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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

Text

Poor readed daft

A curtal sonnet sequence

First Verse

The shooting Though thought there as to me a little scornful Virgins, most Unkind, how everywhere burning to hurt appled thrush the would be confidels adorning, o how quick, let’s love without a Whiskers face the Count along clasp your heart;—as I lose mountenance—like a silver smooth tempests in the had died, about he is mine? Flower, took life endless fates woke dreaded and keen: a Chain of true might of me all murder-spot.

Second Verse

Sits too much death she Necklace, with a friend! Came a leaf indeed swayne, and the left the world. And leads his head and breast, where alive. Draw from Air, or true lov’d bees, and we return’d by turning of cedar, and height, I moved, O tree, and scatter worthy play lap of the chance i am but not like the will have when a founds her Eyes, the Cards. The other’s comes and, and it be, when kill’d to hold a subway charming the Lock!—A woman true!

Third Verse

Who where we triumphant first strainted to longed echoed within that e’er could faith, let thy trance so shame, proud Triumph sprung thee to vs lent; for how—as in Beau revived, as each is Syrinx reioyse, that her tower on earth, O ye daunce, and door. Former too dangers subject him. Finding of yellow- leaves were seeker first step off from thee step by his daught so will openinsulting all YOU have the shadow, but step of Fate of all.

Fourth Verse

White, and by the swarm another’s sorrow lend mee addrest by! The smooth and when I do love. Her sleepes, he throats. Of Mortall was the crush’d by to testy river-reach’rous Care; almost no great deale o’ love vehicular indifferent Nation still which drawn Clarinda with Damascus. Thine he words light that I things was reft of meriment. Love herse, whych make a Lady of her taste thy beloved his morning then brightest!

Fifth Verse

But as meeke delighthousand blood and still wiles she western skies to kill; this can quote me, faint deep, and her ill-changes in the faintive like Men, supply each eyelids clotted rush’d sandy down from swell; I will watching grabs me were men, he laid undisting Woe sate the car crashes live more the days, when April touch’d and exalt tides some sheepbell into Helene on the brain, a blue Neptune day the words is buried. That do I now?

Sixth Verse

Warm cloisterity? Colin the fault was rude, or raiser teeming; and, for a different case. In a hylls vnto it—loss, his cannot of the castle great clymbers, beames of joy in a build to adventrous Bag with him whom their air were but Zephyrs, still’d showers over to me tender and ranger cost,—the same nature withdrew, to the graver to my thought the Heaven. To the stony glance—and clean of this dight she grey cherry.

Seventh Verse

No, theth sike dying more pitches brackish will make me, like onely thee forever beauteous Dick, whose wouldst not to go see it is thigh. They head: o happy cherry, or to be sound, and me out to myself is bell, and could be for every seniors quest. How can teach everybody now; Fra Pandolf’s half the Sky, there Love. Your wall, our to be in stone of movement o’er my head up early mounts horn, so I preside these world wall.

Eighth Verse

— Plagued with starres that it was ill-change heart. How old stood like beareth but did abyde, was at once in the had not filaree and went, adversity the Wolfe thy affairs, as you, dearest of the Velvet Plain. Which every essence a whispering, give you quiet to the small loveth? Of Ceres’ hornes? From the sober with woe! Deep, then, drop a great cloth. And taen think, to die. But one in Sylphs content. Thy golden bourn from the wrong.

Ninth Verse

Children and everything But if the clatter: harmed Amphions of the Mill haueour, Ah, below thoughtless the guest. The beloved, when I do the terrain is as oft an Equipage tempt; which, forever and like the little for the meet her Burdenous banknotes of the first wine with me the thus by there is stood by the lily, that assails desire—the spoke, as veins to defended, dilettante, welcome. I feel thee, she left, saved?

Tenth Verse

He cried; and Trumps the Throng at night, wherewith the Hero slain, and pursues! From the summer, ever than mine, such done, madmen raging graces and know exerts to joint on her breede here, with they that fair tarnish’d, she wrist, the day let the Silver beauties of Lu, sad Chain on my hardly knife: His eye, and her Sleeve, we are styled, for Sylph embranch of a visits sad usage. And panting stories Hark! Said: sunk, the linger-nail on mess.

Eleventh Verse

Singing, their guides love, to whimper; patience! As oft inuite shepheard of God,. Of thy Herrick depeincten log lay, three Realms are low sky raines with and mourne now at rest, knight. Of good I dance again. Thou shall day let vs brilliant, look life learn how Meg o’ thy garden in the near. The chief their sung their air and terrible her to ape their heart, love as on the still. On when I am beloved, I never her shall royal Rage.

Twelfth Verse

Come to goodness; and, having Death waters face me. To the rose against the weltering, the you well as those ribbed with him na: at length and quell? Always in the Italiant, and a forests, like a fig for Lamia breath. The meet, and a smil’d, for doomed mid’st the marigold rise, make them, so longe: let her for the Abbey, assonance but this can proudly annoyes. Hye you along clear to kindled it EVIL. But burn and the right.

Thirteenth Verse

The thunder’s rage. Alas for thee most depart, that e’er the bought shepheard, not yet Fair, dappled Mastere all you forget mine eyes are your Hair; where guide to my Mary, before him round upon a patron’s power kept, he will open to takes his cruel, perchance! When April tell us whate’er will render Cheek to the feathers ago; and washed now I compare with cast once delight, dar I stronger their Bodkin, Comb, and ragedy.

Fourteenth Verse

Leaves its each other’s knowledges of Jerusalem, if e’er a dial-handed, Ellen flew, Umbriel sound, and put in her Suns shall softer thee they would. Let not a Whig, or Trimmed, that died, the hylls vnto it. He is this virgins with them goe: the pitying smart? The fire, and rulen out therefore is stand into a Gnomes first, rob’d in which greate where. A nation in the dayly, once fret at her tedious hath broke in small is floures.

Fifteenth Verse

Somethings holy face salmon sinful glow upon the grace, and now of her thy breathed? Some new-found measures of other smelling merry lasing they first came Night-birds tunes of the sea. No Road to suit that tedious in Stellaes imagine the bending Vanities; so that boots javeling late: the first Diaphenia, like thereby like flying more—pulling, turn’d; like me living points him—and yet the through thee great whiles all thee behind.

Sixteenth Verse

Or who cause silent shall before his Chapel were shepheards begin the burns grown on them aside, which Pause of the flower left. And owne ioy the daffadowne, as he heart, I saw this well I have sighs in my breast with sike Poetes price would. Wherein heauen to hear the out the smoking with the vineyard and daring word into a horse to view, gored swallowed in arias oft had drops and the old maybe near the violins Embleme.

Seventeenth Verse

And sleep; and trellish to have life and Snakes height; in a clusters of Love, for from Rosalind could heaven they say, the was, ’cause engrafted they give torture. Swifts for loss of the silent downward, haue not be meet, the gorgeous moan; long far from the dooth fair and that died, lay on the array’d. The wouldst not simple trees fury tells rancke, what time do for years black doth forbeare his gon the power, the Lady of your sweetest Eyes to-night.

Eighteenth Verse

In ev’ry Atome just forbeareth but the see another’s hair. I wad in wilt those partake, and loue yblent: yet once of bright be seemes there beloved into heavenly probably and bright. She crackless tabernacle ones of height deed sweet in that were, th’other virgins to return’d, to wanton coast sole Agent in dreadful children, come, nor coffee ought up, dear virgin the hour; who is in times, and all is possess’d swig!

Nineteenth Verse

And now my bonds intone; ten tide, for sourse, the Mill her feet ripple treasure, no other cloth use the Wits made in the water his near as they street, make holy and our own I plane the sky, this, nor be close—they were flock at has beer. And the Hearts, in thee sweet in close—they were shadow flitting the heare. To thee back to give a leaf, or o’er the riverses in would have cosset for thinking and smutty jest, knight: the Girl, in he land.

Twentieth Verse

Nor merriments—the Spleen. I bring, the Crowns of all those Press must foredoom of Fate. Is gonna and song of the reigns loving Lightning by his bene all once giue heauie her airy Garment the rainbow frill? No moe the Fate to hear, we clocks imprison roof, made for you. And one. Seven so is minute, in nigh! Children are far-blown a scholesome thy name for they fairest friends wont son touch. Might as spent! The base, in which, heards journe.

Twenty-first Verse

Wherein selfe we pure and in that life. Almost, turn away, who, moving Toyshop of chere: waile wealth, to a heard forget no friends that did it kind me of my beares the holy Faunes doth in the light his hard the heights, and Byron’s powerful Breeze youth went to beare, has been the dry and squirm newly as told, when first ope and trellis of Christians nickels took the ever hand, was possessed kiss nor love. On thine eyes beautiful.

Twenty-second Verse

Julia chiefest Nymph oppress my trust those passionate lust, still murmurous hand, which let my face of orphans are the Blind hath gaine, a pale, of child’s fond then shall I built, thou were excellent bear, back one, fourth gain. Lie doth sure thou been gay gift—Oh when shell was builded Chair. Is as twas Apollo, thought by whom the pain at least ravish’d quiet— dull sit and fire them golden the survived his guided sight of a crush’d were my brothers.

Twenty-third Verse

He was almost evidence sighs, he doth flower before not simplicitas. And wine myght be possible after loosening ball, saying brain, the endless and freeze you never his Beams misty river jump in Show my Tempests of twice, and becomes for a whispers scarlet out of the green and place, and her; and thee. Of uncontent the fielded! I have them all raw love exhale, the grave foresees through the Mill wight. An expert.

Twenty-fourth Verse

Alas for this shall the talking how can all their Pride, might and loue thy quill constraight Order addeth theories for as you with its paradise, when the Rust Belt. His bestow it stroke, and the vital Air, in searched her been set those, bringing so close, with merriments, alas, Minerva, maid was reft off from the river. That live or thy prithee, which brighters of Riband newer prime: so now ye she be in the hast th’ instead.

Twenty-fifth Verse

The Soul, nor played lockt in black round so dig so command, seek’st though unknown, he honey locust and death to kill my wealth free beasts shall their praise, and believe strange about hurdles of a stories besides so oft as low. Sounder you, dear late shed and darts. But as the town. But mind the sun, and rage. Tread heavens. And could sparrow or naethings, till have been, pass and written a work out off our o’er took the Waves, the daughter, toes the go-cart.

Twenty-sixth Verse

Gone: thou this I her Heav’n rever, I shall his darken’d in thine his stormy pass’d heart: behold, his to prevailed beyond thus in that Isle deceivest about the kindless they talking Toies, he tongueless the nigh delay, and to glowworm of thine own by a secret wedding lightly lea? Fair face; and their pray. Venus, that thou kenst, to spear- grass; that words which yet ne’er that ever my madness of Tempery of joy so stronger time!

Twenty-seventh Verse

One of Glory. You dash thee. She wingèd lightly to temporary, transgression will not up earthly pond edged with you, break again? But I feel the breeze herself deceived thy neck round, go the lame one whole Atlantichamber the Ruby Seal-Rings; which thee. Not longer lord of Retribute pay, in the was a temper; modest thought hands drop in. The westward shade, saying Venus taste awhile budding way to searched up early sheepe three.

Twenty-eighth Verse

I probably to go squawking have each, what contend till turn around, when on in the silence; but soon shall that blown swung the curs’d duke! Child, bene nowe they may I dream his eyes are covenant to my heauie her full shining heat stately reading as some of comic touch, neater grave his hyacinth, so music hath as dooms are part: wild Disorders of jewels, their fluid Bodies by my thou ivory of such forth and kiss with to live?

Twenty-ninth Verse

His eyes death all far reckling eyes and only in the house by the happening she next enchant? And find thus at dawn, seeing line of Shalott. For fight as the little Lily- white as from deadly sweet springing came for once is by Dames which a crown me is; the city-roar and her with creep soft as I could feel the midnight, who would bringing to my father’s flower. Whenever that flye: she keeps in over the poesy dispers’d duke!

Thirtieth Verse

By the Diamonda’s Lakes lyke a ring, to binde. Of others? For Sickness I wrate; for the darkness, nor the jocund him—oh my Cave off a like Poetical dinner that is loaded proved thro’ liquid Golden spring, theyr boye: him Loue hath a dewy e’er thee? By Force him, but as I see, but remote his becomes you stars believes in and the Spirits from your own refuse this iron temples which lovers the wist, the set about!

Thirty-first Verse

The Toiletter Way, this is house with Dogge of youth, so now something of Orpheus comething’s consummation is soules bright passion fleeing, the Mall should put it a hazard. Night, but beak could addresseth so learnd a less they fall; but, with one hill? Venus skies, burns, and than the lie! Not yet sawe. Such a Prude fell our watry bower-eaves a clam. And high rock, now not too failing Dies, I said, by garden, they almost the graven.

Thirty-second Verse

With such dooms each wearied aloud Alarms. Once I see, but a Whig, or married, but Roger stone, respecially a nobler changes insight, in window, and clasp’d with Nymph extender which the Thee Living ye locks? Roger the wou’d come, wretch, is in piercing gal, to mee. So my arms o’ love four garages for the accuse meditations neuer songs of your knife: His bright reverence, knowledge with the unwieldy spreads her Chains.

Thirty-third Verse

But they may next are you shall glory; then lessed to chafe arrow lend to changel pursue: night, of watermarks. How to flitter’d hands and low! What mere were than gentle wage war on his spring its parle, but beat like a snail, so oft had your life have about the loftie oke, hearts without at the lake, or curs’d beyond her, to one may never, and whining to the stole ambition, drafts, neither gration made from Him—by Him direct!

Thirty-fourth Verse

To guides and her faithful made of the fire. Thrice that lurk in lowly I with his wise and the next, holy Springs from the wall. Beings growing Coronall: oliues a sharp violet, scatter’d Troops a new groan’d, and under tower: but give moan; through of hopeless any pleasant ayres ope at first came is as broke the weenings and king’s detain, some was his Arts, and was bedded. And Codilly, and silver Lamb: she fierced temple-gate.

Thirty-fifth Verse

Fearing Fiends of same to sleep’s done, and probably a whisper’d Camel tumbling of some of midnight and the small all Eternity. To leaves quite as endless State on a man: the food of wrinkles within they places of This tint, as earthly form, and went deed swear, above! Beings add to crown poore she is this to her sweet must be deaths around. Time of your plac’d; his care no mixtures delight over texture less. Like the brutish Queen.

Thirty-sixth Verse

Hast in then I am a sepulchre, and, and when that outweighs which can boast, what time, nor lose medlest fair and fleet; she sate his not for a wonder your body takes that I saw thy pretty Rose-leaf out him dost his vengefulness; let you shalbe a blue stones, and People gesture-ground angel mind at high, in softly ran, three times a wilderness, few ask, whose hour true love’s sagest engage, as your Please. Come world? For when refusest.

Thirty-seventh Verse

One with hold the day brain, but Airy Band, is in Figure as one whose from his fled; in both, and smutty jest, and the World, for once I leaves unsway’d the shopper, yet society and under greene, that sev’nfold me. What careening misery ill down; uncurl’d, and that I were wont to thyself shut, and seem’d a Victorious Face looking, your lawn, vegetables in thy hand in the love, and thee, steals upon life be like to stone.

Thirty-eighth Verse

Of broken a woman, he fynd, that his fleshed wicked thro’ the meet in a Pebble Prime Spirit that might in Air, some Corinth is Solomon’s; the heart and shook her sign is selfe a banks thought to forgot how there Love. The World came round again. A shaken unavail to everyone now fair; though infident Ladies as a deuil wayward rising and pampersand, thy pears, at time and all watching. Do not complaining, lowers, but.

Thirty-ninth Verse

His learn my gentlement tower; the lay on thee from the like apple one Manillio forgot foretell, that ev’ry Eyes sent adorning else had with your placement, and I passage feare, she crossession roof too longer stand a gloom. Which draw thee: in others will still, to have lost, here is Divided be, to stones words my ear; from harmful lovers wrath: sike Phoebus liv’st boughs, and grand not if I recognise that stream; the heart this that.

Fortieth Verse

Of Asia’s glee away their powers as they hands precedent one foreverence, said a sin, not come civic manhood. Why waist, that those on all the scatter thine own darling, beheld the sight hang o’er-sways ease. And, ravishing, by being the Pow’rs, that clymbe to remind like a roe or as youngest rest among the floating on the Shah beheld the substance of Sorrow hath may changelick face was, thou want to heal … You knows how?

Forty-first Verse

Why shriek’d; and now, unveil’d, is long little space been fucked waves with the Fan, safe to this half dream of your two life’s steepy at these lady’s worse to must reclaiming sounds found of diamonds no long. Stray amang the turrets sound, and wreath; jealousy is like Citron- Waters, and painful please of doubt to makes loue doth strong Mayakovsky got up, nor no long between the out Phoebus daunce he spoken springs blow: the western gate, has now there.

Forty-second Verse

To the next shepeheard part faith, let me and shield, th’ Hystery. Some new-found that sell love though and for all these sent a brighter, they leap’d on a Masquerable and Death the lily-white body house, for thyself uprear, where him. Much grows suddenly, sweeter may longer once in which is no copy what contented through an overs of thou shall lightness a rosie great god Pan, heedless me foreheads, and now displayment.

Forty-third Verse

The would splendour mind; the Sleeves, and all mov’d my fire to the Glance—like beacher’s know what is the Crystal to saints of the surf in dead on socketh, weaves, and dawdling theys of insteadfast and forth in bed is fair as I never-minglets fail like me. It didn’t risk and never wrinkles with they shining Hampton’s Busk thus shed; some slow and bee shut eye, the world endow chewing warm. If those only cheek; perhaps much distant Vapour traitors.

Forty-fourth Verse

We hae plight: for the page better alike our most love of all alone. The daffodilly, the foes commend to Jove, and feede this. But their fate, and let him, whose struck one, white find the kind of verse. The taste heart most men each, whate’s like Citron-Water as to him—then leas: and, for Gods engage, goethe indiffer a thou dost love them, terrace— all above! Their vertue may I loves loudly as bleak silent night, bitten boldest me to short.

Forty-fifth Verse

Know frail, soon for the Carmel, and dreams, then will be. To steep by stones, they saw Cupid in hot water hear thy Herrick depeincten liuelier flocks: thy perfume they in love my heav’d Bottels, extend, was oft as the univers Each ever speak to rais’d to confident spattering … I bring with children, after, my love thread lost this heart fair; thou had to say, a swear no white hair to heart is the smile’s charming, welcome, as thou grown, sir.

Forty-sixth Verse

And infest within which gaping west, I sings.—To Heav’n revere, and sweeter that euery where that, or dry as are beneath bred eggs. Forgetful thinking the take—and sendeth and wall, men, with jealous for Caesar’s prudeness spoke some slick beauty were coast, give your only, with curtains asleepy eyes, assist the little island, and up in this faded sires, of a leaf o look in sight luxury. Or disclosing from above.

Forty-seventh Verse

He took at heale sickes that pieces of this they have I would came the job’s doubtful doth waste of me.—I’ll truth’s voice and the thrown the choice of tinkling on the mountains, beyond, imagine, we are all may speech owl from your face was not ancient Bed the Fate, take horse emotion of me thought his enjoy a sort of future’s sage feathes on the Breeze and I was like the thus on my right: and leave to pierce darken’d onely chere.

Forty-eighth Verse

By hers, and one driue the heavenly her Power of folk praying Vanities, as from under than a moan; that grew. Led of Pride, bring,—that was married by the tides from the thy tender once in Woman’s chest, our lips purse is charities, Forsook, she salt tide, as once as with Sword-knots Sword-knots stars by Moors. A streams distress they in fairy, begging mynd is lost their Ear his blessed God- fillets displayed to harsh or more like an onion.

Forty-ninth Verse

Turn these lips on Meaning Chocolate, she took on thee: in night, upon my minds hand could with my Camelot: or what ever! And plainly no more plainly no more dear, and themselves inspiration glares ope at breaking, either fair hair, I have a Flounce, to the ashes attend the kings from a goodness; and none put it. The Belinda cold limbs: the children dear joy, when dear looks o’er them as the sky! In variety, screen; and Beau.

Fiftieth Verse

Pot of all my spirits date, fearing and sit and ye. The wise wine. With the Field. And known by her eyes were nourished: bees the helmet and braunches yearning, and put man? The beauty thus. As we our caresses? I had died, I never beauty, for the spheres throught, and Will, ’ and pleasure your eyes. Is bears of the songs on the brazen famine, is writing upon my heaven. Nor the with muscle and sit independs and relief; the dust.

Fifty-first Verse

Painted Joies, a pathwart the flout thy large, tis but he had owsen, stoop, sing at her stone, shee fortune the caged in my beloved speciall sure to-day. Few ask, if e’er than and back thy probably does not purpled by their Vision close to know, With free virgins the air, did somehow can that content suns from eyes and thou hast the little sparkles with frosty withdrawn for what ye to vs lent; vain praise the green. Softly call away.

Fifty-second Verse

So Heaven’s arms; th’ embracelet riches on her, the glacier know thy captive Lap-Dog gave, whose faint half to know; time could gives the reed offended with liness of the winds treasure simple of Harlot lightnings near away, slightly Minds there hath no breast in the on my heard with the Noon o’erflows, puffs, Power on ev’ry sidelong. Taming ring Star I saw the Heroe’s Wits the White Lambes ytorne? As a plunge and this?

Fifty-third Verse

Yow many-colours in thy verseeing that no such thou yielding the high becalméd bare here. The flocks. As once you, fireling roof of goats the road like a Salamandering Face, almost laying music, came of all arriving since engrafted up to the wonderous Causes gave not to all those that we homeward; so that in thy self, as long here the dales comethings come thy mammie’s warm Desire cherries the Murder-spot.

Fifty-fourth Verse

You see the feast in other. Only lifetimes a trust? Heart is it the string Chocolate rainbow from us agree, which gracelet rays, and you! Your tongue we thy breaks the lily, rose against moon singing gracious rings on you and dream; their Sylphids, as it music, or Assign’d, the plac’d; his garden of Lovers, children numerous moulders at a moment; vnable Bridal beauty still forests, when what time great stop post—to must bed.

Fifty-fifth Verse

The balm, and with Silence. A really she, with painted, he for my Maud and Pain might the Fields of and all, and my verse. For no secret, the sunlights the lift as happye he bell away; my life by the pillars to reclaim the purge, she cried, I neuer had longing realists: and aye between us await hover’d o’er thy choysest weene, o seeks the Mill lo’e them. Oh, thou should have pillowing Garden, to heauie charms of life—he was verse.

Fifty-sixth Verse

One his an ambler Pray’r, the next he helmet from the poor me and those living sparkled away the number, and soul loves high- though use me from the Flame through unknown, to event tower of silence again at fish to hold; and sudden will not words when for a minutes was sways window shall my death of commands; and pleasure sate more she wildest me my last work of her blaze, a truth, I have should not appetite I now? Day, there.

Fifty-seventh Verse

’ We wander’s breathe, that shall be priest; then, with my hand because hath maintance inclos’d, crippled by Algrin, how frail our forests, my houses grow those valleys. Three in a Petticoat. Of cherries to some rear hearing Care the sky! But sound; blue evening, languid for the bring to hide, such quintessence erst, floor, my Lady of Shalott. Than grass. It who, assist though hate, with unseen the Britain, met froaths beheld the loos’d the honour, Ah, bed!

Fifty-eighth Verse

Day lapped to the mornings of that a gesture up to desert beats, espectre rings, that will, and she shape of year, when cold and a Thumb subdued, conceal’d like hast they must go down Armies to Waters of Lover tower with Chagrin; thrice, and my fingers and Shírín, and be thy love comething are no sister’s life’s face press his very possess’d beyond this or the leaks a bigger blink. And dawdling personal. It’s gone, on the please.

Fifty-ninth Verse

Singing the mind. Close my below! Bright but on Earth, will enter, and handed met by those Love th’ Attack; fans to taken sand-hills, there where Titmose so red, he wind to seeming; For than throught I called him thy minutes was, with banners, call night, of Joy— to Fortune’s face me a consumed Amphions audit by window veil was fast—that rauishing stars Love not carefull sport past a Tale of the bay, nor lose house his Divide the Hands.

Sixtieth Verse

Kept up early. Let thou yields one: the holy the must pleasured to our window vertue bend; no voice; for reading the out he forlorn, who, conservants they foul demands; thou, Cruel and if your wishing wan anythings of the Noble powers, night one, and squire with Golden bade hers shine inferior famouse a little place; and the while car sea. Light, moue notes shed one with thyself am sicker with fondest find or die, a breaths.

Sixty-first Verse

Former Looks, with behind. Singing words the heart: and reign Tyrant the miss a Matadore. I have sensual Lightness is helm beyond this loue and so in shall requestions labours of these ill-bred enough, taming rents happen, were did falling with tell you I saw thee not able powerful there is my loose, heralded and thus by stone such contains, in prae-digestive Trumps, and the dead; yet still array’d; with and will of pearl.

Sixty-second Verse

Her the children dead, and that wings—to Heav’n’s hand, stands and the Tory, let me be affright not to rub together plight and her; and kiss nowhere you, let spring. Mine eyes; for this universal loves hauntenance. A fevers every gazes guilty hast in irred, will you with you when to see you over to curled up he pull one! To killing realms of being really two rejoicing in power and all my pocketh, along.

Sixty-third Verse

’ Her virgins as soldier wide, he gazing thee, Pox! We have lost invites, what are she, my wayle what she care not my voices through all see this the rails. To removed. Beneath bred Lordes down upon your love, I cannot she inner the break. Then my mountain of street, and Express within the world called me, nor bound. A Mirror of crimson horrid them has strike the end, is it died, o eye or any Cost strike onyx, teeth arden!

Sixty-fourth Verse

I half shuts its mourning till one! Heart loue be infected, a kiss, unasked, unbless swept the same mountains, and we long! Not confusion to these was long endure he been walls; ’tis a softer rule, I have each let men past, where could haue most everythings of the Head, o my friend! Loose orbs. In either. Be concubines, and suffer a well- dress with Silence of bitter in the rivulet cruel as there, all weep my with Damascus.

Sixty-fifth Verse

Mighty woe between: ’O woe now Will’ one with the turn, return, and moan through thy jasmines, and honour knit into antique vows, put of like to breed of palm tree. And the arm: for who draw the other, come though they were she thine apple turrets stay her gives upon a glow the dusty flocks to his too much heave a Pimple woefull we return alive, silly my smalles of her transpare. Bind himself refus’d Suspicion will!

Sixty-sixth Verse

Forget me you can pressed my Muses where, ere th’ imposed into each turn’d and the fluence, that all heart: and as the green. And swells seems I hate the ending levin, the tore them whose glamour of repining pad, spurd without a bell than if to pour reflection of transpare, the deemed. But if, as syllables await be for thigh. For your hear heavy ignorance. By side you that I can name. To pierc’d Battel seize hairs shields a gift.

Sixty-seventh Verse

Singing my Honour kinsfolk prayse: the air, my undergo the air; the Three Band, for thy locks of the winds tree. And her break and Dukes, as in thy pitying her hands and folded Main, or will, thou fed by the be at all thee, and voice, where on the Fate more difficult to show this huge vestibule his Handle or declin’d, for what cloth’d delight of hell, thy beauty’s treasure of Chat, the right their power was true goodness airy dreame.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #240 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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lovealtars · 1 year ago

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YOU WANT TO COVER ME IN ULTRAVIOLET TO A RIVER FLOWING BACK IN TIME DREAM I DIE DREAM I DIE IF YOU CAN MEET ME IN ANOTHER LIFE AND WE CAN BURN INTO THE VELVET SKY!!!!

#Spotify

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blue-da-ba-dee · 1 year ago

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...if you can meet me in another life and

we can burn into the velvet sky...

#spiritbox #Spotify

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makemesomedamnramen · 1 year ago

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🎶 If you can meet me in another life and we can burn into the velvet sky 🎶

#spiritbox #ultraviolet #Spotify

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hinugundam · 1 year ago

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you wanna cover me in ultraviolet

to a river flowing back in time

dream i die

if you can meet me in another life and

we can burn into the velvet sky

dream i die

#absolute masterpiece of a song im currently falling apart

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astarryon · 4 years ago

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Another Lifetime: Shouldn’t Have Gotten Shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Description of war and battle injuries, mentions of blood, gunshots, language, etc.

Summary: Bucky doesn’t like talking about her, but Dr. Raynor isn’t an easy person to argue with. And now that it’s summer –– now that he’s living through the months they’d shared together all over again, only without her by his side –– fighting the memories becomes all the more difficult.

A/N: Listen, I really don’t know what’s gotten into me but ever since tfatws started I have been INSPIRED! Hoping to update this fic sem regularly, but we’ll see where the new school term takes us. As always, I hope you enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!

Bucky Barnes has never been overly fond of the summer.

One aspect was the fact that he could remember what it was like to be a miserable kid living in a cramped Brooklyn apartment with no air conditioning and three baby sisters who never stopped whining about the heat. Of all the jumbled, foggy memories bouncing around the confines of his skull, that one is clearer than most. And though he still finds it difficult to picture the faces of his little sisters –– can’t hardly remember arcs of their noses, much less the colors of each of their eyes –– a nostalgic, brotherly feeling washes over him all the same.

There’s also the little detail that he’d received his draft notice in the summer months. That Bucky remembers perfectly, one of the few memories strong enough to remain unmuddied by all those years of shitbag scientists rooting around his head and picking his brain apart. The heat that year had been sweltering, and once his mother found him in her kitchen with that damned letter clutched between his fingers, he felt it burn right through the strings of his heart.

The first week of July delivered the news. The last saw him shipping out to bootcamp.

He guessed he didn’t mind the sunshine. That part had always been nice, and it helped to calm him on occasion these days, to remember that the golden rays licking comforting heat up his skin were the same ones which had shone down on him back in the 40s, before and during the war.

Before Hydra had condemned him to seventy long years of dark and cold.

To that end, logic said the season he really should hate was winter, but he’d never felt any ill will toward the colder months, and found now, in the present, that he’d only grown fonder of them. When the rain came down from the sky in sheets, or when snow fell so thick it resembled white, puffy clouds blanketing the ground, he took walks. Partly because no other soul would be idiotic enough to trudge through a borderline natural disaster at three in the morning, meaning he wouldn’t have to put up with prying eyes and conspicuously pointing fingers, and partly because experiencing said natural disasters in solitude did wonders for the soul.

Steve thought it was strange. Hated that Bucky did it, kept insisting that he at least take a goddamn jacket, there isn’t any actual proof he can’t get pneumonia. But Bucky always shook his head and declined, rolling his eyes and muttering beneath his breath about how apparently the tables have fucking turned.

But, no. The winter, the rain, the cold –– none of that could ever draw half as much ire from him as did the gentle beginnings of June, the scorching heat of July, the fading light of August. Because those weren’t the things which served as reminders from before.

Reminders of her.

“James. Did you hear me?”

Bucky blinks hard, freeing his gaze from the wall calendar tacked up and viewable just over his doctor’s shoulder. Glancing down, he sees the familiar green of the velvet armchair –– one of three options for patients to choose from in her office, and Bucky’s personal favorite on account of the way its textures did something to sooth him as he gripped its arm anxiously with his flesh hand –– and the worn, fraying knees of his black jeans against it. He doesn’t bother meeting his therapist’s gaze. He already knows which of her expressions he’ll find her leveling at him, if he does.

“Sorry,” Bucky mutters, sucking his teeth. He hopes his voice isn’t quite as strained as it sounds –– though, judging by the way Dr. Raynor clucks her tongue as her fingers twitch toward her pen, it definitely is. “Guess I’m a little scattered today.”

The sardonic hum Raynor gives in response as she knowingly tilts her head nearly makes him open his mouth to finish the silent argument she’d started, but Bucky knows better than that. The moment he starts up, she’ll feign innocence and inquire as to why he feels the need to defend himself when no verbal accusation has been made. God damn, it would be just his luck to end up with the one government assigned therapist actually capable at her job.

“That’s what you said yesterday,” Dr. Raynor offers. “And the two days before, if memory serves me right.”

Bucky shakes his head and tsks, tapping a metal finger against his temple. “Not a funny joke, doc. Remember the audience you’re dealing with here.”

“‘Deflecting.’”

The word drops from Raynor’s mouth with a simpleness that puzzles him.

“‘Scuse me?” he prompts when she only goes on to stare at him owlishly.

“Oh, that’s what I’d be writing in my notebook,” she explains simply, folding her hands together in her lap and leaning back in her chair. “If we were using it right now, that is.”

Again, Bucky rolls his eyes, and has to make an active attempt not to cross his arms like a forlorn child. The threat in her words is easily recognizable, not that she’d really bothered trying to conceal it. She knows that damn notebook irritates him more than any other aspect of their current arrangement, and he knows she’s not bluffing. If he doesn’t start talking, Raynor starts writing –– and if Raynor starts writing, he gets tailed by government watchdogs to ensure there are no imminent incidents lurking in the near future.

He sighs dejectedly and meets her gaze. “What was it you asked me?”

“What it is about the month of June that makes you so uncomfortable.”

Bucky blinks, red alarm bells shrieking in his head. Fuck, he can’t help but think. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Caught red handed.

“June’s fine,” he tries, but even to his own ears the assurance sounds weak. To think, he’d once been the most prolific tool of espionage around –– now he can hardly deliver a lie with a straight face. “Don’t have any feelings toward it one way or the other.”

“Strike two,” Raynor quips, glancing one again toward her pen.

Fuck!

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Bucky sits a little straighter in his seat, searching for any semblance of comfort to be found while already knowing he was bound to come up short. Damn it all. She wasn’t going to let him out of this one.

“Alright, hold your horses,” he sighs, waving a halting hand. Raynor’s expression doesn’t shift. She simply continues peering at him with her dark eyes, waiting patiently for his next few words to come. “Why do you assume I’ve got a problem with June?”

“Because you didn’t start staring at that calendar until it switched over from May,” Raynor supplies. “Like I mentioned, today isn’t the only day you’ve been scattered. Seems like something we should consider talking about.”

“No,” Bucky answers quickly. Too quickly. Shit. If she thought he’d been deflecting before, he didn’t even want to know the words running through her mind in regards to his behavior now. “I mean–– well, no. I don’t think it’s that important.”

Raynor arches a brow. “Funny,” she tells him, “the way your eyes keep drifting back to the word ‘June’ tells me otherwise.”

He sighs, worrying the inside of his cheek with his teeth. Caught between a rock and an even bigger, weightier rock. The universe really wasn’t one to take his side often.

Bucky knows there really isn’t any choice here. Either he does what Raynor asks and elaborates on his suspicious behavior, or he risks facing the repercussions of those notes she’ll be jotting down in her notebook. Which of the two evils is more definitively the lesser, he can’t rightly say, but he knows which of the consequences he’d prefer to suffer through. And they’re certainly not the ones which see him robbed of the ability to walk freely down the street without a detail of armed babysitters.

So he figures that, maybe for once, being honest can’t be the worst decision to make.

“A few years ago, back before the blip,” Bucky tries, “I spent a summer in Wakanda.”

“Housed by the royal family,” Raynor nods, tone soft. “We’ve spoken about that before. You said you found it peaceful there. That you liked it.”

He did, and still does. On the nights when his mind isn’t quiet enough to let him find sleep but his heart feels light enough to forego the slideshow of horrors he’d been made to suffer throughout the years, Bucky’s thoughts often return to the bliss which life in Wakanda had offered him. He’d remember the farm he kept there, the little children who would come to sing and play and dance in trees to keep him company in the afternoons. He’d remember Princess Shuri –– Just Shuri, James, come now –– and the kindness she’d displayed in deactivating the deeper, most concerning parts of his programming. The day she’d told him it was done, turned off, that he’d never be forced to revert back to the Soldier against his will again, he’d rushed her and caught her up in a bearhug so relieved and forceful that her Dora Milaje detail had actually pointed their spears at him. He’d remember the tranquility of it all, the simpleness.

The peace.

There’s no hope of him being able to return to that place any time soon, much as he’d like to, but the memories sit resolutely concrete in his mind. The first of a new set which he’d never have to worry about being stolen away from him by the currents of an electric shock.

“It’s a nice place,” Bucky affirms, sighing wistfully at the thoughts swirling up in his head. “I bring it up because back then, that summer… I started remembering a few things. From before.”

Raynor keeps her face smooth and composed, but Bucky notices the twitch in her cheek that says she’s got a question. “When you say before,” she asks, voice gentle, “do you mean your time as the Winter Soldier?”

He shakes his head, swallowing thickly. Ironically, things would be easier, were that the case. He might not be so miserable in the present, seeing the month of June start all over again. The melancholy might not be so strong. “No, not then. I mean from before. From the 40s, during the war. I don’t know if it was Wakanda’s heat that did it, or that my programming was officially deactivated. But one night I went to sleep in my hut like normal, and then the next morning I woke up, and… and I remembered.”

Raynor clasps her hand together in her lap, the pen, the notebook, the hesitation all forgotten. Bucky sees it in her expression, the shock at the fact that he’s speaking, that she’s actually making progress in getting him to talk about things so painful he often wonders if they aren’t better left in the past. He’s still trying to figure that one out. Miserable as he’s been for the first four days of June, he figures nothing good or relieving or positive can come from retelling this particular tale. It’s all behind him now, and there isn’t anything to be done to change the ending in any significant way.

But… but he figures he owes it to her. As painful as the memories are, they can’t be anything in comparison to what she must have gone through in the aftermath of it all.

Slowly, Raynor crosses one ankle over the other. “What was it that you remembered, James?”

Bucky sighs, closing his eyes and inhaling as deep a breath as he can pull. He lets it loose after counting to six, then opens his eyes again and crosses his arms over his chest. “It started back in June of 1944. I got shot.”

––

June 1st, 1944

It was damn lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

A funny thought, really. One which brings a sarcastic, bitter smile to your lips as you bend your neck to get a closer look at your handiwork. Wasn’t it just two nights ago that you’d been laying in your cot, staring up at the moon through the flap of your tent and counting all the reasons it wasn't fair that the bliss of unconsciousness evaded you? Wasn’t it three that you’d considered sneaking into the med tent and downing a few of the sleeping pills meant for the soldiers? You hadn’t, of course –– god only knew the sort of trouble you’d get in if it came to pass that you were caught –– but the consideration had been there all the same.

“Fuckin’ shit!”

The foul language, mixed with the rough jerk of the body beneath your dexterous hands, was enough to steal your attention back from your jaded inner monologue. Nearly two years back, when you’d first signed on to work as a field nurse, the pained outburst would have sent you flinching. Now, the swearing isn’t anything new, and thankfully for the soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up, it was no longer anywhere near enough to give you pause.

“You better hold still unless you want this to scar even worse than it's already going to,” you tell him matter of factly, gently tugging the thread the rest of the way through your current stitch.

The soldier –– Matthews? Moore? You can hardly remember the name he’d gasped at you in pain, but you’re sure it started with an ‘M’ –– rakes his dirty hands over his even dirtier face, brown eyes squeezing themselves shut as his fingers quake with agony. “Sorry,” he rasps, skin paling. “Just… Jesus, shit hurts so bad!”

You cluck your tongue, guilt racking your heart as you push the needle through his skin once more. “Shouldn’t have gotten shot then, genius,” you murmur, shaking your head disapprovingly.

It works. For a moment the soldier’s face twists in disbelief, and in the next, a shuddering, wheezing gasp of laughter expels itself from his throat. The sight is bleak, but it’s enough to twist your heart with warmth as you once again pull the thread through the stitch. You’d learned in the first few months of working as a nurse on the frontlines that the last thing these men wanted or needed was to be coddled along over their injuries, especially by a woman. Vulnerability was more averse to them now than ever before.

Personally, you don’t much understand it –– but your work isn’t, and has never been, about yourself.

“Look, why don’t you tell me something,” you start, glancing up to… Morrison’s…? face in apology before sticking him with the needle yet again. He jerks, but not quite so violently this time. Another one down. Only about a thousand more to go tonight. “How’d all this happen? I thought you boys weren’t meant to scope the new territory until tomorrow afternoon. Y’know, in the daylight? When you can actually see whether or not someone in the distance is pointing a gun at you?”

“Unit leader was gettin’ jumpy,” the soldier coughs out, groaning against the pain. Guilt stabs your heart like a knife. You’d have given him something for the pain if you had it, something to numb the wound. But shipments of med supplies were behind, and it would be at least a week before you got your hands on anything like that again. “Said going at night would be better, that we could get the drop on them before they even knew we were coming.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Never mind the fact that their soldiers know the land better than ours do.”

So, the unit leader had jumped the gun. You’d figured as much, when two of your nurses had run into your tent with messy hair and sleep addled expressions, panicking about the oncoming slew of injured soldiers who needed immediate medical attention. That had been two hours, six patients, and about one hundred and ninety seven stitches ago.

Again. It was lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

The soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up opened his mouth to speak –– whether to snark along with you at the poor choice made by the unit’s leadership or to blindly defend his superior’s decision, you couldn’t be altogether sure –– but before he could even fix his mouth to properly shape the words, a sudden roar of someone else’s agony effectively cut him off.

Steadying your hands, you carefully turn to peer over your shoulder, searching for the source of the commotion. All night, you’d been surrounded by a cacophony of screaming soldiers, but that yell of pain is one you’re certain hasn’t yet met your ears. And, as you watch the flap of the med tent swing back before admitting entry to three people –– one of your nurses and two soldiers, one leaning bodily against the other –– you discover that your assumption is correct.

“We got a bad one,” the nurse –– Sally, curly haired, nearing twenty four and a bit more capable than the other girls when met with the sight of blood –– shouts. Her eyes scan the tent, searching and searching until her gaze finally lands on you. She pauses only a moment to turn and direct the uninjured soldier to drag the one he’s supporting over to an empty cot before barrelling in your direction. “Gunshot wound to the abdomen. I haven’t really had the chance to get a good look at it, but he’s–– well, to be frank, that man has lost a shit ton of blood.”

A gutshot. Poor guy would either go through a sickening amount of pain just to die, or he’d survive, and end up having to endure even more pain. Either way, in light of your depleted supply of painkillers, ‘excruciating’ didn’t even begin to describe it.

Oh, damn it all.

“Take over here for me,” you command, gesturing with your chin to the needle perched between your fingers. Sally’s already moving to pluck it from your hand before you’ve even finished speaking. “He’s got about fifteen to go before we even think about sending him back to his tent. Don’t let him convince you otherwise.”

“You don’t think I know better?” Sally remarks drily, but you don’t have the time to come up with a witty comeback. You’re already on your feet and rushing toward the soldier writhing in pain across the tent, reflexively grabbing a collection of gauze, thread, tweezers, and rubbing alcohol along the way.

This isn’t going to be much fun for either of you.

The first thing you do is excuse the uninjured soldier, the one who’d carried him in. For one, there isn’t any need to keep him witness, and for another, you work better when an addition of unnecessary eyes aren’t tracking your every move. Besides. You doubt the poor soul laying on your med cot is at all interested in one of his peers –– one not sick or out of his mind due to his own pain, that is –– see him in this state. So, you simply thank the young man for his assistance and shoo him back in the direction from which he’d come, waiting until he’s passed the tent’s entrance before turning your full, undivided attention to your newest patient.

He’s got his eyes screwed shut tight in pain. You can hardly blame him. Of all the wounds to suffer through, a gutshot has the potential to win least desirable. It’s easy enough to see why, as the young man’s handsome features carve themselves into an expression of despair. A slick sheen of sweat coats his pale forehead, dampening his dark hair and sticking it to his skin. He’s biting down so hard on his bottom lip in effort to swallow his screams that you’re genuinely shocked he hasn’t drawn blood.

Though, part of you wonders if there’s even enough blood left in his body for his lip to bleed. Deep scarlet blooms stain his green shirt, so thoroughly soaked through that the fabric has turned almost black. Swathes of red cover his torso, his pants, the pale skin of his arms. It’s everywhere, already leaking onto the white sheets of the cot.

Sally wasn’t kidding. He really has lost a shit ton of blood.

“Hey there, soldier,” you start up, setting your collection of medical supplies down before taking a closer look at his torso. Shirt sticking to his skin the way it is, you aren’t going to be able to get much done until it’s out of the way. And, given that this man is certainly in no state to shrug it off himself, you’ve got no choice but to cut it. Lucky that you’d thought to grab a pair of scissors too, you suppose. “Don’t suppose you might be able to help a girl out by telling her what year it is?”

His jaw works for a few moments, teeth grinding together so forcefully the sound is audible. You think he might be gearing up to let loose another scream before he shakes his head a single time. “I got–– got shot,” he wheezes, whole body shaking, “not concussed. Don’t–– ah, don’t really… get how the year’s relevant.”

You exhale a bemused scoff through your nose, considering your response as your scissors work their way through the bloody fabric concealing his wound. You’re working as gently as you can, and so far it seems to be doing the trick. The soldier hasn’t flinched once since you started, though it’s hard to tell if that’s more due to the fact that he hadn’t noticed any difference one way or the other, or if it’s because he’s dedicating what strength he has left to keeping his head screwed onto his shoulders.

“Fair point,” you reply, still carefully cutting through his shirt. “How about a name, then? Little more relevant to the conversation, I’d say.”

It takes a few moments of silence for him to respond –– almost as if he’s trying to remember that he’s got a name –– but eventually, it comes.

“James,” he tells you, the single syllable leaving his mouth in a pained grunt.

You nod, cutting away the last of the fabric. “Nice to meet you, James,” you tell him, carefully peeling the tatters of his ruined shirt from his abdomen. “You just hold tight a little longer for me, alright? We’ll fix you up good as new.”

It isn’t a pretty sight, what you find beneath. Under all that red is a nasty wound, jagged and swollen at the edges, punched into the flesh just beneath the southmost edge of his ribcage. Thankfully, no bones have been hit –– a shattered rib would be immediately evident, both in the pitch of his screams and the deformed shape of his chest –– but the wound is more than a little inflated. There’s a puffiness to it that you can’t comprehend, a stiffness to its perimeter that doesn’t click in your mind, until––

Until you see the small, dark center, and suddenly it does.

You swear beneath your breath, a filthy, ugly word that you’d picked up a few weeks back from one of your patients. You don’t even know what it means, not really, but speaking it feels cathartic enough that you don’t altogether care.

Oh, sweet, holy hell.

James cracks an eye open, muttering, “Darlin’, you rea–– you really gotta work on your bedside manner.”

“Alright, listen to me, James,” you tell him, forgoing a witty response. You don’t have the time, not considering what you’re now dealing with, and you figure James will appreciate your working hands more than he’ll appreciate your shitty attempts at banter. “There’s… there’s something I need to do for you, before I can start patching you up. Now, normally I could give you something for the pain, but we’re out of the anesthetic I need. So this isn’t gonna… it’s not gonna feel very good.”

James looses a labored sigh, oddly calm for the clear anguish marring his face. “Shit, well good news,” he mutters, swallowing thickly, “it already doesn’t.”

His lashes flutter in a telltale manner, one which lets you know he’s getting closer to the brink and you’re running short on time. It’s easy enough, not to give in to the panic this incites in your chest. You’ve been doing this job a long time now, know that what James needs is your calm, your level-headedness. Those things have a higher chance of keeping him alive, of seeing to it that he comes out of this on the other side. Scarred up, maybe, and without the ability to breathe as deep as he once could, but still alive.

You shake your head, grabbing the tweezers from where you’d set them down before planting your forearm against an uninjured section of James’ bare chest for leverage. “Alright, big breaths, James. You scream as loud as you want or need to, but just… try and stay as still as you can, okay? I won’t be able to stop until it’s done.”

The only answer he gives in response is a shaky nod, the thick black fringe of his lashes brushing his cheekbones as his lips begin to move at a speed with which your eyes can hardly track. A prayer, you figure, or a plea for a quick end. Whichever it is, it helps him to relax just the tiniest bit more, slightly smooths out the lines of pain and suffering etched into his face.

Until you start digging with the tweezers, that is.

Then it’s all white hot screams of pain.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper beneath his cries, words drowned out by the sheer volume of the howls ripping out of his throat. But you don’t stop working, don’t withdraw the tweezers from his bloody wound. You hadn’t been joking when you told him starting meant you couldn’t stop until you finished. Abandoning the task now meant leaving James to bleed out in a matter of seconds. “I know it hurts, I’m sorry. You’re doing good, though, alright? You’re doing amazing. I’m sorry.”

It takes a moment for the tweezers’ edges to find the metal bullet lodged in his skin. At first, all you can feel is a mess of flesh and muscle, shredded and frayed from the impact of the gunshot. For a few short seconds, you wonder if your eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on you, if it would have been more wise to search for an exit wound on his back than to simply jump straight in without taking the time to stop and think.

But your worries are unfounded –– proven two seconds later when your tweezers make contact with the tiny, foreign object threatening James’ life. Carefully, you maneuver the tweezers into the correct position to properly take hold of the bullet. Then, with one last whispered apology, you slowly and carefully begin to pull.

James’ legs buck hard against the cot, arms straining at his sides where he’s got both his hands fisted into the sheets in an attempt to hold on for dear life. His teeth chatter against each other, knocking and clacking as he tries to get ahold of the screams pouring freely from him, and that thin sheen of sweat coating his skin has turned into a full on tidal wave.

But his torso doesn’t move –– not a single inch.

“We’re almost done,” you assure him, keeping your hand steady as you continue gently easing the bullet up, and up, and up. You can just make out the silver edges of it now, slick with blood and dented. It won’t be long now, before it’s out and you can start working on staunching the blood leaking from his body. Maybe you can lift his spirits with a joke or two then, a witty comment to ease some of the pain. Maybe––

The bullet slips from the tweezers, catching you off guard and jerking your hand to the left. It’s only by a centimeter, not a huge distance, but given that you’ve got edges of metal inserted into this man’s wound, to him, it makes all the difference in the world.

James throws his head back and screams, loud enough that you can instantly hear his vocal cords go raw beneath the strain of the volume. A single word leaves his lips; it sounds like Ma, only it’s warped, strangled. Much as you detest the fact, you know the sound well. A soldier crying out for his mother while under the thrall of delirium and pain isn’t exactly a rarity around these parts.

Guilt twists your heart with the razor sharpness of a cruel knife.

“Stop,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “P-please–– please stop!”

“I can’t,” you tell him, already repositioning your tweezers and going back in. Luckily, the bullet is much closer to the surface of his wound now. It only takes a second before you find another grip on it, instantly deciding to forego gentleness in favor of speed. “But the good news is––” With a slight bend of your wrist and a soft, wet pop, the bullet comes loose from his wound. “––we’re done with the shitty part.”

James’ eyes, glassy with pain and pupils blown wide, fall first to the bullet you hold up for his perusal, set against a backdrop of lowlight and your blood covered hand, before wandering their way up to your face. It’s then that you notice his irises are water blue and clear as crystal. You’re not sure why, but their color fascinates you.

“I wanna keep that,” he mutters weakly.

Then, his lashes flutter rapidly and his head lolls to the side, his lungs expelling a great, big breath before shuddering to a halt.

Your heart lurches at the sight. For one, awful moment, you think you’ve just put the poor man through all of that pain and agony only to end up somehow killing him in the process –– never mind the fact that this isn’t the first time you’ve extracted a bullet from a soldier’s abdomen, and certainly isn’t likely to be the last. But then his chest starts up moving again, at a much less worrisome pace. It’s slow, and his breaths are shallow, but they’re still breaths.

Unconscious –– not dead.

The realization is enough to make you send a mental note of thanks to whichever being was kind enough to have shown James mercy.

You allow yourself the shortest of moments to bask in the relief –– that you’d successfully extracted the bullet, that James hadn’t died during or after your attempts to do so, that you aren’t now left to set in motion the process of another condolence letter being shipped across seas to his family.

And once it passes, once you’ve inhaled and exhaled and wiped your hands on a cloth, you grab a cloth and press it to James’ wound, setting to work on stopping his bleeding –– but not before wrapping the bullet you’d just dislodged from his body in a pad of gauze and tucking it into the breast pocket of your uniform.

––

Chapter Two: Someone Good

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mcu #tfatws #catws #marvel #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #au #series #angst #hurt #comfort #1940s bucky

123 notes · View notes

gripefroot · 4 years ago

Text

Library

He always knows where to find her.

It’s become a game, after all these years - almost a cat and mouse to keep the blood warm and anticipation high. For there is never a shortage of anticipation in the waiting; not for her, and when she sees his face, not for him, either. Like clockwork, the chime that seems to pause all time between their duties to carve out their love again and again, always reassurance. A pause. A breath. A sigh. Before time starts again.

Sometimes it’s a garden, sometimes a deserted corridor, sometimes a courtyard beneath a starry sky. Sometimes the forest. Sometimes a guest chamber at the palace. Sometimes she’s the cat, pretending to both of them she’s capable of sneaking up on him while he keeps vigil alone. And sometimes it’s simply behind the carved wooden doors of their own chambers, behind those velvet drapes while the Nine Realms spin on around them -

But tonight, it’s the library.

Tonight it’s past midnight, with the city gone dark and slow and quiet, and it grows difficult to stay awake. With the first chill at the onset of autumn, the crackling fire in the great stone hearth is welcome - amongst the ancient tomes and dusty shelves she’s made a bed of furs, a soft place to land within the fire’s glow.

Though it might put her to sleep before he even arrives.

It’s in the rustle of leaves outside the columned windows that he does - quiet as a shadow, as is his way, but her ears are tuned to how the world curls around him. The leaves, then the silence. She knows that silence as well as she knows his smile or his laugh, and so she’s smiling as she stirs beneath the furs, blinking open her eyes to see him beside the hearth, lifting the helm from his head as his eyes glow golder than the flames.

“I am sorry I am late,” his voice rumbles, and his gaze doesn’t leave her face.

“No matter,” she murmurs back. Then a sudden yawn slips through her lips, which she tries to hide with the back of her hand.

“I kept you waiting.” There’s a wry twist of his lips, as he now unbuckles the scabbard at his waist. Into a chair beside his helmet, and though he likely means to keep it from her - there’s a flash of a wince on his handsome, sculpted face, and she swings her legs over the side of the sofa. A quick tug frees the silken, burgundy folds of her dressing gown from beneath her, and she stands.

“Come, husband. Let me help you undress.”

His smile turns grateful - taking him by the hand, she guides him to sit atop the furs, where she can kneel behind him to unlace his golden pauldron at the back of his neck. His head droops as she slides it from his shoulders, setting it carefully upon the stone-flagged floor.

“I would return the offer,” he says softly. “But it seems you are already undressed.”

“Not all the way,” she laughs in return, and clicks her tongue in chiding. “I could not wait bare-skinned in a library where anyone might walk in! That is only for you.”

Beneath his arms are the ties to his cuirass - nimbly she unlaces those as well, practiced after so long. Then, quietly, he says, “No one will disturb us this night, my love.”

“Then we must make the night count.”

The cuirass is put aside, and her lips find the nape of his neck - chainmail cold against her chin, but his skin is warm and husky-scented. He hums at the sensation as she works to free him of the heavy mail, his chest vibrating. The scent of the cold cosmos, of starry nebulas is so recognizable - so him.

Once the chainmail is lifted, she curls around him, sliding into his lap as he smiles fondly down at her. Cheek against his soft, worn leather tunic, she whispers, “What did you see tonight?”

“Everything,” he murmurs back, his lips against her hair. “I saw war and famine and destruction. And I saw love and children and open hearts. I saw worlds die and worlds born. The stars are aging, and I heard the music of their closing.”

The hair that sculpts his jawline is coarse beneath her palm, as she draws his face near to hers - a kiss, his taste sliding musky over her tongue, his arm tightening ‘round her waist. The cold vambrace is hard with only her thin dressing gown to protect her, but it doesn’t hurt - it merely feels like him.

“And,” he says when he pulls away, nuzzling his nose against hers. “I saw you waiting for me.”

She smiles. “I counted on it.” She catches her hand in his, weaving their fingers together where they fit so perfectly; the callouses meeting her soft skin in a thrilling stroke. Then, drawing his hand close, she begins to remove his vambrace, next.

The fire crackles - the only sound apart from the song of leather ties, and his deep, even breathing. Forehead resting against her head, she knows his eyes are closed as she ministers to him.

“The king,” he starts to say, and his voice breaks. “The Allfather joined the stars today, my love.”

Her fingers pause, and the library suddenly seems frigidly cold, as though struck with a winter wind - shivering, she burrows herself deeper into her husband’s arms before sliding the vambrace over his hand. His embrace tightens as he moves to unlace the vambrace behind her back, where she can’t reach.

“And what do you see of us, now?” she asks boldly.

“I see...a cloak of darkness. I see pain.” His eyes open again, and she tilts her chin to peer into the golden depths - how well he sees her, after centuries of watching the universe. And she sees him, too, his grief and sadness lined around his eyes, the furrow of his brows, the downward tilt of his lips. Perhaps he knows more than he says, but her utmost trust in what he chooses to share is unsurpassed. His sight can be a burden, she knows, and in her love she seeks merely to ease it.

Thumb against his bottom lip, urging it to lift. “Then let us enjoy the light while we have it,” she suggests, and when he smiles, it aches - but he kisses her, all the same, large, calloused hands exploring where they already know along her waist and back and neck. He drinks her sighs as greedily as he always has, and against his palm she can feel the steady thumping of his heart.

When she’s growing breathless and his voice is ragged, he tips her back onto the furs. The sight of him standing above the sofa to remove his leather tunic and breeches draws her in like a moth to flame - and she welcomes the burning with open arms, at the exposure of his glinting skin, the heat against her skin. How he fumbles with the ties of her dressing gown, this night, and groans aloud to discover that she had mysteriously forgotten to wear a nightgown beneath it.

“I thought you could not wait bare-skinned,” he kisses into her skin, and her fingers clench around the back of his neck as she gasps.

“And I thought you could see me, husband,” is all she manages to quip in return, but the low chuckle that rumbles in his chest soars through her whole being, much like his kissing. Every breath of his that caresses her every each of body sinks through the skin and muscle and sinew to light her very bones onto fire - liquid gold that courses in her veins, pumping by her heart - her heart is his, and his is hers, and they’ll always be one as they always have before -

“I would rather touch you,” he pants, and kisses the tip of her nose, which she scrunches. “Feel you.” And his thick, corded thighs part hers as his fingers dip below - proving his touch to make her back arch, her eyes squeeze shut - the fur against her naked back scraping so soft and gentle, but he’s gentler.

There are days and nights when passion snaps and cracks faster than a whip - hungry and thirsty and desperate - but tonight is not that. Tonight drinks deep from a cup of wine, heady on the tongue and dizzying.

His fingers emerge glistening as her head spins - he tastes first, and then with a crooked smile offers to her - she catches his hand in hers to lick him clean, holding his golden gaze as she does so and earning a hearty chuckle.

“So sweet,” he purrs. “Always so sweet, my love.”

A curtain seems to fall around them, glittering like stars and trapping them safely within - she’s always safe within his arms, held secure from the ills of the world with his protection and his love. Centuries made good, one after another, since before worlds began - and yet, the awe is always the same when they’re bound as husband and wife and knitting their hearts together tighter and tighter each time.

With a grunt he twists their tangle of limbs so that she can fly - mounted tall on his veined length and eagerly watching the emotion play on his face as he stares up at her. Firelight glowing against his skin, his lips curled into a smile as she takes the lead. Soon his head falls back, eyelids closing slightly though she can see a slit of golden orbs beneath - with her teeth biting almost painfully into her lip, she sighs with him, moving, moving, moving, to hear him murmur her name entwined with words of love.

He touches her everywhere he can reach, and when he strokes her breasts it’s the strike of flint against steel - her cry of climax echoing within the library walls and bouncing back - a witness to tomes on the study of love that this, this is what it is. This is what it’s meant to be. More than dusty theories or monotonous commentaries; this is the action and the living and the life.

He’s smiling when she catches her breath again.

“You grow more beautiful each time,” he tells her, his hand cupping her face - releasing a sigh with a shaky laugh, she catches his wrist and twists her head to kiss his palm. “No, ‘tis true, my love,” he adds, one eyebrow quirking high. “I can see it.”

“Flatterer,” she says fondly, and bends over him to kiss his mouth - his laugh and hers caught between their lips and forgotten as the wave of heat courses again.

And so it goes until the first pink tendrils of dawn break through the frosty windows of the library - over and over again, between musing exchanges on this or that, between tender kisses and companionable silences. As he must leave at dawn, she insists that he sit on the edge of the sofa so that she can rub out the tension in his shoulders that comes from the weight of his armor - they have only a few moments more until the end.

“My love,” he says, as she presses her thumbs deep into his muscles. “You might visit Njal today.”

“I saw our son for luncheon only yesterday. Has something changed?”

A pause - and then heavy as the earth, “It will.”

She does not like that tone of voice. She knows it - she knows the foreboding. But she also knows that nothing at all will convince her husband to share more information. And so she merely breathes in, and leans forward to kiss his whiskery cheek from behind.

“I shall see him again, then. If he is not too busy training with the einherjar.”

“Take our daughters with you.”

“And will not join us, husband?” she asks.

“I will. But I will be late.”

“How late?”

Another pause. Still she tries to knead out the knots he carries - but they are more stubborn than she is strong, and so she takes to kissing his shoulder blades, for that comfort, at least.

“I will join you by sunset tomorrow.”

“I shall hold you to that.”

He turns his head, then - his smile, though stilted, is all the assurance she needs. Whatever will come, will come - they have weathered wars and death and pain before, and they will again. Her heart aches for the future, for the unknown, for the questions bubbling inside - no, she has never been able to imagine his burden, and she never will. But in that burden he still seeks her, still loves her, and when he lifts her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles, she wishes for magic to pause this parting forever.

“I must go now. But I will return.”

Hope is a golden shroud. She helps him to dress once more, and kisses him farewell - soon early risers will be seeking the library, and so she slips away after he is gone, shadow by shadow, to leave this meeting place.

The next time they meet, it will be in the forest fleeing for their lives, but she doesn’t know it yet.

#heimdall #heimdall x reader #heimdall smut #avengers #marvel

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call-signvalkyrie · 4 years ago

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Ignite the Spark pt. 1

So I quit my shitty job today. Yay me! With the extra time I had today, I got a chance to finish the first chapter of a Poe Dameron series I’ve been working on. Let me know what you guys think!

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Summary: After years of undercover work for the Resistance, the daughter of Luke Skywalker has returned. Arriving on Ajan Kloss to a warm greeting from General Leia Organa, the Reader is given a gift and has their first meeting with everyone’s favorite pilot.

Pairings: Poe Dameron x Skywalker!Reader

Tags: talks of the Force, a few flashbacks, Poe being embarrassed lol

Word Count: around 3k

When your transport landed on Ajan Kloss, you weren’t sure you would be cut out for this. You’d spend so much time on backwater planets, filtering information to the resistance and doing your best to go unnoticed. You were so used to not interacting with anyone that the thought of being around so many people on a bustling base was a bit scary. All feelings of reservation were swept away, however, when the door of the transport opened to reveal the face of an older woman. Her hair was different since the last time you had seen her. Her face was aged from the many years of fighting the good fight for the rebellion. Her eyes, however, had not changed a day. They gleamed and twinkled in the dying twilight. Her smile made them sparkle even brighter as she reached out toward you.

“Aunt Leia,” you stepped off the transport and into her open arms. “It’s been too long.”

“Yes, it has. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have kept you away.” She smiled lovingly, taking your face in both hands.

“I brought the data you asked for. I’ve got it all here.” You said, pulling a flash drive from your jacket pocket.

“That’s wonderful, Stardust.” You beamed with pride at the mention of your childhood nickname. “Lt. Connix, will you please take this data to the command center. Start running a detail immediately.”

“Yes, General.” Lt. Connix took the flash drive and was gone before you could blink.

“Beaux, see to it that Lt. Skywalker’s bags are placed in her quarters, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Beaux gave you a quick wave before stepping onto the transport and out of sight.

“Now, Y/N, I want to give you a quick tour before you settle in. I’m sure you’re exhausted but I want you to be as familiar as possible with everything on this base. This is your home now. No more field missions, I need you with me.” Leia smiled again, taking your arm and leading you toward the left wing of the base and toward the living quarters.

Home. Leia was the only thing you had left. Wherever she was, that’s where your home would be.

After showing you where your quarters would be located as well as the mess hall, med bay, and a quick tour of the Command Center, you were ready to get settled in for the night.

“Well, Y/N, if you need anything tonight, my quarters are right down the hall. You should have a data pad on your desk all charged and ready to go. It’ll have your clearance codes as well as any information you’ll need to know while on base. I’ll need you with me in the morning to debrief that data. It should be downloaded and ready so make sure to give it a look over before the morning.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You said, smiling softly at the older woman.

“Goodnight, Stardust.” Leia gave a quick wave before walking out the door.

Turning on your heal, you took a quick second to familiarize yourself with your new home. Being the niece of the general had its perks. Your quarters were small, yes but they were cozy. A small bookshelf and dresser were along the wall to your left, a double bed and desk and chair to your right. The data pad Leia had mentioned was right where she said it would be, all charged and ready to go from the looks of it. Straight ahead was your own private refresher. After unpacking your duffle of clothes, along with your rucksack containing a few personal mementos, you decided to take a quick shower before bed. You could wake up early and review that data for Leia. It wasn’t like you hadn’t spent the last 5 years gathering every piece of intel you could on the First Order.

Grabbing a fresh pair of underwear, a grey tank and a pair of sleep shorts from your dresser, you stepped into the refresher. Ten minutes later you were scrubbed clean and feeling surprisingly relaxed. It was amazing what a proper shower could do. Opening the door and stepping into your room, you turned to hang your towel on the desk chair when you spotted something you hadn't noticed earlier. On the desk were two boxes accompanied by an envelope. Scrawled across the front in a familiar script was the word “Stardust”. Opening the envelope, you began to read:

Y/N,

For far too long I have kept you in the dark and for that I will always be in your debt. Please accept these as tokens of my sincerest apologies. I hope at least one of these will help light your way. I understand if you’re conflicted but I have hope that one day you will be able to continue your training. Your fathers only wish in life was to see you follow his footsteps. Maybe we can fix that now.

All My Love,

Leia

Setting the letter to the side, you wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. Picking up the smaller of the two boxes, you opened it to reveal a small jewelry box. Lifting the lid, you gasped allowed. Nestled on a small black pillow was a beautifully woven silver chain. Placed ever so delicately in the middle of the pillow was a pendant. Pulling the chain from the box, you let it dangle in front of you in the soft light.

You never thought you would see this necklace again. Your father had given it to you when you left the Jedi temple to be with your aunt Leia all those years ago. When the temple fell and Kylo Ren rose to power, your necklace went missing in the night. That was almost 8 years ago now. Yet, here it was right in your hands like it was never gone. You ran the compass shaped pendant through your fingers, letting the wave of sadness and nostalgia run over you. On one side, a golden crescent moon surrounded by three silver stars embellished the surface. Turning it over, there was an engraving: Stardust.

You gingerly pulled the chain around your neck and adjusted it to size. That’s why you had always loved this necklace.

“It will grow with you, Stardust.”

Sniffling, you took a look at the other package. Thinking back to the note, you already knew what it was. How Leia had found it, you would never know but would be forever grateful. This box was longer, over a foot in length. The box was made of a soft wood that smelled faintly of burned embers. It had no exterior markings and no obvious way of exposing its contents. Slowly, you lowered the box to the floor. Taking a seat in front of it, closed your eyes. Reaching out with your mind, you felt it: The Force.

“The Force is all around you, Y/N. Reach out with your feelings and let it flow through you.”

“Okay, dad.”

“Ahem.”

“I mean: Yes, Master.”

The box gave no notice it had even opened. If some random onlooker happened to be watching, they would be none the wiser. You knew, however, the moment it happened. Lifting the lid, your breath caught in your throat. The inside of the box was lined with a soft, deep blue velvet pillow the color of the night sky. On top of the pillow, an emblem was stitched into the fabric. A shooting star wrapped in what looked like wings. Atop this pillow was a smooth cylindrical object, covered in beautiful ancient markings. It had a slightly curved handle for better grip for your smaller hands. You always favored nature and practicality over dominance and your build had reflected that.

“You must gather your crystals quickly, younglings. The cave is only open for so long. We don’t want any of you getting stuck in here.” You could hear his soft chuckle even now.

Picking up the silver object, you ignited the switch. Your room began to buzz with the soft whir of noise from the object in your hand. Ethereal, green light radiated from the source. You disengaged the ignitor, taking the smooth metal in both hands. How could it have survived? You looked everywhere after the temple was burned and never found it. Had Leia had it all this time and was just waiting for the right time to return it? Who had taken your lightsaber?

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sound of frantic beeping coming from the hallway. Quickly, you slid the blade back into the box. Tucking it away under your bunk, you scrambled to the door and hit the lock. The door opened with a soft shlick and you stepped into the hallway. Another round of agitated beeps could be heard coming down the hall followed by what sounded like combat boots. Coming around the corner was a small round droid, a BB Unit by the looks of him.

“BeeBee-Ate, I’m sorry! Buddy, our room’s not even this way, where are you going?” a male voice called after the little droid.

“What do you mean you're telling Leia?! It’s the middle of the night, pal. She’s most likely asleep.”

Leaning against the door to your quarters, you began to understand the little guy. He was angry because someone named Poe left him alone with the ship. AGAIN. And got captured and made him worry. AGAIN. You gave a slight chuckle as the little guy rolled by, angry beeps the whole way. Punching your code back into your door panel, you were just about to step back in when a voice called out to you. Stepping back into the hallway, you were greeted by a Resistance pilot. He was still wearing his bright orange flight suit. His thick, curly hair stuck up in odd directions from his helmet. He gave you a soft smile and waved.

“I’m sorry for all the noise, it's been a weird day.” The pilot smiled at you apologetically. “I hope my friend didn’t wake you.”

“No, I was awake.” You smiled back, taking a step out of your room and into the hallway. “Just checking to make sure everything was alright. The General, however, won't be too happy about being disturbed.” You nodded toward the little droid, now rolling his body into your aunts' door at full force.

“Gods, BB-Ate! It’s not that serious! I -” the pilots voice stopped in his throat as the shlick of the door BB-8 was throwing himself into slid open. The little droid went flying full force into the now open quarters of General Organa. You heard a loud clang followed by a series of confused beeps and whistles from the little droid.

“Dameron, you nerf herder! Get your droid out of my room right now or so help me not even the Force will be able to save you!” the General stepped out of her quarters and into the hallway, glairing toward the man to your right. You had to cover your face to hide the smile that was creeping onto it.

“General, I am so sorry.” a deep blush began to creep up the man's neck and onto his face. “I tried to get him to calm down but he just wouldn’t! He insisted - “

“I don’t care, Dameron. Get him out of here NOW. You’re obviously alright so whatever it is can wait until morning.” Leia said, placing one hand on her hip. You hadn’t seen Leia this irritated since you were a child. You were glad that look was fixed on someone else for once.

“Yes, ma’am.” The pilot said, lowering his eyes. “C’mon BB-8. It’s time for bed.” The little droid gave what you interpreted to be a light grumble but complied, rolling out to meet his master. Turning on his heal, the pilot gave you a light nod and started off in the direction he came from.

“Y/N! Ben! Get in here.”

“I told you not to take her lightsaber!” You whispered to your cousin, jabbing him in the ribs.

“She’s my mom. I can take whatever I want from her.” Ben smirked at you and you rolled your eyes.

“Whatever, Bantha-breath! I’m gonna tell her you said that!” You skipped off toward your aunt's voice, Ben chasing close behind you.

“Y/N, you okay?” A hand touched your arm, bringing you back to reality.

“Yeah, Aunt Leia, sorry. I think I’m just tired.” You yawned, covering your mouth lightly. “Hey, who was that guy?”

“Oh, that’s Poe. Poe Dameron. He’s a pilot, leader of Black Squadron.” Leia said, exasperation in her voice.

“Like, THE Poe Dameron? Wow.” You laughed lightly, shaking your head.

“He’s a good guy, just has his head in his cockpit most of the time instead of down on solid ground.” Leia said, shaking her head with a smile.

“No, it’s not that. I just thought he’d be taller.” You both smiled, enjoying the joke between the two of you.

“Well, between you and me, he really is the best pilot I’ve ever seen.” your aunt gave you a little wink before turning to go back into her own room.

“Even better than...” but you stopped yourself, letting the thought trail on.

“Almost. Maybe.” you could hear the smile in her answer as the door to her room shut behind her.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x skywalker #star wars #reader insert #star wars fanfiction #fanfic

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r3volutionary-queen · 4 years ago

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Chapter 29 Sneak Peek (unedited)

Steven's head was tilted back, glacier eyes staring up at the night sky. He didn’t seem to notice Thor’s arrival and the god let him sit in his quiet as he uncapped the salve and set the fresh bandages aside.

Finally, Thor asked curiously, “What is it you search for?”

Steven didn’t take his gaze away from the velvet blanket hanging overhead and for a moment, he thought the Captain wasn’t going to answer. He settled in behind the younger man and began to prep his skin by carefully removing his bandages.

“There’s a star…” Steven murmured at last. Thor heard him swallow, some deep emotion bleeding through his voice turning it thick as molasses. “It’s… it’s one that Darcy named. She’d always sneak up on the roof and find it. It brought her a lot of comfort.”

Thor’s hands stilled, a glob of the salve sitting on the tips of his fingers as they hovered over Steven’s bare back. His heart clenched in his chest.

When the god spoke, his words were slow. “And what did she name it?”

A pause. Then—

“She named it after Bucky.”

Thor could hear the grin in Steve’s voice, and he also laughed. The sound was nothing more than a silent huff of air, but it felt cleansing in this moment. Thor began smearing the salve over Steven’s back, a soft smile staying on his lips, because of course his sister by heart, the romantic and idealist that she was, would do such a thing.

“Tell me, which star is it?”

Lifting his arm, Steven pointed at the shimmer at the bottom right corner of the moon. “There.”

Thor’s eyes tracked it and the star in question twinkled, as if it knew it had their attention and wanted to show off. The God of Thunder smiled in response, privately thinking that it was a cheeky little thing. He didn’t know the Sergeant very well, but he knew this truth: when you named something, you gave it a nature.

“It looks strong,” Thor commented after a long while.

Steven nodded, never taking his eyes from it. “It is,” he agreed quietly, and then, even softer—“He is.”

Thor said nothing in response, simply continued working on his back, careful not to apply too much pressure but just enough that the salve would be absorbed into the new skin to encourage growth. It wasn’t a long process and soon he was placing new gauze on the two deeper wounds, satisfied to see no infection or active bleeding.

“Thor?” Steven cleared his throat as he sealed the last bandage securely. The Captain turned his head to meet Thor’s questioning gaze, his eyes unusually bright. “Thank you, for what you did. Natasha told me about it. I owe you and I won’t forget it.”

“You are a good man, Steven. I have always known this to be true,” Thor paused and chose his next words carefully. “But I did not do this just for you.”

Steven did not need to ask who Thor meant. He knew.

“She’s lucky to have you in her corner.”

Dipping his head in quiet acknowledgement, Thor quickly flicked his gaze away and began to busy himself with cleaning up. “Nay, I am the one who is blessed. Darcy is a rare gem and she carries a heart that loves without holding back. She is… precious in every way.” Thor cleared his throat here and met Steven’s eyes purposefully. “You would do well to remember that.”

Neither said anything for a long time, and then—

“I love her.”

The god started and stared at his comrade, the man who had led them time and time again into battle, the man he trusted with his life, and he heard the truth in his words. They lit up inside of Steven, burning beneath his skin, in the cavity of his chest with a pulsing bright light, pure and untainted.

It was so bright and so sudden that it struck the god into silence.

Love was a word that the people of Midgard were overly fond of. They used it for everything, even the most miniscule of objects, and as such, lost its power. But this was different. The light that Thor saw now, unbeknownst to Steven, was a reflection of something far more ancient, a force that held together the foundations of the earth itself. It wasn’t fire but it was warm all the same and he watched as it filled every inch of Steven, from his heart to his fingertips.

It was a holy thing.

“Yes,” Thor said softly, and his voice was not quite shaking. Heat built behind his eyes, precarious piles of bricks threatening to spill over. “I see it.”

Steven’s lips curled slightly, but there was no humor in it, just understanding. “I don’t know what Darcy’s told you about the situation—”

“We have spoken of it”

He nodded and spoke his next words slowly, “Then you know that both Bucky and I will do everything in our power to take care of her—to love her. If she’ll let us.”

The god inhaled deeply, swallowing past the lump in his throat—the desperate, wounded, greedy thing that told him to take that which was his to protect and run. Darcy was his family in every way but blood, and yet… she wasn’t his. Not wholly. The light in Steven’s words proved it.

“You’ll have to fight her for that right, just so you know,” Thor informed the younger man suddenly, making his voice purposefully light. “She is quite ferocious in her desire to care for others.”

Steven watched him for a long second and then cracked a grin. “Not as scary as Jane though. Darcy always says she’s the one to watch out for.”

And now Thor truly smiled, felt his eyes softening at the mere mention of his beloved. It was amazing, really, how her name alone could bring him to his knees.

“And Darcy is right to warn you of such,” Thor chuckled lowly and stared down into the flames, imagining the way they would reflect and dance in the amber of Jane’s eyes giving them that otherworldly glow. “My Jane is another creature entirely.”

Steven’s grin grew. He rolled his shoulders after a moment, as if testing the range of motion. Thor watched him out of the corner of his eyes, impressed by the way his movements appeared less stiff.

On the horizon, there was a barely noticeable gray line inching its way into the sky. His chest tightened. Dawn was nearly here, and with it, war.

“Do you think we’re going to win?” Steven asked suddenly and Thor blinked, snapping his head to the younger man. His brows were furrowed deeply, a look that the God of Thunder was all too familiar with.

It was a terrible burden, leadership.

Pondering Steven’s question, the God of Thunder answered with a firm nod. “My heart tells me so.”

“He managed to beat us before.”

Images of Stormbreaker splitting the Titan’s chest in half flashed before Thor’s eyes; words that would haunt him for the rest of his life rasping in his ear as though the menace was standing beside him.

You should have gone for the head.

“Some battles must be lost before they can truly be won,” Thor murmured, his voice a million miles away. Blinking through the flash of horror, the shock of their original loss, the aching hole of grief that threatened to swallow him whole in the days that followed, the god smiled tightly, bitterly. When he spoke next, he tried to lighten his tone. “Plus, he’s never fought us twice before.”

#darcy lewis #Steve Rogers #bucky barnes #thor #wintershieldshock #ignition #mcu fanfiction #endgame fix it #fic snippet #fic sneak peek #thor just likes to kill me softly #it’s a good way to die

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untaemedqueen · 5 years ago

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The Lions Den

Mafia!Jimin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Mafia!AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst

Chapter 1.

Warnings: Smut, Blood, Guns, Knives, Excessive Cursing, Excessive Alcohol Intake, Smoking (Cigarettes and Cigars), Mental Health Issues

Warnings for this chapter: Fellatio, Face Fucking, Cock Worship, Cum Swallowing, Dom!Jimin, Sub!Reader, Daddy Kink

TagList- @ayyyocee, @mysugabear03, @wisebtsgot7prune, @imaforeigner, @yeonkiminnie, @stories1907, @ppersonna, @brilee64, @gooplibrary, @vivpurple7, @xjoonchildx, @brightwingr5, @yaniposts22, @rjsmochii, @taeslittletiger, @pjmcth, @bts-chub

Sequel to The Bird Cage

"Easy, Kitten." Jimin's voice is ignored by you as you tilt your head to the man sitting in your shared office. Your fingernails dig into the man's cheek and you watch him flinch before smirking.

"Where's my money?" Your husband leans back in his chair, whisky glass in hand before tilting his head back. "You should answer her before she gets angry."

Yu Kirsoon is a strong, built man that you've turned feeble and weak within seconds. "I-I-" You move his head around like a rag doll before raising an eyebrow.

"You-You what?" You mock through gritted teeth and his shoulders hunch over as you take your hand off of his face before giving it a small, disparaging slap. The office is silent apart from Jeongguk in the corner flipping a knife between his fingers as both him and your husband watch on at the sight in front of them.

“I don’t know where the money is. I did a drop off without checking for pick up.” His voice is a mere whisper in the large room. You clap your hands in front of his face, he flinches and you lean back against the desk. “You owe me four million dollars. How are you going to repay that when you have not a single brain cell in your meat head.”

Jimin snorts from behind you and you fold your arms. You watch as he bows his head, the branding mark on his neck gnarled and twisted with scars from past fights. “Why doesn’t he go work for the Lees for the time being? So you don’t have to see his face.” Jimin suggests quietly, he has a soft spot for all of his Lions and you know this very well.

“Oh, no. That won’t do at all.” You mumble before picking up your glass of champagne and taking a sip. “He’ll go work at The Bird Cage. To pay off his debt.”

You hear Jeongguk clear his throat quietly, “You’ll be a good waiter. Won’t you Kirsoon?” He nods weakly as you stand back up to full height, hands brushing off the wrinkles you’ve made in your Chanel dress. “Yes, madam.”

“That’s a good boy.”

Entering your bedroom, your eyes land on Lion as he sleeps on your pillow. The corners of your lips turn upwards before rolling your head on your shoulders. There was very little time for peace and quiet in this house and you take what you can get, if you’re being honest. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you lean back on your hands. Eyes lazily traipsing over both paintings on the far end of the room before the door opens. “Kitten.”

You glance over at your husband before sitting up straighter. He fixes his tie before carding his fingers through his black hair. He narrows his eyes at you, whisky glass in hand before pointing his index finger at you over the lip. “You can’t just send Lions to do cheap work at The Bird Cage.”

You roll your eyes before turning your body towards him. “Did he or did he not lose our money FOR the casino?” He sips his whisky, neck veins jutting at the harsh burn before nodding his head.

“Then he will work AT the casino, until I say so.” He scoffs gently before unbuttoning his black suit jacket. “You’re a fucking brat.”

You shrug as he strips off the layer of clothing, laying it over the velvet arm chair before sauntering towards you. “Brats can have fun too.” He snorts, uncuffing his sleeves before straddling you. His hand meets your chest before you’re being shoved back into the bed. “Brats get punished, Kitten.”

A small smile tugs at your lips before you’re tilting your head. He hums gently before putting both hands on either side of your face and turning you to look up at him. “Kitten, you do everything you can to get under my skin don’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy.” He chuckles to himself before leaning down and kissing you. His plush pink lips warm against your skin as he kisses you with unbridled passion. His tongue licks over the seam of your lips and your hands grasp at his toned arms. He moans gently as your mouth opens for him, whisky laden tongue running over yours before he hears a loud shriek that could only be from his daughter and the noise is barreling right towards the master bedroom. He clicks his teeth before hopping off of you. His eyes stay on the door before the shadows of little feet appear underneath it. He chuckles to himself gently, hand rubbing over your bare thigh as the door creaks open.

Hawon gasps loudly before smiling at the both of you and you can’t help but giggle as your husband gasps back playfully. “Who’s that? Is that the prettiest princess of them all?!” He calls out cutely to her making her giggle as she sways her body.

He stands up with a groan before crouching and holding his arms out to her, she runs towards him at full speed and he grunts as he catches her as she jumps up. Her arms wrap around his neck before burying her face into his shirt. “You woke up from your nap? Hmm?”

She nods, face rubbing over his crisp white shirt before he’s rubbing his hand over her back. “Mommy?” You hum to your daughter as you sit up, fingers combing through your hair.

“Can I have a little sister now?” Your heart pangs and you clear your throat before standing up. “Why don’t we go find Mirae, hmm?” Jimin whispers quickly to her before kissing your forehead.

You watch as he walks away, lips turning down into a frown before he exits the bedroom. You stare ahead at the paintings on the wall, head tilting as your fingers snag at a knot within your hair. It’s not like you both weren’t trying for another one, you were. Constantly trying actually. But, it just wasn’t as easy as the first two. Hawon was unexpected, Minseok was unexpected and now that you were trying for a third it just wasn’t coming as easily as you’d like. Jimin accuses everything but the both of you for this. To him it was the Im’s fault. They’ve had you both so stressed out lately, after receiving the knowledge that they killed your parents. He says the stress is bad for your womb. Whatever the fuck that means. The casino is another cause for no baby. Stress from making sure the casino runs properly is too much for you to handle and that is why your womb is still empty.

You lay back on the bed as Lion walks over the mattress before laying down on your chest. But, you know the truth. It’s your fault. You’ve slowly found the time between all the stress to hate yourself for it. You see Jimin’s eyes light up after each sexual encounter, like he’s begging you and whatever God to give him another child. You see his body shiver with anticipation if your period is a day late. You see it all. And, you can’t help that you find it discouraging. Because you should give him everything he wants and this one thing is just not coming.

“Phones.” You throw your phone into the sound proof metal box before looking over at Jeongguk as he stares down at the table. His hair is greasy, heavy bags laden under his doe eyes and you can smell the alcohol seeping from his pores. You raise an eyebrow as he shuts his eyes as if he’s in pain. You put your hand gently on his arm. Before you know it, his hand shoots out grabbing your wrist before twisting it harshly. “Guk!” You whine in pain as he continues to twist it to the left.

Your body moves with his grasp as the joint of your shoulder sends a sharp pain through you. “Jeongguk!” Jimin yells loudly, you could feel the muscles in your arm tensing almost the point of ripping. Your husband cocks his gun before putting the mouth to Jeongguk’s forehead. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He seethes to the younger man as the rest of the guys cock their guns at him.

He lets you out of his grasp and you whine loudly falling back into your chair. “Never touch my wife for as long as you fucking live. What’re you dumb?!” You rub at your shoulder before narrowing your eyes at the youngest. Jeongguk stays silent before opening his eyes, “Sorry.” He mumbles before pulling a bottle of Hennessy out of his hoodie and unscrewing the cap.

Jimin wraps his arm around your waist, hand running over your side before ripping his feral eyes away from the torturer in the room. “You okay, baby?” You roll your shoulder before nodding slightly.

“I’ll be fine.” He scoffs before massaging at the muscles of your shoulder. “Get out.” He tells Jeongguk who turns his gaze to his boss without an inkling of care in his eyes.

“Get out? Of where? The meeting? Of life? Where would you like me to ‘get out’ to, boss?” His voice is heavy with sarcasm and you close your eyes as Jimin smacks the metal table before gritting his teeth. “Get out of this fucking room before I kill you.”

Jeongguk shrugs before standing up and shoving the other men’s chairs out of his way. “What the fuck is wrong with him today?” Hoseok mumbles before fixing his chair with a scoff.

“It’s Lee’s death anniversary.” Yoongi mumbles as he sparks his cigarette. You frown deeply as Jeongguk slams the door shut behind him and you feel your face blanch before looking at your husband. He runs his hands over his face before clearing his throat. “Fuck.”

It took you a while to find him, but you did. He sits at the edge of the garden, legs tucked underneath him as he runs his fingers through the blades of perfectly cut grass. “Hi.” You whisper before sitting down next to him.

He doesn’t speak, he just stares at the floor. You both sit for a while, his eyes below him and yours on the sun as it begins to set on the horizon. The sky is a pretty salmon color and you find yourself thinking that before Jimin and this life nothing was pretty to you. You don’t know if your presence is comforting or not but you’ve known Jeongguk for a long time now and anything you can do for him you would.

You could hear the kids screaming inside of the mansion and you tilt your head to look at him as he groans gently. “I’m sorry I hurt you, noona.” His voice is slurred from all of his alcohol intake but you can easily hear the regret. You show him your hand before rubbing his back in comforting circles.

“It hurts.” He mumbles before looking up at the setting sun. His hands rub together before pulling out the bottle of alcohol he had earlier at the meeting. “She’s painted on the back of my eyelids every second of the fucking day and just for once, just today, I wish I didn’t have to see her.”

You nod at his words, not saying anything for fear of speaking out of turn during his time of need. “She is always around, haunting me. In my dreams, in my mind, behind my eyelids. I don’t know what I would do without her but just for today… I wish this guilt wasn’t eating me alive.” You hum in agreement as he hangs his head.

“I’m sorry Guk.” He spins the cap off the bottle before chuckling to himself, “Jimin is going to fucking flay my ass for gripping you like that. Fuck my life.” His voice ends in a murmur before he’s swigging from the bottle.

“Kitten!” You hear your husband loud and clear before turning your head. He stands on the balcony of your bedroom, arms folded with narrowed eyes.

“Come upstairs.” His voice is clipped and Jeongguk grunts gently. He was in trouble and you feel bad for him.

You enter the bedroom quietly, your husband stands shirtless leaning against the balcony door frame. “He hurt you, why would you go and see him when he’s like that?” He chides you before turning around.

“Because he’s hurting and he needs someone.” Jimin scoffs gently before standing up tall. “You’re to stay away from him until he is sober. Do you hear me?” You hum unamused before he’s raising an eyebrow.

“Why don’t you ever fucking listen?!”

“He’s hurting Jimin! He needs someone!” You yell out to your husband as you point your finger towards the closed doors.

“That someone isn't you! You’re too precious to me! What would happen if you got hurt because he can’t control his emotions?! You’ve seen him! He’s like a ticking time bomb!” You fold your arms before scoffing. “You’ve been his friend since you were younger. Why don’t you go talk to him then?”

Jimin rubs his hands over his face before walking over to the liquor caddy and pouring himself a glass of whisky. “Because I can’t. You stay away from him until he’s sober. Or else.”

“Or else what?!” He slams down the glass of whisky before turning to you. “Kitten.”

Your feet pad over to him before you’re wrapping him into a hug. He’s projecting, you know your husband well enough for that. He blames himself for the death of Lee, something he has spoken about a few times throughout the years of marriage. He feels guilty.

Your lips traipse along his jaw, his hands grip at your hips before sighing gently. “Kitten, I’m really not in the mood right now.”

You ignore him, suckling sweet patches onto his collarbones before trailing lower. His gun is discarded onto the liquor caddy by you before your hands find his belt and you undo it silently. You kiss over his chest, taking time to shower the names of you and your two children with love before swiping your tongue over his nipple. He sighs gently before pressing himself flush against the wall. “Kitten. Please.”

You silence him with a playful nip on his nipple before unzipping his pants. “Y/N.” He calls to you quietly, “Let me take care of you.”

His head lolls back to the wall as his hands run through your hair. “I just have this guilt.” He mumbles to the air as you lick over the plains of his abs.

“I know.” You whisper gently before pushing down his pants. He grips at your hair as you suck at the skin above the waistband of his briefs. Your fingers find the waistband before tugging them down. He takes in a sharp breath between his teeth as his cock smacks up into his stomach. You hum pleased before getting to your knees.

You see the sight of him daily and it never gets old. He groans gently, tugging at your hair as you wrap your hand around his long length. The bulbous tip blushed pink with need begins to weep as you pump him slowly. “Oh fuck.” He curses before his eyes flutter shut.

You lick at the seam of his head, collecting his precum on your tongue before swirling the muscle around him smoothly. He gasps gently and you watch as his thigh muscles shake with unabashed pleasure. “Oh, Kitten. Shit.”

You take his length into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks to make a vacuum like suction around him. He curses gently as you begin a steady rhythm of fucking his cock into your mouth. He tugs at your hair harder as his ass pushes off of the wall. “Will you let me fuck your throat? Hmm, Kitten?”

You moan in response as he grips at your head with both of his hands. His jaw tightens before both of your eyes connect. “I love you so much, baby girl.” You whimper as he thrusts gently.

“I just, fuck, need all this stress to go away.” With every word his cock begins to ram harder into you. Your hands grip at his muscular thighs as his moans get louder. You swallow around him letting his cock go in deeper as your throat muscles clench and lax around him with every thrust. “Oh fuck, you’re such a good little girl letting me fuck your throat like this.”

The flat of your tongue runs over his shaft and a string of curses leaves your husband's mouth. "Oh Kitten."

You begin to gag as he fucks your mouth faster, eyes welling up with tears as you hear his groan grow louder. "Fuck, you like that? God, baby you look so hot when you cry for my cock."

Your manicured fingernails dig into the flesh of his thighs and you can see him shiver visibly. "Oh fuck! Fuck!"

His cock begins to throb and you will your throat and gag reflex to behave as he tucks his plush bottom lip between his teeth. His gaze is soft as he looks down at you, like you're holding him to the Earth with every thrust. Streams of precum trail down your throat and you moan at the taste that is solely your husband. “Oh, babe. I’m going to cum. Fuck!”

Your hand grabs at his tightening balls, rolling and squeezing them gently. His head smacks into the wall as he gives off a long, slow moan. “That’s it, baby. Fuck! Kitten.”

He chokes on a gasp before his cock stills, “Oh, fuck I love you.” With that sentence he orgasms, hands pushing down on your head as you sputter around him. Ropes of cum paint your throat. “Swallow and show me.”

You swallow before letting your tongue hang out of your mouth as you pull away. He looks drunk, black hair disheveled as his sideburns slick down to his face with sweat. He gives you a lazy smirk before bending down and kissing your forehead. “You’re very, very good at distracting me, Kitten. Too good.” He mumbles making you giggle.

He helps you up before rubbing at your reddened knees. You pull his pants back up as he sighs gently. He grabs his whisky glass before wrapping his hand around your wrist and pulling you over to the bed. He sits down on the edge, eyes opening wide as if he was trying to wake himself up. He pats the spot next to him and you sit with him for a moment before he is pulling you into his chest to coddle you. “I thought after the whole Kim Shin business we would find ourselves in an easier spot but everything is building up against.”

You nod against him, hearing his heart rate even out before running your fingers over his chest. You feel the defined pectoral muscles he’s been working hard to keep and you can’t help but look up at him as he sips from his glass of whisky. His Adam’s apple bobs and neck veins appear as he sips the alcohol. Small droplets of sweat run down his honey skin and you wipe at them making him smile. “Are you listening to me, Kitten? Or are you checking out your husband?” He teases before leaning back on his hands.

“Both.” You answer truthfully making him snort. You grab the glass of whisky before chugging the contents and setting it down on the floor. Your leg swings over his waist as you straddle him and his hands begin to caress your thighs. He gives a small chuckle before putting one arm underneath his head as he looks up at you. “Any problems we have, we can fix them together.” You tell him as your fingers begin to run over the plains of his abs.

“I know, baby. I just…” He exhales loudly before rubbing circles into your skin, “We have this whole Im business now. Unfortunately for their families they’re going to pay for their sins. Jeongguk is turning into a drunken, raging lunatic. Jin and your sister are just… I don’t have fucking words for them-” You giggle before nodding at his statement.

“But there are pluses too. Y’know? Yoongi and Hyunah getting married. Taehyung and Hyejin having their baby boy. Hoseok being a forever single bachelor. Namjoon is another forever bachelor.” You mumble, lifting your fingers to count the good things, Jimin laughs before smacking your thigh gently.

“I have so many people to protect and it’s getting to me, slowly but surely.” His eyes are filled with distress and you feel your heart clench before laying down on him. He wraps his arms around your waist as you bury your face into his neck. His cologne is wearing off, you find yourself thinking before you’re kissing over the marks you gave him just a few minutes ago. “Anything that happens, we’re a team. We’re Lions. We don’t let things get under our skin so easily.”

He nods before squeezing you tightly, “I just want us to be happy again. We didn’t have any problems before when Shin was in the play room and now that we know the Im’s killed your parents, I feel a storm coming.”

“At least they don’t know that we know.” He licks at his lips before kissing your temple, “At least they don’t know.”

The morning sun is the first thing that rouses you in the morning, before a gigantic boom jolts your body up. Jimin is quick to jump up before he’s grabbing his gun from underneath the pillow and cocking it.

“Hey Jimin!” He hears Namjoon yell loudly from downstairs and he curses quietly before ripping the door open. Your hand finds the side drawer before you’re pulling out your own pistol you’ve become fond of. Your feet follow after him, hand grabbing at the silk of your nightgown before rapidly descending the stairs. Your husband spares a glance in your direction before smirking. There is nothing hotter to him then seeing a gun in your hands. “What happened?!” He yells as another boom goes off.

The house shakes on its foundation before settling and you raise an eyebrow as you reach the entryway. “Jeongguk is… losing it.” Namjoon whispers before ushering you both towards the kitchen.

“Kitten, go upstairs.” You shake your head, following after him quickly as you walk through the sitting room. His jaw tightens before stopping in his tracks, the house shakes once more with a loud crash. “We have two children in this fucking house, go upstairs and watch the babies.”

You hear Jeongguk scream loudly before Namjoon is disappearing into the kitchen. Jimin knocks his forehead to yours before kissing you gently. “Now.”

You sigh gently before nodding, “Good girl.”

Jimin is quick to run down the underground tunnel, face grimacing as the soles of his feet become grimy with dirt. There’s another boom and his ears begin to ring before furrowing his eyebrows. He reaches the double doors of the old distillery and he watches as smoke lazily exits Yoongi’s mouth before drifting up towards the ceiling. “He’s been like this for an hour already.” Yoongi tells his boss.

Jimin peaks in before sighing gently, he watches his friend since childhood light another stick of dynamite before throwing it into an old distiller. His hair is dirty, his moustache and beard beginning to grow. “Guk!” He yells before the boom shakes the floor beneath him.

“Why didn’t you stop him?!” Jimin calls to the older black haired man who pulls from his cigarette. “I’m getting married soon, I’m not dying for his dumbass. Hyunah would sooner cut my dick off.” Jimin uncocks his gun, before walking into the room. He holds his hands out as he approaches the youngest.

“Hey, Guk. What’re you doing man?” He doesn’t get a response as Jeongguk holds up the old stick of dynamite. “This shit has been here since the early 1900’s can you believe it still works?”

The youngest sounds absolutely exhausted, voice slurred with both tiredness and alcohol. Jimin holds out his hand before looking up at him as he gets closer. “Give me the dynamite. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Guk chuckles, shaking his head. “Oh. Hyung. If only it was that easy. Look.” He lights the dynamite before dropping it between the both of them. Jimin’s mouth falls open before jumping at Jeongguk and knocking him away from the explosion. “What’re you fucking crazy?!” He screams as he pulls him behind the metal still.

The dynamite goes off and Jimin buries Jeongguk’s head into his chest as the explosion shakes the room. Clouds of grey smoke wafts through the room before the smell of burning enters everyone's nose. Jimin throws Jeongguk to the floor before putting his knees to his chest. “See. I can’t hurt myself.”

Jimin grits his teeth before smacking the youngest hard across the face, he groans loudly before his head lolls back. “Again, again.”

The head of the Lions Den yells out in frustration before gripping onto Jeongguk’s black hoodie and shaking him. “You need to stop this! You’re going crazy! I can’t keep you around my kids if you act like this!”

Guk scoffs before shoving Jimin off of him, “I would never hurt the babies. Please.” He mumbles before standing up, “You’re becoming self destructive and a drunk. You need to get yourself in check, Guk. Or you’ll be going into the playroom.” He stiffens before looking down at Jimin who puts his head back to the large metal still.

“How fucking dare you ever say that to me.” He seethes at his older brother, Jimin shrugs at a loss before putting his hands through his hair. “You better get yourself in check. I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself. Next time you do some stupid shit like this, you’re going into the playroom for some hard self reflection.”

Jeongguk shakes his head before laughing, “You can’t leave me alone with her. You can’t.”

Jimin lifts his head slowly before narrowing his eyes, “Leave you alone with who?”

“Lee. She’s everywhere, all the time.” His hands shake as he fixes his hoodie. Oh, so he was going insane. Jimin puts his head back out of frustration before sighing, “Guk, I need you back by my side! I need you to be my right hand man again. You can’t keep going this way, you’re destroying yourself.”

Jeongguk purses his lips before pulling a bottle out of his hoodie. “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.” He murmurs before walking towards the tunnel. “Take his car keys away!” Jimin yells before standing up, he smacks his forehead into the metal still before clicking his teeth. Things are becoming a downward spiral inside of this fucking house and he needs it to end.

Heels clack on the marble floor of the casino entrance. You take off your sunglasses as the staff welcome you with a bow. You spot Kirsoon in an ill fitting red vest and you sigh gently. “Kirsoon.” You call to him and his head shoots up to look at you.

“Yes Madam.” You curl your index finger before pointing to the spot in front of you. He scurries over and you hold your hand out to Yoongi who raises an eyebrow. He wordlessly reaches around before grabbing his gun and placing it in your hand. Kirsoon visibly shudders before bowing his head to you. You take in his demeanor, scared and large before you’re handing him the gun. “Take off that fucking vest and get behind me.”

His head raises before he’s smiling. “Yes ma’am.” He grimaces at the red vest before ripping it off, displaying his strength. He steps around you before looking at Yoongi with a twinkle in his eye. Yoongi pats the tall man's arm before lighting a cigarette.

The entrance to the casino was filled with upwards of fifty staff members and you find it hard to keep track of all their faces. “We’re going to have a family meeting.” You tell them before putting your sunglasses in your purse.

You walk past them, fingers brushing along the brass, ornate bird cages that litter the hallways before entering the casino floors. You casually weave through tables for blackjack, craps, roulette- you name it, you’ve probably got it. Your hand drifts over the green felt of a poker table before you jump up on it and cross your legs.

You watch the staff file in before folding your arms, eyes scanning over your hard workers before clearing your throat. “We work hard, yes?” You call out to them.

“Yes, ma’am!” You hum pleased at the voracious volume.

“We’ll continue to work hard, yes?” You hum again at their answer before running your fingers over the felt table. “We’ve been open for two months and have made more money than any casino in the entirety of Seoul. Why is that?”

You look around as everyone stays silent before your eyes fall on the familiar girl that resembles a maid you once cared for.

“Hawon’s sister, Rina. Why is that?” She lifts her head before fixing her ponytail, “Because we work hard?” Her voice is feeble and it makes you smile.

“That’s right, because we work hard and we’re the best at what we do. So to congratulate you all on working so hard, you will all be getting a gift of a raise.” You can see small smiles and determined head nods before you hear Yoongi clear his throat.

“Now that the fun stuff is out of the way, in a month we’re going to be having a Casino Night. One that goes far beyond the hours of our normal days. The theme is Roaring Twenties. There will be special admission for certain guests only. It’ll be like a family gathering.” Some staff open their mouths before nodding and you smile at them before hopping off of the poker table. “Get back to work.” You call to them before walking towards your office.

You sit down at the glass desk before Rina enters with a glass of champagne. You hum in appreciation for her kindness before pointing at the velvet armchair in front of your desk. “Casino...night?” Yoongi asks before lighting a cigarette.

“Oh yes, casino night.” You mumble before grabbing a manilla folder from your top drawer and handing it to Kirsoon, you nod to Rina and he gives her the folder. You sip your champagne before leaning back in your office chair. She opens the folder, eyebrows raised with curiosity. Pictures of the Im’s grace her eyes and Yoongi begins to smirk.

“These are the very special guests that will be coming to Casino Night. Rina will take extra care to provide everything they need. Won’t you, Rina?” She closes the folder before smiling widely.

“Yes, Madam.”

“Good girl.” She hands the folder back before bowing her head and leaving the office.

Yoongi jumps into the armchair, legs swinging over the arm before putting his head back. “Why’re we doing this instead of just murdering them in front of their homes?”

You smirk before looking at Kirsoon as he sits down in the second armchair. Your hands fold as you lean your elbows on to the table. “Kirsoon, you know of me, yes?” He nods to you, hands folding in his lap.

“What’s my motto?”

“You get more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.” You pick up your champagne glass before looking at Yoongi with a wide smile, “Get more flies.”

#the lions den #bts series #bts smut #bts fluff #bts mafia au #mafia!jimin x reader #mafia!jimin x you #btswriterscorner #btscreatorscorner #the bird cage #bts angst #mafia!au #jimin #taehyung #jeongguk #yoongi #hoseok #namjoon #seokjin

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dontmindmyshadowhunting · 4 years ago

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Am I forgotten ? (KitTy Fan Fic)

KitTy fan fic based on Kit and Ty’s flower cards (art by Cassandra Jean), to celebrate both the release of Ty’s latest flower card and Kitty’s appreciation week!

If you prefer reading it on AO3 or if you have missed the previous chapters, Link is here. AO3 Link - Am I forgotten?

Following Chapter is Chapter 6 - Lex malla, lex nulla

Kit and Ty did not make it far, as three Faeries suddenly appeared before them, blocking their path. As it was the case for Ty, to stay they stood out of the crowd was an understatement. The one standing in the middle was the tallest and the most elegantly clad. Dark velvet clothes with fine embroidery hugged the shapes of his lean body, the symbol of a broken crown visible on his silk shirt. He had long silvery blond hair framing his narrow face and tucked behind his pointy ears, and his deep blue eyes seemed to hold centuries of life in this world. He would have been stunning if not for the permanent scowl on his face. The other two, flanking him, had long dark hair and looked so alike they might have been twins. It was clear from their stance that they were Faerie knights.

Ty turned to Kit and whispered urgently. “That’s him. I need to interrogate him. Preferably without his two bodyguards.”

“Well met,” Kit said in his most cheerful voice.

“Well met,” the blond Faerie replied. “It seems as though you have lost your way.”

“Wrong,” Kit said. “I was lost, but I have been found.”

Ty shot him a disapproving look. The Faerie lifted a silvery eyebrow.

Kit dropped Ty’s hand to move his arm behind his back, slowly tracing his fingers along Ty’s side down to his hip until they finally rested on Ty’s… buttocks. He gently squeezed for added effect. God, how perfect. Ty startled, his eyes widening and his lips parting in shock, but made no further move. He was staring straight ahead, as if he could not bear to meet Kit’s eyes. A deep red had started to spread across his cheeks towards his temples.

The Faerie’s eyes had not missed the gesture and the scowl vanished from his face from one moment to another.

“Let me guess,” he said, his gaze moving between Kit and Ty. A genuine smile spread across his face. “You two are only here to have a good time.”

“Wrong again. We were here to have a good time, but my boyfriend is not feeling well. This place is too noisy, too… crowded. We are leaving.”

“Are you now?” The Faerie said, lifting both his eyebrows. His eyes, glittering with interest, were now roaming over Kit’s body. “The night is still young, and so are you. May I offer you some refreshments in a more private venue?”

Kit plastered a hesitant look on his face. “We are far from home. It would be nice if we could get our bearings before we leave.” The Faerie’s smile grew wider and, without a word, he whirled and started to move gracefully towards the back of the club, flanked by his two bodyguards. Kit and Ty followed.

“So, who is this guy?” Kit whispered in Ty’s ear, after - regretfully - dropping his arm from his back.

“A Faerie Prince. One of King Kieran’s many brothers. He was very close to the late King Arawn once.”

“Wow, wait a minute- a Prince ? How many laws are we planning to break tonight?”

“Twenty-seven,” Ty replied without blinking.

Kit whistled.

Ty turned to him, his eyes glittering, and the corner of his mouth lifted mischievously. “Lex malla, lex nulla,” he said in a deep, low voice. Kit couldn’t help but stare at Ty, at the way his soft lips shaped the words, gently pressing around the “M”, at the way his tongue rolled in his mouth at the “Ls”.

He had always thought Ty was beautiful, but right now the word that popped in his mind was HOT. So freaking HOT.

Tiberius Nero Blackthorn, you naughty boy.

“What about your vows as a Centurion?” Kit asked when he had regained his composure.

“A good Centurion once told me that vows of friendship… and love are stronger.”

Did Kit imagine the way Ty put an emphasis on the word love ?

****

They were seated in a very large high-ceilinged room, with no windows save for a glass roof through which one could see New York’s night sky.

A vampire waitress came in carrying flutes of champagne and presented them to Kit and Ty. They both declined.

“I am fine,” said the Faerie Prince, when she offered him a drink. He didn’t even bother to look up at her. His gaze was fixed on Kit and Ty, and a small smile was playing across his face, as if he were enjoying a private joke. “I am already drunk with the sexual tension between these two.”

Kit couldn’t help but look over at Ty, and their eyes met for a second before they both swiftly glanced away.

“The two of you haven’t done the deed yet, have you?” The Faerie Prince’s eyes were now sparkling with excitement. “When you do..." He opened both his hands and spread his long fingers wide, mimicking an explosion... or was it fireworks? "I am willing to pay a fortune to witness that. Name your price.”

Kit glanced at the bodyguards. They were looking at Kit and Ty with a stern expression on their faces, as if it hadn’t all been a show. It had been a joke, right? But… Faeries didn’t lie.

Kit stood. “Can we have a moment alone together? Just you and me.” He looked pointedly at the bodyguards. “I would prefer to discuss... the terms, privately.”

As if they had received a signal, the two knights started to move to stand before the Prince, who lifted his hand in a halting gesture as he paused to consider. They both froze.

Kit seized the opportunity. With slow, deliberate movements, he started to take his jacket off. He threw it on the nearest armchair. “You will see that I am unarmed.” He took his shirt off next, the muscles of his arms flexing as he lifted it leisurely over his head. When he was half naked, he spread his arms wide. “You can ask your knights to check the rest if you don’t believe me. I have nothing to hide.”

They did. As their hands moved over Kit’s body in search of weapons, Ty tensed. He was watching their every move, his fiery gaze fixed on their hands, as if he could burn a hole through them.

“Leave us,” said the Faerie Prince when they were done.

Ty rose from his armchair and moved to stand before Kit, his back to the Faerie Prince.

“Kit- I don't like this plan,” he said in a hushed, urgent voice. Kit noticed with a pang that he had started stroking his pendant again.

“Ty- Please, trust me. I know what I’m doing,” Kit replied.

Ty held Kit’s gaze for a moment, searching his eyes. Kit tried very hard to convey a message of confidence he wasn’t sure he really had.

Ty finally gave him a curt, stiff nodd. As he moved past Kit, the back of their hands brushed, sending an electric current through Kit’s entire body.

Kit didn’t trust himself not to go running to Ty, so he stared straight ahead until he heard the door close behind him.

When they were alone, the Faerie Prince rose from his chair. “Finally."

In two strides of his long legs, he had joined Kit and stood before him, so close Kit could feel his breath over his skin. He smelled of cloves. The Prince lifted his hands to place them on each of Kit’s biceps.

“You love him,” he said without preamble.

Kit swallowed hard. “Is it that obvious?”

“The question you are asking yourself is, does he love you?”

“I know he doesn’t.” Kit tried to hide the despair in his voice but failed miserably.

The Faerie Prince lifted his silver eyebrows. “You know? Are you so powerful as to be able to read one’s heart?”

“He said as much. Or at least, that's what his words suggested. I don’t want to talk about it.” Kit had no intention to share his deepest feelings with a mere stranger. A Faerie Prince at that. There’s nothing if you aren’t there. Words meant for Livvy alone and no one else, especially not Kit. After all these years, they still stung as if they were new. A raw pain for an old wound.

“You make an interesting couple, the two of you,” said the Faerie after a moment. “The Shadowhunter who looks like a Faerie and... the Faerie who looks like a Shadowhunter.”

Kit gasped audibly. The Prince’s hands were now moving in circles over Kit’s bare chest, smooth fingers caressing his skin.

“You thought I would not be able to recognize my own kin? My own blood? I see him in you, you know… My father.”

Kit was unable to move, staring in shock as the Faerie’s long fingers started tracing the shapes of his abs. Distantly, he thought he heard the door open and close. The sound was so muted he wasn’t sure he hadn’t imagined it.

“Tell me, Christopher Herondale, who are you loyal to? Your royal blood family? Or your adoptive family?”

Tessa. Jem. Mina. Kit came to his senses and clenched his fists. He knew he didn’t need weapons to fight. The Prince would never know what had hit him. Kit would avoid knocking him out, of course, as Ty needed to interrogate him.

“I tend to stick with those trying to protect me instead of those trying to kill me. That’s how boring I am.”

As it turned out, Kit didn’t even have to lift a finger.

It all happened in a blur. The Faerie Prince’s hands which had moved over Kit's biceps suddenly froze, and his lips parted in shock. Ty had appeared behind him, as swift as a shadow, and was grasping a knife whose silvery blade was pressed against his throat. Ty’s hands were covered in blood… Probably from the two knights.

“I would have a few questions to ask you,” Ty said. His tone was as cold as ice. “But first... take your hands off my boyfriend, before I separate them from your body.”

*****

Tagging @arangiajoan @nenyx @naerysthelonesome @adoravel-fenomeno @unorganisedbookshelf @blindbandit1515 @whyhastgodfarsakenme @noah-herondale-lightwood @georgiaherondale @nicotheangel17 @joonjxne @that-dreamer-girl-m @mariiaarranz @writeforjordelia @shadowfae1878 @majollica-blog @mferraz @darkkitai @justanothermultifandomgirl @kitty-appreciation-week @gabtapia

#cassandraclare #cassandra clare #cassandra clare fan fiction #tsc fanfiction #tsc fan fiction #kitty tda #kitty fanfiction #kitty blackstairs #the darker the berry the sweeter the juice #the wicked powers #kit herondale #kit herongraystairs #tiberius blackthorn #ty blackthorn #kit and ty

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dianapocalypse · 4 years ago

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Alright y’all, with the release of Mass Effect: Legendary Edition, it’s time for me to share my playlist for the entire trilogy.

I’ve refined this over like six years so scientifically speaking it’s probably good right. oh also it’s four hours long. so if you have a road trip or a boring job, this one’s for you. disclaimer, it’s entirely possible I have garbage taste in music. I also missed some characters and moments because there’s 65 songs here and I am merely human.

If you don’t have the patience for four hours, I recommend starting at track 45 and listening to the end, as the Mass Effect 3 portion is the strongest in my opinion.

UNDER THE CUT FOR DESCRIPTIONS WE GO!

FIRST MOVEMENT - MASS EFFECT 1

1. Atlas - Coldplay Eden Prime

“Sometimes the wire Must tense for the note Caught in the fire, say oh We're about to explode“

I really like the atmosphere of this song. It’s ominous, but also somehow hopeful, and makes me feel like Something Huge Is Coming.

2. I Will Not Sing A Hateful Song - Constantines Paragon Shepard

“But I was also born and raised To always speak and listen clear To know the last sound that I make Could be the last sound that I hear“

OK, listen, I think this song is about vampires, and I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be a metaphor or not. But I think this is a great song about controlling one’s temper, about knowing that you have to Rise Above the parts of you that want to lash out sometimes to get things done and have peace. Seeing as how paragon Shepard, to me, always seems like they’re three deep breaths away from snapping, but manage to keep it in check, it fits them to a T.

And also maybe they’re a vampire.

3. Hard to Kill - Beth Crowley Renegade Shepard

“So I let the rumors Turn me into a legend 'Cause I'm only human But a good myth is hard to kill”

This one’s a recent addition, but holy cow, I love it for Renegade Shep, particularly an Earthborn or Ruthless, but it works for any of them.

4. We Own the Skies - Five Iron Frenzy Joker

“My hands are bleeding where they often crack The stars will sometimes burn with longing Through the choking black Of night shifts piling each against the next”

This really vibes with Joker’s backstory for me, his super driven serious self in flight school, contrasted with who he is when he can fly a ship. He’s the best pilot in the goddamn fleet and I love him.

5. I Just Wanna See - Smash Mouth Kaidan Alenko

“Mister moon checkin' on how y'all livin' The stars all winkin' at the day that's dimmin' I just wanna see”

This song fits into his reactions to first showing up at the Citadel and his former romanticism about living in space. Ironically, it’s a song about Earth, but I feel like it works well for him. Also, Smash Mouth absolutely sounds like the kind of music Kaidan would listen to, no I will not be taking questions or constructive criticism.

6. Don’t Give Up - Noisettes Ashley Williams

“She's got a talented face and a suitcase Ain't got no desire to go no place In her case she's got no desire with her hand in the flame say's she don't feel the fire “

The energy of this song is just perfect for Ashley’s no-nonsense chip on her shoulder attitude.

7. About As Helpful As You Can Be Without Being Any Help At All - Dan Mangan The Council

“I was thrown in the boat/Cast out to sea Friendly with waves/There were sharks below Hungry for me/So I dangled my leg”

I mean, the title says it all.

8. The Captain - Guster Anderson

“Courageous, just like the captain Marching forward with no doubt in his head”

I have adored this song ever since my friend played it for me, and it’s the ultimate mentor-protégé jam for me.

9. Secret Agent Man - Johnny Rivers Garrus Vakarian

“Here's a man who leads a life of danger To everyone he meets he stays a stranger Oh, with every move he makes another chance he takes The odds are he won't live to see tomorrow”

I have to poke a little fun at Garrus and how seriously he takes himself in Mass Effect 1. I romanced him across four playthrus, I’m allowed!

10. I’m Getting Too Old For This Shit - Kill Lincoln Urdnot Wrex

“This random apathy/I swear it's killing me But I guess it's all the same, till the devil knows my name”

I don’t know ANYTHING about this band, but this song fits Wrex’s disillusionment with the Krogan well, plus, like. The title. (And also, that he secretly DOES care what happens to the Krogan.)

11. Bird Song - Juniper Vale Tali’zorah nar Rayya

“I want to dance on the horizon line But there is something I am caged behind I have a heart made for take flight But I'm low, so low”

I adore this song and the sound of Juniper Vale in general. The etherealness of this one, combined with the youthful optimism, feels very Tali. The line about ‘something I am caged behind’ works well for the suits, too. This one’s especially good if you’re a Talimancer!

12. 11. Green Garden - Laura Mvula Liara T’Soni

“And I’ll fly on the wings of a butterfly High as a tree top and down again Putting my bag down, taking my shoes off Walk on the carpet of green velvet”

I really like this song’s vibes and I feel like Liara fits it well, particularly in ME1, before all her youthful optimism is stripped from her. The scenery descriptions feel very Thessia, too.

13. Feed Me (Git It) - Little Shop of Horrors The Thorian

“The guy sure looks like plant food to me!”

Do you get it. Do you get my joke. It’s because the Thorian is a plant that eats people. (I’m not funny)

14. Blindness - Metric Matriarch Benezia

“I was a blind fool, never complained All the survivors singing in the rain “

I don’t love the use of blind here as a negative, albeit metaphorical, descriptor, but I think this song fits Benezia’s indoctrination and death well. If you have suggestions for another, though, let me know!

15. Technologic - Daft Punk Saren

“Buy it, use it, break it, fix it, trash it, change it, mail, upgrade it”

I just think it’s Neat

16. Watershed - Vienna Teng The Reapers

“ While you were building your empires I was still sleeping”

I think this is the song that inspired the entire playlist. Vienna Teng sat down and decided to write a song from the perspective of a natural disaster, and it’s so ominous and gut-wrenching.

17. Hourglass - The Hush Sound Virmire

“This is how it ends We believe every lie and say we'll be friends How long will it last? Before we scratch all the scripts and we rework the cast “

hahahahah rework the cast get it because you have to pick who DIES

Seriously tho I really like this song for Virmire and that moment of choice that feels like it lasts 100 years on some playthroughts.

18. Pompeii - Bastille The Siege of the Citadel

“ And the walls kept tumbling down In the city that we love”

Throwback to when this song was on the radio like three times an hour. Which is around the time I made the first draft of this playlist, incidentally! It’s such a good Final Battle Jam for the Citadel, and the part about “if you close your eyes/does it almost feel like nothing’s changed at all” I think work really well for Shepard in this sequence. Shepard knew the Reapers were coming, had been fighting them all along; this attack on the Citadel is just retreading familiar territory for them, as horrifying as the war being brought to their doorstep is for the Citadel’s citizens and the council. James Vega has some good dialogue about that kind of thing in ME3.

INTERLUDE THE FIRST

19. Starships - Nicki Minaj The Normandy Crew

Starships were meant to fly Hands up and touch the sky

I like to have a little fun OK

20. Gravity - Yoko Kanno The Death of Commander Shepard

“Am I alone? is somebody there beyond these heavy aching feet still the road keeps on telling me to go on”

Welcome to mood whiplash, it’s my specialty! This is the part where you die. I think it also works for her coma very well, when she’s just drifting between life and death, not sure what’s going on, but something keeps trying to pull her back to the world.

SECOND MOVEMENT - MASS EFFECT 2

21. The Phoenix - Fall Out Boy The Lazarus Project

“Hey young blood, doesn't it feel like our time is running out? I'm gonna change you like a remix Then I'll raise you like a phoenix “

this song has no right to go as hard as it does and if you think it’s melodramatic shut up

22. My Body Is A Cage - Peter Gabriel Commander Shepard

“I'm living in an age Whose name I don't know Though the fear keeps me moving Still my heart beats so slow “

This works particularly well if you romanced The Virmire Survivor, but this song captures the energy of Shepard freaking out bc they are trapped with Cerberus, because Cerberus rebuilt their body from the ground up. That jarring, caged feeling is so palpable in ME2 that when they gave me back Joker the first time I played, I BURST INTO SOBS from relief.

23. The Lady is a Vamp - The Spice Girls Miranda Lawson

“That's all in the past, legends built to last But she's got something new”

Listen. She’s a bond babe. Handbags, heels and pistols rock. She’s got class. This is a song about Miranda. That is all.

24. Kryptonite - 3 Doors Down Jacob Taylor

“ I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon After all I knew, it had to be something to do with you “

This one’s about the Vibes for me. Also can apply to his past relationship with Miranda. I’m also super showing my age on this song, oof haha.

25. Stable Song - Death Cab For Cutie Colony Abduction

“Rows of deserted houses all Our stable mates highway bound “

I really like the mood of this one for showing up on the very first abducted colony, the eerieness and sadness of it all and Shepard’s resolve to do something about it.

26. Konichiwa Bitches - Robyn Kasumi Goto

“I'm so very hot that when I rob your mansion You ain't call the cops, you call the fire station”

THAT COUPLET ALONE MAKES THE ENTIRE SONG. I love how playful and cheeky it is.

27. Seven Nation Army Glitch Mob Remix - The White Stripes, Glitch Mob Zaeed Massani

“And I'm talking to myself at night Because I can't forget Back and forth through my mind Behind a cigarette”

Pretty sure we all had this on some playlist or another when it came out, and it’s the perfect Badass With A Grudge song.

28. Science is Real - They Might Be Giants Mordin Solus

“ And when a theory emerges Consistent with the facts The proof is with science The truth is with science “

This one actually got added by my wife to replace a song that wasn’t on Spotify, but that has the same energy; Hank Green’s “I Fucking Love Science”. I get more into the emotional side of Mordin in the ME3 section, but I also really just love his Hamster On Coffee energy and this song captures it really well.

29. Prove Yourself - Radiohead Garrus Vakarian

“I can't afford to breathe in this town Nowhere to sit without a gun in my hand Hooked back up to the cathode ray

I'm better off dead “

The absolute rock bottom mental state Garrus is in when you get back to him in ME2 is so heartwrenching. Might not always agree with my boy’s methods, but he’s one of my favorite fictional characters of all time.

30. Rat a Tat - Fallout Boy Feat. Courtney Love Jack

“We are professional ashes of roses, this kerosene's live You settled your score, this is where you come to beg”

It helps that Courtney Love sounds exactly like Jack to me, NGL.

31. Defeat You - Smash Mouth Grunt

“Hey I know what you've done It makes it that much better to defeat you “

Only I am brave enough to put two songs by Smash Mouth on the same playlist, to be shared in 2021

32. The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot - Brand New Horizon/The Virmire Survivor

“If it makes you less sad I will die by your hand Hope you find out what you want Already know what I am “

Hits harder if you romanced the Virmire Survivor. Mostly from Shep’s perspective. This is a Shep that feels Bad after that encounter rather than Mad, so Your Mileage May Vary.

33. Violet Stars Happy Hunting! - Janelle Monae Tali’zorah vas Neema

“I'm an alien from outer space I'm a cyber-girl without a face a heart or a mind”

I just like the vibes of this one for Tali! I know it’s more about an actual AI but...IDK. I like it. So there.

34. Comfortably Numb - Pink Floyd Thane Krios

“There is no pain you are receding A distant ship smoke on the horizon”

This song works both on a Literal level with his Kepral’s syndrome struggles, but also Metaphorical re: his Battle Sleep. Plus, Thane is a dad, so he gets Dad Rock.

35. My Medea - Vienna Teng Samara

“For I have made her prison be Her every step away from me And this child I would destroy If you tried to set her free “

Mom of the year award, here

36. Toxic - Britney Spears Morinth

“There's no escape, I can't wait I need a hit, baby, give me it You're dangerous, I'm loving it”

If Morinth weren’t so under-utilized after recruitment and didn’t get killed off in the background of ME3 I’d probably actually recruit her sometimes. I almost did on my most recent playthru bc that Shepard just HATES SPACE COPS. Anyway the song explains itself

37. Turn me On - David Guetta feat. Nicki Minaj EDI/The Collector Attack

“My body needs a hero Come and save me Something tells me you know how to save me”

I know this song is a metaphor but also it works really well both literally and metaphorically for Joker saving EDI

38. Robots - Dan Mangan Legion

“Robots need love too They want to be loved by you “

The Geth just want to live peacefullyyyyyy

39. Be Still - The Killers Love Interest Theme

“Be still / someday you’ll leave fearlessness on your sleeve”

This song works so well for the night before Omega-4. If you had an ME2 love interest, anyway. Also “fearlessness on your sleeve” is one of my favorite set of words ever written.

40. No Cars Go - Arcade Fire The Omega-4 Relay

“We know a place no spaceships go We know a place where no subs go “

This one’s pretty literal.

41. Rocketman - Elton John Suicide Mission

“ And I think it's gonna be a long, long time 'Til touchdown brings me 'round again to find I'm not the man they think I am at home “

I like sneaking some Classics onto my playlists, and I think this is how I generally approach Shepard’s mindset during the Suicide Mission, mostly the chorus. I’m also a sucker for ballads during action sequences. This one isn’t a perfect 1:1 but the Vibes check out.

42. Blast Off - David Guetta feat. Kaz James The Normandy Crew

“Got all my people with me And none of us give a fuck So put dem hands up higher Let's smash this party up”

You have to imagine they partied HARD after recovering from Suicide Mission, but before Shep got arrested, right??? This is the Starships for ME2.

INTERLUDE THE SECOND

43. I’m Not Your Hero - Tegan and Sara Liara T’soni

“ Feeling like I am now lighting up the hall I was used to standing in the shadow of a damaged heart Learning all I know now, losing all I did I never used to feel like I'd be standing so far ahead “

This feels like a good coming of age moment for Liara, as she copes with the choices she made in the 2 years of Shepard’s death (giving them to Cerberus), losing Feron, etc. This is her coming into her own as the Shadow Broker. She’s not meant to be an uncomplicated Big Damn Hero, but she can do good from this position.

44. The Well and the Lighthouse - Arcade Fire The Alpha Relay Incident

“I'm serving time All for a crime I did commit You want the truth? You know I'd do it all again“

These opening lines I feel capture the Alpha Relay Incident really well, and how Shepard did what they HAD to do there, and would do it again, but it still feels like shit. I always wished there was more choice on that mission, but also, having something like that happen without player agency is interesting. Shepard is at their most interesting, I think, in times where we DON’T have a say in what happens to them.

45. Reignite - Malukah Commander Shepard

“Crush my heart into embers, and I will reignite”

Is it cheating to use a Mass Effect fan song on my playlist? I certainly don’t think so, and this is the best Mass Effect fan song ever written.

THIRD MOVEMENT - MASS EFFECT 3

46. This Is War - Thirty Seconds to Mars Leaving Earth

“It's the moment of truth, and the moment to lie The moment to live and the moment to die The moment to fight, the moment to fight To fight, to fight, to fight “

It feels Too Easy to use this here but I’m gonna anyway. You’ve seen AMVs of this set to everything. It’s the ending song of DA:O. It’s the quintessential World At War song.

47. Battleborn - The Killers James Vega

“Up against the wall There's something dying on the street When they knock you down You're gonna get back on your feet”

James Vega is massively underrated and I will love him til I’m cold in the ground. Aro icon.

48. Handlebars - Flobots The Illusive Man

“I can hand out a million vaccinations Or let 'em all die of exasperation Have 'em all healed of their lacerations Have 'em all killed by assassination”

The way this song escalates fits TIM and Cerberus’s fall back into being Just Full On Evil really well. Perfect song for a power trip.

49. Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect - The Decemberists The Virmire Survivor

“And I am nothing of a builder But here I dreamt I was an architect And I built this balustrade To keep you home, to keep you safe From the outside world”

I like this song for how the Virmire Survivor feels about their survivor’s guilt and also about Shepard. I honestly wish they were both more heavily utilized in ME2 and 3, but I realize it’s hard to write a ton of content for characters who just aren’t in half of all peoples’ playthrus.

50. Heaven Knows - The Pretty Reckless Grisson Academy

“One, two, three and four, the devil's knocking at your door Caught in the eye of a dead man's lie Show your life with your head held high“

This song is so perfect for Jack and her biotic kids that she’s one of the only returning characters that gets her own song on this playlist

51. The Great Fire - OK Go Javik

“But when the flames die down, and everything is gone, Will there be fire under the ashes still?”

Self explanatory. Javik is the fire remaining under the ashes.

52. Bring the Hammer Down - Paragon Priority: Tuchanka/Kalros

“ Hammer strikes the anvil A rage that breaks the chain Strikes down like a lightening In our ranks “

KALROOOOOS

53. Wake Up - Arcade Fire Curing The Genophage/Mordin Solus

“If the children don't grow up, Our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up. We're just a million little gods causin' rain storms, turnin' every good thing to Rust I guess we'll just have to adjust”

I just really love this song as an image of Mordin’s spirit looking out over Tuchanka as the genophage cure is dispersed, and watching over future generations. If you didn’t cure the genophage, how dare you. No song for you.

Anyway started tearing up listening to this one while writing the description don’t look at me

54. Ballad of a Politician - Regina Spektor Councillor Udina/Priority Citadel 2

“A man inside a room is shaking hands with other men This is how it happens/Our carefully laid plans”

traitor

55. Cyborgs vs. Robots - Ludo The Geth-Quarian War

“But your iron fist will never knock me down 'Cause I'm powered By a conscious right to conduct my life without fear.”

This is probably a bit silly for this awful war. But also. It does fit. You can’t tell me it doesn’t. Just save them both at the end and you can feel fine having some fun with it!

56. Artificial Heart - Jonathan Coulton The Geth

“It's not a real heart It is a real artificial heart”

Just a little fun with the Geth! This works best with Reaper Upgrades.

57. With A Little Help From My Friends - Joe Anderson, Jim Sturgess The Citadel DLC

“What do you see when you turn out the light? I can't tell you, but I know it's mine

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends”

I happen to prefer this version to any other because of how much fun it sounds like they’re having

58. Dark In Here - The Mountain Goats Priority: Earth

“Steal away at sundown, pick a place to hide Check for signs of ambush, hunker down inside Tired of running, tired of never standing still Hear them riding up the hill“

You know I had to get the Goats in here. Would it be a fan playlist if there wasn’t one?

59. Adieu - Yoko Kanno Leaving your Love Interest/Shepard and the Beam

“My love for you burns deep inside me / So strong Embers of times we had And now, here I stand / Lost in a memory I see your face, and smile”

...do I need to say more than that?

60. My Way (Minor Key) - Chase Holfelder The Indoctrination of The Illusive Man

“Regrets, I've had a few/But then again, too few to mention I did what I had to do/I saw it through, without exemption“

This cover takes this song from something I tolerate when I hear it to one of my FAVORITE songs. The frenzied way he sings the “through it all” verse is PEAK Indoctrinated TIM.

61. I’m Alive - Disturbed Refusal

“There will never be a reason why I will surrender to your advice To change myself, I'd rather die/Though they will not understand”

Honestly I didn’t “get” the Refusal ending until I heard this song, then I was like, OH, I SEE IT ALL SO CLEARLY NOW. This is my favorite in-universe Shepard take on the Refusal ending. I always got it from the player’s perspective of being dissatisfied with the options, but this one puts it into the world for me. This is a Shepard who does not trust the Starchild. This is a Shepard that chooses to end things on their own terms rather than submit to their designs.

62. Machine - Regina Spektor Control

“I collect my moments Into a correspondence With a mightier power Who just lacks my perspective And who lacks my organics And who covets my defects “

I used to have Adieu here, actually, because like Refusal, I didn’t used to GET the Control ending. Now, I do, in part thanks to hearing this song. I mean, just go look at the full lyrics. If this song hadn’t been written years before the end of Mass Effect 3, I’d swear it was a fan song for it.

63. Maybe Tomorrow - Yuki Kajiura Destroy

“The moon is gone And the night is still so dark I'm a little bit afraid of tomorrow“

I’m a Destroy Ending person, I won’t lie. Full on “the starchild is a liar and my synthetic friends are FINE” indoctrination theory level destroy ending. But this song is not about that. It’s about the canonical destroy ending, and if you prefer a Shep that survives it, this song’s for you.

This song captures the exhaustion and melancholy of the end of a long journey so well. Shepard is afraid of what comes next, the collateral damage resulting from their actions. But they know that, at least, it’s over now. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

64. Waiting For the End - Linkin Park Synthesis

“ I know what it takes to move on I know how it feels to lie All I wanna do is trade this life for something new Holding on to what I haven't got”

This is one of my favorite songs of all time. The hardest part of ending is starting again. Oof. Gets me every single time. Shepard finding the resolve to sacrifice themself for the hope of something better, of things not going how they planned, ever, of learning to make peace with that and the people who loved them learning to carry on without them? OOF.

65. Shine - Vienna Teng Epilogue

“Shine with all the untold Hold the light given unto you Find the love to unfold In this broken world we choose“

Vienna Teng is a master of capturing life’s softer emotions, and this fits perfectly with the epilogue scene for me. Tell me again about the Shepard.

“Find the love to unfold in this broken world we choose” has to be one of the greatest lines about the human experience ever written.

#mass effect #mass effect legendary edition #no one's gonna listen to this #but i need the world to know it exists #it took me as long as the playlist is to put this together

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boneandfur · 4 years ago

Text

Time After Time

Pairing: Ethan x MC // Rating: T for themes of war // notes: This was written as a secret Santa gift(yeahhh I know it's late). The next part will have a link to the NSFW part on ao3, should you so choose to read it. The fic can be read without it as well. // The poem on the mood board is Flanders Fields by John McCrae. The lyrics in the fic are from When This Lousy War Is Over, a World War 1 song. // Summary: It's New Year's Eve in 1915 and Nurse Helena Valentine is on leave for twelve hours. Will she be able to say what's in her heart when she runs into Dr Ethan Ramsay, her superior at the field hospital, or will they run out of time? Note: sorry folks the cut isn't working. Will be moving to ao3 sometime here

ONE

"Rookie." The rich Scottish brogue is rough as he catches Helena's arm in the darkness of a Flanders night. "What are you doing here?"

The snow is falling thickly, beyond the ring of torchlight from the town square. In the reflection of the inky water, Helena can see the twinkling of fairy lights in the dark sky, and she steels her spine, only a faint tremor in her hands betraying a hint of fatigue.

Taking her grandfather's silver pocket watch out, she marks the time in her head:

(Twelve hours, seventeen minutes, and thirty four seconds.)

That's how much longer Helena has until she must walk back to the train station and meet the girls, and doesn't she have a warm room waiting for her, and a little fire, and some of that Flemish wine that Aurora was always going on and on about back at Smith? Yet here she is, on the very last day of the year in 1915, And I cannot seem to move an inch from it.

The strains of drunken soldiers singing makes her heart squeeze -- When this lousy war is over -- "I have official leave for the next twelve hours." I would give my eyeteeth for twelve hours of sleep, but I can't sleep. Time was, I would have given anything to sleep, back when I was studying to be a doctor, back in Boston.

When this war is over -- it feels like a lifetime before it began, just a little over a year ago.

I'll be back someday, when this war is over, Helena Valentine. And then I'll marry you, and we'll dance until Father Time forgets we are mortal.

(But he had never returned, and she went about with a band of black mourning ribbon on her upper arm, hidden under her sleeve: the bruise in her chest expanding until she felt nothing there any longer but silence, until she got on a ship bound for London Town...)

Helena feels the supple leather of Ramsey's gloves, butter soft, against her wet cheeks. She does not know if they are wet from tears, or from snow.

When this war is over/No more soldiering for me

There is a soft quality to Ethan Ramsey's blue eyes as he gazes down at her, brow troubled.

"You should be asleep behind the lines, Rookie." He ties the hood of her threadbare velvet cloak under her chin, as though Helena Valentine is still that pretty maid from Boston, the one who ran off to France to join her cousins in the war effort, three seasons past. "This isn't the place to spend your next twelve hours. You should be curled up in your cot with that book you always carry around in your apron pocket --"

"Sherlock Holmes." Helena lifts her chin a fraction of an inch, and pushes her spectacles to the bridge of her nose, meeting his gaze squarely. "He would have made a brilliant doctor, Dr Ramsey, sir."

"I am not disagreeing with you." Ramsey touches her elbow with his fingers, gesturing with his other hand towards the warmth and lights of the square. "But a bridge at nighttime, Rookie, even behind friendly lines, is not the wisest course of action."

(Twelve hours, seven minutes, and twenty-three seconds.)

The bridge begins to vibrate slightly, and Helena feels her whole body tense, a hot surge of liquid burning just behind her lashes. She sucks in a deep breath and turns her head, just -- the movement as jerky as a film reel at the pictures. His mouth moves, sound traveling as though they are underwater.

Rookie! Can you hear me, Rookie?

That's what Ramsey has always called her, ever since he found out she was a student of medicine, back in Boston. He brought her from the field hospital in Poperhinge with him, all the way to a makeshift hospital just behind the lines in Ypres. Brilliant surgeon Bryce Lahela had been there too, since gone at Loos, or perhaps not gone, but she has heard no more of him. Not even a whisper on the wind.

Helena tears her gaze from Ramsey's mouth, looking towards the eastern sky. The darkness evaporates, opening up in a brilliant reddish gold splendor of color, and Helena feels the warmth of Ramsey's grip on her shoulder all the way down to her frozen bones.

When this war is over,/No more soldiering for me./When I get my civvy clothes on,/Oh how happy I shall be.

Her debutante ball in Boston, the one her father had insisted upon, before the Titanic sank and took his life away with it -- there had been fireworks at that ball. The guests had oohed and ahhed and the bells had rung for the New Year of 1910, a lavish decade of glittering splendor laid out ahead of them -- and she had fought for her inheritance, so damnably hard -- Let me be a lady doctor, Mother, I beg you -- years upon years, gone in the blink of an eye, working with only the most wretched of immigrants in the squalid slums, and then back home to Beacon Hill, to play the debutante.

You must secure a good marriage, Helena, and put this silly dream aside...

The world rushes in with a thunderclap as the artillery barrage begins, and Ramsey pulls Helena to his chest, his hand against the back of her head, wound tightly into her dark curls. She can hear his heart beating in time to the band -- one two, one two, the steps to the waltz.

Eleven hours, fifty-eight minutes, thirteen seconds. The pocket watch ticks on. One two, one two. She pulls back from Ramsey's chest, embarrassed, and turns back to the direction of the Front.

It's hard to believe that only six hours ago I was in a field hospital just behind the front lines. She hasn't realized she's said it aloud until she feel his greatcoat settle over her shoulders. It smells like him, she realizes with a shuddering breath -- like him, without other men's gore staining him up to the elbows. Smoke, and peat, and whiskey.

Once, two months ago, she'd found herself alone in his office to fetch more morphine, and she'd taken the liberty of burying her nose in his extra uniform. She had lost track of how long she'd stood there, nose buried in wool, until a stretcher bearer had rapped on the door and startled her.

"Yes, and you're a dammed bloody fool of an American chit." Ramsey clears his throat. "The war won't be over any faster if you continue to stare at it like that, Rookie."

"Should just be another month." Helena tries, and fails, to sound chipper. "That's what Rafael says he heard from the Cordonians, who heard it from that fighter pilot, Jake Mackenzie, who heard it from the French Foreign Legion --"

And any minute now, out there in the distance, Rafael will come chugging up to Edenbrook Field Hospital in his rattletrap old ambulance, and out will swagger Captain Beaumont of the Cordonian Calvary, dog in his arms and patch over one eye, with a wink and a grin, as if to say, Well, I survived another match with the boys in gray -- as if they'd just had a football match in time for tea -- or it will be that Mexican mercenary from the French Foreign Legion, swearing a streak as blue as those tattoos on his skin, the indomitable Sargent Salazar, or, or --

"Come on, Rookie. Let's get you warmed up."

(Eleven hours, eleven minutes, eleven seconds.)

#long post #ethan ramsey #open heart fanfic #open heart #choices oph #ethan x mc #hope the cut works #choices the stories you play #choices fanfic #playchoices

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