#it is all insufficient. i was not supposed to live this long. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slaymitchabernathy · 25 days ago

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The Nanny

On a quiet morning, when spring and warmer weather were finally on the cusp of the Capitol, Soarynn was stumped by a question that caused her fingers to stop their memorized pattern of braiding Ceraphina's hair.

"Soarynn, how do you know when you're in love?"

Soarynn blinks once, twice, three times. She's never really thought about that before. Of course, she's thought about love, being in love, falling in love. But truly, how does one know when they're in love?

"I...I don't know darling," she admits, grabbing another blonde curl and tucking it into the braid, "I suppose you just wake up one morning and know that you're with the right person."

"Okay, but how?"

Clearly, Soarynn's answer is insufficient for the young girl who's getting to that age where everything is "so romantic." Soarynn remembers being that way when she was little, thinking it was so wonderful how every adult around her was in love. Watching adults hold hands while crossing busy streets and share warm drinks on cold nights was the ultimate tribute to being in love in her eyes.

It also didn't help that she had grown up without witnessing her own parent's love due to the unfortunate death of her mother. She's sure that Ceraphina had experienced a bit of that as well, even though she knew her mother before she passed away.

But Coriolanus and Livia were never in love.

He's admitted to that countless times since they started courting, talked about how Livia made him feel as if he were stuck in the middle of a business arrangement. It often leads Soarynn to wonder how many other couples are simply together for all the wrong reasons and if she and Coriolanus are together for the wrong ones as well.

Not that there's anything wrong with them. After that little hallway incident, he's been nothing but sweet, showering her with words of adoration, tokens of his affection, and sweet gestures that go above and beyond. He's certainly a charmer.

But sometimes she wonders about how they met, how strange it is that a nanny ended up with her employer and then she just ends up feeling strange and icky.

At least she didn't break up their marriage. That's something she constantly reminds herself of. Their marriage was broken long before she came to the Snow family.

"It's this feeling you get inside of you," Soarynn says, placing a hand over her heart, "this feeling that you simply can't live without this person and you want to do everything with them, no matter how mundane or uncomfortable. With the love of your life, everything makes sense."

Ceraphina tilts her head, "Are you in love with Daddy?"

Soarynn already knows how she feels about Coriolanus, but she doesn't always know how he feels about her.

"I care very deeply about your father," she smoothly answers, giving Ceraphina a tight-lipped smile through the mirror's reflection. Ceraphina returns it with one of her own and kicks her feet as they dangle off the vanity stool, "Is Daddy your best friend?" Soarynn raises her eyebrows, she has friends, but a best friend is something she hasn't considered.

But the more she thinks about it, the more it seems plausible. They see each other every day, they spend lots of time together, they joke and laugh with one another, he makes her happy, she feels as though she can tell him anything. They're honest with each other.

Isn't that what a best friend is?

"He is," she confirms with a more genuine smile this time, "spending time with your father makes me very happy." Ceraphina giggles and cranes her neck back so that she's looking up at Soarynn, "Good! Because I asked him last night and he said that you were his best friend!"

Soarynn's eyes widen in surprise, she's forgotten how involved the girls can get with her relationship with their father. At first, she had worried there might be jealousy. They were the only girls in his life and now there was another woman but that wasn't the case. No, the girls were elated to have Soarynn and their father together, a little too elated sometimes since they were constantly hinting at marriage.

Which sometimes worried Soarynn because she didn't want to get her own hopes up let alone the children's. Coriolanus hadn't really ever talked about getting married again and it's not like she could blame him when his last marriage had a bit of a traumatic ending.

"Well, I'm glad that we're on the same page," she says, tying up Ceraphina's hair with a ribbon, "and you look so pretty darling, this is the perfect look for the museum today." Ceraphina smiles at her reflection, admiring Soarynn's handiwork with her hair, "Thank you!"

Soarynn presses a kiss to the top of her head before Ceraphina hops off of the stool and runs out into her bedroom, leaving Soarynn alone in the bathroom with a looming question.

Does Coriolanus see her as a potential wife?

꧁ ꧂

After contemplating her relationship in the bathroom for a good five minutes, Soarynn gathered herself and her thoughts before making her way out into the girls' room and instructing them to put on their shoes so they could depart for the museum.

"I'll go get your brother's shoes on and meet you in the hallway," she tells them, waiting for nods of confirmation so she can actually trust them to do what she said. Once both girls dutifully bob their heads up and down, Soarynn slips out into the hallway and heads toward Caspian's room. But then she stops when she sees several Avoxes walking in and out of the one room that is practically off-limits.

The master bedroom. Where she sleeps almost every night.

The Avoxes appear to be carrying lots of boxes in and out of the room which puzzles Soarynn. Just this morning she woke up in the arms of her lover and he hadn't mentioned any new furniture being moved into the room. Perhaps it's something that Eudora planned out and Coriolanus simply forgot about it.

Soarynn shrugs it off and gently opens the doors to Caspian's room, finding him right where she left him, on his new bed. Caspian has slept in a crib since the day she started working for the Snows but just last week he got a brand-new bed.

A "big-boy bed."

He's been very pleased with himself and his new bed, constantly climbing in and out of it for the fun of it. Coriolanus had worried that he might try to slip out of his room in the middle of the night but Soarynn reminded him of Caspian's inability to reach the door handles and that calmed him down.

It certainly is adorable to see him so excited about his new bed and the best thing about it is that he can now fit more stuffed animals on it compared to his crib where his space was more limited.

"Lenny go museum," he says the moment he lays eyes on Soarynn. The two-year-old boy has become more and more determined to bring Lenny everywhere and Soarynn has become more and more discouraged to argue with him since it'll often end in a tantrum. And for Caspian, a tantrum is him sitting facing the wall and not talking to anyone for at least two hours.

Which is the best tantrum she's ever seen but it's still a tantrum nonetheless.

"Lenny can come to the museum darling," she reassures him, "but we've got to get your shoes on first." His eyes scan his bedroom floor and Soarynn does the same thing because she swears that she laid out his shoes earlier this morning. Unless a certain toddler moved them and can't remember where he put them.

"You wouldn't happen to know where they are, would you Cas?"

He averts his gaze, staring up at the ceiling instead and Soarynn laughs, "I'll take that as a no." That's okay, he has more shoes than he'll ever need so she just goes into the closet to find another pair. She dressed him in khaki-colored pants, a little white shirt, and a red coat to go overtop for when they're outside. Soarynn grabs a small pair of brown leather shoes, humming to herself as she undoes the tiny laces. The thing she loves about children is how cute their clothes are.

She wonders how tiny baby clothes can get.

Does Coriolanus want another baby if they get married?

She really needs to get a grip on her thoughts because this is getting out of hand. Right now, all she needs to focus on is the children.

She has to be the nanny.

꧁ ꧂

There are days when Soarynn only sees Coriolanus once. Breakfast is a promised meeting time for the entire family no matter what the day holds and Soarynn looks forward to it immensely. The girls get to talk to Coriolanus until his ears fall off and Caspian gets to be near his father which is more than enough for him. Breakfast isn't really the time for Soarynn to butt in and talk, not when she often spends the nights with Coriolanus, wrapped up in his sheets.

But today is not one of those days. Because there are days when a person keeps running into the same person over and over again, as if the universe wants them to be together. Even if Soarynn has mixed feelings about that person right now because she doesn't know if he wants to get married and have more children with her.

Which is so utterly ridiculous and she knows that but it doesn't stop her heart from beating faster and faster whenever she thinks of him. Get it together, she tells herself while carrying a sleepy Caspian on her hip, you can talk to him about it tonight. The museum had been wonderful today, a new exhibit about the ocean opened up and the girls loved every second of it. The exhibit mostly focused on different marine life and even had a real whale skeleton.

Needless to say, they were at the museum for a long time.

Caspian was already falling asleep in the car but Soarynn tried to keep him awake until they got back home so she could put him down for a proper nap. "Bed," he mumbles while nuzzling his head against her neck. Soarynn hums, brushing some of his hair out of his face, "I know sweet boy, we'll get you down for a nap."

They ran into Eudora when they got back home and she took the girls to get a snack so Soarynn could put Caspian down for a nap. Soarynn starts walking up the back staircase, her head down as she focuses on the steps when she notices a pair of black leather shoes pass by her going in the opposite direction. She immediately looks up when the scent of roses washes over her and comes face to face with a grinning Coriolanus.

Her heart might beat out of her chest, she doesn't know why she's suddenly so nervous around him, it's probably got something to do with her stupid thoughts about the future and what it holds for them.

"Well isn't this a pleasant surprise?" He says, resting a hand on her arm. Soarynn forces a smile onto her face and nods, "Yes, yes it is. We just got back from the museum." A wave of recognition washes over his porcelain face, "Ah yes, I remember you mentioned it this morning at breakfast."

Soarynn hums but doesn't say anything else which is ironic since she's usually thrilled to run into Coriolanus in the middle of the day. He rarely ever leaves his study if he's working from home.

He furrows his eyebrows, looking her up and down in a concerned manner, "Are you feeling alright darling?"

"Mhm."

Caspian lifts his head after hearing his father's voice, "Lenny go nap."

Coriolanus gives Caspian a gentle squeeze, fixing the collar of his little coat, "Lenny isn't the only one who needs a nap." Soarynn chuckles softly, Caspian often projects his needs and wants onto Lenny, "What were you doing upstairs?" She asks, her curiosity getting the best of her. Coriolanus is a man who values routine and the only time he ever comes upstairs is if he needs to change his clothes but he appears to be wearing the same outfit he wore to breakfast this morning.

He coughs into his fist, looking down at the floor, "Just needed to grab something."

Now they're both lying.

"Alright. Well...I'll see you later then," she says softly, taking another step up. Coriolanus gives her a grunt of approval, "Yes, I was thinking we could have dinner tonight." She doesn't know if she can survive dinner with him tonight, not with her own thoughts running wild but she doesn't want to be rude or ungrateful, "That sounds wonderful," she lies.

He smiles although it doesn't reach his eyes the way a genuine smile does and leans forward to press a kiss to her cheek, "I'll see you tonight then darling."

Soarynn nods and turns to go up the rest of the stairs but she stops herself midway, unable to stop herself from asking the question that's been burning in her mind since doing Ceraphina's hair this morning, "Actually I," Coriolanus stops in his tracks, looking up at her from the first landing of steps, "Yes?"

Soarynn feels a rush of embarrassment wash over her. What a stupid thing to ask him right now, "Never mind," she says, going up the rest of the steps before he can stop her.

Soarynn scolds herself for acting so...so stupid! This morning she felt perfectly normal around Coriolanus, giddy even but now she can barely look the man in the eyes without wanting to ask him if they're ever going to get married or have children.

At least she has until tonight to get her thoughts and her act together.

Soarynn pads into Caspian's room, changing him into pajamas before tucking him into his new bed. She kisses his forehead and sings his favorite song, the meadow song, watching him drift off to sleep with Lenny in his grip. Soarynn watches him sleep for a while, enamored by the sweet boy who calls her his mother despite having no blood relation.

If Caspian considers her his mother then why should she even worry about Coriolanus wanting more children? Ceraphina, Celeste, and Caspian are more than perfect. If anything, Soarynn is selfish for wanting more children.

There, problem solved.

꧁ ꧂

"Soarynn dear, could you run this over to Coriolanus?"

Problem not solved.

Soarynn might throw up.

She just got downstairs after putting Caspian down for his nap and she was feeling much better before Eudora asked her that question. She thought she just solved her problem but just hearing his name made her feel nervous. She brushes her hair behind her ears, looking around the room to make sure that Eudora is talking to her and not someone else named Soarynn.

"Don't you want to do it?" She asks, doing her best to sound casual while stepping into the dining room. Eudora and the girls are all sitting at the table, cookies and tea in front of them although it looks like the girls are drinking apple juice from the tea cups instead of actual tea.

Eudora waves her off as if she's doing Soarynn a grand favor, "You'll be fine, just hand him this file. He asked me to go over it this morning for the upcoming Hunger Games."

Ah yes, the Hunger Games that Coriolanus has to keep running because apparently, his father created them. The night that Coriolanus told Soarynn about Lucy Gray, he also told her more about the origin of the Hunger Games and how his father and Casca Highbottom created them. It was apparently a drunk joke that was made but it turned into something much more sinister once it was written onto paper and turned in as an assignment to Dr. Gaul, one of the Head Gamemakers.

It had honestly horrified Soarynn to know that the reasoning behind twenty-four children being forced to fight to the death was due to a drunk joke but she kept those thoughts to herself. It's not like she could stop them now. Coriolanus didn't seem ecstatic about them either but as President of Panem, it was his job to see to it that they continued this pageantry.

Lucky him.

Soarynn slowly takes the file from Eudora, holding it at arm's length like it's a ticking time bomb, "I'll go give it to him," she finally says, accepting her fate. Eudora gives her a questionable look but nods, "We'll be right here dear."

"Tell Daddy we said hi," Celeste tells Soarynn who swallows and turns to walk back out of the dining room, a dark cloud looming over her once more.

She all but drags her feet down the long hallway that leads to his study, a hallway she normally skips down because it means getting to see Coriolanus. But not today.

She stops once she reaches the doors that lead to his study when she notices that they're not all the way closed. She can hear two muffled voices, male voices, one belongs to Coriolanus, and the other she can't quite place. It's terribly rude to eavesdrop but Soarynn can't help but lean in a little closer to peer inside of his study.

She can see Coriolanus sitting on the sofa by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in his hand while he talks. She looks over at the other man and finds that it's Quintus Heavensbee, his most trusted advisor. It doesn't sound like they're talking about anything truly important, in fact, they're talking about women.

"...Perlina said it would be a nice trip but after what happened to you in Four, I just don't trust the Districts," Quintus says with a shake of his head, his back towards the doors. Coriolanus lets out a dry laugh, "I never trusted them to begin with. But after Four, the children will never go again." Soarynn agrees with him on that, the attack in District Four could've ended so badly for them. For her.

"They're leeches, filthy leeches that are desperate to get their hands on what matters most to you," Quintus tells him, "speaking of which, how are things with Soarynn?"

Her breath gets caught in her throat and she has to remind herself to breathe again while Coriolanus takes a sip of his drink, "Good, she's good, things are good. I'm taking her to dinner tonight."

Quintus nods and leans back in his chair, "I must say she looks nearly identical to Ceraphina, she could easily pass for her mother if I didn't know any better." Soarynn has to agree with that as well, she and Ceraphina share the same eye color and hair color, leading them to look like a mother-daughter duo. She certainly sees Ceraphina as her daughter, even if she shouldn't.

"Well she's more of a mother to her than Livia ever was," Coriolanus says, bitterness evident in his tone of voice, "and a better partner as well." Her heart flutters from the compliment, Soarynn has never been in a relationship before and she often wonders if she's doing enough. Coriolanus has always been one for words of praise but he could always just lie and be polite to protect her feelings.

"Could you see yourself marrying her?" Quintus asks and Soarynn nearly blacks out. It's as if the heavens above have answered her question! Now she just needs Coriolanus to answer the question and Coriolanus is the master at avoiding things he doesn't want to answer. He's an expert, in fact, diverting the topic by giving an answer completely unrelated to the question. Soarynn has called him out on it before and he's always grinned and claimed that it's a skill only the President can possess.

Coriolanus goes quiet, too quiet for her liking. Soarynn watches him think long and hard about that question, "Not tomorrow," Quintus adds, picking up on the lingering silence, "no one would blame you if you didn't want to remarry."

Coriolanus shakes his head, a determined look now on his face, "I could see myself marrying Soarynn," he answers confidently, "sooner rather than later if I'm being honest. Losing Livia taught me a valuable lesson, many lessons actually but it taught me that nothing is promised. If something were to happen to Soarynn and I missed my chance then I'd never forgive myself."

Soarynn turns around and lets out a silent scream of excitement before collecting herself and taking a few steps back as if she hasn't been listening to the conversation for the past five minutes. She raises her fist to knock on the doors and makes her presence known this time, "Coriolanus? I have something to give you from Eudora."

She listens to their conversation come to a halt and hears someone get up and shuffle towards the doors. Quintus is the one who opens them, greeting her with a kind smile, "Hello Soarynn, how are you today?" She returns his smile with one of her own, genuine this time now that she doesn't have that nagging thought in her head, "Hello Quintus, I'm absolutely wonderful."

He steps to the side so she can walk inside and she's met with a skeptical look from Coriolanus who remains seated on the sofa, "Really? Because when I saw you on the staircase you looked like you were about to be sick." Soartynn waves him off, crossing the room to hand him the file, "I'm perfectly fine," she tells him, "you shouldn't worry about me, darling." The random use of the petname brings a blush to his cheeks and Quintus chuckles, "It's the President's job to worry, isn't it Coriolanus?"

Coriolanus still seems to be in a confused daze but he quickly shakes it off, taking the file from her and adopting the more stern look she's used to seeing from him, "Yes, quite right. Thank you for bringing me the file Soarynn."

Soarynn nods and she can't help but keep going now that she doesn't have any existential dread weighing her down, "What were you two just talking about a moment ago?"

Both men answer her at the same time.

"Taxes."

"Trains."

Soarynn raises her eyebrows, looking back and forth as they clear their throats in an effort to look less guilty, "Taxes and trains? What a thrilling topic." Coriolanus quickly rises to his feet, setting down his glass and the file, both long forgotten, "Yes, it's riveting stuff darling but I think I hear the children calling for you and I have much to do before tonight." He rests a hand on her back and gently guides her past Quintus towards the doors.

Soarynn innocently looks up at him from over his shoulder, "I didn't hear the children."

"You might need to get your ears checked then. I'll see you tonight," he says, kissing her temple before he gently pushes her out into the hall and shuts the doors in her face.

Soarynn crosses her arms, getting her ears checked, please.

Why can't men ever just come out and say what they mean? And they say women are complicated creatures.

꧁ ꧂

Later that day, Soarynn finds herself wondering about something else, something less important.

What is she going to wear tonight?

No matter where they go or what they do, Coriolanus and Soarynn always dress up for the occasion. Soarynn has always enjoyed dressing up for herself and no one else but now that she's in a relationship, it's an added bonus to have a grown man drooling over her.

"Would you two like to help me choose my outfit for tonight?" She asks the girls while they have an early dinner. The girls both gasp, eager to participate in the adult activity of preparing for date night. If they had their way, they'd come with Soarynn and Coriolanus but he's remained very firm that going out on dates is a two-person job.

But that doesn't stop the girls from asking to come. So Soarynn has found that them helping her get ready makes their separation much easier. And although she'd never admit it, easier for her as well.

"Yes!" Ceraphina says, bouncing in her seat, "Can we put on your makeup too?" Makeup is a bit more risky since Soarynn has found out that the girls love to use a heavy hand when applying things such as blush. "Oh, I was thinking you two might help me pick out a bag too," she adds, earning her more excited gasps. Caspian who's sitting in her lap, rests a hand on her arm, "Momma stay."

Her smile falters at his request, maybe she should stay, she and Coriolanus just went out to dinner a few nights ago. But Eudora is quick to intervene, "I thought we might watch one of your favorite films tonight children." Caspian perks up when he hears that, he loves to watch films, especially ones that feature animals. Coriolanus is pretty strict about how much television the children can watch and only permits a certain amount of time per week that they can spend in front of the large screen.

A film is a special treat.

He looks back up at Soarynn, a change of heart, "Momma go."

Soarynn and Eudora laugh at the sudden switch and Soarynn presses a kiss to his head, "Eager to get rid of me hmm?"

"Eudora, can I ask you a question?" Ceraphina asks sweetly, batting her eyelashes which causes Eudora to raise an eyebrow. Ceraphina has a habit of asking the craziest questions at the worst times, it's truly a gift. "Yes, you may dear."

"Have you ever been in love?"

Eudora lets out another laugh, a dismissive one at that, and shakes her head, "I don't believe in relationships dear, they're far too complicated for a woman of my age and status to concern myself with."

Ceraphina frowns, slouching in her seat, "You never fell in love? Ever? Not even once?"

Eudora shakes her head, sighing, "No, well...there was that one time," she mumbles the last part. Soarynn and the children lean in, eager to hear about Eudora Trinket's one love. "Who was he?" Celeste asks, "Or she?"

Eudora looks up at the ceiling dramatically, as if reliving her last moments with her lover, "We were too different," she exclaims, "I was in love with schedules, planning, telling people what to do. And he..." She looks back down at the table, grabbing her napkin and dabbing at her eyes, "He was in love with the weather."

It takes them a full ten seconds to realize who she's talking about.

"Lucky?!" Soarynn asks, unable to believe that Eudora and Lucky have ever shared a single interest let alone a conversation. The girls look as surprised as she is, even Caspian seems to be in denial. Eudora shrugs, "I like a man with a mustache, what can I say? But we were too different, we had different passions and when two people are in love, that means that they must sometimes give up their passions for one another."

She has a valid point.

Coriolanus is passionate about being President, being a leader, a beacon of stability.

But what is Soarynn passionate about?

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn pokes at her pasta, pushing it around on the plate. It's quiet in the restaurant but that's because Coriolanus bought out the entire room so they could dine privately. A man of grand gestures.

"Are you not hungry?"

She looks up from her plate, finding Coriolanus eyeing her plate of pasta, "I am," she tells him, "I just can't stop thinking about what Eudora said earlier when we were all having dinner together."

Coriolanus takes a sip of his wine before asking, "What did she say at dinner?"

Soarynn sighs, she's sure he's already aware that Eudora was in love with Lucky Flickerman at one point so she chooses to leave that part out, "She was talking about passions and now I can't stop thinking about what my passion is." She pokes at her pasta some more before setting down her fork, "My pasta is probably cold anyway," she grumbles.

Coriolanus gives her a knowing look and waves over their waiter who appears at their table within seconds, "Could you reheat this for her please?" Coriolanus asks, handing over Soarynn's plate to the eager waiter who promises to bring back an entire new plate for her.

She bites her lip, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to act ungrateful. I just can't stop thinking about it." Coriolanus reaches his hand across the table and Soarynn takes it, watching his long fingers intertwine with her shorter ones. "I'd say you're acting preoccupied, not ungrateful," he argues, squeezing her hand, "and I think it's rather obvious what your passions are darling."

She looks up at him confusedly, "It is?"

He chuckles, "Yes, it is. You're so clearly passionate about helping others. You love to lift other people up, you love to connect with those around you, making them feel at ease."

Was it that obvious?

The waiter comes back with a steaming plate of pasta and Soarynn must admit, it looks much tastier when it hasn't been sitting in front of her for ten minutes, "Thank you," she says to the man.

"Of course, Ms. Nightingale."

Soarynn catches Coriolanus staring at her empty ring finger for only a moment before he lets go of her hand, "How did you even get on the topic of passions? Are the children already diving into these deep topics at such a young age?" Soarynn softly laughs and picks up her fork again, appetite regained, "No, Ceraphina asked Eudora if she's ever been in love before."

Coriolanus leans in, already hooked, "Has she?"

Soarynn nods, wrapping several strings of pasta around her fork, "She has."

"With who?"

Soarynn takes her time bringing the pasta to her mouth, watching Coriolanus eagerly await her answer while she slowly chews and swallows, "Lucky Flickerman," she finally says once her mouth isn't full and Coriolanus is taking another sip of his wine. He almost chokes on it, covering his mouth with his own napkin while he recovers and Soarynn giggles, "We didn't believe her either," Soarynn tells him, "but apparently, she has a thing for men with mustaches."

Coriolanus laughs, a real laugh, not a practiced one that he pulls out when they're in public. A laugh that she has been given the privilege of hearing. "I don't believe it," he says, shaking his head, "Eudora has never mentioned her and Lucky before and that's not something that just slips past me." Soarynn shrugs, she's sure that quite a few things manage to slip past Coriolanus unbeknownst to him and someone's dating history certainly qualifies.

"Would it have mattered?" She asks, curious as to how Eudora was even hired in the first place. Did Eudora work for the former President? Or do Presidents hire out their own staff once they're in office?

Coriolanus gives her a confused look and she elaborates, "If you knew that she and Lucky had a former relationship would it have affected you hiring her? I know you can see everyone's files but I highly doubt that past relationships are listed."

"It wouldn't have mattered," he answers, setting down his glass of wine, "and the only information I can see about past relationships is if someone has been divorced or not." Her eyes grow bigger at the mention of divorce, something that's practically unheard of in the elite circles. Divorce is a one-way ticket to being shunned by high society. Unless there's a case of abuse or infidelity, couples stay together, happy or not.

Or your spouse can succumb to a sudden deadly illness like Livia and then you'll end up like Coriolanus.

Those thoughts bring her back to the idea of marriage and children and she just can't help herself from asking the next question, "Do you want children?"

Coriolanus freezes, the room feels much quieter now, much colder and Soarynn's worried that she's truly crossed the line this time. He clears his throat, "I would argue that I already have three perfect children," he tells her slowly. Soarynn must look crazy but she has to know if he wants children with her.

"I meant...I meant with me," she says exasperatedly, grabbing her napkin and twisting it in her hands, "if we were to get married tomorrow then would you want to have children with me?"

His face remains neutral, emotionless which means he's thinking hard about her question. Soarynn has gotten better at reading his facial expressions but he's always been so good at guarding them.

"I think it's expected for any wife to bear the children her husband gifts her," he says, scratching the back of his neck, "as for you, I would expect no less. Children are our legacy, you are your family's legacy and I am mine."

He's right, she's the last Nightingale which is a bit of a terrifying thought if she's being completely honest. She's all alone in this world, no wonder people have lots of children. "I don't mean to be so prying," she tells him, brushing her hair behind her ears nervously, "I just started thinking about it and now I can't stop."

His face softens, showing his true colors and how much he cares for her, "Darling, you could've avoided all of this if you just asked me sooner, it's not a prying thing to ask the man you're courting."

He's right. Soarynn didn't know why she was so worried when it was that easy. She nods, "I know, I just don't want to be another thing for you to worry about." Coriolanus chuckles softly, reaching back across the table and Soarynn gladly takes his hand in hers, "I worry about you regardless," he tells her, "and should we get married and have more children, I'll worry about them as well."

So he does want to marry her!

Hearing it directly instead of eavesdropping feels like a weight has been lifted off of her chest. Soarynn gives him a smile, as genuine as it gets, and squeezes his hand, "I'll hold you to that."

꧁ ꧂

꧁ Three Months Later ꧂

"And what is this for again?" Soarynn asks, looking down at an ornate vision board for an event Eudora is putting together. The older woman waves her off as if this whole thing is insignificant despite how much she's been stressing over it, "It's for after the Hunger Games dear, Corioalnus wants to throw a little party to celebrate."

Soarynn frowns, the Snows have been throwing more parties since she started working for them but this seems...odd. "Aren't we already throwing a party the day of the Reaping?"

Eudora shrugs, flipping through more pages of her binder, "The more the merrier dear, now which tablecloths do you like, the cream or the pearl?" Soarynn compares the two swatches of white fabric, nearly identical and yet too different to the trained eye. Coriolanus would simply pick the first one and move on from there but being a woman means that Soarynn actually appreciates these things.

She has a good eye for decorations and notices the smallest details.

"That's why I have you darling," he'd say whenever she'd point something out that he would've never noticed.

"This seems like a lot of white for a party celebrating the Hunger Games," she murmurs, feeling that the colors should be blood-red, not pretty white shades. "Nonsense, it's a clean slate," Eudora insists, holding up the swatches to the light, "white represents becoming new. We'll have a new Victor on our hands won't we?"

"I suppose," Soarynn replies, pointing at the cream-colored swatch, "and I like the cream one the best."

"I was thinking the same thing."

Both women smile at each other, Soarynn has found a good friend in Eudora Trinket, as well as some sort of a mother figure as well. Eudora is a beacon of reassurance, as long as she's around, they can't mess anything up.

Celeste comes running into the sitting room a second later, entirely out of breath and in a rush as she slowly comes to a stop. Soarynn and Eudora give her a glance before turning back to their work, looking at different centerpieces now that the tablecloths have been selected. Celeste tugs on Soarynn's dress and she looks down at the child, "Yes sweetheart?"

"The painting is gone," Celeste says, her blue eyes filled with vigor and conviction.

Soarynn frowns, glancing at Eudora who looks as lost as she is, "The painting?" She repeats, hoping for some clarification. Celeste nods, swaying back and forth on her heels, "Mhm, it's gone."

Without any further explanation, she runs back out of the room, leaving Soarynn and Eudora very confused as to what all of that was about. "Children are always so vague," Eudora says, clearly not as bothered by Celeste's strange behavior as Soarynn is, "Yes, yes they are," Soarynn agrees.

Forty-five minutes later, a party has been planned and a color scheme decided on. Soarynn and Eudora go their separate ways, Soarynn to the front of the house to get the children from Ceraphina's piano lesson, and Eudora to the kitchen to prepare the kitchen staff for the upcoming parties and their menus.

As Soarynn walks through the great hall, she notices something out of the corner of her eye.

Something missing.

The painting.

It's pretty fucking hard to miss too. What used to be a giant painting of the entire Snow family is now gone, with only a bare wall to show that there was once a large object taking up its space. Soarynn stops dead in her tracks, looking around to see if perhaps it was taken down for cleaning purposes but she finds no trace of it anywhere. It's pretty much impossible to hide something of that size but she's hoping it might be hiding under a rug or a table.

It was a beautiful painting in Soarynn's opinion. The children were much younger than they are now, and Livia was well and alive. But now it's gone. And it's left a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Why would Coriolanus have it removed?

Soarynn shakes her head in an effort to shake away those thoughts, she can no longer hear the incorrect piano keys being played so that means Ceraphina's lesson has come to a close. She'll have to ask Coriolanus about it later.

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn drags her fingers along the bathwater's surface, popping a few bubbles in the process.

Bathtime is often when she hits a mental wall, she's tired and ready for the day to end even if the children insist that they can easily stay up for another six hours.

She watches Celeste play with her designated "bath time mermaids" which are really just dolls that she plays with in the tub, and a soft smile graces her lips. She loves this little girl so much.

"The painting is gone," she says, catching Celeste off guard but she quickly recovers and her eyes are as wide as they've ever been, "you were right."

Celeste quickly nods, grabbing the edge of the tub, "You saw it?" She asks, her voice barely a whisper even though it's just the two of them in the bathroom right now. Soarynn hums, reaching out to brush her curls off of her forehead, "I did. Although I don't know why it was removed." She can only imagine why, nothing was wrong with the painting and how the hallway just looks empty without it.

Celeste smiles, nearly bouncing out of the tub which causes some water to splash onto the floor, "It means something's gonna happen Soarynn!"

Soarynn does not share Celeste's enthusiasm, "Like what?"

Celeste shrugs, settling back down in the tub, "I don't know," she admits, still grinning ear to ear, "but it's gotta mean something right?"

Soarnyn purses her lips while she thinks about the possibilities and a very specific one crosses her mind but she doesn't dare speak it into existence.

"I suppose it does," is all she replies with, grabbing the shampoo, "now let's wash your hair darling."

꧁ ꧂

After putting all three children to bed, Soarynn finds herself strolling the halls of the President's Mansion. She knows the place like the back of her hand now that she lives here although the children always know the best places to hide when they play hide-and-seek. She passes the massive doors that lead to the ballroom and sees several Avoxes mopping and floors, preparing for the parties they'll be hosting for the upcoming Hunger Games.

She's almost been here for a year and yet it feels like ten.

Soarynn sighs, she ought to take a walk outside since Coriolanus won't be getting home until late since he's at dinner. She'll go upstairs and get her coat.

She quietly climbs up the stairs and comes across Petunia lying in the middle of the hallway, her tail flicking back and forth while she watches Soarynn approach her, "Hello Petunia," she greets the feline who purrs in response and rolls onto her back. Soarynn chuckles, crouching down to rub her soft belly, "Have any more paintings gone missing or am I slowly losing it?" She asks, more to herself than to the cat.

Coriolanus had that painting removed on purpose. To send a message.

But what message is he trying to convey?

Soarynn stands back up, Petunia following her to the bedroom that is now as good as hers ever since Coriolanus had her move in with him. On the same day that Soarynn was spiraling about having children with Coriolanus, she had witnessed several boxes being moved in and out of his bedroom. She hadn't really paid it any mind since her mind was very preoccupied at the moment but after they returned home from dinner that night, she discovered that he had removed all of Livia's clothing and brought in Soarynn's.

It had rendered her speechless. She was more than used to going to her room whenever she was in need of clothes so to have him remove his late wife's clothing without her even mentioning it left her feeling slightly perturbed. Sure it was a sign of moving forward from her death but it was still quite a shock.

Now she fully lived in his room. She got dressed in his room, showered in his room, and slept in his room. Things were very official.

But she would be lying if she said that having a 'his and hers' closet didn't make her a little bit giddy. His side was filled with expensive tailored suits whereas her side was filled with dresses, skirts, blouses, pants, and lots of shoes. Coriolanus often liked to surprise her with a new handbag or pair of shoes. He'd leave it on the large table they had in the middle of the walk-in closet, next to the vase of fresh roses that always sat in the center.

But as she walks into the bedroom, she feels as if the pieces are slowly falling together.

The closet, the painting, the all-white color scheme for this Hunger Games party suddenly popping up on the schedule, the schedule that Eudora briefed her on at the beginning of June that she swore would not change.

Coriolanus is going to propose to her.

Soarynn feels as if the floor has been pulled out from under her.

She needs to get out, go for a walk, clear her head.

She hurries into the closet and snatches the first coat she sees and throws it on, striding out into the bedroom once again, feeling hot and flushed. Petunia meows for her attention but Soarynn's mind is so, so far away from here right now. "I'll be back soon," she mutters, pulling open the doors and slipping into the hallway. She makes her way downstairs and towards the sitting room that Eudora frequents the most. Sure enough, she's sitting at the coffee table with several folders spread out in front of her.

Soarynn clears her throat, causing Eudora to jump, "Oh! Soarynn, I thought you'd be in bed by now." Soarynn shook her head, she couldn't sleep right now if she tried. "I um, I need to run a quick errand," she tells Eudora, her voice low and hushed even though they're the only ones in the room right now, "I'll be back soon."

Eudora looks at her current attire and Soarynn can see a few questions popping up in her head right now but she asks none, "Alright dear, I'll listen out for the children." Soarynn forces a polite smile onto her lips, "Thank you, I shouldn't be too long."

Soarynn goes to the side entrance of the house where a car with a driver is always waiting, "The Capitol Cemetary please," she says to the driver as she slips into the car.

The drive is short but her mind is buzzing the entire time.

When will he propose? Do the children know?

Eudora certainly does if she's planning the damn thing. Or at least some sort of party to celebrate their engagement.

She wonders what Coriolanus is doing right now, if he's thinking of her the way she's thinking of him. She thinks of him constantly now that they're officially together but she often wonders if he does the same thing. He says he does, and he also says that the dinners he attends are very boring, filled with old men who have great influence in Panem. He says he'll introduce her to them at the Reaping party.

She can't wait.

The car slowly rolls up to the gates of the cemetery and she begins to worry when she sees that they're closed. Which is perfectly understandable considering the time of day. Ten o'clock at night.

A Peacekeeper standing by the gates approaches the car and Soaeynn can only hear a muffled conversation between him and her driver. The Peacekeeper walks to her window, peering through the tinted glass and Soarynn rolls it down, flashing him her prettiest smile, "I'm so sorry for the inconvenience," she says sweetly, "it'll only be a moment." The Peacekeeper, a man who looks to be about the same age as her swallows down a lump in his throat, "Of course ma'am."

That's all it takes for her to gain entry.

The driver rolls the partition down, looking at her through the rearview mirror, "Where to Ms. Nightingale?"

She supposes it would look less suspicious if she went to her own parent's graves, "The West Side please." It's a short drive to that side of the Cemetery and Soarynn can feel her heart pounding. If this is all going to happen, then she has to make peace with her conscious, and those who came before her.

The driver opens the door, offering her a gloved hand as she steps out, "Thank you," she says to the man, "I won't be long."

He eyes her warily, "I could accompany you if you'd like Ms. Nightingale." That just won't do. She knows he means well but Soarynn has a plan and she's sticking to it. "No need to worry about me," she assures him, "I'll be back soon." The driver doesn't look too convinced but he doesn't push it and gets back into the car. Soarynn disappears down the tree-lined path toward the other side of the Cemetery, walking past her parent's graves at a swift pace.

She'll pay them a visit later.

She finally sets her sights on what she came here for.

Livia Snow's grave.

It's just her luck that the groundskeeper is walking out of the mausoleum. Coriolanus told her that he had people clean it every week to keep it in perfect condition. Although they never truly loved each other, Livia was the mother of his children, and he'd be a fool to disrespect the dead.

Soarynn quietly approaches the large stone building, watching the groundskeeper sweep the pathway leading up to the doors that she's never entered. He perks up when he notices her, wrapped in her coat, probably a manic look in her eyes as well. "Good...good evening Ms. Nightingale," the older man says, bowing his head. Ever since she started courting Coriolanus, Soarynn's name has become well-known in the Capitol.

She's reached celebrity status and she doesn't always know how to feel about it. But tonight, she'll use it to her advantage.

"Good evening," she replies, "I don't mean to be a bother, but I was hoping to maybe have a moment alone," she nods towards the mausoleum and his eyes follow her gaze. "Oh, oh I see. The Snows are quite particular about who's allowed inside ma'am," he tells her, "only immediate family is allowed."

Soarynn wants to tell him that the entire reason she's here in the first place is because she's about to become immediate family but she withholds that information, "I understand, I'll let Coriolanus know that I wasn't allowed inside," she says with a feigned disappointed sigh. The man quickly perks up at the mention of the President, "Well you might as well go in," he says, digging into his pockets and pulling out a ring of keys, "I wouldn't want to let President Snow down."

Neither would I, she thinks to herself while he unlocks the doors that open with a heavy groan. She slowly steps inside, it's quite dark except for the small lantern above her. Soarynn sets her eyes on the casket at the very back of the building, made of dark wood with roses engraved into it. Her breaths grow shaky as she walks further inside, looking around at all the things that have been left inside as tribute.

There's a vase of roses, and she also sees several cards with children's handwriting and even a stuffed bear sitting against the steps leading up to Livia's casket. Soarynn stops when her heels touch the first step and she crouches down to pick up one of the cards. From what she can tell, it's Ceraphina's handwriting. There's a drawing on the front of the card of the entire family, it's so sweet and heartbreaking at the same time. Soarynn opens the card and her eyes immediately fill with tears.

'I miss you Mommy'

Soarynn carefully sets the card back down and makes her way up the three marble steps, resting her hand on the smooth wooden top of the casket. If she were to push it off, she'd come face-to-face with Livia Snow. Windows let in the pale moonlight and Soarynn notices a framed photograph on the windowsill directly in front of the casket, a photograph of Livia and Coriolanus on their wedding day. Neither of them is smiling but it reminds Soarynn why she came here in the first place.

"I came here...I came here to talk to you," she says quietly, "I've been taking care of your children for quite some time now and there's not a day that goes by where they don't think of you."

Soarynn tries to blink away the tears but it's no use and they spill down her cheeks, "I love Coriolanus, I love him very much and I think he's going to ask me to marry him but I couldn't in good consciousness accept his proposal without coming to you first and telling you that I'll take care of your children. I'll love them like my own and protect them with my every being. And I'll...I'll make a good man out of him, out of Coriolanus. He's trying to be better, I can see it in the way he treats those around him, how he is with the children."

Is Livia Snow scowling down at her? Does she think of Soarynn as some lovesick fool? Or does she want Coriolanus to be happy again?

"I'll make him happy," she whispers, "and make sure that your children remain happy. No harm will befall them as long as I'm around, I promise."

Soarynn stands there for a few more minutes, sniffling while feeling sorry for herself. She highly doubts that Livia ever cried about an upcoming proposal but she lived such a different life than Soarynn, she married an entirely different man.

Soarynn finally gathers herself, wiping her tears and regaining her composure. "We will always keep you in our memories," she whispers before turning to walk down the steps.

Her heels echo on the marble floors and she feels a wave of relief wash over her when she steps out into the summer night. The groundskeeper gives her a curious look, "All is well Ms. Nightingale?"

Soarynn nods, already feeling much better now that she did what needed to be done, "All is well. Thank you for letting me visit."

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn stops at her parent's graves before leaving. Even in death, they're still together, and that brings her comfort knowing that not even death can keep love apart.

"It's been a while," she says, dusting off any leaves from the tops of their tombstones, "but so much has happened. I met someone, he makes me happy. He has three children, they're as sweet as can be. I think I'm going to marry him."

Saying those words out loud makes it feel very real all of a sudden.

After her father died, Soarynn learned that acceptance was the hardest part of grief. Accepting that nothing could be done differently was a hard thing to do, but it was all one could do.

"When I come back I'll bring my children," she tells her parents, kissing the tips of her fingers and touching both of their tombstones.

She means it too. She'll be back.

꧁ ꧂

The President's Mansion is silent when Soarynn returns.

Another car was already parked at the side entrance which means Coriolanus is already home. Soarynn makes her way upstairs, peeking into the children's bedrooms once more to make sure they're asleep. Caspian is curled up in his bed, Lenny wrapped in a tight grip as if he might try to slip away. The girls are both sound asleep under the canopy bed, their new nightlight shining stars onto the ceiling for them while they dream sweet dreams.

Soarynn quietly closes the doors with a soft smile on her face, a day will come when they don't sleep in the same room anymore or require bedtime stories and she's not sure that she's ready for that day yet.

When Soarynn walks into her own bedroom she finds Petunia sitting at the foot of the bed, a black sock in her mouth which means she stole it from Coriolanus. He hadn't been exactly thrilled when Petunia started sleeping in their room but Soarynn argued that if the cat couldn't stay, then neither could she.

The two had since grown a small rivalry between each other. Petunia would steal his socks and neckties and Coriolanus would steal Soarynn and her attention that was usually given to Petunia.

Heaven forbid they get a dog.

Soarynn chuckles softly as she approaches Petunia and gently reaches out to pull the sock from her mouth, “You have more toys than you know what to do with and yet you insist on taking Coryo’s socks,” Soarynn says with a shake of her head.

Petunia doesn’t seem bothered by this issue that has constantly been brought up since she was moved to this bedroom but she does let go of the sock which is progress. Sometimes it’s a bit of a battle to get her to release the socks and it often ends in both parties feeling very offended.

Soarynn doesn’t hear the shower running which means Coriolanus is probably finishing up, ready for bed which sounds wonderful right now. All she wants to do is curl up in bed with the man she's been falling in love with over the past few months.

What could be better than that?

She expects to find him hunched over the sink when she walks into the bathroom, brushing his teeth or washing his face. Although Coriolanus is as masculine as they come, he's quite rigorous with his nightly routines, ensuring that his skin is properly taken care of.

But the bathroom is empty.

The closet doors are open and Soarynn slowly approaches them, slightly stunned to find Coriolanus sitting on the bench they have in the closet right in front of the of the table. It's usually used for Soarynn to sit on when she puts her shoes on in the morning but today it's being used by Coriolanus who's holding a single white rose in his hand. Soarynn glances at the table and finds a whole bouquet sitting there for her accompanied by a card.

She didn't even notice the gift when she came to get her coat.

Coriolanus has already shed his outer layers, leaving him in a white button-up shirt and black pants which he manages to look like peak fashion. He finally looks up at her and Soarynn feels caught even though she's done nothing wrong. He looks tired, he looks like he expected her to be waiting for him when he got back and she usually is.

But not tonight. The roles have been reversed.

"Hi," she says softly, "how was dinner?"

From what Coriolanus has told her, the dinners he attends are often business-related and very boring. She still asks about them even though he rarely goes into detail about what was discussed. He gives her a look, a condescending, sharp look as if she's greatly disappointed him, "Dinner was good," he answers curtly, twisting the rose in between his fingers, "I kept thinking about coming home to you, so imagine my surprise when Eudora said that you stepped out."

Soarynn feels frozen, she feels caught, like she's done something wrong even though she hasn't. If only he knew what it's been like to live in her mind the past few hours.

"I just had to go do something," she starts but he holds his hand up, stopping her, silencing her, "You just had to go do something at ten o'clock at night?" He stands up slowly, letting the rose fall onto the floor and he takes a step towards her, Soarynn has always admired how big Coriolanus is but right now he's damn near frightening. He looms over her and looks down at her, his jaw tightening and his muscles tense, "Tell me Soarynn, do you take me for a fool?"

Soarynn is speechless. He hasn't even heard her out and he's already acting accusatory, "I don't take you for much of anything right now," she answers truthfully and it does nothing but upset him further but they can both be upset together as far as she's concerned.

"I don't speak about Livia often but she'd nev-"

Soarynn is turning on her heel before he can even finish that sentence before he can finish comparing her to his dead wife, "Well I'm not Livia," she calls back from the bathroom, "and I'm not running around behind your back being unfaithful either even though you certainly seem to have made up your mind already as to what I was doing before I got back." She watches him emerge from the closet through the mirror's reflection, he looks upset that she left him and more upset that he came home and she wasn't here to greet him.

But Soarynn is more than upset. She's pissed.

She finally turns back around to face him, some fire has been lit inside of her since visiting Livia's grave and it's about time she set some rules around here if she's going to marry this man who drives her mad. "And I will not tolerate you walking all over me," she tells him matter-of-factly, taking slow steps towards him, "I will not allow you to accuse me of being unfaithful when I have been nothing of the sort. Or do you want to revisit the last time you accused me of such things?" She asks, tilting her head up at him while they both remember how he fired her without so much as hearing her out after Festus came onto her.

A painful memory for both of them but for very different reasons.

Coriolanus is on the losing side of this battle and he's slowly realizing it but he's stubborn and arrogant at times so he won't just back down. He's not built like that, wasn't raised like that.

"Then where were you?" He asks, his hand coming up to grip her jaw, forcing her to maintain eye contact with him. Soarynn gives him a defiant look, "I was paying my respects," she tells him, "at the Cemetery." A confused look washes over his face, she's sure that he imagined the worst, her tangled up in bed with another man. Not running around the Cemetery in the middle of the night.

"The Cemetery," he repeats but this time there's no bitterness in his tone, no venom or malice. Just confusion. Soarynn nods to the best of her ability with him holding her face in his large hand, "It was long overdue and I needed to make peace with some things before I..." Her voice trails off because she can't tell him that she knows, that she's put the pieces together, "Before I fully committed myself to you," she finishes.

There, that wasn't so hard.

Coriolanus still looks confused, vexed by her wording and Soarynn places a hand on his chest, "You can ask my driver if you want," she says slowly, "he'll tell you the same thing I did."

That jolts Coriolanus out of his confusion and he clears his throat, quickly shaking his head and releasing her jaw, "I believe you," he tells her, "and you're right, you're nothing like Livia and I would do well to remember that."

Soarynn hums in agreement, she knows it'll take him some time to unlearn old habits but she's more than willing to be a patient teacher, "Yes you would. I much prefer us when we don't argue." Coriolanus lets out a breathy laugh, carding his fingers through his messy curls, unruly after a long day of work, "I do as well," he admits, "I was just, I expected you to be here when I got back so when you weren't I..."

"You thought the worst," Soarynn finishes for him, slipping her hand into his, intertwining their fingers, "and I understand why you would start to worry but in the future, talk to me before accusing me alright?"

A remorseful look grows across his handsome features, he looks so very sorry for how he just treated her, "I will, and I'm sorry," he tells her, bringing their intertwined hands up to his mouth so he can kiss the back of her hand, "I trust you Soarynn. I don't want you to think that I don't."

Soarynn could always chew him out just a little longer, just for the fun of it but she's not a masochist. And she doesn't enjoy seeing others at their lowest. "I trust you too," she says, pushing herself to her toes to press a kiss to his cheek which feels a bit rough, "and I think you need to shave."

They both laugh at her comment, Coriolanus always shaves his face at night and Soarynn appreciates a clean-shaven face compared to a rough one. The girls do as well, whenever they give Coriolanus a kiss on the cheek they make sure to let him know if he needs to grab a fresh razor blade.

"Then why don't you help me," he offers, pulling them towards the counter.

Soarynn can't hide her look of surprise, she's seen him shave before but she's never helped him do it, only watched while she did her own thing. "Are you sure?" She asks while he pulls open one of the drawers on his side of the counter, she wouldn't want to accidentally cut his handsome face.

"Of course," he says, brandishing a razor along with a bottle of what must be shaving cream, "I trust you."

Soarynn's not sure that she trusts herself with a job like this but she still shrugs off her coat and slips out of her heels, leaving her in the dress she wore today.

She leans against the counter, admiring their shared bathroom space. Before she moved in with him, this bathroom was sparse. The countertops had nothing on them aside from a bottle of cologne or a box of tissues. Now that Soarynn lives here, there are lots of feminine products for her face and hair. She has a small makeup organizer that sits on top of the counter, it has roses painted on the side of it and it holds her favorite makeup products. There's also a photo of Soarynn with the children from one of their many visits to the museum.

She likes to look at it while she does her hair. The bathroom is huge to put it plainly and Soarynn has more than enough to fill it up. There's also a built-in vanity by the shower where she often does her makeup if she doesn't feel like standing at the counter. A small vase of roses sits on the vanity counter, always fresh from Coriolanus who insists that she's as pretty as a rose.

"If I nick you then you'll only have yourself to blame," she tells him as he comes over to her side of the counter with his tools in hand. Coriolanus shrugs, "That's a risk I'm willing to take if it means you'll kiss me on the cheek more often, now hop onto the counter darling."

Soarynn eyes the counter warily, she's never sat on it before and she doesn't doubt its ability to hold her up but she does doubt her ability to keep her dress from getting shaving cream on it. "Let me take my dress off first," she murmurs, reaching behind her to pull down the zipper. She slips out of her dress without even thinking about how sensual it might look to Coriolanus who is a man who often thinks with what's between his legs rather than his head.

In only her bralette and underwear, Soarynn hops onto the counter, her legs dangling off the edge, "Where do I start?" She asks, ignoring Coriolanus and his slacked jaw while he shamelessly eyes her almost naked body, "I don't think you're finished," he teases, going to pull the strap to her bralette off of her shoulder but Soarynn slaps his hand away, "Behave yourself," she chides, "and hand me the razor."

Coriolanus does as he's told but begins unbuttoning his shirt, baring his chest to her which does unspeakable things to the mind that Soarynn desperately tries to keep pure. He smirks at how he's affected her by simply taking off his shirt and leans down to press a kiss to her lips, "Now we're even," he murmurs while kissing her. Soarynn sighs into the kiss, shaving long forgotten once his hands wrap around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Even on the counter she's still shorter than him but she doesn't mind, especially when his hands slide down to her ass, making her whimper, "We need to focus," she says between kisses.

Coriolanus groans when her own hands come to rest on his belt, tugging at the buckle, "Focus on what?" Soarynn giggles into the kiss, over the past few months they've gotten to know every inch of each other, including their most intimate areas. Coriolanus is a man who gets off on watching his partner being pleasured which is great for Soarynn who loves when he goes down on her. He'll often wake her up by slipping under the covers and prying her legs open, pleasuring her until she cums.

"On shaving," she reminds him, finally getting his belt unbuckled and tossing it onto the floor. When it comes to shaving, both of them run a tight ship. Soarynn has always preferred to be as hairless as possible but she was pleasantly surprised when she found that Coriolanus felt the same way about himself. There was just something about a man who wasn't afraid to shave.

Her hand slips under the waistband of his pants and her fingers graze over the growing boner straining in his boxers, feeling his shudder against his touch, "You know," she says, "it's a shame that we're so traditional, waiting for marriage and all that." She palms him with her hand and he gasps into the kiss, "Yes," he grits out, "it's a real shame."

Soarynn would be lying if she said that she hadn't thought about it before, thought about Coriolanus fully taking her and making her his. But all good things come to those who wait. And Soarynn can be very patient.

꧁ ꧂

It amazes Soarynn how two people can go from being super sexual to tenderly intimate within a matter of minutes.

With the warm shower water running over her skin, she feels perfectly content with his large hands on her hips, his lips gently kissing up and down her neck while they shower off their sexual encounter from minutes before. She lets out a content sigh when his hand lays flat against her stomach and imagines what it would be like to carry a child for him, to have a baby bump and feel their child kicking against his hand.

"What're you thinking about?"

Soarynn opens her eyes, remembering where she is and who she's with, a man who is not yet her husband. "The future," she says, not entirely a lie. She's been thinking about the future a lot lately, what it holds for her, for the family that might be hers someday.

Coriolanus kisses the back of her shoulder before gently spinning her around so that the warm water runs down her back now, "The future hmm? What about the future?" Her breath catches in her throat, it makes her nervous to speak it out loud because then it might not come true.

"I just feel as though something wonderful might happen," she says, lifting her feet off the ground when he wraps his arms around her waist, spinning them around because he knows how much she loves it. His eyes twinkle with amusement and adoration, "Would it be so bad if something wonderful did happen?"

Soarynn wonders if Coriolanus can feel how fast her heart is beating from his question. They're literally chest to chest tight now, nothing between them, "No," she answers softly, "I'd like it very much for something wonderful to happen to us."

He smiles at her use of the word 'us' something she's been doing more often whether she realizes it or not. It's hard not to when she already sees them as an inseparable pair, especially with the children being so on board with their relationship.

"Me too."

She bites her bottom lip, debating on whether or not she should utter those three words that she's never said before in this context.

But after today, after their honesty and her visit to the Cemetery, she feels brave enough to say it.

"I love you."

Coriolanus goes through a range of emotions in about five seconds. From surprise to bewilderment to realization and back to adoration all within the blink of an eye. She wonders if she said it too soon, if she should quickly add that she was joking, just testing the waters.

One of his hands comes up to gently hold her face, holding her as if she's made of priceless glass, so fragile and easy to break. She used to be like that, but not anymore. She's stronger now, better, more determined.

"I love you too."

Soarynn breaks into the biggest smile she's ever worn. She's never felt this way about someone before and she doesn't think Coriolanus has either. They're still learning, still growing as people, as individuals. But she's happy to grow with him, safely by his side, loved and cherished.

Soarynn knows a lot of things but she knows one thing for absolute certain.

She's going to marry this man.

| Part 11. |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

{ Part 12. }

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@lovelylove268 @strawberriicakes @kickmybark @villiansarehottest @wonderlandbound111 @melodyoflovee @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead

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lets-try-some-writing · 1 year ago

Text

Death and Taxes

The Thirteenth is death, he is its herald and its warden. He is a divine being greater than any mortal with a purpose so specific that no other could fulfill it. He only took on a mortal frame for the sake of searching for a potential living Prime to set things straight. He was not at all prepared for the mess that is being a mortal.

In light of his oddities, mecha who work in customer service across Kaon both fear and adore him.

Previous part here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Death, or rather Orion Pax, was not unfamiliar with mortal customs. He had seen enough in his long eternities within the void to have a basic understanding of how mortals worked. Combined with Alpha Trion and Ratchet's dutiful teachings, things made even more sense for him. But of course, there are simply some things one must experience to really comprehend. One of those things was bureaucracy and domestic affairs.

While serving under Alpha Trion, Orion had no need to bother with things such as buying his own energon, dealing with housing, or otherwise interacting with mecha aside from Ratchet on a regular basis. Alpha Trion took care of anything that required serious interaction and the Archives were always stocked with enough to get by. When not wandering the void, Orion resided with datapads in a small dark corner with a singular pillow and that was all he needed. There was no interaction and no bothersome affairs. If he needed something, it was provided.

That all changed when he finally found someone worthy of the Matrix.

Megatronus was most certainly worthy, but he resided all the way in Kaon. That was initially not an issue for Orion since he would leave for extended periods of time anyway and return to the archives as needed to collect data or otherwise restock on supplies. However after he began to bend the rules a little too much in the optics of his fellow Primes, he had to become more... conservative with how he used his abilities. No longer could he travel between the archives and Kaon every half a groon to get something or other. Now his trips needed to be with purpose and taken with greater care. Not to mention he could not longer leech off Alpha Trion on a regular basis, not when he spent much of his time so far from archives.

The issue was small at first for Orion as he brought a stock of energon and shanix with him down to Kaon in order to get by. He hung around in the pits largely loitering in corners when he wasn't conversing with his chosen Champion. However that quickly grew to be highly suspicious as other gladiators glared and those in charge of the pits started to take notice of him. Megatronus even reached out in concern, wondering if he was alright and if he needed somewhere to recharge. It was at that point that Orion realized he needed to get a proper base of operations down in Kaon if he was to continue operating and going back to the archives in a timely manner. He wasn't supposed to be drawing any serious attention.

And so after contacting Ratchet, Orion went hab hunting. According to what he read in the archives and online, it should have been an easy task. He had the required rank to get a reasonable residence, and Ratchet dealt with all the actual talking, yet Orion found himself struggling to find a place he actually liked.

Ratchet: What about this one? It has a sizable living space and a nice patio.

Orion: No, it is too bright for the void that I am fond of to pierce the veil of this reality.

Ratchet: That's fair enough. I like it a bit darker too. How about this one then? Its a bit quaint but its less bright.

Orion: The sounds from the railway will drown out the calls of the lost. My duty will be left unfulfilled. It is insufficient.

Ratchet: Alright, I understand. Then this one seems better, right? Its quiet, away from the most obnoxious lights, and is within a compound for Iaconian citizens.

Orion: My spark will weaken surrounded by those who serve the corrupt. Their sins will weigh heavy on my mind.

Ratchet: Well then what do YOU have in mind?

Orion: This one is far from the obstructions of mortal make. I will be able to see through the veil without difficulty and none shall break me from my reverie.

Ratchet: ...

Orion: ...

Ratchet: Its on the outskirts of Kaon. That's bad territory Orion. Gangs and all sorts of other unsavory types tend to live out in the boondocks.

Orion: They shall not touch me. I shall ensure it.

Ratchet: ... I believe you.

Eventually, against Ratchet's warnings and Alpha Trion's questioning, Orion moved to the outskirts of Kaon with his singular box of belongings. His hab was in the most seedy part of Kaon that was still within walking distance of the arenas. Ratchet was not at all pleased, especially once he noticed the shady individuals who lived in the area. Of course Ratchet was far less concerned for his friend and more worried about those who would be interacting with him. But Orion was totally unconcerned as he marched right into his hab without greeting anyone, put down his singular box of things, and set up a desk by the window so that he could work for the archives from a distance.

Ratchet was left to become more and more concerned as Orion proceeded to put his small collection of datapads on his desk and sit down, the rest of his hab completely empty. It took quite a while for the medic to explain to Orion that he needed to have something decorative in his hab to not be seen as unusual. And thus within the next few cycles, a small gathering was hosted at Orion's new residence where a few associates gave him things to decorate his hab with and offered to help him set it up. Ratchet ended up giving Orion a small blaster and assisting him in painting every single wall various shades of black, blue, and purple, all in dark varieties. Megatronus dropped by for a little while with a set of officers at his sides to ensure he didn't run off and he then proceeded to pass Orion a bottle of high grade before leaving. Soundwave also made an appearance before leaving, but it was a quick in and out situation where he handed Orion some Shanix with a card attached that said to buy what he wanted.

That was Orion's house warming party of a sorts, and so after a rundown of how normal mecha function from Ratchet, Orion was left to his own devices. It did not take long at all for him to garner a reputation. Most of his cycles consisted of spending the early groons doing work for the archives, namely handling files from a distance and digitizing texts from nearby and far smaller archives. Afterwards he would proceed straight to the arena to speak with Megatronus in an attempt to not bend the rules and possibly be left with a greater punishment. This alone was fine. It was when he deviated from his normal routine that his reputation formed and was reiterated.

Orion did not generally need to consume energon. In fact it was more unsettling when he did consume it due to how half of it bled out from his plating throughout the course of the cycle. Despite that, Ratchet told Orion again and again that normal mecha consumed some energon and kept a stock of it. Thus Orion was forced to go to the store and buy some semi-regularly. The first time he did so at the local store, he stared the cashier down in total silence until his groceries were scanned and he paid. The cashier was scared stiff but ultimately waved it off, thinking Orion a one time costumer. The cashier was wrong.

Once a deca-cycle on the dot, Orion would return to the store to buy the exact same thing, over and over again. Not a word would be exchanged, but Orion had a tendency to overpay and not a spark was willing to try and give him his change with how... cold he was. He came in, bought his energon, and left without a word. What was at first unsettling came to be appreciated by the mecha working at the store. When Orion came in, other less civil customers left and Orion would stroll along the aisles without comment. It was a break for the overworked employees and his abundant overpaying was a welcome reward for their efforts. It reached the point of becoming a ritual of sorts, one where Orion came by on one appointed cycle once a deca-cycle. All employees would fall silent and relax as Orion would spent exactly half a groon wandering and taking his time observing before buying the same thing he always did. Then he would quietly ring up his items and the employees would have a silent battle over who got to be the one to serve him. The winner promptly assisted him and in return received the extra Shanix that came from Orion's overpaying habit.

The employees did not ever dare comment on the fact that Orion looked like he crawled out of some pit and simply never returned. New employees were all trained in the delicate art of being respectful of the favored customer from Iacon and not a spark dared to interrupt his routine. The singular mech who tried to ask Orion if he needed help received a frigid gaze and a quiet but terrifying answer.

Employee: Sir, can I help you? You seem to be a little lost.

Employee 2: NO! You idiot! Leave Mr. Pax alone!

Orion: I require no aid from that which will wither and die. The offer is quaint and appreciated, but useless.

Employee: Y-Yes Sir. Please continue what you were doing.

Employee 2: You glitch, you've ruined his routine.

Nothing particularly bad happened when Orion's routine was messed with, but there was always an aura of potential danger when it was. Not to mention he tended to not leave extra Shanix behind when he paid. The employees were totally unaware of the fact that their interactions with him merely made him more prone to focus and thus actually count out the correct amount of shanix to be given for his purchases. But of course they didn't know that and simply assumed he was an oddball who liked the quiet and paid generously to have it while shopping.

Orion's reputation at the store was unique, but it did not reach the legendary reputation he held amongst the neighborhood he moved into. Much like with his purchases of energon, Orion did not tend to do anything out of his hab very often. But there were instances where it was required, and from those experiences, Orion learned and was rewarded with wary gazes for it.

Once a stellar cycle Orion was required to take his trash out to the incinerators since he had not paid for any sort of garbage disposal services. This was not a hard task for a mech who produced little waste and who had strength that exceeded the normal bounds of mortality. But of course initially his newfound neighbors found themselves eager to scout him out and see if he was a viable target. Gang members were sent to watch him and talk to him if possible to assess the danger he posed. All returned to their organization with the same consensus.

Orion Pax was not to be touched.

The first few times he was observed, the information gleaned told his observers that he was a scrappy but well funded mech. A difficult target, but not impossible considering he lived alone and was an archivist. This led to his hab being broken into a handful of times before any sort of confrontation. Only instead of finding swaths of shanix or useful material, what greeted the invaders was a space straight out of a horror film. Orion's hab was pitch black, with all sorts of anatomy notes, drawings, and prints covering the walls like some sociopathic killer lived in the space. His space was frigid at all times and his few shelves were filled with datapads and each were labeled with the name of some important mech up on the political ladder. His ceiling was covered with strange murals that were hardly able to be processed but showed images of things not meant for mortals to see. And to top it all off, the further one went into his hab, the more empty it became. Only his living room had furniture in it. Every other room was bare save for his berth which was a single slab of metal and stacks of energon cubes all around. It was terrifying, especially when the invaders noted the many various drawings of mecha and the weapons laying around.

The singular time one of the local gang members tried to bother Orion and shank him for some cash, it ended horribly. Orion turned toward his would-be-attacker and proceeded to shift before his very optics. Wings made of blades sprouted from his back, optics formed where there shouldn't be any, and his limbs grew longer, sharper, and unnaturally spindly. The air chilled but Orion did not move. This was the story told by the one who claimed to have tried to rob Orion, and despite not having any additional witnesses, not a spark dared to claim it was lies. Orion was a cryptid and it would not surprise any of the local gang members if he really was a monster from the pits or a shapeshifter enjoying screwing with them.

He was in their minds, an aspiring serial killer. Thus his danger level skyrocketed and rumors spread of the strange rich mech who lived in the hab a short walk away from the store. What frightened Orion's observers even more was the simple fact that his lights were never on, not once did he turn them on. That only served to emphasize his terrifying optics and partially exposed spark chamber whenever he at by the window late at night, watching, staring, never moving. They thought he was vetting out potential targets, totally unaware of the fact that Orion was merely trying to learn to be more normal. In light of this, he took in the fearful and aggressive behavior of his peers and thought that was the correct manner in which to act. He prowled around as they did when near his hab or travelling through Kaon, his field was always held like a shield, and he stared down anyone who dared come too close. He held no anger toward anyone, but he was almost certain what he was doing was normal.

It was not, and his habit of picking up behaviors only gave him an even more startling reputation when he observed a drug deal happening from his window. Orion did not order things too often, but when he did he paid the delivery mech and went on his way. But as he watched the drug deal go down, unaware of its nature, he saw how it worked and mimicked the behavior. Those involved in the deal gave copious amounts of shanix or interesting objects to one another in exchange for the offered goods. Not knowing any better, Orion was quick to pick up the habit when he ordered things.

His orders only came a few times a stellar cycle, but when they did, delivery mecha all across Kaon rushed to answer the call. To them, Orion Pax was both the most terrifying mech on the planet, and also the best paying one. Much like the employees at the store, they uttered not a word when they came with his packages, but each bore their determination and prayed to Primus as the door unlocked and the terror within accepted the package. It was a ritual, or rather a rite of passage for delivery mecha. Those who could withstand the terror Orion posed were truly devoted to their craft, especially since they had to maintain a straight face. It was the ultimate test of will, and it was one even veteran delivery mecha who were accustomed to gang wars and drug deals struggled to withstand.

Orion never hurt any of them, but he learned from what he saw, and based on what he saw, he needed to show his aggression to a degree when receiving anything and be as suspicious as possible. Thus when delivery mecha arrived at his door, he held the door open just wide enough to stick out an arm and that was it. His field was constantly held at an uncomfortable wavelength and he stared down whoever was outside his door in total silence. The ritual was simple for delivery mecha with enough skill and will to withstand the fear. They would knock three times, one after the other before stepping back to a comfortable distance. They would keep their gazes low and wait for the click of the door and the chill of frigid air to touch their plating through the crack in Orion's door. At that point they would offer the package and papers for Orion to sign and the door would close for exactly a klik. If the delivery mech didn't pass out, they would swiftly be returned signed papers and anything from straight shanix to objects of increadible value before the door would shut, the ritual complete.

Mech-animals avoided Orion's hab like the plague, neighbors feared him and never met his gaze, those who worked at placed he frequented both loved and were terrified of him, and amongst mail mecha he was a cryptid of untold power. None bothered him, none questioned him. They simply watched him go from his hab to the arena, all wondering what he was. He was the rich archivist from Iacon and that was all that needed to be said. Despite that, there were still rumors, none of which ever reached Orion's audials despite his ability to walk the void.

The most prolific rumors were popular enough to reach Megatronus and Ratchet, both of which nearly died of laughter upon hearing them. Evidently Orion was either a cryptid who served the Unmaker, a rogue experiment, a ghoul, a sparkeater, or most hilariously, a servant of the council come to put fear into the sparks of the locals. Neither Ratchet nor Megatronus ever saw fit to tell their odd companion of the fearful reputation he garnered. It was more hilarious watching him roll with it without even knowing he was playing into the stories weaved about him

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #orion pax #megatronus #ratchet #death's embrace au #cosmic horror lives in your neighborhood #what to do what to do #the answer for Kaoni mecha?#Leave it alone #the thirteenth prime #shenanigans #yup #there is an ancient old one living across the road #but dont worry about him #if you dont look at him he wont kill you #praise be to the delivery mecha who put their lives on the line to receive his blessing

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literary-motif · 2 months ago

Text

Act I — The Proposal

Scene ii — The Funeral

previous scene // overview // read on ao3 // next scene

Warnings: (brief) suicidal ideation, implied alcoholism, talk of smoking

The procession was bleak. Whatever grim truth people tried to hide behind flowers, making beauty blossom over the graves of the people they had lost felt like sacrilege as Asirel walked through the graveyard. His mother’s suit looked even blacker than on the day he died, his sister’s white hair ruffled by the wind seemed like snow in the corner of his eye.

He hated this. Every step pierced his heart, every sniffle from his mother, every wet sigh from his sister. He hated this.

What right did the flowers have to bloom in a place that should be filled with tar, where the sun should never again dare to show itself because it was proof that the world kept going while they were no longer there? What right did the white marble of his headstone have to catch the sunlight, shining as an insufficient monument for the final resting place of his father?

Why was saying goodbye so hard?

Asirel felt his knees buckle as he approached the grave. The earth was strangely damp in his shaking hand. What right did he have to be gone? What right did he have to leave him to shoulder his legacy, and pick up the pieces he had left behind when he died in that hospital bed?

What right did he have to dive into eternal rest and not take Asirel with him? What right did he have to be released from this waking nightmare of living? What right?

He promised himself that he would not cry. After the experience in the hospital, he could no longer shake the responsibility, feeling it brought down on him like a collapsing building. He would not let his little sister carry this crushing weight, shielding his mother in her grief as he did what he was supposed to do, did what was expected of him. Demanded.

He did his duty, numbing his heart with a shimmer of ice.

He swore to himself he would not cry, but he came dangerously close to breaking his word as he stood before the coffin, raised hand still clutching the earth as if it was the only thing holding him together.

The dark wood of the coffin was polished, its shine already partly hidden by the earth his mother had thrown on it. The white roses in the grave felt like a mockery, a symbol of innocence in the ground where the vilest truth of all lurked. Death.

He was sure the image would be engraved in his mind forever: his father’s mahogany coffin adorned with white roses, the petals sprinkled with dark, murky earth.

The ring burned cold on his finger as he opened his fist, feeling a part of himself missing as he looked at the earth falling into the hole that had been dug.

Ashes to ashes, he supposed. Dust to dust. Memento mori — he would celebrate the day the phrase was burned out of his memory.

Smoking was not a habit he had managed to pick up, it was not a vice that stuck to him. Still, he felt himself longing for a cigarette, wanting to lose himself in the taste of ash on his tongue as he exhaled a lungful of smoke that stole his breath. Alcohol was a twin vice he had cast out long ago, rejecting the oblivion a bottle of whiskey offered after one too many times of seeking refuge in it.

He hated being drunk, hated the feeling of control slipping through his fingers — but he hated the headstone in front of him even more.

The study — his study — had a cabinet filled with liquor his father used to indulge in when it all became too much. This was too much for him. He could indulge.

He would have to clear out the stash eventually, but the thought of changing anything made him want to disappear into a hole right next to his father.

Why did you have to do this to me? He hoped his father — or whatever God or weaver of fate twisted the fragile red strings of a life in the universe — was listening somewhere, and had the compassion to feel remorse for what they had done to him. Why, why, why. How dare you leave me when I still need you? How dare you leave me alone when I still need you!

Asirel stepped back in line, empty accusations swirling in his mind as he watched his little sister step forward, her lower lip wobbling uncontrollably as she took a handful of earth.

His thoughts swallowed the words of the undertaker — ‘and we shall miss this great man. His journey ends here only in body’ — breaking his heart apart piece by piece at the reminder that he was dead, damnit. Dead. Dead. Your father is dead. Gone forever. Dead. Dead! And suddenly his eyes filled with tears. He had to clench his fists and grit his teeth at the feeling of the silver ring on his finger. He blinked them away decidedly.

Not allowing a single tear to fall during his father’s funeral was the hardest thing he ever did.

Your steps through the arched gate of the graveyard were measured and precise. They never faltered, did not slow as you looked at the graves around you. You kept your eyes straight ahead, looking at the row of benches near the chapel as you passed under the line of trees framing the stone plastered road leading towards it. Their leaves rustled in the wind, branches reaching towards the sky as if they wanted to tear down the heavens.

The mass of black before you slowly separated into people the nearer you came. With their backs towards the chapel, you were sure they saw your swift approach.

The Cain family — what remained of it — sat bundled together on a bench, talking quietly. A few friends and acquaintances of the departed lingered nearby, engrossed in their own conversations or taking their leave. Your gaze swept over them — the guilt at having missed your friend’s funeral pushed to the back of your mind — recognizing a few business partners Mr. Cain had introduced you to, quizzically eyeing some others.

“Your new boss is here,” Asirel’s sister said, not raising her head from where it rested on his shoulder, her soft hair tickling his chin. Her voice was raspy, despite her best attempt to sound lighthearted.

His head snapped up immediately, watching your brisk approach. “‘My boss,’” he echoed with a scoff, smoothing down her hair. “I’m my own boss. They’re just,” he trailed off, trying to find the words as he took in your straight back, cold eyes and determined step.

The coat you had worn on that night made your elegance as apparent as it had been in the muted gold of Switzerland. Your walk was precise, and he wondered faintly how someone could go from one place to another with the intent and purpose you seemed to pour into it. He was staring, he realized belatedly, only pulling himself together as you came to a halt in front of them.

Your gaze fluttered over all of them briefly, your eyes softening as you saw their sorrow. He had not taken you to be compassionate — a heart was a heavy burden in your line of work — so when you spoke with a gentleness he had not heard before, he found himself enraptured.

“Mrs. Cain,” you greeted, addressing the widow first. You did not know her well, but the way your late friend had talked about her with such a fond smile — one that was so rare on his lips, rarer still the adoration in his eyes when he had shown you the portrait of her he kept in his wallet — had instilled a deep affection for the stranger whom he had loved so dearly. You felt like you knew her, despite having met her only a few short times, crossing paths in the hallway. “I am terribly sorry for your loss.”

She nodded, looking at you closely as if trying to remember why you looked familiar. You gave her a sheepish smile in return, laced with sadness given the circumstances. You clenched your right hand subtly, thumb brushing along the edge of your silver ring. She followed the movement, her eyes lighting up in understanding.

The final puzzle piece fell into place, and her eyes filled with tears again. She smiled at you despite them. “The little apprentice,” she said wetly, wiping at her eyes. “It’s good to see you. He would have wanted you by his side even now, I’m sure.”

The little apprentice. He had not called you that to your face in years.

A surge of grief stabbed through your heart, and you cleared your throat, trying to ignore how it latched onto the regret of missing the procession, opening a well deep inside of you that made your chest feel constricted. It ached, burning sorrow cursing through you as you realized the nickname stuck in conversations with his wife. He had cared enough about you to talk of you to his wife.

“Thank you,” you bit out, clenching your jaw and keeping your eyes closed for a moment too long to regain control. You were here on business, as much as that hurt to remember when the earth on your friend’s grave was still fresh. Business first.

The world did not stop turning just because a man died, and you could not cease stringing it along just because you had lost a friend.

“I apologize for my disturbance, Mrs. Cain, Miss Cain” — his sister’s head raised slowly from Asirel’s shoulder, giving you a polite nod in greeting — “but I require a moment alone with Mr. Cain. I’m afraid it’s rather urgent.”

“Of course,” Asirel said, clearing his throat as he stood, brushing away residue of the trees from his black coat.

His sister raised a hand to her mouth, feigning a cough. “Not a boss my ass,” she said, smirking mischievously at the glare her brother shot her.

Thankfully you had not heard, already a few paces ahead to lead him to a more secluded area of the cemetery. Asirel followed dutifully until you came to a stop in front of a white mausoleum.

The structure was impressive despite the time having weathered it down. The once shining white stones were cream-colored, coated in black and green near the edges. The two columns by the front reminded him of those he saw in Rome, straight lines creating ridges on the surface while the top and bottom were decorated with what looked like winding branches of vine.

You stood beside the column, doing a double take on the sculptured vines near the bottom. “Look at that,” you said, smiling faintly. “I would say it is an Ionic Column but look at the capital.” You pointed upwards to the twisting vines, Asirel following your gaze. “And now look at the base.” You motioned to the ground and the lower piece of vines adorning the column. “It has no base at all. This is another capital. As above, so below. What an ingenious piece of architecture, and very fitting for its purpose.”

Asirel blinked, looking at the mausoleum closely. “They are not buried in the ground, though,” he said, motioning at the mausoleum. “They are entombed in the walls.”

You hummed in contemplation before you broke into a bashful smile. “Yes, very true,” you said, glancing at him. “Perhaps a representation of heaven and hell, then. Maybe someone thought that a particular soul would wind up in the ‘other place.’”

“The ‘other place’?”

“Where is Polonius?” you quoted. “In heaven. Send hither to see. If your messenger find him not there, seek him in the other place yourself. Don’t tell me you aren’t familiar with the tragedy in five acts?”

Asirel bit back a smile despite the grim circumstances.

He could feel the dirt on the sleeve of his right arm from when he had taken a handful of earth to throw into his father’s grave. He could still see the polished coffin when he closed his eyes, the white roses tainted. The sorrow of grief still burned in his chest, but as you talked about Roman columns and quoted Hamlet at him, he could not help but be a little lighter.

“I prefer the Scottish play, actually.”

You clicked your tongue, turning to face him properly. “Very wise of you not to speak the name,” you said, taking in his appearance properly.

His blond hair was carefully brushed back, sleek strands staying in place despite the faint wind whistling through the air. His eyes were faintly red, dark circles beneath them that made him look like he had not slept properly in days. You did not miss the silver ring on his finger, catching the sunlight faintly.

It reminded you of the business you had put off for long enough.

“Did you consider my proposal?”

“The Faustian Bargain, you mean?” he teased, only half joking as he looked at the peculiar columns again. “I have. Yes.”

He had made up his mind on the terrace, the very instant you had asked him, but he did not dare tell you that. His circumstances did not leave much choice. You were right. Allies were necessary, especially in a world with so many enemies, and especially with the large footsteps he had to fill in his father’s wake.

For all the magnitude with which he had shaped the world, Asirel resented him for not taking the time to prepare him better for the inevitability of him taking over his legacy. This was much too important, much too large an imprint on the world to stumble through the motions without proper comprehension. He needed the guiding hand like someone drowning in the ocean, and as you thrust yours in the water slowly pulling him down, he seized them with all his might.

There was too much on the line to be allowed a mistake, to fail.

This was his reason, this was his duty. This was what he had waited for all his life. This was his life — all of his ambitions and dreams to change the world within arms reach if he played his cards right, and his hand was much too good to flounder without understanding the rules of the game.

The few years of experience you had on him — not much, but enough to set him straight — were exactly what he needed. With you, he felt he could live up to his father’s legacy.

You hummed, glancing over his shoulder to observe Morley — his father’s secretary, Helen Morley — in conversationwith the undertaker. She had grown out her hair since the last time you saw her, the wavy blonde now reaching past her chin, pooling elegantly over her shoulders. She pushed up her glasses, the black frame making her face look sharper than the soft features warranted, and turned her head, feeling your eyes on her.

Your gazes met. She inclined her head in greeting, the dark red of her lipstick twisting upwards a little in a small smile. You nodded back, fixing your gaze on Asirel again, wondering faintly if he planned to keep her on. “And what conclusion have you come to?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said again, emphasizing the simple word that made relief flood your chest immediately.

“Ah,” you said eloquently, not managing to keep the smile from your face. The devastating circumstances of your agreement were not lost on you, but it felt like you had walked through the valley and were slowly embarking on the uphill climb out of it. “I’m glad to hear that. We are business partners then, I believe?” You held out a hand for him to shake.

Asirel laughed, catching himself off guard. He cleared his throat. “I think so, yes,” he said, taking your hand.

And just like that, his fate was sealed.

You lingered too long.

The mourners slowly streamed out — the Cain family arm in arm — leaving the hallowed ground behind to return to a home that was just a little emptier now. The crowd dispersed. You stayed, sure the graveyard was deserted safe for you and the countless dead buried in the earth, and the chosen few entombed in the walls of their crypts.

The closer you got to his grave, the more you feared the name you would read on the gray headstone. There was nobodyaround to see, and you allowed your steps to waver, hesitatingly approaching your friend’s final resting place.

You knew he was buried there. You knew he was dead, but reading the name for yourself would be indisputable proof of it. You dreaded the finality with which this last signature was left on a life. So you stalled.

“Yes?” The deep voice rumbled from the other end of the line. Had you not known him so well, you would have thought that you had woken him from sleep.

The grip on your phone tightened. “Vic,” you said, stepping up to the grave. Your gaze traced the letters of his name — what’s in a name? — the little pentagon engraved on top of it encompassing more of the person he was than a name ever could. “Go. We’re on.”

#a tragedy in five acts #asirel cain x reader #asirel cain

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garden-of-mancers · 3 months ago

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Hihihi! I wasn't sure who to come to for this info, and I couldn't find anything related to this, so if you don't have an answer/insufficient research or something like that, then feel free to ignore this! /gen/neu

What's the difference between a tulpamancy and imagimancy? Ty if you answer this ask! <333

No problem! Full disclosure: I have done more research into the Buddhist origins of tulpamancy, but I'm not Buddhist or a tulpamancer, so if I get any academic or cultural information wrong, I apologize.

So, tulpamancy has an origin in Buddhist spirituality, and the modern western "tulpamancy" you see on tumblr is a misappropriated version of it.

In Tibetan Buddhism, tulpamancy is the act of creating a thoughtform (tulpa) with the goal for it to become an autonomous person through developing independent thought, emotions, etc. These thoughtforms are also called "emanations" or "emanation bodies" depending on the Buddhist you're talking to. Most tulpas also break away from their creators once they reach autonomy, therefore completing a cycle or the exercise. I know it's originally supposed to be an exercise to teach the Buddhist student *something* about nirvana and being a living human, but I can't remember or figure out what the specific goal is, so I apologize if any part of this explanation is 'off.' I'm not Buddhist, so I encourage you to take my answer as a starting-off point to do your own research into the topic.

Here's a reddit post by a Tibetan Buddhist on tulpamancy, and here's another reddit thread with multiple insights on the purpose of tulpas.

Appropriated tulpamancy like you see on tumblr, where the tulpamancer is making more than one thoughtform, isn't working towards the goal of autonomy, or is utilizing manifestation techniques to create headmates or "friends" is not tulpamancy. It's thoughtformism--it's a completely different practice that is just using terminology from a different (religious and culturally charged) practice. It should not be practiced under the guise of tulpamancy. It's not cultural appropriation because you're white, (anyone can convert to Buddhism); it's cultural appropriation because you're using terms and ideas in a way completely divorced from the original (cultural, religious) context.

(This cultural shift didn't start on tumblr, by the way. Occultists and westerners were recontextualizing and appropriating tulpas long before people on tumblr did it.)

After a lot of POC and Buddhists criticized the tulpa community, a few secular thoughtformist communities have come up. Daemonism is one example, where the "lore" and framework around your thoughtform is based on the novel His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman. (Although, what I've seen in the community is that daemians can play pretty fast and loose with the rules and no one really minds it.) But a lot of thoughtformists I've seen on tumblr just seem to make a certain flavor of dude (like a servitor, egregore, godhead--all things I'm not yet familiar enough with to explain) without tulpamancy OR daemonism as a label (which is a good thing!).

Imagimancy is the latest thoughtformist community to come up, and in my perspective, it feels like a "configurable" experience in thoughtformism. There's no more religious or cultural context, there's no more lore from already-existing books or movies, there aren't even any occulty or mystical labels if you don't want there to be. It's just... imaginary friends, but taken seriously and refined into a practice or activity that "older kids" and adults can do in a fulfilling way. To me, imagimancy IS the closest thing to what appropriated "tulpamancers" wanted tulpamancy to be. There are no rules or restrictions. One of the co-coiners of the imagimancy term describes imagimancy as "not trying to reinvent or relabel things; just filling the gaps between [thoughtformist] communities," and I think that's the best explanation out there tbh.

This isn't a "tulpas dni" post or anything like that; I'm interested in everyone's experiences of thoughtformism, even if someone's vocabulary isn't the most culturally sensitive. But I am very much in the ballpark of "what you're doing isn't tulpamancy. Call it something else" as a person tbh.

#also this ask felt 90% like bait to get me to voice my stance on tulpas but if it wasn't i apologize lmao #imagimancy #thoughtforms #tulpamancy #ask #also sorry for the long ass explaination. thoughtforms are my special interest. what can i say?#long post

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jewish-vents · 5 months ago

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My Anti-Social Personality Disorder is helping me cope with the spike in antisemitism - I've been told I'm not a person, I don't have a soul, people like me shouldn't be allowed to have kids, I should be euthanized, everything someone with ASPD does is secretly evil or manipulative and every person who sucks secretly has ASPD, etc. - but it's not helping me with the one thing I need it to. I need to protect my great-grandmother, my only living relative, the one who raised me after my parents died, who fought tooth and nail to get me out of the foster care system. I need to shield her from all this bad news and make sure she doesn't realize how violent and dire things are. She always protected me. I have to do the same for her. I have to keep her happy for however long she has left on this Earth.

I love her more than anyone or anything in the world. I would take a bullet for her if I had to, but antisemitism is more like a sea of landmines that keep detonating all around us. I try to get out in front of everything. I buy her silky summer scarves because she loves them and they cover up her Magen David. Instead of going to the summer music festival here, which I know attracts a lot of country good ol' boy white supremacists on top of the left wing antisemites, I bought us tickets to a classical violinist she's a huge fan of. She asked about my girlfriend breaking up with me and instead of telling her about how antisemitic my ex is I blurted out a truth I've been hiding for years, which is that I'm asexual but not aromantic and that's made dating hard sometimes. I've sought out, downloaded and burned DVDs of all kinds of her favorite movies from the black and white era so she'll be distracted away from her time spent normally watching the news by that. In spite of my dyslexia, I've recommitted myself to learning Hebrew because she helps me and that pulls her attention off of the news and the realities I don't want her to face.

And yet it's not enough. More and more of the news of antisemitism rising around the world filters through to her. I'm doing everything I can but it's not enough. I am not enough. I am insufficient. ASPD comes with being acutely aware of your own high intelligence but what no one ever tells you is, to quote an anime I watched recently, "You can't recover from something you can't escape." There's too much for me to shield her from all of it.

I'm used to being treated as if my personhood is conditional and can be revoked at any moment. That's my whole life. That was not her whole life. She's a survivor of the Shoah. Her whole life has been spent seeing progress made in antisemitic attitudes in many countries after witnessing the worst it could get. My brain is uniquely (mal)adapted to process and disregard people's cruelty as normal. Hers is not. She expects people to have humanity. They don't. And I can't protect her from that. I can't save her. I can't keep this from creeping into her spectrum of awareness.

Sometimes I wonder why Hashem even bothered giving me heightened intelligence if I can't manage to use it correctly to help her. What is it good for? What is it worth?

Sometimes I think this must be a skill issue. If I just tried harder, surely, with my IQ, I could keep her safe and oblivious to everything. I need to be doing more. But what?

Sometimes I just look at goyim and - and I am aware this is not something you're supposed to admit to/is bad, I just don't care - I think, "I hope someday someone treats you exactly like you've treated others. I hope you get back exactly what you've put out into the world, and you get as little sympathy and help in that moment as my great-grandmother is getting right now."

I'm so sorry you're dealing with this. If you haven't already, I strongly recommend that you reach out to your local Jewish community. If you don't have one, or you for any reason don't feel comfortable with the local community, seek out community online.

There is only so long that you can shield your great-grandmother from the world. I understand the urge; we all have it, but no one has the power to keep their loved ones from ever being hurt.

What you can do is support her through the pain, and find other people who will help support her.

This will not be the first time your great-grandmother has experienced antisemitism. She may be better equipped to handle it than you fear.-🐞

#jewish vents #antisemitism #ableism #ASPD

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covid-safer-hotties · 4 months ago

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I loved my teaching career. COVID normalization stole it from me - Published Aug 23, 2024

It might not have been the most favourable, but one of the most memorable comments I ever received on a student evaluation was that I could be “a bit hard to follow, but that was more an example of [my] passion for this subject over anything.” That subject was creative writing. And yes, sometimes, I had difficulty tempering my excitement throughout a teaching career that has now been cut short.

I have – or had – been teaching as a contract or “sessional” creative-writing instructor. Given the competitiveness of the academic job market and my age (I was nearly 40 when I earned the requisite degree, though I had already published four books), I had come to accept that it was unlikely that I would ever have a faculty position. But I could live with that because I still had the rare privilege of making a (barely) livable wage doing something I was very passionate about.

The COVID-19 pandemic took that from me. Actually, that’s not quite right. It was the perceived “end” of the pandemic that really ruined my teaching career.

I am immunocompromised and rely on medication to manage an autoimmune disease. This means vaccine protection from the virus is probably less effective for me than for most people. Also, my particular illness – Crohn’s, an inflammatory bowel disease – has been shown to put me at significantly greater risk than most for long COVID: a potentially chronic condition that can be very debilitating. And despite how it may seem, COVID circulates widely much of the year: We are still in a pandemic.

When universities returned to in-person learning in early 2022, a brief letter from my specialist was all I needed – because of my medical condition – to continue teaching online. But all that changed about a year ago.

Ironically, it is now harder for me to receive accommodation to teach online even though there is less protection in the classroom against COVID. I cannot require masking, which is perhaps our best tool against transmission (particularly respirator-style masks such as N95s), in the classroom. Nor does one-way masking offer as much protection as universal masking. Also, current air filtration in classrooms is generally insufficient. In other words, classrooms are not safe and accessible workplaces for medically vulnerable people. But that’s certainly not how university administrators, and even those who were supposed to represent employees’ interests, perceive things these days.

Last year, trying to discourage me from requesting to teach online, a union rep told me that he “believed in in-person learning.” The most frustrating thing about this comment, and the widely held opinion it represents, is that I too very much miss teaching in person and would, if it were safe to do so. (That said, I believe I am every bit as effective a teacher online.)

On another occasion, a university administrator, after I had submitted my medical documentation, thought “the solution” was for me to co-teach the class so it could include an in-person component and, consequently, less pay for me. After a struggle that went on for months, I taught the class entirely online, but the accommodation agreement I had to sign stated I had “a medical condition that needs limited exposure to as many people as possible.” I nearly refused to put my name to this bizarre description of what is a prevalent disease, but it was too late to apply elsewhere.

It is clear it will only become increasingly difficult for me to teach online as time goes on. The back-and-forth with administrators, department heads and union reps, waiting to find out if I will or won’t be accommodated, and/or what new obstacles will be thrown at me – it has all caused me significant anxiety, which in turn has made it more difficult, ironically, to manage the symptoms of my illness.

I know that the people I have been sparring with are, for the most part, decent folks: They are just ill informed. But I can’t keep trying to do the job of a public-health official to ensure my own health. It’s quite literally making me sick. I’m done. I quit. I have to.

Disability activists have fought long and hard for workplace accessibility to be a right. But the culture has not caught up to understanding the particular accessibility needs of the immunocompromised.

I do not know how to go forward from here. Online courses, especially creative writing, are few and far between. I am looking for online work that utilizes my skills and education and/or that pays more than minimum wage. I have yet to find even an opening for anything like that. For now, I’m grieving: In many ways, it’s a full-time job.

The last time I taught in person was the year I graduated from my MFA program – just months before the pandemic began. After the semester had ended, a student asked if we could have a coffee together so that I could offer further guidance on revising a piece of writing that I had told him was of near-publishable quality. And I only say that to students when it’s true. He also, to my surprise, wanted to share a bit of his own constructive criticism for me – about how I could facilitate workshop discussion a little better. I chuckled at his audacity, though later, upon reflection, took his suggestion. But mostly we focused on his creative work.

As we were getting ready to go our separate ways, he mentioned, in passing, that he had a long drive home: 2½ hours. It has always stayed with me that a student was willing to spend five hours driving for a relatively brief chat over a coffee. Clearly, he thought I was a good teacher, but with more practice and experience, I could become – like a talented, but novice, student writer – an excellent one. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like I will get that chance.

#covid #mask up #pandemic #covid 19 #wear a mask #coronavirus #sars cov 2 #still coviding #public health #wear a respirator

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writerrinthedarksblog · 2 years ago

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You're okay | Pedro Pascal

TW: depression

Y/N pov:

These last few days have been hard. There's just so many things going on inside my head, I can barely focus on anything.

It's currently 7 pm here in New York and I swear I just want to scream. I'm supposed to memorize my lines for my upcoming movie that starts shooting in a few weeks but I simply can't. Everything is so messed up right now. My mind is driving me insane. I've been locked up in my apartment for 2 days by now, my phone was somewhere in my place but I didn't give a fuck about checking my messages or answering the calls. I just want myself back, I don't want to feel depressed again, I'm so freaking scared. I even lost my appetite because of how nauseous I've been feeling. Everything inside of me was hurting.

I've been struggling with my mental health since I was a teenager because of some bad traumas, but I haven't had a relapse for a long time. I really thought I was getting better, but I guess I'm not. All I can think about is how insufficient I feel. Why can't I just feel good for once?

I'm laying on the floor and July by Noah Cyrus was playing in the back. My head hurts because of all the stress and anxiety. I feel so mentally drained.

My self destructive mind is destroying me slowly. I feel like everyone is sick of me, why would they even like me if I'm such a mess? What would my boyfriend think of me? He's such a lovely, sweet person and here I am, a living disaster. I'm not good enough, how is he in love with me? Am I even a good actress? What if the people on the internet are right about me? I'm so sick of myself.

I started sobbing, trying to let go of my bottled up emotions. Why is everything so hard? I don't want to feel like this anymore.

Suddenly someone started knocking at my door and I panicked. I don't want anyone to see me this weak and vulnerable.

"Y/N, please open the door" Pedro said, "Amor please let me in" he said in a worried tone.

"I- I- I can't" I said with a broken voice.

"Baby what's going on?" he said with a sad tone

Pedro's pov:

I've been trying to reach my beloved girlfriend since yesterday, it's extremely rare of her to just go missing. I thought she was busy working on those lines she told me about, but this was getting very weird, so I decided to call her best friend Florence to ask her if she knows something.

"Hey Pedroouu, what's up?" Flo said in her british accent.

"Hii Flo, I was just wondering if you know something about Y/N, she hasn't been answering my calls or texts since yesterday and I'm getting very worried" I said.

"She didn't answer me either, I just hope she's not..." Flo said in a worried voice.

"She's not what?" I interrupted her.

"I don't know if she talked to you about this, but Y/N gets this depressive episodes sometimes and she gets to isolate herself as a coping mechanism because you know... it's hard. It's really weird though, it's been a while since the last one" Flo explained.

"She never told me about this" I said.

"Well, it's probably because she doesn't want to feel like a burden. You should go to her place, let her know that you're there for her. At the beginning of our friendship it was really hard for her to open up with me. She really hates showing her most vulnerable side to anyone, especially people she really cares about. I would visit her but I'm shooting in Scotland right now" Flo said.

"Oh and let me tell you Pascal, Y/N gets extremely sensitive when she's going though some deep shit so please be patient, and take her some sweets, it will help to lift up her mood" Flo told me.

"I'm heading out to her place now, thank you so much Flo, I'll let you know how she's doing" I said.

"Please take care of my best friend, byee" Flo said ending the call.

I ran out to buy some of Y/N favourite's sweets and some pink tulips before heading to her apartment, luckily she lives close to my place here in Manhattan so I didn't have to take the subway.

When I got to her door, I heard some music and loud sobs. It broke my heart. I started knocking at her door, but she didn't answer.

"Y/N, please open the door" I said extremely worried.

"Amor please let me in" I begged.

"I- I- I can't" she said with a broken voice.

"Baby what's going on?" I said.

"Please go away" she said sobbing.

"I'm not leaving you, Y/N. Please just open the door, I'm here for you" I said putting my forehead in her door.

A few seconds later, the music stopped and she opened the door. She was wearing a big Fleetwood Mac shirt that she probably stole from me, some shorts and her favourite avocado socks, looking like a homeless man as she would say... Her eyes were puffy and her cheeks and nose were a bit red from all the crying. The view broke my heart.

"Amor" I said in a low voice.

She broke down crying again covering her face with her hands. Immediately I left the grocery's bag on the small side table, to hug her right there. She just kept sobbing on my chest.

"Shhh, everything's okay, you're okay" I said trying to comfort her.

"I- I feel so drained and it's so overwhelming" she said crying.

"I know baby, I know. But I'm here for you and I promise that everything will get better, you will feel better" I said kissing her forehead.

I carried her to the couch and I sat her in my lap. She cuddled closer to my chest feeling a bit calmed. I caressed her face with my hands trying to clean the dry tears while she played with her fingers nervously. I left a kiss in her forehead and in the peck of her nose making her giggle.

I came close to her lips to finally kiss her gently, and when I felt her smile during it, I felt the happiest man alive. She's the most perfect girl I've ever seen. Even at her worst she has me mesmerized. I wish she could see herself from my eyes.

"Why are you staring? I know I look awful" She said.

"I'm admiring how gorgeous you are, mi vida. Thank you for being vulnerable with me, I know it's hard for you to let someone see you like this" I said.

"Thank you for being here for me even at my worst, it really means a lot" she said.

"I will always be here for you, amor. So don't try to push me away because I will always stay close to you, on your good days or bad days. I will never leave your side, Y/N. I love you so much and I really wish I could take all your pain away. You have the prettiest soul, and I wish you could see how everyone around you is completely mesmerised by you, especially me. You're like a ray of sunshine in a cloudy day". I told her.

"I know your mind can play you wrong sometimes, but I promise that you're worth of all the good things and I'm so lucky of calling you mine. Everything will get better baby and I will be here by your side, always." I said putting my forehead against hers, caressing her cheek.

"I love you so so much Pedro" she told me tearing up a bit.

"I love you more, mi vida" I said leaving a kiss on her lips.

"Do you wanna see what I brought you?" I said cleaning her tears with my hands.

"What is it?" She said smiling.

I stood up to get the sweets and flowers out of the bag. I walked to the couch and I saw the way her eyes glowed when she saw what I had in my hands.

"You didn't have to, they're beautiful" she said hugging me. I wrapped my arms around her waist.

"I will never lose a chance of spoiling my favourite person, you deserve so many beautiful things, te amo más de lo que puedes imaginar" I said.

She left a small and cute kiss on my lips, before saying that she loves me too.

We spent the rest of the night watching some funny videos on tik tok and eating the sweets, eventually Y/N started feeling a bit better. We even called Flo and she showed us how her precious dog Billie was wearing her wig from the movie she was filming, making us explode in laughs.

ok so I didn't know how to finish this... I hope it's finee. pls let me know if I wrote something wrong, english is not my first language and sometimes i get confused with the grammar. anygays enjoyyy💗

xoxo,

mills.

#pedro pascal #pedro x reader #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal imagine #joel x reader #joel miller #pascalispunk

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menlove · 10 months ago

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the thing abt HRT and gender affirming surgery is that like... yes many providers do provide incorrect/insufficient information. a lot of providers DO downplay the risks or don't mention all of them. ignoring this reality and pretending that everyone who starts HRT/gets gender affirming surgery is completely 100% informed doesn't do anyone any good

however

this problem is FAR from exclusive to gender affirming medical care. it is a GENERAL problem in ALL aspects of medical care, especially in the USA (and I'm sure elsewhere but I can only speak on our healthcare system as I haven't lived anywhere else)

like here's a couple examples.

when I was 8 years old, I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes by a nurse practitioner. she however prescribed me a type of insulin for type 2 diabetes and instructed me to take it once a day and only check my blood twice a day. this is completely incorrect, as type 1 diabetics need to take short acting insulin every time they eat and long acting insulin once or twice a day and check their blood sugars at MINIMUM 4 times a day. I almost died. I had to be hospitalized about a week later with insanely high blood sugars. this was grossly mishandled by that nurse practitioner who had no idea what she was doing & she could've killed a child. does that mean no one should have access to insulin? or that we should start scare mongering diabetics telling them their providers are trying to harm them?

another example! when I was 14, I was having an allergic reaction to a medication and had to go into the ER. they didn't read my chart to see that I had type 1 diabetes, did not check my blood glucose levels, and gave me a steroid shot. that shot spiked my blood sugar (which was already high) so high so fast that I passed out and nearly cracked my head on the floor. it turned what would've been a quick ER trip to an overnight fiasco. does that mean doctors should never ever give steroids as treatment for allergic reactions?

or far more general than me- how many times are people prescribed birth control without the side effects being fully described? how many people get gastric bypass surgery without fully understanding what they're doing to their bodies? how many people have debilitating chronic illnesses but have no clue how they're supposed to handle them bc no doctor ever bothered to educate them (as I see constantly with other diabetics)? how many people have 0 knowledge about their own reproductive systems or have their concerns about their reproductive systems completely ignored until it turns lethal?

the issue isn't gender affirming care. the issue is medical professionals who don't care enough about their patients to make sure they're fully informed and fully consenting, or even that they themselves know exactly what they're doing. it's overworked medical professionals who skip vital steps because they've been working 15 hours in a row. it's the disregard for the health of people assigned female at birth (& the disregard for the health of people assigned male at birth if they decide to pursue gender affirming care). it's the disregard for poor people, for people of color, for patients in general who tend to get viewed with disdain for not having medical degrees and asking questions

like yes it IS something we should be talking about. but focusing the conversation on "we have to ban gender affirming care!!!" instead of "the medical system needs to take better care of its patients" is just stupid

#long post #ughhh this argument just bothers me!

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ink-flavored · 19 days ago

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👋Were there any humans left behind on Earth, while the rest disappeared into the stars? What happened to them?

❌Does humanity have any sort of “Prime Directive” à la Star Trek – are there limits about what they can do when they discover a new planet (inhabited or not)? If not, why not?

⛳How many planet settlements do humans have across the galaxy? What’s the biggest non-Earth human stronghold?

Thank you!

I will answer these for my Space Cruise WIP!

👋Were there any humans left behind on Earth, while the rest disappeared into the stars? What happened to them?

I talked about this a little in a previous ask, but there are still humans on Earth! The space-faring humanity didn't abandon them, per se, but Earth definitely isn't the hub of human activity anymore.

It's the ancestral home of humanity, sure, and it's important from that angle. Some countries still govern themselves from Earth and send someone up to space to be the representative on their behalf, but most other countries send the representative down to Earth, on behalf of their leaders up in space. It's a distant relationship for sure. Most politicians pay lip service to Earth, referencing it in speeches and in policy, but very little thought is given outside of that.

Humans on Earth are either descended from the humans who refused to leave Earth the first time, humans who left and came back to stay, or humans who have never seen Earth but decided to move back to the ancestral planet. People don't really "visit" Earth all that much, and when they do, it's not for very long. Things are chugging along back there, but you can tell Earth has been functionally left to itself. After all, there's stuff in space to worry about! And Earth is definitely not a rich planet, despite all the profits being made collecting resources from other places.

The people there are more or less at peace with this hands-off approach. A lot of people are still mad that when none of the problems on Earth could be fixed easily, the wealthy invented a way out of it instead.

❌Does humanity have any sort of “Prime Directive” à la Star Trek – are there limits about what they can do when they discover a new planet (inhabited or not)? If not, why not?

Technically yes, but practically, there are a hundred ways to cheat your way around it.

The rule agreed upon by the Space UN (or whatever I'm calling it) is that if a planet is "sufficiently capable of sustaining natural life without terraforming" you're supposed to leave it alone until you can verify there aren't living creatures already living on it. Once you do that, and there's nothing there, you can go to town building whatever shit you want. If there are creatures there, whether animals or sapient creatures, you're not supposed to touch it at all. If the planet is insufficient for sustaining natural life without terraforming, you can do whatever you want.

Obviously the loophole here is to either 1) lie about what you investigated on the planet (or bribe the investigators to give you approval anyway), 2) tell the truth about what you find, but argue it doesn't count as life worth preserving (are microbes animals? is bacteria life? come on people we have oil to drill), or 3) investigate the planet, and kill everything you think counts as a living creature (or at least enough of them that the planet looks uninhabited).

And of course the even bigger loophole here is to argue about the semantics about which planets count as "sufficiently capable." Does liquid water count as capable? How about continents with active volcanoes? Sure, that's what Earth might have started out like, but it took hundreds of millions of years for life to occur! We can just... nudge it along... to get to those sweet natural resources.

⛳How many planet settlements do humans have across the galaxy? What’s the biggest non-Earth human stronghold?

M... Many.

Okay so I haven't named any of the planets yet, BUT!! I do know humans have been buzzing around the galaxy for quite a while, and have set up shop on dozens of planets, and they also share custody of some areas with the various alien races.

The biggest human population on a non-Earth planet is actually on Mars, since it's the closest to Earth without being Earth, and it's famous for being the first ever human terraformed planet. It's also a bit of a tourist trap for that reason, especially the site where the first human settlement set up shop however many hundreds of years ago.

I may change this answer in the future when I actually have named planets and have fleshed out this world a little more lmao

[try out my sci-fi worldbuilding ask game]

#annika talks #answered #mystery flavor #ask game #Space Cruise WIP

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burnthoneydrops · 2 years ago

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The Sun and the Moon I (e.b. x original character)

Synopsis: The presentation of two young girls into polite society should be a joyus occasion. Unfortunately, it is not for all.

Requested: No?

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2906

A/N: Here it is! The start of my Eloise series! I hope y'all enjoy and remember, feedback is always appreciated!

The morning sun is catching in the window at just the wrong angle, as I shield my eyes from its burning rays. I hear the stairs creak underneath the floorboards of my room, and I know that my hope of sneaking past my aunt is long gone. She is already awake, therefore making it impossible for me to do anything without her catching me first. Though I should have figured that my aunt would be similar in nature to my mama when it came to watching me, I thought that perhaps this fresh start would have meant some more freedom. Sadly, I was incredibly mistaken. There is a knock at my door and my dreams of hiding under the covers all day are quickly crushed.

“Miss? Lady Moore is requesting your presence in the dining room,” one of the maids, I believe her name is Natalie, informs me.

I groan, not hiding the fact that I dread getting up from this very position. When that does not seem a sufficient enough answer for Natalie, I call back that I will be down in a second and I can hear her footsteps pittering down the hall. More importantly, away from my door. I do not bother changing, as I have learned that anything I brought in my suitcase is insufficient for my aunt. Though I should be more accustomed to waking up in the earlier hours of the day, as work on my family’s land requires all hands at all times, but knowing that this work is going to be different is what seems to keep me entrapped in my bed.

Aunt Moore is, however, just as strict when it comes to punctuality and even more so with presentation, which means if I am not up soon, I will most definitely hear about it. I finally rise from my bed, tossing the heavy blankets over to the opposite side, and set myself down on the wooden floor, the cold sensation waking me up a bit more. My descent down the stairs has my feet dragging across the rug that lays down the middle, but they are quickly picked up when one of the maids looks at me like I’ve suddenly grown a second head. My aunt is waiting for me in her favourite chair and I greet her with a small ‘hello’ so as to not startle her with her back turned.

“Ah, good you are awake. The date for your presentation to the Queen is fast approaching and your selection of dresses is still horrid. Therefore, we will be making a trip to the modiste today,” Aunt Moore explains, her hair perfectly pinned as usual. It takes all of me not to roll my eyes in silent protest. Being poked and prodded with needles as itchy fabric is held against me is not my idea of an exciting day, but I suppose it is one of the many things I am to grow accustomed to should I continue to live here.

“Apologies that the clothes one wears for farm work are not suitable for more elegant endeavours,” I reply.

“And we will have none of that tongue of yours,” Aunt Moore adds, choosing to say nothing more on the subject.

“Yes Aunt Moore,” I reply as she dismisses me with a wave of her hand.

Natalie joins me as I walk back through the hallway, and she tells me of all the possibilities we could put together for today’s look as we make our way back up the stairs. I try telling her that none of it is necessary, but I know she does not listen to me. She has worked here long enough to know just as well as I do how set my aunt is in her ways about how we are each to look, and seeing as she had no children of her own, I am the one subjected to all her biggest dreams and desires. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I am greeted by my unruly hair and grimace a bit. Perhaps a little bit of upkeep from Natalie would not go amiss.

I let Natalie work her magic, and try and follow along as best I can in the mirror, but how one has the patience for all of that is something I will never understand.

The Bridgerton Residence, the same day

“Must we visit Madame Delacroix again, Mama?” Eloise whines as she drags her right foot across the carpet.

“Indeed we must. Your premiere season cannot be spent in old fabrics, therefore we are to get you an updated wardrobe,” Lady Bridgerton explains, hurrying her second youngest daughter down the hallway.

“But surely no one has that great a memory that they will remember every dress I have ever worn?” Eloise tries.

“You clearly underestimate the Cowpers,” Lady Bridgerton sighs, alerting the footman that they need the carriage brought around.

For once, Eloise decides not to rebuttal as the two of them get into the carriage. The only thing saving this horrendous adventure is that the sun is shining, the warmth being something Eloise was grateful for. It somehow makes the ride less laborious, as before she knows it, her mother is pulling her out of the carriage and into the lobby of the modiste. Eloise is hoisted up onto the raised platform so that she may be viewed from all angles and it takes everything within her not to roll her eyes so far back that they fall into her skull. The shiny jewels and feathers were already loud enough, must she also be placed high so everyone can see her? It is something that has truly confused her every time, but there are some things you do not fight Lady Bridgerton on. Fashion is most certainly one of them.

“I think this one will look lovely,” Lady Bridgerton remarks as Madame Delacroix holds out a periwinkle fabric with a few transparent decorations on the skirt.

“I agree Lady Bridgerton, it will look most charming indeed,” Madame Delacroix nods in agreement, holding the fabric up to Eloise’s skin.

“Let us carry on with it then,” Eloise replies.

Madame Delacroix, though already having her measurements in her book, starts to take them again, claiming that season dresses must have different qualifications than regular dresses, therefore making the measurements vary slightly. Or something like that, in all truth Eloise stopped paying attention after the first few words that were emitted from Madame Delacroix’s mouth. As she stares into one of the many mirrors, there is a ringing above the front door, signalling another customer. Two pairs of shuffling feet make their way from the street outside, and as Eloise turns her head, she sees a girl with the most uncomfortable look on her face as, who Eloise guesses is her mother, grips her shoulders from behind. Eloise cannot place who these two might be, while though the mother looks slightly familiar, the daughter’s face does not bring anything to the forefront of her mind at all.

She is pretty though, Eloise comments internally, her lighter brown hair in a half bun, some pieces falling down around her face. Her dress of choice looks rather dull in comparison to the bright coloured fabrics in the store, and it doesn’t seem to fit her properly either. The girl’s eyebrows quirk in a strange way when Madame Delacroix starts pulling gently on her dress sleeve, assessing the situation at hand. The mother gives the girl a little tap and she straightens up, pulling her feet together uncomfortably tight. Madame Delacroix tells them to wait while she finishes up with the Bridgerton family and the girl glances over, catching Eloise’s eye before her mother drags her to one of the chairs near the window.

“Who are they Mama?” Eloise asks as her mother makes her way back to the platform from looking at more fabric colours.

“Lady Moore and her charge,” Lady Bridgerton replies. Before Eloise can ask any more, the conversation is cut short by Madame Delacroix’s return, her muttering a short apology for the delay.

Aideen’s Perspective

The bright fabrics around the building are blinding in comparison to my shabby dress, and I can feel Aunt Moore’s embarrassment seeping through her pores from having to be seen with me. I catch the eye of the girl on the platform quickly as I am pulled away to the waiting chairs, and I can’t help but notice the way her eyes light up from the sun coming through the window. Though as she is turned back to the mirrors, she looks just as frustrated at the whole ordeal as I am, which provides me with some comfort that I am not the only one. The girls we passed on the street looked simply overjoyed to be dawning their newest fashion, but all I could think about was how itchy it looked on each of them. If the goal is to meet a suitable man to whom I am to wed, I do hope he is charming enough to make the pain of the presentation worth it.

After a while, the girl and her mother are making their way to the front desk, where the modiste is running through their order, making sure everything looks correct on the piece of parchment she has scribbled on. Once they reach an agreement, the mother grabs the girl by the elbow and guides her out the door. She turns her head, her chestnut hair swishing slightly as she looks back over her shoulder and we once again make eye contact. Her light pink dress brings out the warmth in her cheeks and I can feel my own getting warm under her gaze. The moment is brief, as the modiste, who I quickly learn is called Madame Delacroix, approaches us, guiding me onto the same platform from before and pulling out some measuring tools.

The Bridgerton Residence- a few days later

“Let her come out on her own!” Violet Bridgerton tries her hardest to raise her voice above her gaggle of children.

“Is this the plan?” Daphne questions as she steps closer to the group.

“Daphne! Thank goodness you are here,” Lady Bridgerton remarks, though it does not seem to have calmed her down much.

“She’s requested time,” Anthony informs his younger sister.

“We do not have time,” Daphne reminds them as she steps closer to grab the doorknob.

“No offence, Sister, but I believe you are the last person she would like to see,” Benedict interjects, positioning himself between Daphne and the door.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Daphne questions, looking more than slightly annoyed.

“Are we sure she is even in there?” Hyacinth butts in.

“Of course she is,” Francesca replies.

The siblings continue to bicker before Francesca brings the conversation to a halt, claiming to have heard something. Anthony, fed up, goes to reach for the door again, but is unsuccessful, this time because the door is being opened from the other side. Three maids, all with varying degrees of disgust on their faces, pace out of the bedroom, leaving a concerned family waiting behind. Eloise emerges slightly behind them, dragging her feet a little as she walks. She rolls her eyes as she is greeted by her family, the train of cream fabric trailing behind her.

“If one of you utters a single word,” Eloise starts, punctuating every few words with an exasperated sigh, “let us get this over with”. She picks up her train and marches out of her room, past her family who, thankfully, are heeding her request for silence.

The carriage feels suffocating as all four Bridgerton girls and their Mama sit facing each other. Eloise appears as though she wishes to crawl out of her skin, and Daphne decides now might be the time for some sisterly advice.

“Just remember to remain composed. And control your emotions. Her Majesty does not take kindly to any hint of hysterics. I found a small smile works best to appear open and approachable but not too eager. Now let us see it”.

“No,” if Eloise could emit lasers from her eyes, now would have been the perfect opportunity.

“She’s practically melting,” Hyacinth notes from her place beside Daphne.

“Here, allow me,” Francesca grabs the fan from Hyacinth, reaching over Daphne in the process.

“And your curtsy dearest, tell your sister how you managed such balance,” Lady Bridgerton asks Daphne.

“Simply locate a stationary object and keep your eyes set,” Daphne explains, though no one believes Eloise is truly listening. “You have natural gifts-”

“Do not patronise me, and give me that!” She points at Daphne before grabbing the fan from Francesca, fanning herself aggressively.

Aideen’s Perspective

Standing in the long line of girls in frilly white dresses and feathery head pieces almost makes me want to run out the door. I feel as though I am sweating profusely though I cannot say anything in fear that Aunt Moore will have my head. I take to fanning myself with my glove, though I am not entirely convinced it is doing me any good, and I notice a blonde girl with a rather snooty face scoffing at me as I do so. I stick my tongue out at her and feel a sharp hit on my shoulder. Aunt Moore has caught me in my antics and harshly whispers for me to stop, so I might not draw any more attraction to myself than I already have.

“It is not too late. You can say I’ve collapsed, or have gotten something unmentionable on my gown, or that the feathers affected my sense. Anything, Mama, to get me out of doing this,” I hear a girl desperately plead with her Mama for her chance at escape. I glance over and notice the same chestnut hair from the modiste. My eyes linger on her for a second, not that she is any the wiser, but Aunt Moore pushes me forward as yet another girl is announced to see the Queen.

“Lady Moore and Miss Aideen Watson,” the announcer calls as the doors open, and all eyes turn to me and Aunt Moore who stands slightly behind me. My chest begins to rise and fall at a faster rate, and I feel as though my head is spinning. Somehow, I manage to move my feet one in front of the other, holding my dress so I might not trip.

“I did not know Lady Moore had a daughter,” A mother mutters to my right.

“It is her brother’s daughter. You remember the one who moved out to Ireland, supposedly chasing the love of his life,” her friend replies as I take another step forward.

“Oh yes. Poor man following that maid all the way across the channel. What a shame,” the initial mother comments and I use all my energy in that moment not to turn my head and glare at them. The other families are looking at me as I slowly parade myself down the aisle to the Queen, who from her place on her throne does not look too amused by my presence.

I curtsy once I finally reach the end of the aisle, and I nearly fall as bending down has caused me to lean forward just a tad too much. Luckily, I do not end up with my face on the floor, but the Queen does not say anything and I am escorted out of the way. Aunt Moore grips my elbow as we are moved to the sidelines and while she doesn’t say anything directly, her rather tight grip tells me all the disappointment I needed to know.

“The Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton and Miss Eloise Bridgerton,” are the next two called behind me, and I stand on my tiptoes to catch a glimpse. The girl from the modiste is standing where I was mere moments ago and looks fit to collapse right there and then. Her breathing quickens as she is now faced with the Queen and she glances quickly at who I can only assume are her family on the side.

“What is the meaning of this?” the Queen demands as she is handed a slip of paper from a man who has just walked in the side door. People are shuffling around to try and see what is going on as a smile forms on her Majesty’s face. “I have seen enough,” she calls out, effectively dismissing the room.

“Does this mean I can go?” the girl, or Eloise as I now know, asks as she grabs her dress.

“I do not know what this means,” her mother replies. Eloise takes this as her cue and runs back out the main door, looking positively joyful.

The little sheets are being passed around and as Aunt Moore grabs one, I try my hardest to look over her shoulder at what has enraptured the attention of the entire room. “Lady Whistledown” is printed on the top along with a silhouette of a woman with pinned up hair.

“Lady Whistledown?” I ask Aunt Moore, who is visually scanning the sheet with rapid speed.

“She has returned after all,” is all Aunt Moore chooses to say on the subject.

Dearest gentle reader, did you miss me?

Given the buzz in the room, this whole adventure might be turning out to be more exciting than I thought. Oh what a season this might be.

#eloise bridgerton #eloise bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #the viscount who loved me #an offer from a gentleman #colin bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #the duke and i #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #the sun and the moon

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