Empress Sissi and the death of Ferenc Déak:

>>“He died January 28th, and Elizabeth wept when the new was brought to her. His body lay in state in the great hall of the Academy, which had been converted into a chapelle ardente,and here Elizabeth came in one of the simplest court carriages, and dressed in deep mourning.The deputies and ministers of Hungary were standing round the coffin when the Queen approached, carrying a wreath of laurel and white camellias, tied with a broad satin ribbon bearingthe inscription: “Erzsebet kyralyno Déak Ferencznek.” (“ From Queen Elizabeth to Franz Déak”). She stood for a few minutes in tearful silence by the lifeless body, and then turned to leave, when she suddenly went back, knelt on the lowest step, and prayed fervently. The Hungarian painters, Munkacsy and Ziczy, have represented this scene, and a Hungarian author has written: “ The memory of Déak is still glorified among us, but the tears of the Queen are the highest marks of honour that the dead hero could possibly receive.”<<

Clara Tschudi, Elizabeth: Empress of Austria.

Heroin made me king
made me Christ
I sold this pussy 4 love
I chased tha safety
tha long white hall of a

Heroin made me king
made me Christ
Kept me alive
when I wanted ta die
gimme’d a warm some
thing to
crawl inside

Heroin took my baby
took my heart an
cooked it in a spoon
Shot up tha clot
& nodded off in my

Heroin held me like God
like I was his princess
Like all the bad guys
could never get in
Like summertime & its
kills, perfumed & pleasant

lover, abuser, black eyed
drifter, honey of my heart,
cirrhosis of my soul,
tha best fuckin kisser &
killer I’ve ever known

Heroin, always patient
Eternally mine & begotten
We robbed banks, played
hooky, lied down in tha street
n tried to die, hung round
tha wrong side of south side

We hid from mouths & ran
towards gunshots
We fell asleep in cars in
gas station parking lots
We made our own fun,
cocktails, bombs

Heroin was my government
Heroin was my law

Heroin made me king
Heroin made me Christ
in his arms I loved & I died

We laughed at tha devil’s eyes
Shopped for lingerie & key lime pie
Wasted away by tha underpass
where tha junkies always shaked n
cried & we laughed at em
We were too high to come down
for anythin else around

We cut away the fat
n slaughtered all tha doves

We got inta trouble
we talked our way out of

We were dumb kids in love
In tha middle of a forever summer
Where everything was good
& nothin else mattered

I was so scared...

So a while back ago at a summer convention I went to I was dressed up in a cute pink lolita dress, white stockings, and adorable brown slippers (this is important hold on.) While I was walking around the con hall a huge fella in what looked like a knight costume or something, I can’t really remember if it was that or not since I was new to the whole anime and convention scene, but I knew it was white. He, let’s call him C, wanted to take my picture. After the picture he started hugging me (without my permission btw.) It was a tight hug and he lifted me off the ground too and spun me around. At this point I was getting really creeped out and wanted out of his death grip. Then C said something along the lines of “I really like your skin (I’m black) you’re really soft and squishy.” 

Keep reading


So I’ve been getting some messages since deValier’s most recent page update asking where someone can find a certain fic, what another fic was supposed to be about, or if that fic was finished or not. To answer these questions I’ve decided to make a post about each of them (with links to them if they exist) for your convenience.



We’ll Meet Again (Us x Uk; 13 chapters) 

Keep Smiling Through (short sequel to We’ll Meet Again; 1 chapter)

Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart (Germany x Italy; 18 chapters)


La Patisserie de la Rose (France x Canada; 6 chapters) 

Libelle Hall (Prussia x Austria; 3 chapters)

Of Ponies and Edelweiss (short sequel to Libelle Hall; 1 chapter) 


Blue, White, Red (Us x Uk; 3 chapters) note: character death/tragedy  

Sleep, Little Bird (Sweden x Finland with Sealand; 1 chapter) note: character death/tragedy  

Gallipoli (Australia; 1 chapter)

Stay With You (Germany x Italy; 1 chapter)



Bésame Mucho (Spain x Romano; 6 chapters so far)

Something To Remember You By (Turkey x Egypt; 1 chapter so far)  note: said to be tragedy

Lily of the Lamplight (Prussia x Austria; 4 chapters so far)  note: trigger warning for attempted sexual assault

Jealousy (Russia x China; 1 chapter so far)  note: trigger warning for violence and assault. also has a big age difference

My Echo (Switzerland x Austria; 1 chapter so far) 


Catch Perfect (Sweden x Finland; 8 chapters so far)

The Tiger and the Dragon (Russia x China; 4 chapters so far)

Meanwhile, Across Town (Us x Uk; not found - summary, quote)

PLANNED FICS: (all Veraverse; no chapters available for any of these; summaries

Autumn Leaves (Rome x Ancient Greece)

Faraway Places (Bad Touch Trio) 

It’s a Lovely Day Tomorrow (Lithuania x Poland)

Room 504 (Greece x Japan)

Somewhere In France With You (France x Canada) 

When I Grow Too Old To Dream (Sweden x Finland - excerpt)

When The Lights Go On Again (Estonia x Latvia) 

You’ll Never Know (Hungary x Liechtenstein)

I hope this was helpful for anyone wondering. I’m still looking for his fic Meanwhile, Across Town, so if anyone has it will you please let me know? 

And while I still have your attention may I make a brief shout out to anyone new or still in the deValier fandom not to harass George deValier for not finishing these fics please. He’s already written so many beautiful fics, and that takes time and motivation and an insane amount of effort that is done WITHOUT BEING PAID. The last thing he needs is people whining at him about not writing what they want him to write and why he hasn’t updated yet. Now what you can do is compliment him on his beautiful stories and say how much you loved them. 

thank you for your time~   

“I’m so mad at you miss!”

prompt: #2 - “I’m so mad at you miss!” -Requested

Characters - Scott x reader

“I’m so mad at you miss!” Scott’s voice traveled throughout the halls, echoing off the white-coated walls, making you giggle to yourself. With a few foot steps Scott stood in front of you, his dark eyebrows set into a flur. In his left hand the empty cupcake box. 

“Tell me this wasn’t you.” His lip curling into a pout with his big, brown eyes starring directly into you. 

“It would.” You smile, as he plotted Liam death inside his head. “But I’d be lying.” with his smile now gone, You smile widely, blowing him a kiss soon afterwards.

“I will never forgive you for this.” He frowns, walking towards the door taking the handle, but turning around to look at you. His finger pointed at you he quickly mumbled, “This means war.” Before grumpily walking away.

Not Too Late

Pairing: JB/Jinyoung

Jaebum yawns widely as he looks around the near empty departure hall. He looks at his watch. It is 4.15AM. He groans inwardly and drags himself to an empty spot. He squats near a pillar and sits down on the steel pole around it. There’s barely enough space for him to sit but enough to let him rest his butt as he leans on the big white pillar. The people around him take double looks when they glanced over at him. But his death stare made them scamper away quickly. He clicks his tongue and cracks his jaw a little. The music through his earphones is thumping loudly against his eardrums, imitating the pace of his heartbeat. The singer screams into his ears and he takes out his phone. Jaebum increases the volume. One more level. One more level. Until there he reaches the highest level and he feels as if his eardrums are going to break but it gives him a sense of satisfaction, blocking out the sounds of the world completely. He looks down at his sleeves and slides them down a little. He looks at his wounded knuckles from yesterday night and ran his thumb over the rough scabs. Jaebum looks up and takes in a deep breath slowly and exhales out in a huff. Jaebum takes out his phone and unlocks it. Nothing.

Keep reading

Supernatural BSM #52 You’re the one close to death instead of Dean. Age 5 (Inspired by S2 E1)

A/N: I had to re-watch the episode the request is based on and I bawled. (Season 2 episode 1)

Request: You’re the one close to death instead of Dean. Age 5

AGE 5: You woke up in a bed. Cold sheets. White walls. Beeps. The pitter-patter of hurried footsteps echoing. Loud voices and soft cries. You managed to swing your legs over the side of the bed and jump down. You landed with a dull thud that seemed endlessly loud.

“Dean? Sam?” You poked your head out into the hall. A man in a white coat ran right past you, without even sparing you a glance.

“Hello?” You went up to a woman who was writing on a clipboard. “Hello!” When she didn’t respond, you huffed angrily before moving on.

When you’d walked around the building twice without founding your brothers or dad you returned to the place you’d woken up. You couldn’t get to anyone. They couldn’t hear you nor see you. You were about to lay back on the bed when you noticed someone was already in it.

You pulled the covers down slowly. You gasped and fell back with a whimper, landing hard on the ground. That was you. Hooked up to loads of machines. This was a hospital.

Dean walked in then with tears in the corners of his eyes. You scrambled out of his way so he wouldn’t step on you. He couldn’t see you either, apparently.

“Y/N, we’re not giving up, okay? Sam is looking, and I-I’m looking and dad too. We’ll get you back.”

You started crying. You couldn’t help it. Dean was crying already, but when you choked out a sob, his ears seemed to perk up. He grew quiet but you couldn’t stop for the life of you. You tried tugging at his pant leg but your fingers seemed to slip through the fabric. Dean’s head snapped down, and for a moment he stared right at you and you thought he could see you, but then he shook his head and speed-walked out.

He came back about an hour later, plastic bag in his hand and Sam in tow. “Are you sure about this?” Sam asked as Dean fell to his knees in the middle of the room. Sam followed suit with a quiet sigh. Dean pulled a board game out of the bag and started setting it up between him and Sam. You took a seat in between them, staring down at the board. It was rectangular, with numbers in an arch over the top. Below, the entirety of the alphabet was spelled out. At the very top, ‘Yes’ and ‘No’ was written.

Next, Dean pulled out a triangle with a hole in the middle. He placed it on the board, and put his fingers on it. Sam did the same.

“Okay bug, we know you can’t spell but you can answer yes or no. All you have to do is put your fingers on here and push it around. Do you think you can do that?”

You did as Dean instructed and pushed the triangle over the ‘Yes’. Your brothers gasped before tears welled up in their eyes. They shared a look.

“Hey there princess,” Sam said in a choked voice. “We miss you.”

You tried your best to spell that you missed them too. “You trying to say you miss us too?” Dean asked finally. You moved the triangle to ‘Yes.’

“Do you know what’s going on?” Sam continued. You moved the triangle to ‘No.’ You had no idea why they couldn’t see you. You had no idea how you were here and your body on the bed.

Dean opened his mouth to ask something else, when suddenly, a woman was standing in the door. She smiled right at you, before calling your name.

“You can see me?” you asked her, getting up from the floor and ignoring whatever question Dean asked.

“Yes, hun, I can. I’m here to take you with me.”

“Take me where?” You backed away and sat back down next to Sam, leaning into his arm even though he couldn’t feel your touch. They’d stopped asking questions, as if they could sense you weren’t listening anymore.

“I can’t tell you. But you have to come with me. Your time is up.”

“B-but Sam and Dean?”

“They can’t go with you. But they’ll come later.”

“Y/N what’s happening?” Dean spoke up suddenly.

“I’m not going,” you said stubbornly.

The woman smiled sadly, reaching out a hand. You cowered behind Sam, and the woman’s demeanor changed. She seemed exasperated and was about to step forward, when her eyes caught on something behind her.

“No. No! She’s mine! You can’t do this!” A black mist swirled towards her before shoving itself down her throat. Her head whipped back as she screamed. When she looked back at you, her eyes were gleaming yellow. “You’ve won the lottery today, little one.”

She raised a hand in your direction, and an invisible force pulled you back towards the lifeless body lying on the bed. It went dark for a while and then you sat up in the bed with a loud gasp, grasping for breath.

“Y/N!” Your brothers yelled in unison, running to your side.



The doctor advised you to rest plenty, even though she’d checked everything twice and deemed you perfectly healthy, despite the violent car crash that had sent your entire family rushing to the ER. Your dad had visited right after you’d woken up. Just like Sam and Dean, he looked a little worse for wear, but the relief was evident on his face when you greeted him with a smile.

You were on the brink of waking up from your nap, Dean sat at your side holding your hand, just like he had when you went to sleep, when Sam came running in. “Dean, it’s dad!”

They tore off together, and you somehow managed to force yourself out of bed and follow them. They didn’t seem to notice, luckily, otherwise they would’ve surely forced you back into bed.

They’d stopped at a room where you could hear people yelling. You squeezed your head in between their legs so you could see. Sam sucked in a quick breath when he noticed and picked you up, holding you close to his chest and trying to hide you away.

“Is he okay?” you whispered into Sam’s shoulder.

Just then, a male voice said, “Time of death, 10:41 pm.”

“I can’t believe he did that,” Dean whispered, rubbing up and down your back comfortingly.

“Did what?” you asked, fighting back the tears. Maybe you were only five, but you knew what death meant.

“Nothing, bug. But I’m afraid dad’s gone.”


So this is a Legends of Tomorrow Friends -style trailer

Or, what if Legends of Tomorrow had more comedy and less heartbreak and death?

Everything was black. Or maybe white. It didn’t matter: all that meant anything was that everything was gone. Last thing she remembered, she’d been staring out at a battle, wordlessly felling Death Eaters; now, this. The Great Hall, and a raging headache. Her throat felt dry, her eye stung, there was a faint hint of nausea to her stomach. Her breath smelt of vomit. She hadn’t really been expecting a response: all that was on her mind was ensuring her friends’ safety, but no one would let her move. “I am too sober to feel this hungover.” She was speaking to herself, really, wrapped in a blanket, one of the professors staring at her as though their life depended on it.

”In India, Shiva is often shown with his body a peculiar bluish white color. This is the result of smearing his person with ashes and soot, ashes being the symbol of death. Shiva is not only a destroyer in that he breaks up old forms and orders, but he is a creator in that, having dissolved an organism, he rearranges its parts and thus forms a new creature.”

- Manly P. Hal

Back when I was in university, I had an 11:00 AM lecture every Tuesday and Thursday whose assigned hall was right across from the dormitory elevators.

Every lecture without fail, this girl would noisily stagger in five minutes late, dressed in pajama pants and a bathrobe, squinting against the harsh fluorescent lights and clutching an oversize travel mug full of coffee in a white-knuckled death grip… yet her makeup was always immaculate, to the point that you could tell she’d put a great deal of effort into it before leaving her room.

I’m not sure if it was performance art or what, but it’s always stuck with me.

The last thing Fred Weasley remembered was the shudder of walls crumbling, the sounds of terrified screams from children much too young to be fighting a war, and a bright green flash of light. That was where everything had cut out. It was all white now, bright white walls that opened up to a blinding sky. He looked around, noticing that he was in the great Hall. At least it looked like the great Hall would if it had been painted white. He could see a figure coming towards him from the stage, as they drew closer he realized it was two people. Both of them had long ginger hair, both had bright blue eyes, they were identical in every way except their hair. One man had his tied back and the other let it hang loosely around his face. They looked familiar, Fred knew they were Weasley’s, knew they had to be his uncles, Molly’s brothers, who had been killed by death eaters during the first war.

“Freddy! Hello little nephew! I’m sure you don’t remember us, of course you wouldn’t. Too young when we died. I’m Gideon, this is Fabian.” He vaguely waved at the smiling mad at his side, with the tied back hair. They stood on either side of him, both throwing their arms around him. “Where am I? How are you here? ” Fred asked, looking around in confusion. He just wanted to get back to the battle, he knew his family would need help.

“Well, we’re here to take you….on” the twins looked at each other, clearly not expecting the confusion. “On? What’s "on” mean?“ The twins exchanged uneasy looks. How were they supposed to explain to their nephew that he was dead. "Oh… OH GOD’S! I’m dead? Oh, no. I’m dead” Fred choked on the last few words. His family, his friends, George! He didn’t was to leave them all. “How do I get back?” He looked at his uncles with desperate, pleading eyes. “I’m afraid you can’t, Freddy.” Fabian said. “You need to come with us, there are others who’d like to see you.” Gideon said. Others? Fred thought to himself. Who could possibly want to meet him on the other side?

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Fred silently followed his uncles out of the great Hall and into the bright grounds of Hogwarts. The colors almost blinded him after the blankness of the great hall. Out here the trees and grass were bright green, the sky and the lake, blue. Beautiful wildflowers scattered here and there added pinks and purples to the mix. All in all, Fred reckoned he’d never seen the grounds look more inviting, even during the spring months. As they walked further and further away from the school the landscape changed once again. Now it was all rolling hills and cloudless blue skies, a river was running peacefully through the scene, the water a bizarre shade of purple.

Up ahead he could see a large group of people, seemingly waiting for something. A bright flash of red hair had caught his eye and he stopped dead. Ginny could not be dead too, Harry would have never allowed it. How could she be here? As he drew closer, though, he realized it was not Ginny, but a woman with eyes so familiar he felt as though he was looking into Harry’s eyes. Suddenly, a long white beard was blocking his line of sight. He looked up into the bright sparkling blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore, the man held his arms open, a smile on his face. “Fred Weasley, you extraordinary man, you.” Dumbledore said, pulling the boy into a hug. “Welcome to the beyond.” It always irked Fred, how cryptic his former headmaster was, but he couldn’t help the joy he felt at seeing the man again. Somehow he could could calm Fred’s nerves just by his mere presence. “Hello, Professor. It’s good to see you again.” Fred said as he released the hug. “Come, Mr. Weasley. There are others who would like to meet you.”

Dumbledore steered him around to face 4 smiling faces, two he knew very well, having fought along side them, and 2 he did not know at all, though he had an idea of who they were. The striking green eyes of the woman and the intense resemblance of the man, Fred knew these were Harry’s parents. “Fred, It’s so nice to finally meet you! Although it’s upsetting that you’re so young. I’m Lilly Potter and this is James, as I’m sure you’ve figured out.” She said. Fred smiled at the both of them, It wasn’t fair that he should meet Harry’s parents before the poor boy could. “Hello, Freddy. I’m a huge fan of your work.” James said with a smile. Sirius and Remus laughed and clapped him on the back. “Just in time, Foxglove. We’re in need of a fourth Marauder, what do you think Prongs? He’s as good a fit as any.” Sirius said. “They’re not ready for us, I daresay, Padfoot.” Remus chuckled. “Right you are, Moony.” James laughed.

“Moony? Padfoot? Prongs? You’re the Marauders? The creator’s of the Marauders Map?” Fred was in shock! All along the Maruaders had been right under his nose. He was disappointed at the waste of pure potential. The amount of pranks he could have pulled, if only he had known. But, Fred was home, with people who had been watching him for years, with his uncles and his former headmaster. Though he would miss his family, George especially, He could not help but be excited for what was to come. The “Beyond” was not ready for Moony, Foxglove, Padfoot and Prongs.

Stay With Me

Mary, Francis, and death. 

In her twilight days, Mary kept seeing him: a flash of gold here, a wink of white there.

It should have told her what was coming.

The arrest, the trial, imprisonment and then the truth (she was going to die), it all came in such a flash, just like death had come to her before, when it had taken him from her.

I should have known, she thought bitterly, penning her last wishes at a desk that wasn’t hers, as she awaited dawn and her execution.

She also should have known that he would be there, standing at the end of the hall as she laid her head down on the block. He wasn’t a boy anymore though. No, he was everything he should have been if he had lived: a man full grown, dressed as the King of France should be, laugh lines threading with tired ones on his face, smiling even though the crown never was a light thing to carry. They lightened the burden for each other, all those years ago, and it had been almost impossible when she had needed to do it alone.

Yet here he was, buoying her through one last trial, her last ever tribulation, making sure she was no longer alone. 

You came, she breathed, tears flooding her eyes as the executioner moved into place.

Always, he said, and it broke her heart that she had never gotten to hear the real rumble age would have put into his voice.

The axe raised, and his hand reached out. Stay with me.

His voice was soft, saying those words she had spoke to him in his own last days, but to her it seemed to echo throughout the empty hall, expanding until it filled every crevice in the stone floor and struck even the highest eave. It wove its way into her heart too, the way it had on that sunny afternoon, when they had met for the first time in years. She had babbled on, and he had said not much, but it had been enough. They were so young then, so unaware of the tragedy that would befall them, but even now, on the brink of death, she did not regret stepping from the carriage that day. 

Always, she murmured. It’s always been you.

The axe fell, and all she saw was gold.

I postulate that Glorfindel canon includes:

He is around 9 feet tall. That’s how they rocked back in theday.

He is built under that tunic. None of that slight elvish shit.

He is a riot. Like, no decorum at all, he will slurp his wine LOUDLY if that’s what it takes to liven up the company at the table.

He likes to hang out with Men from Rohan whenever possible and talk about horses and riding until cows come home.

He has an instant crush on every pretty girl he sees no matter her race. They usually find it adorable.

He dreams of death sometimes, and it still terrifies him to the bone.

He came back from the halls of Mandos cause it was boooooooooooooring.

He crashed a White Council once to point out that for a council proclaiming to work for the good of all, awful little good actually comes out of their decisions. He was forbidden from joining it ever since.

He has an amazingly good relations with Dwarves. No one in Rivendell understands why.

He was the one to put effort into teaching Estel tracking, because he was one of the few that realised that ‘He’s got no elf-eyes u’kno?’ Aragorn never stopped hero-worshipping him – whenever in a pinch, he always thinks “What would Glorfindel-sensei do in this stuation?

He loves Lindir – especially the way Lindir hates everything about him. Lindir is the cute little brother he wanted to have his whole life.

Accidental Romance

Table of Contents 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 Special

Chapter 12. Departure

It felt like nails against the soles of your feet, acid melting your flesh, kryptonite soaking into your lungs as you rushed down the narrow halls of the hospital ER.  Anxiously, Tao scampered to catch up to you, fearing that you’d collapse again.  No!  No!  No!

The doctors and nurses wheeled out a cot.  White sheets splattered with maroon red.  With shaky hands, you uncovered it to reveal your father.  His eyes closed, wrinkles smoothened, and breathing stilled to complete tranquility.  Perhaps, to him, death granted more peace than a life of disabilities, illnesses, and betrayal.  Your fingers grazed along the side of his face, its temperature juxtaposed your warmth.

Tao draped his arms around your body, locking you deep within his protection.

“Dad…dy…” you quietly called as you shook his lifeless shoulders.

Matted blood covered his skull, an injury you presumed matched that of a brick hurled to the head.  You covered your mouth; yours pupils darted aimlessly at the overly neutral walls, and floors, and sheets, and robes that seemed to emphasize the loudness of the color red.  Cradling you tightly, your husband kissed the rim of your ear and whispered words of comfort but you could not longer hear him.

“Daddy…wake up…” you willed, poking him as you used to along his brow every time he fell asleep on the couch.  He remained motionless.  “Wake up…Loyloy* is hungry…make her your special dumplings…” Your body grew weak against Tao’s as he called out your name and patted your back.

Nurses and doctors clasped their hands together and lowered their heads in respect.  For, in that moment, no amount of words or apologies could mend your shattered heart.

“Cry,” your lover encouraged as he stroked your jawline with his thumb but you continued to quietly call for your father.

“Daddy, you said to visit you with a grandchild, right?  We were going to tell you next week, but I’ll tell you now,” you bargained.  With a strained giggled, you announced, “You’re going to be a grandfather, Daddy…”


Tears welled in Tao eyes.  He looked up to blink them away because he had to stay strong for you.  A nurse burst into tears and was escorted over to a lounging area to prevent from triggering you any further.  With a sad smile, you smoothened the wrinkles and scars on your father’s worn out hands that depicted years of hard labor.  For once, he seemed at peace.

…does everyone…

Back in the car, after visitation hours were over, you stared blankly at nothing in particular, thinking nothing in particular, doing nothing in particular.  Everything felt like a dream – a nightmare.  Had you been too greedy?  Was it because lately, you had focused your prayers on Tao and your happiness instead of your father’s health?  It must have been…Your husband ran his fingers through your hair, willing you to react but you remained nonresponsive.


You let him take your hand and tug you over to the front door, where your mother-in-law heartbrokenly waited for your return.  She threw her arms around you, bundling you up with an ample amount of maternal warmth, which you gladly would have accepted had it been under any other situation.  Still, you don’t mutter a word or otherwise move.

“My poor Sweetheart,” she sobbed as she held you.  Tao closed his eyes as needles pined at his heart.  Taking your hand, he guided you up the stairs.  Soulless drags of your feet failed to leave footprints.  You sat down onto the bedroom floor and rested your head against the side of the bed.

“Cry,” the doleful man heartened but you stared off into the distance as if lost in another dimension, where you didn’t need to sacrifice one happiness for another.

Outside, soft drizzles clung along the window, void of shape or form.  Skies darkened, clouds masked the glory of Heaven’s light so that everything looked as though a blanket covered the shivering horizon.  Yet, it was soothing, light, and dreary – a perfect combo to reminiscence the past that no one could ever grasp.

“I’ll cook something for you to eat, okay?” your husband patted your stomach and reluctantly left your side.    

Alone in the room, you felt so small and vulnerable.  Everything you’ve ever fought for – values, beliefs, and traditions were taught by a man who no longer lived in the same world as you.  Every memory was suddenly the last.  The last time you heard his laughter, complained about his forgetfulness…the last time you promised to succeed and present him with happier days…the last.

You punched at the hole in your chest as tears rolled down your face and once it rained, it’d always pour.  Clawing your hair, you released your inner agony and hopelessness through a heartbreaking series of strained screams.  Your throat burned, your eyes stung.  Oxygen diverted from your airways ten times more critical than any asthma attack.

Tao’s frantic footsteps shook the wooden floors.  In one brisk move, he swung the door open; his heart stilled at the sight of his lover choking on her own tears.  With rings of pink and red along his watery orbs, he slowly advanced forward.  You fell into his chest with your tears soaking up his button-down shirt in mere seconds.  Tossed between sorrow and relief, your husband could only silently listen and occasionally call out your name, hoping that his voice could bring you back to him.

Exhausted and dizzy from your over-exertion of emotions, you fell asleep in Tao’s arms.  Finger against lip, he quieted his mother as she sobbed and walked in with a bowl of congee.

“Is she asleep?” your mother-in-law softly inquired.

Tao nodded and tucked a blanket over the two of you to capture the ever-fading warmth.

“Give her some time.  She’s such a filial daughter; she must be so hurt by the news,” the older woman stroked your tensed temples.

You woke up three hours later, still safe within Tao’s embrace.  Unlit and colored in a midnight blue, the walls of the room seemed like prison gates.  Besides the rhythmic pitter-patters of rain, silence engulfed every aspect of your world.  Meaningless.  Painful.

His thumbs brushed across your puffy eyes to wipe away the traces of tearstains, only, to summon a new river to moisten your cheeks.  You refused his offer to heat up and feed you the congee.  In that moment, nothing could fill up the emptiness within.

Two days passed by with you muttering less than five words and curled up in a fetal position.  Water no longer ridded itself from your strengthless body.  Moments of vertigo kept you wondering if you were also disappearing from the world.  Taking a seat down on the end of the bed, your husband blew against a porcelain spoon and held it to your lip but you rolled over and closed your eyes.

“Is she still not eating?” you faintly heard your mother-in-law’s angelic voice by the door.  Tao shook his head.

With no food in your stomach, you spewed acid.  The sour taste only added to your nausea.  Trails of vomit covered yours lips, neck, and your clothes.  Holding your limp body steady against his, Tao unbuttoned your shirt.  His fingers guided the fabric up and over your shoulders to fall delicately at your feet so that your physical bareness matched that of your spiritual emptiness.  Picking you up, he carried you over to the tub of calming lavender bubbles and your favorite cherry blossom bath bombs that fizzled as soon as they hit the water’s surface.

Tenderly, he guided the loofa against your naked skin as if washing away your past sins.  He called your name like calling for your soul.  Your lips betrayed you with its slight ripple.  Tao inclined his neck to kiss you.  His lips trailed down your neck and collarbone to plant a love mark right at the center of your heart.  You watched your own reflection shiver against his touch.  Helping you up from the bathtub, he draped a towel over your body and gingerly pressed it against your skin to dry you off.  Button by button, he dressed you back up in a clean pair of pajamas.  As his hands encircle around your waist, he planted a gentle kiss on your growing stomach.  Broken pearls dotted down your cheeks.  Without a word, your husband lifted you off your feet and brought you back to bed.  Blankets tucked securely around your body for he feared that his warmth no longer cured you of your frozen heart.

“People used to shame my father for his gambling addiction,” you surprised your husband by talking.  Immediately, he sat down to inform you that he was here to listen to anything you had to say.  “They said he was greedy for money…” you sadly recalled.  With a quiet voice, you continued, “He just wanted money to buy mother, sister, and me nice things…”

Tao held you closer to him as you sniffled, “…He never bought anything for himself…I’m so useless!”  Grimacing, he shook his head at your self-blaming.  “I couldn’t help with the family debt.  I couldn’t give him a stress-free life.  I couldn’t do anything for him!” you wailed.

“Babe…” he called for your attention.  “Your father thought the exact opposite.  In his eyes, you were the most filial and selfless daughter anyone could ever have,” Tao tried to persuade but you feverishly shook your head in denial.  “Look at me,” your husband instructed.  He cupped his hands around your cheeks to prevent you from avoiding his gaze.  “Do you know what your father told me during our wedding banquet?  He told me to cherish you and give you happiness because if anyone, in this world, deserved happiness, it had to be you!  He told me that growing up, you made every decision with your family as your top priority.  He told me you had countless opportunities, which you gave up and didn’t pursue simply so you could stay and take care of him,” Tao informed as you sobbed loudly.  Salted tears rushed down your cheeks and collected in the palms of his hands.  “He knows…Babe…he knows how much you loved him.  Trust me.  In his eyes, you are far from useless.”

“I miss him so much,” you finally admitted as you clung onto your husband’s waist.

“I know…” he pressed his lips on your forehead.

Running his fingers through your hair, Tao blew on a bowl of steaming porridge and offered you a spoonful.  Your stomach tumbled; your heart ached, leading you to turn around in declination.  “My father was my only family.  His happiness was my purpose in life,” you choked, “Wh-who…do I live for now?”

“For yourself,” your husband firmly spoke, quieting your sobs.  In a much softer voice, he wished, “…for our baby…”  Slowly, you tilted your head up to look at him.  Even through your blurry vision, you could see the excessively bruised bags under his eyes and stubbles along his cupid’s bow and chin.  He had aged a decade in three days.  “For me…” he finished.  You burst into tears as he leaned in to kiss the corner of your lips.  “For us, will you take care of yourself?” his voice cracked as he held the spoon against your lips.  As tears gathered at your chin, you finally parted your lips to accept his love.            

Relief washed over him as he quickly scooped another spoonful, blew on it, and offered it to you.  “Watch out, it’s a bit hot,” he softly coaxed as he fed you.  As vitamins, protein, and minerals seeped back into your malnourished cells, blurry blotches sharpened to clearer shapes.  With the back of your head lying against Tao’s broad shoulder, you peered up to study his handsome features.  His ivory skin pressed against your pale ones, painting it with a tinge of subdued peach.

“I won’t ever leave you,” he promised as his lips melted on top of yours.  

A/N: So bittersweet (༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ) This couple goes through so many obstacles…can they catch a break or this the panda (who is high off yummy cookies bunnies [or actually, a little mermaid fox and acorn turtle] sent her) gonna be evil??

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Different Roads

These halls were death.

Death and corruption, poison in the walls.

Volke could feel it in his bones, in the grip of his hands, in the horrible tension that seeped down his spine. The walls were white, the floors too. A false clean. An illusion crafted to hide the evil in the air.

He was draped in the same falsehood, the length of a pale coat flaring behind his feet, taken from the back of a chair in an unattended office.

Few passed him in the hall, eyes sliding past. Unaware. Blind to everything but the false white.


Pale. Shadows in his face, almost gauntly blue.  

Looked cold. Small. 


Volke inhaled heavily, holding the air in until it burned in his chest. There was still a shudder in his hands when he exhaled, a dull horror roaring in his ears to see his father stretched so still, so…misshapen. 

His mouth was still bitter, but he’d already lost his stomach in the corner, so beyond able to bear the sight of this violation. To know that they’d tried to ruin papa, to take his strength, his defense, like it was not apart of him.

Papa wouldn’t be so broken for long. Volke already had the piece they’d tried to take away. A few moments, and they would be gone from this place, away from these halls of death.


Almost had it. The metal was already reattached to the shoulder socket, but the wrist still needed more work. 

Another hour, maybe two, and his father would be whole. Would wake in this bed free from poison, from control. He would rise with the strength of both hands. Would be alive. Would be better.

Volke fought the shake of his hands, clenching them briefly, focus forced through pain, and reached again, slim lengths of metal retreading shredded wires.

We seek justice – not an abstract justice, but a living, breathing, tangible justice. Justice is a living Mike Brown. Justice is a playing Tamir Rice. Justice is Sandra Bland at her new job. Justice is Rekia Boyd with her family. Justice is Mya Hall with her friends. Justice is no more death.
We did not start this. We have never started any of it. They kill(ed) us. They creat(ed) systems to harm us. We did not start this. We are fighting to end it.
We are, and have always been, more than our pain. We will win.

in the darkness, everything glitters
her crown, her eyes, her blood
shimmering like garnets in the gloom
she paints the jagged walls with it
a gruesome territory to be sure
there is no fear in death for her
the halls themselves hum base praise
in tune with shaky breath and helpless joy
this is as much a casket as a home
gold may well tarnish beside her
obsidian softly crumble next to that
cutting charm and sword-sharp grace
but do not look away, white bones wait
in the corner of the eye they shed
their unsullied skin, the queen is dead
decadence and decay mean the same
when they hang at her throat like jewels
or perhaps a phantom noose

-24.10.15 [to persephone]

April 8, 1968, Hattiesburg (Miss.) march in memory of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., four days after his death. According to a Hattiesburg American article that day, approximately 1,500 marchers started at East Sixth and Mobile Streets, stopped at City Hall for a prayer service, continued to the Forrest County courthouse for a silent prayer, then returned to East Sixth and Mobile Streets. The march coincided with a week-long boycott of schools and white-owned businesses and a 3-day work stoppage.

(Mississippi Department of Archives and History)