems such a sentiment remains unchanged. He shifts in discomfort. She leans further into his space, laying a careful hand upon the line of his arm. “I hope you found the justice you had sought.”

He grunts, making no move to encourage her.

“It is good to see you again, Daemon,” she adds, looking up at him through sooty lashes. Her body presses closer, just shy of touching. He doesn’t know if she holds back to avoid sullying her gown or if she intends to tempt him into closing the space. “You would be welcome here if you should want the company of one of my girls. Or mine.”

Her breath, wine-tart and candied, puffs against his jaw.

“I don’t,” he says stiffly. He is poised, rigid, barely restraining himself from the urge to throw her bodily from him, to backhand her for daring to touch what is not hers by right. “Take your damn hands off me.”

She is as beautiful and sensuous as ever, but she does not arouse desire in him the way she had once done. How the mighty have fallen, he thinks.

Should a version of Daemon from his youth encounter him now, he would make of himself a laughingstock for the single-minded veracity of his ardour for his own niece, a girl half his age. But how could one return to consuming boiled mutton after partaking in roast venison for the first time? Mysaria had been a companion and nothing more. You are his—niece, confidant, wife, lover, mother to his heirs. There can be no other now. That she thinks she might persuade him to wet his cock in lesser cunt is insulting.

At once, her seduction ceases, the veil of allure dropping and resettling into feigned amiability. He has insulted her—but why should it matter? Dragons do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep.

She smiles dryly, stepping aside to clear a path to the exit. “Then I wish you farewell,” she says.

There is nothing left for him here but the ghosts of a former life. It is easier than breathing to turn from her gaze, to cast her aside as a memory from long ago, to stride past her and leave her in the past where she belongs.

He departs the Gilded Doll without another word, mind already settling on returning to you.

You are still asleep when he enters his brother’s rooms.

“Gods be good,” Viserys mutters, hobbling over from his chair as he takes in the sight of Daemon covered in blood. What did he expect, he thinks in irritation, that I would sit down for a civilised meal with her attacker?  “I can only assume you found him.”

“The last one is dead,” he says, unbuckling his baldric and setting Dark Sister, scabbard and all, upon the table as quietly as he can. Through the gauzy drapes, he spies your still form ensconced in the bed. “I got the information I needed.”

“Must I ask for it, or shall you tell me?” the King asks.

Daemon glances over at him. Dark circles bloom purple-grey under his eyes, the contrast to his blemished skin so severe it is as though he is looking at a human skull instead of a living man.

“Not now.” He suppresses a shudder at the malformed creature his brother has become. “I’d like to get this shit off me.”

The bath is warm, but he takes no joy in it. Now that his enterprise is concluded, he is left with naught but his own thoughts. If I had been there, she wouldn’t have been risked so dearly. If I’d refused to leave, she’d be safe and happy instead of fearful and desolate.

He tries to tamp down the maelstrom, scrubbing vigorously at his flesh and his hair as though to physically force the notion from his mind. By the time he is done, the water is pink, flecks of dried blood forming a ghastly film upon the surface.

All he wishes to do now is sit by you. He bypasses Viserys, treading barefoot through the sheer curtains and settling himself gently upon the mattress beside you. In repose, your expression holds none of the fright or devastation that had marred it so many hours ago. You are young, sweet, mouth slack with sleep and cheeks plump and rosy from the heat of the coverings over you.

His eyes burn again. I’ve failed to protect her. Stroking your wild silver hair back from your temple, he trails his fingers along the line of your jaw, over the curve of your lower lip, your throat.

“She has not awakened,” the King says softly behind him. “The boy’s gone to his lessons, but—well, I thought it best not to rouse her.”

“Good,” he murmurs, hand wandering below the sheets to feel the swell of your belly. There is faint movement, and relief blooms anew at the liveliness of the babes within your womb. Tap. Tap. Tap. He had almost convinced himself that it had been a delusion conjured up in his maddened state. “She needs to rest.”

You stir faintly, and he brings his palm to your face once more. You lip insensately at his thumb, easing back down into unconsciousness. A creak to his left makes him think that Viserys has sunk into the chair beside the bed. He can feel the stare boring into him, though he has little desire to entertain whatever it is that has his brother so absorbed.

“When you sought my daughter’s hand,” the King begins, “I assumed the worst.” He knows that. “You are not the sort of man capable of providing the care she needs: patience, attentiveness, placidity… devotion. Someone who would regard her as the treasure she is. Yes, when you asked for her, I thought all manner of abhorrent things, even if you were the one she chose for herself. I was so certain you would destroy her.”

So little trust in me, as always. There is a point to this spiel, a mellow timbre that suggests the aim is not to remonstrate—but to hear how lowly his brother thinks of him is nonetheless cutting.

The King huffs a laugh. “Imagine my surprise, then, to see her so…  happy with you.” Daemon stills for a moment, then carefully resumes caressing your cheek, smoothing over the contour of your chin. “She is a new person to me now, and I regret that I was not able to grant what it is she needed to best thrive. I have many regrets… but I do not regret conferring her upon you,” Viserys says. “I was wrong, Daemon. You make a fine husband to my girl. And I am glad she can give to you what I never did.”

Oh, brother.

There was a time when he wanted nothing more than to earn his brother’s approval; when the attainment of such was a far-off dream, one that would have required him to unmake and reforge himself anew so that he might finally earn what ought to have been his all along. The denial of it had made him bitter and angry, a hot-tempered rake of a being that had terrorised nobles and commoners alike with debauchery and hostility and brutality. It is ironic that having the man finally—finally—proclaim that longed-for praise carries none of the weight he once imagined it would have.

His worth is no longer shackled to the whims of an ailing King. Perhaps it is unhealthy or even unfair to place the care of it in your hands—but for all his poisonous ambition, he knows his is not a nature meant for standing alone. The second son of a second son, he has been bred and built to seek purpose from those designed for a higher calling than he. How he had railed against his fate, once! And how very poetic it is that he has found himself so beholden to you.

He does not need Viserys anymore. But he nods and thanks his brother nonetheless, pays little mind to him as he departs from the room, and waits for you to rouse.

It normally takes time for your faculties to return to you after your eyes first open, but it comes to no surprise that consciousness strikes you with full force after the evening’s events. Your eyes snap open and you jolt, casting about for a half-moment before alighting on the form of your husband. He adjusts himself so that he reclines against the headboard, allowing you to easily wiggle your way onto his lap.

Fretful and fragile, a baby princess seeking protection in the arms of her big, strong uncle. Moisture wets his clean shirt, your face buried against his chest and little fingers clutched to his sides like you are afraid he’ll vanish. He pets over your spine and breathes you in.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, breaking the silence.

You shake your head, voiceless. He’ll not press you yet, not now—but there will come a time in the near future where you’ll have no choice but to recount the attack. He needs as much intelligence from as many involved as he can seek out if he is to determine the identity of the Firefly.

You are small and quiet and slow-moving as the day passes, wanting little else than to cling to him and doze. He doesn’t know what to do with this version of you. He is helpless to conceive of a way to break you from this strange trance. Guilt and fury and exasperation mingle like noxious fumes inside his body, pressing against his chest cavity and constricting around the organ there like a bloodied fist. Each hushed whisper, each tenuous tremble, each lamenting little-girl rebuff of all save him only serves to spur the tumult within.

“Is… Are they all gone?”

You finally string more than two or three words together, sat upon the edge of the bed in your new chambers. They are nice enough, he supposes, though he’s not particularly enthused by the prospect of being so close to Viserys and the Hightowers. For a moment, he thinks you are speaking of the attendants that had flitted in and out of your presence throughout the afternoon, but the uncertainty of your countenance suggests otherwise. His stomach drops.

“Those—those men?” you clarify, voice cracking.

Daemon lays Dark Sister back upon the desk and tosses down the cloth he’d been using to work away at the stray crusts of ichor, returning to you.

“Yes,” he says, sinking down upon the mattress.

You lean into him, warm and real and alive. Alive. “I was so… frightened. I thought I was going to di—”

“Don’t.” He shakes his head. I cannot hear it, cannot abide even the thought of it. “Don’t say it.”

You pause, staring up at him, nodding when you take in whatever expression has affixed itself on the planes of his face. He jerks slightly when you push yourself up on your knees and bring your lips to his, hot and wet and sweet. It is ingrained into the foundations of his very self to press into the kiss, to cradle your jaw in his hand and feel the throb of your pulse feed into his skin, his cock twitching in his breeches. There is no pleasure to it, but instead a disconcerting agony that prickles along his shaft and cools the fire that ought to stoke itself.

He draws away, suppressing the tremor that threatens. “What are you doing?” It comes out more abrasive than he’d like.

“Please?” you ask, mouthing at his lower lip, desperate and frenzied. “I—I just want to feel something good again.”

He understands that need. Hells, it’s a feeling that has fuelled many of his own debauched eves across the brothels in King’s Landing and the Realm beyond. Though he cannot fault you for the urge to drive away the memory of those who had nearly carved your babes from your belly (I wasn’t there, why wasn’t I there), his body is refusing to heed your wishes and rise to the occasion.

It tears at him to tilt back into you, to crowd against you and take your mouth with his own, to press his tongue to yours and pull the hem of your shift up. He drives you down into the sheets, nipping at your throat and shoving a finger then two into your grasping cunt, feeling the way the silky walls catch and ripple eagerly as he hooks into the high soft sponge of you, listening to you gasp. You writhe and moan below him, tugging at his pants and taking hold of his cock, and it begins to burst to life in your capable hand. He looks down at you and his mind flashes to the way you’d looked beneath that man, red-stained and terrified and scrabbling to save your own life, and he cannot—

He lurches away from you, from the memory of what had nearly happened. I wasn’t there. You try to pull him back down, but he shakes off your touch. “No. Stop, sweetling.”

“Why?” You pout, reaching for his shaft and making a soft noise of confusion.

Oh. Whatever blood had fought to stiffen him up has dissipated, leaving him limp despite your best attempts to coax it to rise.

“I said—” He bats your hands away, suddenly wrathful. Stumbling off the bed, he stows himself away and fumbles with the laces, whirling on you. “You almost died, and you want to fuck?” he asks, grinding his teeth and snarling at you. “What in the hells is wrong with you?”

He regrets it as soon as he’s said it—even more so when he sees the bewildered tears begin to collect along your lower lashes, lip quivering and looking so, so small. Why wasn’t I there to protect her, she could have di—

The room feels like a cage, like iron bars squeezing tight against his flesh, he has to get out, he has to get out—

“Daemon. Daemon!”

He flees the trappings of your apartments, past the Kingsguard manning the doors to the bedchamber, the hall, Maegor’s Holdfast, leaving you there upon the bed alone.

Scarcely even realising he’s left his blade behind, he moves with purpose throughout the Keep. He knows not where he’s headed, only that he must find a safe haven where he might begin to pull together the edges of himself that are fraying to bits, threatening to send him crumbling.

It hurts. It hurts unlike anything he’s ever felt. The anguish only serves to wind him tighter, a maimed creature lashing out at the world for its suffering.

His steps lead him aimlessly around his childhood home, and he indulges the wanderlust. He avoids the main thoroughfares, not wishing to encounter the absurdity of courtly gossip on his day. The journey takes him past the Great Hall and the Small Council chambers and through the servants’ passages, down to the scullery and the royal cellars. He pilfers a carafe of wine from the kitchens, imbibing periodically as he trudges through hallways and up flights of stairs. Eventually, he makes his way to an old sanctuary from his youth, a lone balcony in an abandoned portion of the Holdfast overlooking the courtyard and, beyond, the Dragonpit.

Daemon leans against the edge and stares blankly at the horizon, taking steady draughts from the jug and letting the drink numb the sharp stabbing pains of his thoughts. The wine loosens him, slows the racing of his heart, and time finally starts to run leisurely again.

She might have—She nearly—

“Princess said you ran from her.”

Fuck. He ignores the healer woman as she shuffles forward, joining him in the dimming light. Her eyes bore into his side profile, but he won’t give her the satisfaction of acknowledging her.

“Said you were angry,” she croaks.

It is the truth, but it is still unpleasant to hear.

“How is she?” he asks. It is relatively easy to assume she’s ventured forth in search of him after making her customary rounds to her sole charge.

He hopes she can hear the words he does not say. Are my children well? Will they survive this?

“Good. Babe both good, too.” He despises how unlike herself she is being, how gentle and kind her tone is. It is not the way she speaks to him usually, and he wants at least one thing to remain normal and logical and sane around here. “You are very, very lucky,” she adds.

He grunts. He doesn’t feel it.

She sighs, thumping him on the back. “You are rude boy. But you are good to her. She need you now—no more hiding.”

“How?” It takes him a moment to realise it is he who has spoken, a rustle upon the breeze. That damned wine. He can no longer control the torrent that he has kept tamped down and locked away, the dogged attempt of a man long accustomed to outrunning all weakness. “How can I just—pretend?”

“Pretend?”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he tries to put into words the venom that is eating away at his insides. “That I’m not fucking—terrified.” Daemon hisses the term as though it has personally offended him.

To finally say it aloud is both a bizarre release and an epiphany of sorts. He’s overcome with the curious urge to laugh at the realisation.

Fear. How common of him. But it rings true nonetheless, and the rightness of the admission settles in his bones. How can he not be afraid? There’s an ever-present threat to your life somewhere in this place, a place that should be safe and happy and home for you. Someone has marked his children for death before they are even allowed the chance to breathe air on their own, to open their eyes and see what exists outside the safety of their mother’s womb.

And you are a Targaryen woman. In any other context, this makes you superior, a diamond nestled in amongst the coal. But he cannot help but recall those names once more, the names of your forebears who had undergone the toilsome task of childbirth and met their end there.

Alyssa. Daella. Gael. Aemma. Laena.

He will not survive your death, should it come. With the ever-expanding heft of the babes inside you, the possibility that he might have to face such a dreaded reality looms closer by the day. There is not a fucking thing he can do about it, either. There’s no physician or liniment or spell or prayer that he can avail himself of to keep you alive, to keep you with him should your body fall to the conquering force of childbed.

The woman—Ūlla—hums consideringly. “Fear is… natural. Human,”

He finally turns to look at her. Her countenance is warm, sympathetic, a tilt to the head that belies something other than the deep-seated vexation he had been sure was all she’d felt for him. She takes his hand, and he lets her. All at once, he is a boy again, clutching onto his lady grandmother as his mother’s pyre burns gold in the morning light.

“We all fear something,” she says. “It is stupid to try and push it away like it never happen. Do not waste time to master your fear, or you will forget to live. To fear is to love, boy—and you love her, yes?”

He nods. Gods help him, he does.

She smiles, squeezing his grip. “Then the rest is for later. Go to her—love. And let yourself fear. It is okay.”

The sky is darkening to deep amber by the time he is ready to return to you. He takes the long route back to your new chambers, concealing himself from public view as much as he can, for he does not wish to incite the rumour mill of King’s Landing to pass judgement on his dishevelled state.

You are almost exactly where he left you, though you’ve settled back against the pillows with a book, appearing for all the world as though it is an evening like any other. It isn’t. When you see him standing at the door, he fully expects you to rail at him, perhaps to cry or even avoid him.

Instead, your lips twist compassionately, eyes impossibly soft, and you put the tome aside. “Come,” you say, patting the space beside him.

And how can he refuse?

Daemon clambers onto the mattress, shuffling into the open space of your arms and collapsing there in your embrace. The hard bulge of your belly pushes against his chest, a reminder of everything pure and real and necessary, everything he has fought for. What I would die for.

He cannot speak his apology aloud. It sticks to the roof of his mouth, coagulating in the liminality between his body and the air. Cursing himself for his inability to perform something so simple, he buries his face into your breasts, breathing in the smell of you, the feel of you, safe and whole and alive. His eyes burn.

“It is alright, kepus. Sh.” Your palm strokes the back of his head, trailing between his shoulder blades and up again in soothing rhythm.

My darling, forgiving girl. You are everything to him, and you are here.

The tears finally fall.

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