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fateandfortune2016-06-02 11:46 pm
theycalledmeacurse) wrote in fateandfortune2016-06-02 11:46 pm
Entry tags:
The Sweet Gestures Meme
the sweet gestures meme
Everyone loves sweet gestures—little things that remind someone that you love them, that you think of them, that you care for their general, and other things. A gesture could be made towards a friend, a family member, or some other loved one. Maybe towards a total stranger you think deserves something to make them smile.
prompts
1. LOVE NOTES ❤ Everyone loves love notes, and they don’t even have to be romantic. It could be simple as ‘have a good day at work’ or even something funny to brighten someone’s day.
2. BREAKFAST IN BED ❤ Especially on a Sunday morning or after a long, late shift at work, breakfast in bed with their favorite foods is surely the way to start the day off right.
3. PHONE CALL ❤ Who doesn’t like a phone call from someone they love, for no reason? A nice conversation can be all someone needs to have a better day or make a good day be a great one.
4. SWEET TREAT ❤ Late at night when you’re both tired from work or just general day-to-day things, something sweet from the local bakery can be just the thing you need.
5. MASSAGE ❤ While a wonderful idea, swapping massages can be a good idea too, or doing it after a nice bubble bath you made for them, or just randomly.
6. RANDOM HUG ❤ Even if they are not having a bad day, how could a hug not bring a smile to someone’s face?
7. SMALL GIFT ❤ It could be a piece of jewelry that caught your eye and reminded you of them, a stuffed animal you won at the carnival… just something small and sweet that you are sure they are going to love no matter how cheap or expensive it is.
8. FLOWERS ❤ From a florist or from a random patch of green, the surprise of flowers for someone you know and/or love is always welcomed! Look into their meanings to make the bouquet, big or small, become extra special.
9. RENT A MOVIE ❤ Sure, you might not like the genre of the movie, but if the other person does, then that is all that matters.
10. SLOW DANCE ❤ Middle of the living room, randomly while on a date, or maybe that is the whole purpose of the date. Slow dances are so underrated.
11. SURPRISE GETAWAY ❤ Yes, that is just what you guys need: a vacation from things, even if it’s just for a day or two and is not half way across the world. From a family vacation to a romantic spur of the moment, everyone loves going to a new place.
12. SURPRISE KISS ❤ Who doesn’t like a surprise kiss? A soft one on the cheek, a kiss being the thing to wake you up in the morning, or a big one right when you walk through the door.
13. HOLD HANDS ❤ There is nothing like holding hands. It’s a simple and intimate gesture, and if you do it the right way, it could have a whole different meaning.
14. COOK DINNER ❤ Come on, give it a go. Who cares if you’re not the best cook in the world or possibly the worst? It’s the thought that counts.
15. WILD CARD ❤ Was there something missed? Did you have another scene in mind? Want to roll again?
POSTED BY
luuupin @ allmymemes
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Steve pulled out a box that he finally recognized as a DVD case, with a collage of characters in predominantly purple and blue colors: a boy and girl (he hesitated in calling them a man and woman) sitting on... a carpet? A rather ominously thin and evil-looking man on the right, and over the couple, and floating over them all, behind the name of the movie, was what Steve assumed was a genie. Because the movie was titled "Aladdin," created by Walt Disney.
He couldn't have stopped the grin from covering his face if he'd tried. This was fantastic. Still, he couldn't stop himself from giving Rogue a little bit of a hard time. Turning, still with the smile plastered on his face, he asked, "What makes you think I have a DVD player to watch this on, anyway?"
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She turned to look at Steve when he spoke, and lord but that grin he wore. It was like a little kid on Christmas morning. "Well, if you don't, we can go get one," she informed him with an easy shrug. "They're not all that expensive anymore, and it's worth it if you want to watch more Disney."
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"No, it's fine. I actually have one." He made a wry, amused face. "It's just still in the box, on a shelf in the closet. Never needed it before now." Yet another apartment-warming gift. He thought maybe it was also from Natasha, but he couldn't be sure, because it had just shown up, and everyone had claimed it wasn't from them. Of all his friends, he thought only Natasha would 1: get him something so "modern", obviously trying to get him to join the new millenium, yet not fess up to it, and 2: be a good enough liar that he couldn't tell when he asked who it was from.
He moved to the little side closet where his linens were kept and pulled the box off the top shelf. He was a little ashamed at seeing the layer of dust that had already accumulated on it, from sitting undisturbed for over a month. Bringing it back out into the living room, he sat on the sofa and started opening the box and pulling things out.
"I hope you know how to set one of these up," he muttered, loud enough for Rogue to hear. "Because there's a lot of cords here." They were color-coded, which he figured if he'd been born in the last 30 years, might actually make sense to him. As it was, neither red nor yellow seemed like colors he wanted to do anything with.
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Rogue watched him go to retrieve the box and got her potatoes ready, washing and cutting them into smaller pieces. She heard his muttering as he'd intended and couldn't stop her own grin in response. "I'll be over there in just a minute," she told him. "It's really not all the difficult once you know how."
The potatoes went into a skillet with some oil and a good dose and seasoning and then she left them to start cooking, moving into the living room. She paused beside Steve on the couch, taking a look at the provided cords, and then stepped over to the television to peer at the sides and back. "Oh yeah, this isn't that bad."
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"Okay," Steve started, staring at the diagram, "I think I kinda--" he was cut off, as quickly and effectively as if an air raid siren had sounded, by the notes of a song suddenly blaring from his pocket. The opening chords of Star Spangled Man sounded as crisp and vibrant as when he'd been performing with a live band backing him. Steve grabbed for his pocket, and barely glanced at the caller ID before sliding his finger to answer the call. "Hello?"
His face went from anticipatory, to something Rogue might not be able to easily interpret. His expression softened into affection, with a deep sadness layered underneath it. "Hi. I wasn't expecting to hear from you today. Hang on, just a second."
Pulling the phone away from his face for a moment, he looked at Rogue and made an apologetic grimace. "Sorry, I... I have to take this. I'll be back out as soon as I can."
Heading toward his studio, his voice drifted back out into the living room. "Excuse me? Wow, you've become downright nosy in your years, haven't you? Pry into my love life some other time, why are you calling?" His words were all said with humor and affection.
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She nodded as he excused himself, just giving him an understanding smile and watching as he went. Another woman might be suspicious and jealous of a phonecall like that, but Rogue didn't expect Steve to lay his entire life out in front of her, or take the time to explain when whoever was on the other end of the line was clearly someone important to him, given the way the conversation continued.
It was intriguing, to say the least, but she decided that she'd wait for him to tell her and wouldn't pry - if he didn't want her to know anything about it, then that was fine too. So she set about setting up the DVD player, connecting the cords to their color-coded positions and getting it into place while she waited for him to return.
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His hand spasmed on the wood of the door, even as his heart felt like it was being squeezed in his chest; but Steve smiled and teased back, "Don't be ridiculous. You know you'll always be my girl." He gently latched the door (glad to see he hadn't damaged the wood), and took a seat at his desk.
"Captain Rogers, you are too charming by half. And I'm far too old for you."
"Well, if we're going by date of birth..." This was not the conversation he wanted to be having. He felt ugly even thinking it, but he didn't really want to be talking to Peggy at all. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to her - but every time he did, he was reminded of the gulf between them that time had rendered.
Peggy, thankfully, saved him from having to try and steer the conversation around. "Yes, speaking of dates of birth. Happy belated birthday! I meant to call you yesterday to give my well wishes, but any sort of upset in routine throws everything around here into chaos. There was a barbecue, and then fireworks, and by the time I remembered, it was much too late to disturb you."
Steve couldn't stop his mind from flashing over the events of last night, and was immensely glad she hadn't called. Because even if he hadn't answered, it would have put a complete damper on the rest of the evening. At least his nightmare had waited until afterward to bring the mood down, and even then it was only temporarily.
"Thank you, very much Peggy. I appreciate the thought." He hesitated only slightly before continuing, "And of course, I always love hearing your voice."
"You flatterer. You are a dangerous man, Steve Rogers. Doubly so because I know you'll deny having any powers of charm."
"I don't!" he protested automatically, which in turn made Peggy laugh. Even as he reflexively smiled at hearing it, Steve bent his head and covered his face with his free hand.
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"I always love hearing your voice."
Her throat tightened and she could barely breathe. Logic told her it wasn't at all what those treacherous voices were suggesting, and the protective ones echoed that reasoning, but that didn't stop the gnawing fear in her stomach. The anxiety, the doubt that he didn't deserve. Turning away from the door, she forced herself back to the kitchen -- the potatoes needed turning.
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"Y-yeah, yes, I did, very much. Thanks, Peggy." He couldn't quite hide the tremor of emotion in his voice, but hoped the distortion of the digital phone would hide it enough that she wouldn't notice. ...if she'd even realize what it was, at this moment in time. Sometimes, even over the phone, Peggy was sharp as a tack. And at others... she forgot what was said three minutes earlier. At least today, she seemed to know what year it was, and what was happening in the world, even if she couldn't remember the conversation clearly at times.
"Listen, Peggy..."
"You have to go, and continue entertaining your lady friend," she interrupted, sounding sweetly condescending.
"I never said it was a lady I was entertaining," he said wryly - then realized how his words sounded, even before Peggy started laughing. "That's not--!"
"Just go, Steve. Let an old woman dream for a while."
"You're not--" old he started to automatically protest. But she was; and the problem was, he kept forgetting that, because she was still so full of life, and still so Peggy - and then he'd be reminded, and his heart would break all over again.
"Happy birthday, Steve," she said gently, and this time he knew, could hear that she remembered saying it earlier, and was merely repeating it again; there was also an apology in her voice, and he suspected she knew she'd been repeating herself more than she realized. She knew he was hurting, and she was sorry. But like himself, she wasn't quite sorry enough to sever their ties with each other.
"I love you, Peggy," he said, almost whispering it, not sure she'd even be able to hear him over the phone. It wasn't some grand romantic love, but it was stronger than mere friendship; it just was, and age had nothing to do with it.
"I love you too, darling," she murmured. And then the sound of the phone changed, and he knew she'd hung up first. She always did, because he could never bear to be the one to say goodbye first, even if they never actually said goodbye at all.
Steve bit his lip... and then his face crumpled, and he began sobbing.
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So she walked back over to the door, catching the sound of a low response from Steve that she couldn't quite understand and then... Rogue pressed a hand over her mouth and she was torn for half a second on what to do. Should she leave him behind that closed door, alone, to deal with whatever this was? She hadn't even consciously made the decision before she was opening the door and stepping inside, hesitantly moving closer to Steve with concern written across her face.
"Steve..." It was barely a murmur, and she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and make whatever was upsetting him disappear. But she had to give him the choice. "I'll go if you'd rather be alone..."
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"Shhhh," she murmured soothingly, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. "It's alright, sugar. Whatever it is, you don't have to deal with it on your own." She hoped the quiet words would help, if he even heard them. It was just so important in that moment for him to know that she was there if he needed her.
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He didn't even try to understand how he could be so thankful for this thing with Rogue, and still so painfully broken up over what he could've had with Peggy. He just let the feelings wash over him, released in a torrent of tears and harsh, broken sobs, muffled against the now-damp material of Rogue's shirt.
Finally, the tears began to dry up, and Steve sniffed, pulling back to wipe his finger under his nose. "Your food's gonna get ruined," he finally said. As first words of explanation went, they did absolutely nothing but postpone the inevitable. And that wasn't what he was trying to do; he wanted to explain this to Rogue. But it was also ingrained in him to never waste food, and he wanted her to eat. Frankly, after all that crying, plus his run earlier, he really needed to eat, too. His head was beginning a gentle throb from the crying, and he knew low blood sugar was exacerbating it.
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When he pulled back and mentioned the food, she smiled softly and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Come on, handsome," she told him quietly. "Let's get you cleaned up and fed, and we can talk while we eat. If you want. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, Steve, but if you do, I'll listen."
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Standing up, Steve had to pause for a moment while the throbbing in his head grew stronger, before subsiding again. "Kinda groggy," he said, his words slurring just the slightest bit. "Prob'ly won' be able to tell ya much until after I've eaten somethin'." A blanket of calm and apathy had fallen over him, and his accent had thickened even as his words had slowed down.
Never once did he consider hiding this from Rogue. There was no reason to hide it, and it wasn't doing him any good keeping it to himself anyway. He'd always had a confidant to share his thoughts, feelings and fears with. Usually it had been Bucky, or his mother before she had passed on. Now the person he was closest to, the only one he could imagine sharing these things with, was Rogue. He knew she had her own share of sadness and pain to deal with, but he was more than willing to do whatever he could to help her, even if it was just listening and easing her fears, and this was the same, in reverse. Plus, indirectly it involved her, since it concerned his last "relationship", that he was still processing; she deserved to know.
Pushing his hand against his nose once more, he moved toward the bathroom, hoping some cold water would make him feel at least a little more alert.
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The way his accent got a little stronger was adorable, and she felt a twinge of guilt for thinking it when he'd had to go through pain to get there. She walked with him toward the bathroom, keeping a hand gentle but firm against his back until they reached the door. Giving one last soft rub, she told him, "I'll go finish getting things ready. Take all the time you need, sugar."
She'd head back to the kitchen if he didn't ask her to stay, make up their plates with the omelets and potatoes (his with much larger portions), and start the coffee in the pot that had never been used. The carton of orange juice would go on the table with glasses, as well. But if he asked her to stay, she would, of course. Always.
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Moving at what was a slow shuffle for him, Steve ventured out into the living area, through to the kitchen. He sat docilely at the kitchen island, resting his forearms on the edge and leaning his weight heavily on his arms. He reached automatically for the orange juice and poured himself a glass, drinking in small, quick sips, more because he knew he needed it than for any want of it.
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Setting the plates of food on the table, she stopped to stand beside Steve's chair, a hand going to his back again to smooth a gentle circle over it. She didn't want to crowd him, but she wanted to offer what comfort she could. "The food will help, sugar," she told him softly, leaning in just a little closer. "I promise, you'll feel at least a little better after eating something."
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He didn't cry now, just needed to feel her for a moment, know that she was solid and real and there with him.
Pulling away, he ran a tired hand over his mouth, before picking up his fork. "It looks good." His words were sincere, if somewhat subdued; he couldn't honestly say that it smelled good, although he was sure it did. It wasn't that he couldn't smell it, but his brain just wasn't processing properly - or maybe it was processing too well; if he tried, he could pick out every individual ingredient and spice that she'd used, for everything, as well as smelling the tang of the orange juice in front of him. Instead of letting the smells assault him, he'd shut them all out. He'd had to do that before, but usually it had involved subpar army fare, that if he allowed himself to smell it, he would have lost all appetite.
Now, he picked up his fork and methodically began cutting into his omelette, occasionally scooping up some potato as well, before mechanically moving to take a bite, chew, and swallow. He knew, in some part of his mind, that this was what Rogue went through, every day with food; he was merely eating because he knew he needed the fuel to function. Unlike Rogue however, he knew his stomach wouldn't rebel, and he could eat as much as he wanted and almost guarantee that his stomach wouldn't tell him he'd overfilled himself.
Steve knew he was going into a sort of emotional shock. He'd felt like this after Bucky had fallen, and again when he'd finally allowed himself to start processing where and when he was after waking up. It had been a milder case when he'd gone to visit Peggy face-to-face that first (and so far only) time; then he'd walked out of her room, gone back to his bike, and just driven for hours until he'd traversed the entire area between D.C. and New York. His survival reflexes were as sharp as ever, everything slowing down and becoming crystal clear, but his thoughts were fogged over, pushed down so he wouldn't have to think about anything.
He ate slower than normal, and without his usual vigor, but it was clear from the look on his face that he was processing and trying to get his thoughts in order. He wanted to explain things to Rogue, but wasn't sure he'd be able to actually talk about it; not right now, anyway. He'd told her snippets, during previous conversations, but that had been when the wound was scabbed over and slowly healing; now it had been torn open, and he wanted to prod at it as little as possible. But by the time his plate was clear, he'd drunk two glasses of orange juice, and he set his fork down, he thought he'd figured out how to both tell her what was wrong, and still keep a safe emotional distance from it.
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When he let her go, she took a seat at the island as well, pouring a small glass of juice and slowly tackling her own plate of food. It was good, she was a little pleased with herself for it, and she made a note to make it again when Steve would be able to more properly enjoy it. It wasn't hard to miss the way he wasn't digging in like usual.
The silence that stretched between them wasn't pressing, at least not to her, and she just waited for them both to finish their food before doing anything, and even then it was just reaching over to take his plate to put in the sink with her own. "Would you like some coffee, Steve?" she asked him in the same soft voice she'd been using for a while now.
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Now that he had a clear plan of action, and was determined to see it through, the lethargy from earlier fell away. It wasn't that he still wasn't feeling anything, but now it had been pushed aside, to get on with business.
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Grabbing the mostly empty carton of juice, she returned it to the fridge before turning back to hold her hand out to Steve. She'd set the timer on his pot to stop warming after so long, so the coffee would be just fine, and she could deal with the dishes later. She was all his now.
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Leading her into the bedroom, Steve lay on the bed on his side, pulling Rogue down until she fit comfortably against him, and he could wrap his arms around her, feeling her pressed against him, solid and warm and real.
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Snuggling into his embrace, she relaxed into Steve's warmth, letting out a sigh just waiting for him. She really wasn't in any rush, and she was happy to spend hours there wrapped in his arms if that's what he needed.
Storytime
"Once upon a time." Every good fairy tale began with that, of course, and he wasn't going to buck hundreds of years of tradition. "Once upon a time, there lived a boy. He was frail and weak, and not what anyone would expect for a warrior. But, according to others, he had a hero's heart. He abhorred prejudice, and stood up for everyone to have the same freedoms and liberties. He hated bullies, and would fight them even when they were twice his size.
"There was a war raging between the kingdom the young man lived in, and the neighboring kingdom. The Red Skull was a wizard, horribly transfigured while performing his dark magics, who believed that man couldn't be trusted with his own freedom, and needed to be ruled with an iron fist. A colleague of his, a fellow wizard, had fled from the Red Skull and journeyed to the neighboring kingdom, intent to help them fight against the tyrant. He possessed the same magic as Red Skull, but knew it wasn't the magic that made someone evil, but what was already in his heart.
"So the wizard searched the land for someone already brave and true, and discovered the boy. Many scoffed at his choice, but the kind wizard was wise, and soon the boy proved himself without even realizing it.
"During his training before the wizard bestowed his magical gift, the young man met another unlikely warrior. A princess, with chocolate brown hair and piercing, intelligent eyes; a lady who was charming, and a crack shot with a weapon, and had no qualms about standing up for herself in the face of less intelligent men, who thought she had no place in their world of fighting. The princess even seemed fond of the young man, though he was never sure if it was true affection, or how one watches a bumbling puppy and can't help but think how adorable they are, even as they accidentally ruin something valuable."
Okay, he was getting a little off-track, here. "Once the young man was imbued with the wizard's magic, he was as strong as ten men, and exactly how anyone would picture a warrior. But now that his body matched his heart, he found the warrior princess seemed distant with him; she believed he'd become just like all the other warriors she had known.
"But over time, even though they saw each other little because of the battles they both were fighting, the hero showed her that he was still the same man inside, and steadily, they grew closer." He had to stop and take a deep, fortifying breath, because no matter how he masked it, the next chapter in this 'story' was the real crux of his problems.
"Finally, the day arrived when the warrior faced the Red Skull himself. Already he had lost his brother-in-arms during battle, and even if he lost his own life, so long as he defeated Red Skull and protected everyone he cared about, the hero was content with his destiny. His one regret was that he would never find out how things might have progressed with the warrior princess, after the war was over.
"What the young hero didn't realize, was that the kind wizard had been far more powerful than he'd realized. Despite what should have surely killed him, the hero fell into a deep sleep, for almost a hundred years. And when he awoke, he learned that many things had changed. He was adaptable, though; the changes in society and technology didn't really bother him. What tore at the hero's heart was that... every single person he'd cared about, that he had considered friend and brother and sister - they had all passed away, beyond his reach forever.
"Except-" his voice broke, and Steve closed his eyes against the tears forming. "Except for the warrior princess. She had survived it all, and become queen. She had married, and had a family, her children now older than the hero himself. But when the hero finally saw her again, to him she had changed just as quickly as he had with magic. Her spirit was the same, and though she still spoke the same, her body had aged and become frail. And with the advanced years, her mind was failing, too. She would forget things, sometimes even whole conversations that had just been spoken with her.
"To the hero, she was still the woman he loved, and during the good times, he would forget, for minutes at a time, that anything had changed. But then he would remember, and his heart broke all over again at the reminder of all that he had lost."
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