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persephonescottage · 2 years ago

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PONY | 16.

Pairing: Billy RussoxFem!Reader

Summary: Maybe there won’t be a bridesmaid’s speech after all.

Warning: References to sexual situations, swearing, obsessive thoughts. Although this chapter might not include it, this fic will include stalking, somnophilia, CNC (between two consenting adults), knife play, age gap, dub con, Stockholm syndrome, gaslighting and other triggers I will include as we go along, please only read if you’re 18+. If any of this warnings trigger you please don’t read.

A/N: So I had to cut this one chapter into two cause it was SO LONG but I will be posting the next (part 2 of this) tonight (which is about 1 am California time so… tomorrow?) anywayyyyyyssss yeah bye.

How hard can it be, just call and ask.

Call and ask.

Or call and hang up like you’re thirteen and you have a crush on your neighbor again.

Your mind is a mess as you walk home after the fitting with Gianna. Three hours of sitting between rolls and rolls of rose and mint colored tulle and taffeta gave you time to think.

So what if asking a man to be your date wasn’t lady like? So what if you had let a man whom you’ve never seen before have your body on a silver platter?

You couldn’t shake him out of your head and it was undeniable, and no one had touched you like that in your life, not that you had many opportunities. But God knows Barrett was clueless.

And what if it worked out?

Sure you’d have to censor Gianna’s bridesmaid speech and lie when people ask how you two met on anniversary parties but what if?

What if?

The questions echoed in your head as you reached your building door. Should you just rip it off like a band aid? It was five thirty, would he be out of work? Did he work a nine to five? You had no idea, you knew nothing about this man.

You open your apartment door to find the kitchen light on and the well known pink dessert box on the counter and you sigh relieved. It felt familiar now, domestic, homely. throwing your keys and purse on the side table you enter locking behind you as you step inside your cool place.

Tonight’s cupcake is a white and blue stripped one with a red bow on it to match the one on your hair and you smile slightly.

You won’t eat it tonight but it’s still very pretty.

Why does he have to be so cute? You decide you’ll take a warm shower and get in some cozy pajamas before you call him because the apartment is freezing and not because you got cold feet (literally) and lost the nerve to ask him to the gala but when you reach your bedroom you’re met with a big red box.

It’s sitting on your bed and it’s a regal velvet finish with gold leaf stamping on top that you cannot understand. It looks foreign, Japanese you believe, and you’re confused.

Should you call him before you open it?

Apparently no since your hands fly to the sides of it, it’s huge and your fingertips stroke the soft texture of it before sliding the top off. The inside is a sea of satin and metallic appliqués and you’re almost afraid your hands can stain it but in the middle of it there’s a rose and a note.

The rose is dark burgundy, almost black and you take it in your hands, it’s got thorns still, you’re careful to put in on the bedside table before you grab the note to read the red ink.

“How beautiful she was when she let me kiss her. XO. B.”

You leave the note on the duvet and pull the fabric out of the box, a ribbed cream corset top, small puff sleeves, yards and yards of fabric that form a skirt covered in metallic threads and fanned glittering decorations, they look like constellations.

It’s a ball gown.

What did this mean?

Was it an invitation?

You pick up your phone immediately, your shower could wait. You dial the number that you know by heart now and put it on speaker phone, suddenly the fifty degrees in your apartment feel like eighty and you put your hair up in a ponytail as you make your way to the kitchen.

It rings a few times and you’re afraid he might have disconnected it this time, you’re afraid of the anxiety attack that might kick in when some random person picks up and tells you they just got this new line and you’re back at square one but on the fifth ring you hear him out of breath and in the middle of what sound like city sounds.

“Hey sweetheart, sorry almost missed you.” He sounds simple, like a boyfriend and you get butterflies in your stomach, not sure if good or bad.

“Hey, you were at my house.” You say quickly opening the door to your fridge and taking out the vodka bottle you keep there.

“Sure was, did you like your gift? Did you get the quote? I mean of course you got the quote! I was afraid you wouldn’t get it but you’re smart and you read The Phantom.”

“Yeah, I read Phantom and the dress is beautiful thank you.” You say quickly as you take a shot.

“Well? Did it fit?”

“I haven’t tried it on.”

“Well go on, the party is tomorrow-“

“Does this mean you’re taking me to the gala?”

There’s a silence on the other side of the line and you wait patiently listening to the honking and rumbling of motors and traffic on his side, his breathing is steady but he sounds unsure as if he wants to say something he knows you wont understand.

“No.” His tone is ice cold now and all signs of the boyfriend you thought you had minutes ago are gone.

“Why not?” You take another shot before he answers knowing well you wont like the answer.

“That’s not what we agreed on.”

You’re silent this time and you feel it all come crashing down, it’ll never end, there will never be a bridesmaid speech or an anniversary party. All there’ll ever be is this and as lonely as you are it’s not enough.

“I don’t remember making any agreements with you.”

“Look, I’m not your little boyfriend babe, that’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it? Am I supposed to sit here alone like an art piece for you to observe in a museum from far away? Am I supposed to be alone forever because you won’t be with me but you won’t let me be with anyone else?”

“Are you drinking again Pony?”

“Why do you care? You’re not my little boyfriend!” You’re yelling now and you’re sure your neighbors can hear.

“Lower your voice with me little girl.”

“Or what? You will leave a threatening cupcake? I don’t see how, I don’t have any food allergies or anything!”

“I’m warning you Pony, I’ve been too soft with you lately.”

“No, I have been too soft with you lately, in fact I should call my guard and let him know you where here, goodnight Birdy. Oh and by the way, I already have a dress and it’s custom made!”

“Don’t be ridiculous baby.”

‘I’m not your baby!” You yell again.

“God, you’ll look so pretty after I tape that bratty mouth shut. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yeah from outside my house and preferably in cop’s handcuffs.”

You hang up immediately and take a sip directly from the bottle, you’re sure you cut him off mid sentence and you’re sure this won’t be the end of it, but the vodka has gotten to your head and maybe now it’s time for that shower you should’ve gotten a while ago.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #pony fic #stalker!billy #my writting #billy russo fanfic

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lsd-astronaut · 3 years ago

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write a fic sydger, please 😭😭🙏🙏🙏🙏 I beg you, I implore you. I love your writings and i would like you to write sydger please ^_^

you shall get sydger bestie, tysm for liking my writings🥰🥰🥰

it’s the first time i write sydger🥺🥺🥺hope you like it

i also received your most recent ask and like idk if you want ANOTHER sydger fanfic but anyways i’ve already started this so yeah get two fanfics lmfao

Marriage Life

Pairing: Syd Barrett x Roger Waters

Disclaimer: let’s assume gay marriage and being gay overall wasn’t illegal in the 60s okay? okay.

The clock alarm went off, waking a disgruntled Roger up, who sleepily reached for the button that would make the blaring noise stop once and for all. Once silence filled the room again, Roger yawned and looked to the other side of his bed, not being surprised as he saw Syd holding on his waist for dear life. The younger man could sleep through a bomb exploding right besides him without even stirring.

Roger sighed and shook Syd a bit so he let go of him. The guitarist hummed in refusal and held on Roger even tighter. Now, he couldn’t have that. He really needed to go to the bathroom.

Shaking Syd a bit harder caused him to roll over and grab the blankets and cover himself with them, his mop of curls the only thing visible. All while asleep. Roger lifted his eyebrows in silent amazement but soon got up, put on his slippers and walked to the bathroom right at the end of the hallway.

After doing his business, Roger looked at himself in the mirror. He immediately brushed his neck with his fingertips, frowning at the purple marks littered all over it. Syd had gotten carried away again.

A noise behind him surprised him and he turned around. He looked at his husband stumbling in the bathroom, rubbing his eyes and yawning. The shorter man was too exhausted to notice Roger was right in front of him, bumping straight on his chest. The bassist chuckled as he saw the height gap between the two of them. It would never fail to surprise him just how short Syd truly was. Or maybe he was too tall.

Syd gave Roger a tired smile and went to hug him, his arms around Roger’s waist. The latter reciprocated, of course. He would never reject Syd’s affection; not even in his wildest dreams.

Right then, Syd moved his head up and pressed a kiss on Roger’s neck. Roger, however, pulled away a bit.

“Didn’t you have enough last night?”, he said with amusement in his voice.

Syd pouted and let go of him. “I thought you liked it when I bite you there,” he mumbled as he went to wash his face in the sink.

“Yeah, I love it, but not when we have to go to a studio session tomorrow. Look at this one! It looks like you punched me.”

“It will fade with time, Rog. Don’t fret too much about it.”

“Knowing you, you’ll just give me more tonight.”

At that moment, Syd looked up at the mirror. Roger noticed he his eyebrows were furrowed. Concerned, he touched his shoulder so he would turn around. When Syd’s eyes linked with his, he noticed the purple shadows under his brown eyes. Roger reached to touch Syd’s cheeks and rubbed them with his thumbs. The younger man closed his eyes and seemed to melt against his husband’s touch.

“Is it a bad day?”, Roger whispered.

At Syd’s nod, Roger frowned and pulled him into a hug. The younger man just let himself be hugged but didn’t hug back. He didn’t have the energy for that.

Roger helped Syd walk out the bathroom and go to the little living room where he sat in the couch.

“First of all, your antidepressants, Syd.” Roger took a pill out of the bottle and gave it to Syd before putting the bottle in a cabinet and locking it. They’d already had an incident where Syd’s depression got too much and he had overdosed on it. Thankfully, he had screamed for Roger who had come as fast as he could and called the ambulance immediately. That had been some years ago. The overwhelming pressure still weighed on Roger’s consciousness. What would have happened if he hadn’t been home? Would he have found his body unmoving on the floor?

Roger gulped and slammed the cabinet shut. Behind him, Syd swallowed the pill with the help of a glass of water. They both stayed in silence for what seemed eternity. The early morning rays of sun coming through the window and casting a cozy and warm light all over the living room snapped Roger back into reality.

“How about I make breakfast?”, Roger proposed.

Syd only nodded before standing up from the couch. Roger knew that was the last thing he wanted to do at that moment, but Syd’s depression had been way more manageable lately. At least, he acknowledged he couldn’t stay in bed all day, and just ignore his body needs like eating or drinking water.

As he watched Syd munch on the corner of one of his toasts with not much enthusiasm, Roger cleared his throat. When the younger man looked at him expectantly, Roger gave him a little smile.

“Did you know today is when we’ll get Frisky back from Rick’s house?”

Those words made their desired effect on Syd, as his eyes widened and visibly brightened. Roger really knew the best ways to cheer him up.

“But, first eat that. Then we can go.”

He had never seen Syd so happy as he rushed to finish his breakfast and rushed to get dressed.

Half an hour later, the two of them were sitting in Syd’s car. Roger was the one who drove it though. Syd didn’t even have a driving license. When Roger inquired him about the car, the guitarist just said it had been a purchase out of impulse.

Syd put on the radio and started tapping his hands on his legs like an excited kid. Roger was amazed at how much Syd loved his cat, Frisky. To be honest, that damn cat deserved a prize for making both of their lives easier by basically being Syd’s unofficial therapy animal.

When they reached Rick’s front door, Roger reached to touch the doorbell but was interrupted by Syd banging on the door.

“Rick, I want Frisky back!”, Syd shouted.

Roger went to stop Syd but the front door flew open, showing a Rick with disheveled hair.

“Can you two not make the neighbours think we’re bloody crazy?!”, the pianist said with a frantic voice. “Besides, isn’t it super early?”

“9am is not early-” Roger interrupted himself as he saw Syd trying to force his way into the appartment. “Syd, for the love of God, can’t you wait a second?”

“I want to see Frisky!”

Rick sighed and made space for Syd to come in. Roger came behind him and walked to the living room, accompanied by Rick. The two of them stopped in their tracks as they saw Syd sitting on the floor with Frisky on his lap. Syd was laughing as the cat rubbed his head on Syd’s chin. The older men smiled at the adorable scene, and let him be by himself for some minutes.

After saying goodbye to Rick, the couple went to the car again. Syd kept humming a little tune all the way home as he stroked Frisky’s head who happily purred as he nuzzled in Syd’s lap.

As Roger saw the glint of Syd’s wedding band on his right hand and his smile as he played with his, their, cat, he silently chuckled and looked forward again. They were going to be okay.

#pink floyd #pink floyd imagines #classic rock #classic rock imagines #roger waters #syd barrett #sydger #syd barrett x roger waters

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years ago

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illicit affairs

pairing: sheriff lee bodecker x younger! reader

warnings: smut (18+), cheating, age gap

a/n: i love perfumes which smell of daisies so i made the reader use something like that. i do imagine her going for a very much female appearance and aura despite her personality and i can see lee fancying that sort of fragile femininity look paired with her independency. this song is based of illicit affairs from taylor swift but i was also listening to all too well at some points so i think some of that passed onto the writing. hope you enjoy xx

> DRESS

Leave the perfume on the self that you picked up just for him so you leave no trace behind like you don’t even exist. Take the words for what they are a dwindling, mercurial high, a drug that only worked the first few hundred times ... And you wanna scream don’t call me “kid”, don’t call me “baby”, look at this idiotic fool that you made me. You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else. And you know damn well for you I would ruin myself a million little times ...

The snow settled onto the ground, a view she could see from her white window. Sprawled against her window pane, the blue soft fabric of her dress cascaded down her body as she watched the snow fall and become one with the mass of white covering the once green grass of her home. Her feet dangled in anticipation, hair cascading into hairdresser set curls, held away from her face with a pearl barrette. Her fingers dangled across her collarbones, feeling the cold matching pearls which unlike her barrette clip, had been offered to her by Lee on thanksgiving. “A pretty girl like you deserves her own pearls” his voice echoed in her mind whenever her feeling felt the smooth irregular circle shapes of the pearls laying against her collarbones. There was nothing more than she wanted than to wear those pearls to the police winter ball, to show up wearing something he had bought for her with what money he gathered from his fickle Captain position, but she couldn’t. Everyone knew what she had, what jewellery she had, it was all valued at the insurance centre downtown and the pearl necklace definitely wasn’t. Her own pearls rested inside her ivory jewellery box along with the ribbon she was wearing around her waist when she first kissed him, and the comb that held her hair in place whenever she met him during windy nights.

Her grandmother had left before her, leaving with the grocery shop owner as her date for the ball but she had stayed behind. She had told her she’d rather go alone, blaming her loneliness on the fact all the boys her age were either engaged thus going with their wives and the single ones not wanting to do with her. Of course that was further from the truth and as she watched the snow fall, she imagined Lee’s cruiser driving through the snow, stopping in front of her home and knocking on her door to take her. But those were nothing but impossible scenarios created from the deepest part of her psyche. Looking over her shoulder, the clock on her bedside table shone 9PM into bold red letters. She should get going before her grandmother got worried. Her eyes lingered across her beauty parlour to the silver platter with her perfume, the one she’d picked just for him after hearing how much he loved the smell of daisies. She had to leave it, she couldn’t put any perfume on, she couldn’t take her pearls, she doesn’t exist. At least, she as Lee’s lover does not exist for all that everyone could know and nothing hurt more than the sound of her pearls returning to her ivory box. It was were they belonged, away from everyone, hidden, a mysterious sin secret.

With her white fur wrapped around her arms, she entered her glossy yet dull red car, pulling the hood up despite the weather. She wanted to feel the cold, she wanted that numbness to hide what she had been feeling for the last months. It was all so exhilarating when it began; the summer walks, laying in the middle of the forest in an old towel as he feed her ripe strawberries, escaping from her grandmother’s house at night and meeting him up under the apple tree in light dresses. However, at time wind down, she started to crave the rest of a relationship, the holding of hands. Instead what she got was clandestine meetings in parking lots, behind the bars or in the middle of the forest when no one could see them. She constantly told herself it was going to eventually be her turn, he was gonna leave Jane for her. Yet, she seemed to constantly fall on the same error every mistress before her did, the mistake of forgetting her place. Stopping in front of the old town hall where the ball was being held, she could see the soft lights, hear the laughter and it made her sick. She didn’t want to go in, she didn’t want to see those happy couples but she had too. She had to put up a show, be the little pedestal trouble starter woman she was expected to be and so she would.

Stepping into the hall, her eyes immediately found Lee in the corner speaking with the Sheriff, arm draped over Jane’s shoulder while the other hand held a clear cup probably with his favourite drink. Her heart sunk to the same place it always did as she got lost in the dance floor. She knew everyone in this town hall, from the first boy she ever kissed Jonah and his third wife Elizabeth to Billy whom had been prom king with her. There was nothing new anymore and what once felt new and true was now anchoring her inside a fishbowl of images of her own mistakes and unfulfilled life needs.

- Hey, Y/N. - Billy called out for her attention. She held onto the fur wrapped around her for comfort as she prepared her facade of a happy girl at a happy party. - Your grandma told me you ain’t gotta a partner for tonight. Could’ve told me, I would’ve taken you.

- It’s ok, ain’t like I need a man. - she replied, almost angrily although he deserved no anger from her. - What’s the stage for? We’re getting a band tonight?

- No, the new sheriff candidates announcing themselves tonight. Prepare for the blood bath.

- Sounds interesting. - she spoke out, her voice getting mumbled out as the mic’s sound hurt her and everyone else’s ear. The police chief stood there in his best attire, holding a small piece of papers, his fat thumbs hitting the mic to gather everyone’s attention. He already had their attention merely by wearing a cowboy’s hat with a formal suit.

- Now folks, we all now how much we gonna miss our good old Sheriff but it’s time to elect a new one. - his southern accent was pronounced, too pronounced, cartoonish even. Y/N remembered laughing as a child when she first heard him speak only to immediately shut up when her grandmother looked her way with a look which left room for no questions. She herself had barely developed an accent, her grandmother still very keen on instilling in her the education she herself had gotten. However, the longer she spent with Lee, the more it would sometimes slip; one or two words, nothing major. - Of course, Leroy is running again.

- I don’t know why he tries. - Y/N whispered to Billy, concealed laughing smile behind her hand.

- You gotta admit it’s a good thing to imagine. Damned Leroy and his prostitutes running the town? We’d be forgotten by God.

- We’re already forgotten by God. We were banished from the garden of Eden, don’t you remember? - she teased, always enjoying to toy around with the religion Knockemstiff was so hang up on. - We’re probably direct descendants.

- You ought to keep that mouth shut if you don’t wanna get in trouble. - he warned yet it went through deaf ears. Y/N liked stirring it, specially when it came to things which were so analytically flawed.

The regular list of candidates continued to go from officers to common folk who all believed they could make the town better. At least that was all they said they wanted to get some votes but at the end of the day, they just wanted to control the town with an iron fist. Do what they wanted without anyone question it. She couldn’t blame it, humans are hardwired to go crazy for power and let it consume them so she just let it pass. She knew all the candidates, they were always the same. Leroy, Matthew, Edwards ... all the common ones, she even wondered why they kept announcing it. Those three competing for the sheriff position was as certain as the sun coming up each morning.

- The last candidate is our cap’tain Bodecker. - her head snapped to the stage as every sound seemed to dim until she was surrounded by pure silence. All she could hear was the buzz from her ears as she watched him climb up the stairs to the stage, shaking the chief’s hands.

Everything seemed to be stuck in slow motion yet her mind was running faster than a shot bullet. The clapping was slow, everything was silent yet she could see their hands slowly clap and their lips moving in whispers. Her eyes roamed the crowd finding Jane right in front of the stage, looking up at him with adoration at the possible place she could possible hold; the sheriff’s wife. The slow motion ended with a loud crash and suddenly everything seemed just too fast. She ignored Billy’s pleas for her attention and moved straight to the small plastic tables covered in burgundy towels to make it look fancier where all the drinks and food were being held. One of her only friends from high school Mary was the one in charge, happily serving food and drinks to anyone who asked.

- Hi Y/N. - she always looked like the perfect housewife and that was always what she wanted to be. Beautiful, bountiful blonde hair with a few flowers matching her pink dress. Despite it all, she was always nice to her even with their different life goals.

- Hey Mary. How’s Paul? I heard from rumours you two had quite a nice honeymoon. St.Louis, right?

- Yes. He booked us a nice honeymoon suite, it had flowers and those heart shaped beds and chocolates. It was real nice, I’m hoping to be pregnant soon. What about you? Your grandmother said you came alone. You could’ve told me, my brother would’ve taken you.

- That’s alright, Mary. I don’t intend to stay for long ... Uhm, can I have a drink?

- Of course. Sidecar, as per usual?

- I think I’ll just have a double cognac, please. Or maybe some gin ... whatever can make me dizzy the fastest.

- Everything, okay?

- Just need to forget some stuff, it’ll be okay. - she forced a smile. At least half that phrase was true. Mary served her up with her best gin and she returned to the dance floor, trying to blend with the rest of the attendees, however her baby blue dress was much too different from anything else in town.

Y/N thought she’d be best outside where no one could see her and so she left, avoiding Billy who kept asking for her. She leaned against the old wood of the town hall, mascara running down her cheeks, and gin glass on the other one. She looked like the perfect warning tale of why you should not mess her married men. She knew better, she knew so much better but she still did it, like the idiotic little fool she seemed to be. Y/N sighed, the air condensing in the air as she drank from the glass.

- Pull yourself together, Y/N. - she looked to see side, her grandmother standing outside with the look she used to give her when Y/N embarrassed her as a little girl. - What did you expect?

- I’m just not having a good day, nana.

- You’re hanging around with Captain Bodecker that’s what you’re doing.

- What?

- Don’t play innocent with me, Y/N. You’re just like your mother and I’ve raised your mother so I’d know. I saw you leave in his car last week. Do you want to defend yourself?

- Is it even worth it? - she took a sip out of her drink. - What do you want me to say?

- I want you to pull yourself together and go inside. You better have this finished off before those elections start. I will not have my granddaughter be a home wrecker.

Y/N ignored it. There was nothing her grandmother could say that hurt more than what she was already feeling. She watched the snow fall from the cover of the banner covering the town hall, cold and icy yet somehow warmer than her. The drink didn’t last forever and although it was much stronger than what she was used to, she didn’t feel the slightest bit dizzy. It was if the universe was punishing her for her choices. She shook her head, leaving the glass onto one of the windows. She’d be better off at home and she’d already made her appearance. If someone asked where she was, she could’ve blamed it on their drunkness. Opening her little clutch, she started fishing for her keys through a sea of change, makeup and receipts.

- You better not be thinking of driving after you just drank. - she turned her head to see Lee with his hands on his waist, playfully smiling at her. His smile faded as he noticed the streaks of mascara from her eyes to her jaw. - Did that shithead Billy say something?

- No ... Lee, I wanna go home okay. - she sighed. - Can you just pretend you didn’t see me drink?

- I was hoping we could spend the night together. Rent a hotel room outside town. A real nice place, with a pool and some room service. My treat of course.

- I ... We can’t, Lee. Your wife is inside as she’s gonna notice you’re not there and you’re not home.

- She’s going home early. Jane’s been taking a few sleeping pills. She’s down for the night, won’t even notice. - he took a few steps closer to her, knowing everyone was too drunk to even remember. - I was waiting for you to come greet me, congratulate me. I can’t believe my girl wanted to leave before showing me how pretty she looked.

- You didn’t tell me you were running for Sheriff. - he cupped her face, thumb caressing her cheek. - You said it was a silly position.

- Yeah but ... it’s a Sheriff. I could become Mayor, ya know. The old sheriff thinks I’d be good for it. - he scratched the back of his neck, something he always did whenever he was nervous or was confronted by something he did not expect. Y/N had learned to read him and knew him better than her own favourite books. - C’mon, kid. It’s a night worth celebrating, don’t you think?

- Don’t call me kid. - she shot her head his way, his word hitting a particular hurt spot which she didn’t realise she had.

- Hey, I’m not trying to mock ya. - he rose his hands. - What’s wrong, huh baby? Hm? Tell me sugar, I hate it when you’re upset. Besides, if it was that Billy kid I’ve been wanting to give him a good beating.

- Don’t call me baby, either. - she sighed, throwing her purse inside the car, before turning to him. - Billy didn’t do anything I’m just ... tired.

- I’ll drive you home, then.

- I don’t wanna go home either. - she pushed her hair from her forehead, looking at the ground. The snow engulfed her feet and her shoes, yet it might as well have engulfed her entire being. Lee noticed her lip trembling and how her free hand was trying to stop tears from falling down. He looked behind him, the town hall door shut, before taking his jacket off, draping it over her shoulders, and opening the car door for her.

Y/N daren’t look him in the eye, instead sitting in the passenger seat as he pushed the hood of her car up. After all, most people did not enjoy driving in the snow with the hood up. She didn’t know where he was taking her and for all it mattered she didn’t want to know. If he was driving her to her killing location, it sounded much better than having to work out through the bubbling feelings in her tummy. Y/N didn’t even noticed how much she was crying until the tears started streaming so fast they were falling onto the palms of her hands like diamond daggers. She leaned her head against his shoulder, watching the road ahead through the blurry orbs of her own eyes, trying to find some warmth through him. The drive seemed endless and her mind rushed in an even more endless way as she considered all her choices til now. She found it unbearable how not guilty she didn’t feel about it. She could still remember the feeling of the cold water against her body and his lips against hers, being tangled in his bed sheets while he drank a beer, his grunts as he thrusted into her inside his patrol car. She remembered every detail either it being lust or romantic but most importantly she remembered how he looked at her. It was almost as through rose coloured glasses, most of the times agreeing with her pessimist view of the town she was in. Lee looked down on her, watching her perfect hair break through the gelled curls she had set down. He never liked the polished look anyway, he loved to see her walk in her white dresses and freshly washed hair flowing with the wind. This woman sat next to him was gorgeous but he preferred his Y/N, he preferred the woman who would poke fun of casualty and rush into the woods with her nightgown. This woman next to him was pretty yes but she seemed tainted by a sadness he could see yet couldn’t help. He didn’t want his Y/N to be the slightest bit sad. She did not deserve it. She was too pure, too young to be consumed by the loneliness, darkness and sadness that came with being an adult. Yet again, he had to start learning the young woman she was wouldn’t stay young forever. He wanted to know how to help. he wanted to be the man who wakes up next to her on summer mornings and winter evenings but life is not how we plan it out to be.

She watched the snow fall from her window as “You are my sunshine” played on the background from her radio. Looking up to him, his eyes were glued to the road, the sign of leaving Knockemstiff way past them and the hotel on the horizon. She called it the Heartbreak hotel, with its red walls and luxurious nature. A more fancy place for those who wanted to give a better night to their mistresses but that was not why she called it the heartbreak hotel. It was due to the fact she ended up crying every time she or he left. While inside those walls, she could pretend they were Mr. and Mrs. Bodecker, young couple moved out of Knockemstiff on a romantic getaway yet she wasn’t Mrs. Bodecker, Jane was. She had seen who the future sheriff’s wife was and it was not and it would never be her. He stopped the car in the parking lot, looking at her who was lost in thought, leaned against his shoulder.

- Come on, sugar. What is it? - Lee kissed the top of her head. - The heck happened in that Town Hall?

- Just being silly, Lee. - she shook her head, faking a smile. - Just don’t like parties one bit.

- I hate ‘em too, sugar. All show no action. Besides no party is a party without my baby. - he hooked his ring finger under her chin, softly pulling it up. She tried not to look at the moonlight illuminating the silver band around his finger, a symbol he belonged to someone else and she knew it. She had seen the wedding photo on his secretary, a much younger Lee with a much younger Jane with the facade of a happy marriage. Thinking about it always made her sick and ever since seeing that picture she couldn’t bring herself to do so. - Come on, let’s get you a bubble bath, yeah?

She followed him into the hotel almost in a zombie like state until the reception. The talk was a dance she had danced before, it was all the same. Lee would present money in cash so it wouldn’t show up on his credit card statement. He would sign in with a fake address but with his own name and no one would question it. After all, the staff wanted money, they didn’t care if it was an illicit affair or not. To be honest, she didn’t care much anymore.

- Mrs. Bodecker? Mrs. Bodecker? - the receptionist called out to her but it didn’t even register until she was looking her into the eyes. Mrs. Bodecker, she was definitely not. - Would you like a complementary tea? You look cold.

- No, it’s okay. - she smiled while Lee grabbed the keys. His hand wrapped itself around hers, leading her over to the elevator.

God, she wanted him. She really did, he thought to himself. It was an unbelievable feeling to have someone who loved him back, someone who always had encouraging words to tell him, someone who would stay after a fight. He thought and imagine what it would’ve been like if she was born earlier, god he would’ve courted her and would’ve married her the second they were out of high school. Sadly, the woman he loved was born 10 years after and he met her when he was married. He led her to the 13th hotel room and closed the door behind them.

- Things are gonna be different when I’m sheriff. No more sneaking around, no one will dare say a word. I can move to Brewer Heights, heck, I can buy two houses, one just for you and me.

- Lee ...

- Where are your pearls, sugar? You know I love to see you with them, makes you look so pretty.

- You know I can’t wear them in public, Lee. I am not your ... - she shouldn’t say that, she should not let those words out. - They’re not insured under my name, people would comment about it.

- You worry too much. - he pushed the fur that covered her arms down, placing a small kiss on her elbow. - My little over-thinker.

- One of us has too, Captain Bodecker.

- How about some champagne? - he pointed towards the champagne bottle in the ice bucket by the dresser before walking towards it, raising it so he could inspect the brand. He longed for the finest things in life, no longer wanting to be that middle to low class man he’d been forced to be. Being Sheriff, Mayor someday was going to be really something, it’d be his chance.

- I’m not 21 yet, Captain.

- Only a month til you are, kid. - he filled two long crystal flutes, handing it over to them. - By then I should stop calling you kid, huh?

- You shouldn’t call me kid, now. - she took a sip of the golden liquid, hoping it would take away her jealousy. Lee hummed, leaned over to kiss the crock of her neck, climbing up to her jaw in a move that was sure to leave marks. It was okay for him to leave marks on her, she was unmarried, young but on him? Sometimes she wanted to, sometimes she wanted to mark his pale plump skin as a possession, one that screamed Jane might have the wedding ring but she had the man. Yet, she couldn’t. - You look so handsome tonight.

- You’re my worse critic. - he smirked, placing his glass on the bedside table before pulling her chin towards him, placing a soft kiss on her plump, painted lips. - God, you can’t even imagine how fucking hard I got when you walked in.

- Such gentle behaviour. - she teased, fingers lightly tracing the skin of his face. He moaned, leaning in to kiss her again. - I wore it just for you. Blue. I knw you like it.

- You’re always such a good girl for me. - he started to remove his jacket, pushing on her chest lightly so she laid against the luxurious bed.

The alcohol sure did a better job than her about making her forget what she was doing it. The alcohol and his kiss, his touch on her skin made her forget the clench in her heart when she saw Jane Bodecker clap once they said his name. It made her forget she couldn’t hear perfume around him unless he showered, it made her forget. Both of her moaned through the kiss, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that it was a sin. Maybe that’s why it taste so sweet, the sin, the thrill. None of them cared really and all he wanted to do now was hold her, touch her, look at her.

- You are so beautiful. - he spoke, more to himself than to her specifically, leaning down on the bed as he spread her legs, taking his place in between them which was so familiar to him. Lee ran his knuckles through the middle of her folds, cold hands making her shiver. - Ev’ry darn day I wake up and I think, I got myself the most beautiful woman in the world.

Her eyes were glued to the ceiling, the white paint of it engulfing her as his hands caressed her thighs. All she could feel were his cold hands massaging the skin of her thighs, spreading them apart and giving him full access to her. His lips attacked her core, always chapped which made her feel so good, it made her know it was him giving her that pleasure. She moaned out loud as he dwelled in like a starved man, her head relaxing against the pillow. There was never any mercy with him, he teased her like he owned her, focusing on her clit while licking her folds. He had her exactly where he wanted her - starving for him.

- You’re gonna see. - he mumbled out while he relentlessly ate her out. - When I’m sheriff there will be no more hidin’. No one gonna dare say anythin’ about it.

- Lee, please ... no foreplay. - she whined, begged even as he stopped his motions. His eyes curiously searched for hers, hands pulling his body up as he stood on top of her. - I just want to feel you.

- Weren’t you feelin’ me, sugar?

- You know what I mean, Lee. - she wrapped her hands around his neck, head cocked to the side. - I don’t want any foreplay today.

- Oh sugar ... - he chuckled leaning down to kiss her collarbone. - You’re just a cock slut for me, aren’t ya? Can’t just wait for me to treat ya right ain’t it, baby?

- Lee, please. - she whined, hands wavering over his police issued chunky belt. Lee smirked, holding her hand before she could do anything. Y/N pouted, head leaning against her shoulder. - C’mon.

- But baby, you look so pretty when you’re begging. - he returned to kiss her neck, leaving marks which were sure to become hickeys tomorrow but she didn’t care. No one was going to see it. - I was expecting you to come congratulate me in the way you always do, maybe in the back of the town hall. Hoping someone would catch us so they’d see you’re my girl.

- Lee ... - she whined as he kept kissing her neck and collarbones. - Please.

- Tell me what you want, baby. You know I do everything you want. - he rose from her neck, toothy grin as he leaned down to kiss her plump, pink painted lips. - Tell me you want my big fat cock. I know you do, baby. Tell me how much you need it.

- Lee ... please, need you.

- You have me, baby, tell me what you need. Tell me what you want. - his knuckles ran through the middle of her folds again. - You’re so wet, baby. Just tell me what you want, c’mon

- Lee ... please. - she looked at him with those wide eyes that could get someone to commit murder for her, as he pushed down his trousers. - I want you to fuck me with your ... big fat cock, Capitain.

- Oh, baby ... - he leaned his forehead against hers as he pushed his cock past her entrance, eyes shut tight as he tried to keep himself sane at the mere feeling of her walls contracting against him. His lips found hers as he shed himself fully into her. Her hand searched for his, as Lee slowly rolled his hips against hers, basking in the mere high that was being inside of her. - You okay, baby?

- Yeah. ... fuck, move. - she whined as he removed himself from her and pushed back in, slowly starting to rock into her as he always did. The little tease. Her hand clenched his as he speed up his thrusts, lips returning to hers in a messy, moaned filled kiss. All she could hear was the sound of skin against skin and interrupted breathing. - Lee, fuck.

- I know, baby. - he laughed, returning to kiss her the way he liked as her walls started to clench more forcefully against his member, milking him for all he was worth. His free hand grabbed her hip as he further sped up against her, bruising her skin as his breaths got more raggedy. He bite onto her neck as he felt his control over his own orgasm disappear.

- Lee, fuck! - she moaned, almost raising off the bed as her own orgasm washed over her. Her head fell against the pillow, sluggish as he continued to thrust into her until ropes and ropes of cum painted her walls. He chuckled mid grunt, holding her against him as he turned around in bed.

- You all fucked up, aren’t ya, sugar? - he kissed the top of her head. - You’re gonna see, sugar. Things are gonna be so much better.

- Right ... - she cuddled against his chest. - Hm ... Lee can you drive me back home early on?

- Early shift?

- Yeah.

- Okay, sugar.

The morning was a harsh breaker of dreamy hazes and just like that she was back to the place where she always was, in her home, surrounded by the scent of the perfume she had bought just for him. She sat on her dress, taking the necklace he had given her from the little mother of pearl seashell shaped box and holding them against her chest. She loved him, she really did. Some people had their downfalls and hers was painted onto her neck and held by her hands. He was her downfall.

The sun was high up on the snowy midday in Knockemstiff and once again Lee had been resigned to desk duty after the Sheriff not taking it too lightly he decided to run without his permission. Normally he would’ve been upset but he knew, he knew he was close to winning and then he could throw away those stupid hotels and just get her a little house close to him. God, he couldn’t fucking wait.

- Captain Bodecker, someone here for you. - his secretary knocked on his door. - Mary Gillies, sir.

- Mary Gillies? - he knew her to be a friend of Y/N’s, perhaps her only friend other than that punk Billy. - Send her in.

- Good afternoon, captain. - she said as she walked into his office. - I’m so sorry to be bothering but Y/N ...

- Is she alright? - he interrupted her.

- Yes, well ... - she rummaged through her bag to find a cushioned envelope with his name on it. - She told me to give you this.

- What is it?

- I don’t know, captain. I must get going, my husband is waiting for me.

- Of course. Thank you, Mrs. Gillies.

He waited for the woman to be out of his office and for the door to be shut for him to open the envelope. The minute he opened the envelope, pearls fell into his desk, the same pearls he had given Y/N followed by a small note in the dusty pink stationary that normally laid on her dresser. Turning it around, he saw the words he’d been dreading to read or hear ever since he met her. I’m sorry, Lee. He threw the letter on his desk before getting up from his desk as fast as he could, ignoring the calls from his colleagues as he got into his cruiser. Damned, Brewer Heights, why couldn’t it be closer?

He approached her home fast and closed the door as fastly as he ran up to the door. Her hag of a grandmother was possibly at church and he had learned where they kept the spare key; behind a violet pot. His heart was beating as fast as a deer on a hunt as he climbed up the stairs and found the once filled room was empty, with only a perfume bottle on her empty dresser. He observed the whole room as if he were in a nightmare, sitting on her bed as he clenched the pearls he had given her not so long ago, the smell of daisies in the air as some song played on the still turned on radio.

You never know dear how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away ...

taglist: @lookiamtrying

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47burlm · 3 years ago

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March 6 1836- Day 13 at the siege of the Alamo-

“ Now the bugles are silent And there's rust on each sword And the small band of soldiers...Lie asleep in the arms of the Lord...

In the early morning hours of March 6 William Barrett Travis woke up gun fire and the nose of cannons- Travis rushed to his post yelling, "Come on boys, the Mexicans are upon us and we'll give them hell!"

"Unable to see the advancing troops for the darkness, the Texian gunners blindly opened fire; they had packed their cannon with jagged pieces of scrap metal, shot, and chain. The muzzle flash briefly illuminated the landscape and it was with horror that the Texians understood their predicament. The enemy had nearly reached the walls of the compound

.The Mexican soldiers had immediate and terrible losses. That first cannon blast ripped a huge gap in their column. Colonel José Enrique de la Peña would later write "...a single cannon volley did away with half the company of Chasseurs from Toluca." The screams and moans of the dying and wounded only heightened the fear and chaos of those first few moments of the assault.

Travis hastily climbed to the top of the north wall battery and readied himself to fire; discharging both barrels of his shotgun into the massed troops below. As he turned to reload, a single lead ball struck him in the forehead sending him rolling down the ramp where he came to rest in a sitting position. Travis was dead

There was no safe position on the walls of the compound. Each time the Texian riflemen fired at the troops below, they exposed themselves to deadly Mexican fire. On the south end of the compound, Colonel Juan Morales and about 100 riflemen attacked what they perceived was the weak palisade area. They met heavy fire from Crockett's riflemen and a single cannon. Morales's men quickly moved toward the southwest corner and the comparative safety of cover behind an old stone building and the burned ruins of scattered jacales.

On the north wall, exploding Texian canister shredded but did not halt the advance of Mexican soldiers. Cos's and Duque's companies, now greatly reduced in number, found themselves at the base of the north wall. Romero's men joined them after his column had wheeled to the right to avoid deadly grapeshot from the guns of the Alamo church.

General Amador and his men entered the compound by climbing up the rough-faced repairs made on the north wall by the Texians. They successfully breached the wall and in a flood of fury, the Mexican army poured through.

The Texians turned their cannon northward to check this new onslaught. With cannon fire shifted, Colonel Morales recognized a momentary advantage. His men stormed the walls and took the southwest corner, the 18-pounder, and the main gate. The Mexican army was now able to enter from almost every direction.

In one room near the main gate, the Mexican soldiers found Colonel James Bowie. Bowie was critically ill and confined to bed when the fighting began. The soldiers showed little mercy as they silenced him with their bayonets.

The Texians continued to pour gunfire into the advancing Mexican soldiers devastating their ranks. Still they came.

Once more, the Mexicans employed the Texians' cannon to blast apart the defenses of the entrance. Bonham, Dickinson and Esparza died by their cannon at the rear of the church. An act of war became a slaughter. It was over in minutes.

Davy Crockett, a famous frontiersman and former U.S. congressman, was the highest-profile defender to fall at the Alamo. Crockett's fate is unclear. According to Jose Enrique de la Pefia, one of Santa Anna's officers, a handful of prisoners, including Crockett, were taken after the battle and put to death. The mayor of San Antonio, however, claimed to have seen Crockett dead among the other defenders, and he had met Crockett before the battle. Whether he fell in battle or was captured and executed, Crockett fought bravely and did not survive the Battle of the Alamo.

“ Now the bugles are silent And there's rust on each sword And the small band of soldiers...Lie asleep in the arms of the Lord...

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mythwords · 5 years ago

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VENOM TIDES. a wip by mythwords

GENRE: High Fantasy

POV: Third, past tense, multiple POVs

SETTING: in multiple countries and seas in ALTHEA, a technologically advanced world that is otherwise similar to 1700s France. PORT, where the rich live protected inland while the poor fish in slums. LAVEN, where the working-class toil in fields so the upper-class can eat mere bites of their fancy dinners and throw them away. the JEWEL SEA, where monsters roam the depths. the BOILING SEA, where the elder god of creation was said to have collapsed to sleep. the GOLDEN SEA, where the biggest mermaid settlements are rumored to be hidden.

INCLUDES: visibly lgbtq and disabled characters, found family a lesbian main character, pirates, capitalist greed, magical illnesses, tales of elder gods, magical creatures, ghost ships, lost princesses, a cult, a lost society of mermaids, disabled characters

SUMMARY:

A mermaid washes up on the shore of Port, a fishing family paid worth their weight in gold to keep the first sighting in centuries under wraps. People in the slums bordering the Jewel Sea are exploding from sheer magical energy, and the mysterious illness causing it is beginning to creep inwards towards the more affluent cities. Nobles are finally worried enough to begin contacting Captain Kaimara.

The crew of The Vengeance are known to do any job, if offered the right payment, and when an anonymous contractor pays that price, Kaimara’s biggest fears are revealed in bold print, laid out plain as day in the details of the case. Important people have it in good authority that the Cult of Apherion, spearheaded by her father, is back in action, masquerading as a deep sea mining company. Their goal? Find the bodies of the Elder Gods said to line the planets core, and poison the mermaid cities said to have angered the Gods into slumber.

Greed and ignorance come with heavy consequences. It is up to the crew to dissuade them as much as possible.

CREW:

KAIMARA: Captain of the Vengeance. Can be found working on the mechanics of the ship, creating new weapons for her crew, and tinkering in her workshop. She’ll rally behind anything with sad enough eyes, but tear it to shreds if it betrays her. Grew up in the cult, but stole a ship and escaped when she was a teenager. Has women falling to her feet all over the world, but is too dedicated to her crew and her adventures to leave.

ELWYN: Shapeshifts between various sea creatures, but her resting form is the most innocent, sweet girl you’ve ever seen. Identifies as genderless, in spite of her female body. Will fight anyone, any time, and win. Easily. Wants to learn everything possible, so she helps to cook, research, do mechanical work, and train.

BARRETT: Former soldier, dishonorably discharged for refusing to kill an innocent civilian. Lost an arm in battle, but has a sick prosthetic that Mara made for him, so he doesn’t mind much. Except for on rainy days, when it hurts more than normal. Then it bothers him a little. A cynical, mistrusting, fight-picking, bitter asshole. Secretly, would protect his crew with his life. Also, a petty thief. Only from the rich, though.

IVY: Found passed out on the back of a legendary sea creature, she’s got a gap in her memory centuries wide. Of a mermaid warrior race, who can shift between their tails to human legs at will. Blacks out sometimes and appears days or weeks later, covered in blood that isn’t hers, but refuses to take lives while lucid. Can communicate with sea creatures. Blind on land, but can see perfectly in the water. Wise, quiet, grizzled old woman, but fiercely protective.

WISTERIA: Half-siren, and extremely cautious because of it. Was gifted (yet cursed) with good luck from a sea witch after saving her life; the drawback is that the bad luck is diverted to those around her. Grew up in the cult, but didn’t know Kaimara until she was sent to lure her back with her siren song, refused to, and ran away. Panics during close combat, but the sharpest shooter you’ll ever meet, with no qualms about killing those doing harm. Believes in true love, and every superstition she’s ever heard.

OSIRIS: A healer that gives his energy to fix others. His services were rented out by his father to the Cult starting when he was a small child, leaving him with permanent hearing loss, and a sickness that won’t ever fully go away. He was found huddled in the closet of a ghost ship, with partial memory loss. Most of the research for cases, and plans of action, are made by him. Makes his own hormone medicine, because he is trans and loves to flex his intellect. Also, makes killer soup.

LOTAN: Party boy prince that is their man on the inside. Royalty in Laven, but hates his corrupt family, he feeds them information when he can, and has connections all over the world that help in cases. He’ll flirt with anyone with legs, but he’ll only go home with the men. Always a party on board when he comes on missions with them.

Send an ask or ask in your reblog to be added to the tag list!

#wip intro #new wip #violetvineyard #amwriting #writeblr #my wip #venom tides #venom tides intro #venom tides characters #AAAAAAA #i really hope this does well cus i worked really really hard on it

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nomadthor · 4 years ago

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SNAKE CHARMER STORY SYNOPSIS: ON A MISSION STEVE AND BUCKY STUMBLE ON SOMEONE THAT WOULD CHANGE BOTH OF THEIR LIVES DRAMATICALLY. OC X BUCKY

SNAKE CHARMER — CHAPTER 1: BLOOD IN THE SNOW WORD COUNT: 1573 CHAPTER: 1/?

Bleak would be an understatement. The force in which the snowflakes descended from the overcast leaden sky was intense, the vicious howling of the polar wind almost concealed the aggressive crunching of the packed snow that resulted from the heavy footsteps of the super-soldier. Roger’s face stung as the harsh weather whipped against his bare skin, but that wasn’t remotely close to his main concern at the moment. “You have eyes on our target?” He hoarsely queried with a frigid finger firmly planted on the earpiece that was nestled in his ear.

One arctic breath at a time, a fleeting misty cloud escaped the Captain's lips as he glanced over to the rugged and mountainous overlook where his reconnaissance partner was currently laying prone with a sniper. Bucky propped himself up as he lifted his scruff-covered chin from the Barrett M82; elbows dampened from the polar terrain however his thick, arctic navy jacket was able to absorb most of the moisture, along with his insulated black cargo pants. “Affirmative.” “I don’t know what SHIELD thinks is so important about this cargo but we’re going to find out.” Steve brooded, finally spotting the consignment truck being escorted by armoured vehicles as it approached the ambush zone. Whilst the weather only continued to get worse, almost as if the sky was collapsing in on itself, it was only progressively getting more difficult to see. He winced from the unforgiving forecast, his cheeks ablaze and flushed an effulgent crimson as the blood rushed to the surface. Placing a tremulous hand in front of his wind-slashed face to prevent any further damage, he kept an eye on the oncoming convoy. “Get ready, Cap,” Bucky forewarned as he clasped his metal fingers around the handguard of the weapon, attentively staring down the scope preparing to line up his shot. Steve firmed the grip on his now frost engulfed shield before he crouched beside the sleet enfolded thoroughfare, slush squeezing through the gaps in his attire and dampening his compression tights that underlined his suit. The track was enclosed by a few dark jagged boulders which he was able to conveniently use as cover. A gentle mechanical hum and buzz of the engines began to blare as their tires sloshed through the wet terrain, murky water being spat out from beneath the vehicles. They finally got close enough for Steve to strike; he swung his arm back before throwing it forward at an unfathomable speed, clenching his teeth whilst he did so. His jaw was clasped so tight he could already feel the oncoming dull ache that would be lingering for a few hours. Steve's metal disk sliced through the air before making contact with the first armoured vehicle. It toppled immediately, the cacophony of automotive screeching combined with the terrific thud of the shield impaling the vehicle could probably have been heard for miles. A dull and dense gunshot swiftly followed as it eliminated the driver of the target truck, its windshield riotously shattering into millions of pieces. Bucky didn’t even need to bother with the first vehicle as it had now combusted into a burning pile of shrapnel all thanks to Steve, the passengers charring corpses would be seen with enough attention.

The thunderous explosion from Bucky’s sniper was resounding as it left a shrill ringing in Steve’s ears. He raced to recollect his shield, lungs burning as he breathed in the glacial air whilst panting but he powered through. Almost skidding along the slick ground and grazing his hands, he managed to balance himself before he desperately reached out towards the wedged metal discus as he needed to protect himself from the impending gunfire. The target truck came to a screeching stop as the driver, who had a bullet lodged between his eyes, was slumped over the steering wheel and no longer in control. Blood daubed the dashboard. For a speedy intermission, Steve pressed his back against the truck's front grill as he took a few unsteady breaths. His heart was using his ribcage as a punching bag. It’s all he could focus on as his ears thumped, his head pounded before he forced a swallow to soothe his scratchy, dry throat. Bang. Another shot from Bucky’s sniper vibrated through his ears as he finally caught his breath. The men started shouting in an indistinguishable language from behind him, their feet clomping against the blood—stained ground. Tactical grenades clanked on their belt as he continued forward, along with the assault rifles in their hands as they passed each gap of the vehicles ready to shoot. Steve arose and peered over the glass shard-coated truck as he anticipated their appearance like a snake waiting for its prey. His gaze was focused: any movement and he was ready to strike. Unexpecting, the antagonists who were wearing winter flecktarn camouflage cautiously strode past the passenger door before Steve threw his shield with just as much strength as he did before. They rebounded through the air before landing on their spines with a solid thump. His aquamarine eyes fell to the two men who writhed in pain, clenching their freshly injured backs before falling limp as Steve finished them off leaving his shield stained.

A swift movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, a huge figure loomed across from him with an AK-47 pointed directly at him. Scowling, he growled out of pure aggression causing his face to glow red and veins to pop out of his forehead. If it were a cartoon you would have seen the steam rising from his scalp. What felt like it was too late, Steve cowered behind his shield, tucking all of his limbs away like a turtle would with its shell. Bang. Steve didn’t feel any recoil at all, his shield would at least vibrate, or shudder in his grasp but that’s when the realization hit him like a brick wall. He repositioned himself as he gradually stood up, snow clinging onto his kneepads. The man that was stood before him was now led lifeless on the ground, a pool of vermillion leaking from the fresh wound as it seeped into the snow. It wasn’t a nice sight to look at that’s for sure, and it definitely didn’t grow on him no matter how many times he’d witnessed it. The blond-haired man swivelled his head to the perch Bucky was laying on as he instinctively smiled. “Bravo Zulu, Buck,” he gratefully mustered through the earpiece as he carefully traipsed around the rest of the vehicles to see if they’d missed anything or anyone. Whilst Steve waited for his better half to convene, the weather began to calm and the storm eventually passed. “Lucky I have your back,” Bucky teased with a half-smirk as he nonchalantly passed the car wreckage. Steve simply scoffed as he trailed Bucky to the back of the target truck, their scuffed combat boots treading in the scarlet snow. “I don’t see how this can be of any importance with this little security,” Steve admitted with a confused tone in his voice before he turned to his buddy standing next to him whose long brown hair was flailing in the wind, straggled snowflakes clung onto several strands.

They stared at each other momentarily before Bucky frowned out of confusion and shrugged his shoulders, his puzzled look planting an amused grin on his partner's lips. “Beats me, pal,” he uttered as he stared at the steel walls of the container. “Well, whatever it is SHIELD seems pretty desperate to get their hands on it.” Steve chimed in as he turned to Bucky who was eagerly awaiting to see what it is. He jabbed the lock off the tailgate with his shield before effortlessly sliding it up, jarring metallic screeching penetrated their eardrums as the pair winced, the truck rumbled as the door hit the top. Steve froze and went whey-faced as his mouth fell ever so slightly agape. Bucky was quick to pick up on Steve’s shock and peered into the large, dark compartment of the vehicle with furrowed brows expecting to see a weapon of mass destruction or perhaps even futuristic machinery. It was for certain that neither of them expected to see a human on the other side.

The sensation that washed over them was eerily similar to the one you get when you fall down the incline of a rollercoaster, where your insides jolt and suspend in your body before following you down. The panic, terror, and adrenaline all rushing through you at once. Bucky's mouth promptly fell dry and a wave of nausea began to rush over him as he couldn’t help but stare at the blinded and bound girl that was tied down at the end of the container, seemingly unconscious. A pin would’ve broken the dead silence if it weren’t for the gently whistling wind. “I think we’ve got what you were looking for,” Steve hesitantly spoke into the earpiece with an aghast, heavy breath. Very indistinct chatter could be heard incoming which would indicate the soon arrival of Nick Fury and a few other operatives from SHIELD to collect what they wanted. “It’s a girl, Steve,” Bucky fearfully croaked as his eyes gradually wandered to the soldier stood beside him whose jaw was firmly clenched and eyes resting on the ground. Steve must have perceived the fear in Bucky’s voice was personal with everything he’d been through, if there was a possibility that this is what the stranger was experiencing then there was nothing more he’d want to do than end all causes. He wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy. “I know pal,” he reassured his buddy as he gripped Bucky’s shoulder, “She’ll be in better hands now that’s for sure.” MASTERLIST

#marvel #mcu #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #fanfiction #steve rogers #mcu fanfiction #bucky x oc

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frozensriracha · 4 years ago

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Physical appearances

I’m working on a drawing of my two OCs (the Nightwraith and Deerhead, here’s a link to an earlier post about them: x,) however, it’s still a WIP, so i thought I’d describe their physical appearances. TW for body horror, gore, scarring and a self-harm mention.

The Nightwraith

the nightwraith is TINY, about 5’2. she’s pretty emaciated since she spends most of her time hunting for the heart of darkness and not much eating and stuff, but she was in the military for years and is still no stranger to action, so she probably has a bit of muscle (not enough to rely on though.) her skin is very pale with a sickly grey tinge to it. she’s covered in black rot that sometimes bares her bones and muscle, with a concentration of it around her heart. she has hazel eyes, but the hazel is barely visible since her pupils are reaaaaaally dilated. her eyes have very distinct dark circles under them. the blood vessels in her eyes (and body too) are very pronounced along with her bones. her left eye was gouged out in a fight and she doesn’t cover the socket. it’s extremely infected. she has a couple of bullet wounds, knife wounds, and burns here and there, which are also very infected and left over from fights. she has overgrown finger- and toenails that have morphed into black-tinged claws, and she has sorta yellowing teeth that have turned into fangs that are too large for her mouth. her hair is ash blonde with a few unnoticeable black strands. it’s straight and worn in a ponytail. its length is very uneven and it’s been ripped out in some places. she wears a torn, heavily bloodstained over a slightly less bloodstained t-shirt and dirty, bloody prison slides. she sometimes wears a (usually oversized) jacket stolen from a victim when it’s cold. she smells like blood, antiseptic, gunpowder, concrete, and cut grass.

Deerhead

deerhead is six feet tall, and that’s not taking into account her shoes and her skull’s antlers. with those factored in, she looks about 7’2 (deer antlers can be big you guys.) she used to run track, so she has kind of a muscular build, but she’s not super fit or anything. she has fair, slightly tanned skin, which is kind of ashen-looking since she’s dead, and she has a bunch of cute freckles on her nose, cheeks, and shoulders. her hair is a dark strawberry blonde color. it used to be dyed dark teal when she was younger, but she has since washed the dye out. she has a curly, chin-length bob with no bangs, and she pins loose strands back with barrettes or bobby pins. her left eye is dark brown and her right eye is grayish-blue. she has amblyopia in her right eye, so her right eye doesn’t focus and sometimes it looks a bit glazed-over (my bad eye does this lol.) she has lobe piercings, industrial piercings, a septum ring, and snakebites, which she got in college and refuses to take out. she has black flower tattoos all down her arms and some on her chest and a semicolon on her wrist, but they’re covered by her clothes. she has several deep gashes on the left side of her body, her throat, and some less deep stab wounds on her chest and the right side of her body, and the pinkie and ring finger of her left hand have been completely cut off. she has faded self-harm scars on her wrists, hips, and thighs, and two deep vertical cuts across them (although she didn’t make those herself.) she has a gap between her two front teeth, and she has babyface. she has dark circles under her eyes and a small patch of black rot like the nightwraith’s on her chest. she wears a long black cloak (purchased from party city) and a deer skull plucked off a tree (you’ll know what i’m talking about if you live in the south.) underneath this, she wears a thick black turtleneck, medium wash jeans, and heavy brown hiking boots. she’s supposed to wear glasses, but they don’t fit under her skull, so she doesn’t usually wear them. she smells like cedarwood, pine, cherry chapstick, blood, dirt, and cheap perfume.

#my ocs #creepypasta oc #the nightwraith #katherine birch #deerhead #maggie castellano #tw body horror #tw blood #tw gore #tw scars #tw self harm mention #tw eye trauma #tw hand trauma

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j0ebay · 5 years ago

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Can you.. Like.. Please.. Write a thing.. With Haz.. Where.. The reader cooks those white things that Harrison tries to throw and catch in is mouth.. You know.. And the reader is pretends to be mad at him cause she's gonna have to clean it up and he's wasting food and he playfully gets cheeky with her and she's blushing like crazy and he teases her and gives her kisses all over and she's super 😳 but tells him has to clean up anyway and he laughs and is like don't worry darling I will.. Please..

oh is it the stuff from last night’s story post? I’m pretty sure that’s whipped cream!

(link to what I think they’re talking about 😁) (oop this kinda got steamy)

Okay. So quarantine had all of you living in the Holland/Osterfield/Barrett house a bit rowdy. Or a lot rowdy. Especially your boyfriend, Harrison, who decided to have fun with the spray can of whipped cream.

“Babe, babe film me” He says to you while spraying a dollop on his wrist.

You let out a heavy sigh as you pick up his phone, unlock it and open instagram.

“You’re lucky I love you, You mutter as he continues to spray the cold substance.

“Ready, love?” He asks you with raised eyebrows.

You nod and signal him to go. He gives you the look, smacks his fist, tries and fails to catch the dollop in his mouth. Half of the whipped cream landed on his hand and the other half fell to the floor. He gives you the signature smirk the both of you know makes your heart melt and licks the whipped cream from his hand. You post the video to his instagram and he sends a wink towards your direction.

He start to spray more whipped cream on his wrist when you protest.

“Hazza! You’re gonna waste it!!” You protest, trying to tear the spray can away from him.

However, in the struggle, some of the whipped cream sprays on your boyfriends grey v neck. He playfully gasps while looking down at the streak of cream on his shirt. He gathers it on one finger, licks it with his eyebrows raised, causing your cheeks to slightly redden.

“Y’know, darling” he says, in the deep voice he knows does things to you.

“If you wanted to get me covered in whipped cream, all you had to do was ask” He mutters, walking closer to you.

“Just know,” He continues, walking towards you, backing you up to the kitchen island.

“I will get you back, (Y/N)”

At this point he was millimeters away from you and decides to fill the gap. Your tongues collide and with every clash your mind slips further and further from reality. That is, until you feel a cold substance on your cheek. You immediately tense up in your boyfriend’s arms

“Oh it’s on, Osterfield”

You wipe the cream off your face and fling it towards him, landing on his collarbone

“Bring it (Y/L/N)” He counters, spraying more whipped cream at you and you wiping it off of yourself and throwing it back at him.

It felt surreal. It felt like you were on cloud nine with the man you fell in love with. That is, until you hear

“What in the-”

The two of you snap out of your trance to see Tom standing in the doorway, mouth agape.

“Does this mean no icebox cake?” He asks with a slight pout.

You sigh, “Not until Harrison comps me for the whipped cream he just attacked me with”

“I attacked YOU?” Your boyfriend asks.

“Oi!” Tom exclaims. “I’m not getting in the middle of round two. But clean this up, you two” He says in a stern tone.

As you wipe down the last counter covered in whipped cream, you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around you.

“So,” Harrison mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck and pressing a kiss to your collarbone.

“No icebox cake then?” He asks?

You giggle and run a hand through his, now fairly long hair.

“Are you gonna buy me more whipped cream?” You ask.

He squeezes you tighter mumbling a “maybe”

You laugh and turn around in his arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I think we need a shower” you whisper.

“You wanna save some water, darling?” He asks making the “face” (you know the one).

“Tom said he didn’t wanna witness round two? So he knows its gonna happen, right?” You quip with a raised eyebrow.

Harrison picks you up and replies

“Lets not disappoint, then”

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield blurb #harrison osterfield x reader #anon #blurb #answer

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mindctrlaltdel · 4 years ago

Text

Random Reviews: Mulholland Drive

This movie is BASIC INSTINCT, written and directed by Salvador Dali.

***

Recently, I watched MULHOLLAND DRIVE for the first time for my friend Shawn Eastridge's podcast, MISSING FRAMES (www.thenerdparty.com/missingframes/episode-103-mulholland-drive).

As I watched this odd, funny, disturbing, interesting flick, I took the following notes. Is it, as some critics say, the BEST FILM OF THE 21ST CENTURY? Here's an inside look at my viewing experience as I mulled over MULHOLLAND DRIVE...

[PRESS PLAY]

I love how the first five minutes is basically a bad late 90's Gap commercial, all swing dancing, no point...

The Mulholland Drive sign is calling to us. The street, Mulholland Drive, is Bali Hai for perverts.

Justin Theroux gets top billing over Naomi Watts??

I gotta admit, I saw one of the movie's original posters and thought "Naomi Watts AND the lady from the first MEN IN BLACK is in this? It's the triumphant return of Linda Fiorentino." When I DIDN'T see her name in the opening credits, I was disappointed. She's NO Linda Fiorentino... for this role, she's even better. AND she's a countess (seriously, look it up). Oh, and Robert Forster shows up for 10 minutes.

Not-Linda Fiorentino has some hustle in her for someone who just survived a horrible head on collision.

I like how the street signs kind of tell us where we are and what kind of world we're in. It's like a surreal, dramatic version of that Californians SNL sketch.

You mean to tell me that the red-headed older woman didn't see not-Linda Fiorentino under her kitchen table? UnbeLIEVable.

Holy crap, the wide-eyed guy in Winky's - he plays Jimmy Barrett, the comedian in MAD MEN... and MAD MEN is an interesting connection here, because everyone talks in this measured, paced deliberate way throughout that series, kind of similar to how the characters usually speak in the David Lynch productions I've seen... When I started watching MAD MEN, I thought the actors were purposely directed to speak that way, so everything to seem more "real" as opposed to that fast-talking, old-Hollywood style that you'd expect to see from outspoken, big idea-types. I imagined that Matt Weiner wanted people to seem - at least to modern audiences - the way people actually were - particularly, the inhabitants of the intelligent and cerebral world of ad men, working behind the scenes, on the fringes of show business. But then Jimmy Barrett, an old-timey comedian ALSO spoke that way. And it just didn't seem authentic to me. Anyway, back to THIS movie...

OH and that dingy woman behind the dumpster! She's like if Captain Howdy moved out West and got all LA on us. Is that Cloris Leachman covered in mud? And the music... for some reason, there's nothing scarier than the sound of an HVAC vent on full blast. (According to this article, www.vulture.com/2014/10/mulholland-drives-evil-hobo-breaks-her-silencio.html,the actress who played Evil Hobo #1 said of her audition process: "I don’t mean to brag, but David Lynch said he was looking for the most incredible face he could find. I actually met him at a Twin Peaks party, and he was like, 'Look at that face!'")

I love the X-Files-style synth strings that play over Naomi Watts (Betty) and gram-gram (Irene) as they walk through the hotel, I mean the airport... Aw, these two old people love Betty. What a different life she's living than that countess who's not Linda Fiorentino who's squatting in that redhead's apartment that Betty's about to move into.

Even then, Naomi had a good American accent. (Although I learned she's technically British but split her time between England and Australia), those Australians are great at spitting out neutral American sounds. But once I learned that Betty is supposed to be Canadian, I was very disappointed. It's not THAT authentic. Where are her "Aboots"? And she didn't put maple syrup on anything in this whole movie.

Oh my God, are Irene and her husband, riding in this towncar, ALSO going to get held up, like not-Linda Fiorentino at the beginning of the movie? Oh okay, they're not. We just followed them for no reason other than to see that they look happier than an old couple in a Cialis commercial. I guess meeting Betty really improved their sex life or something.

Coco - of course she's a fading hollywood starlet... AHHH, Coco is played by Ann Miller - good for her. She's basically that kooky old landlady from SEINFELD, the one who worked with the Three Stooges that Kramer met when he went to LA. Look at all these connections!

"Prize-fighting kangaroo who shits all over the courtyard" - do you think Naomi Watts is going to come out and say, "as an Australian, I was actually offended by this line, but I was scared into silence by that power-hungry monster, David Lynch."

The countess - who now goes by "Rita" - does kind of look like Rita Hayworth. I like the connections to old Hollywood and to noirs and how it's all wrapped together. Rita Hayworth is also a redhead, like Betty's aunt. She's of Spanish descent as well... and the actress playing Rita in this movie is of Mexican descent... Connections, connections.

I love that this casting session is basically run by a deep state shadow organization with a weird waiter in a red blazer... This is how Disney cast WandaVision.

HAHAHAH "That is one of the finest espressos in the world sir!" - this is DEFINITELY how Disney casts their movies. And Justin Theroux is the only man with integrity in this room! Does anyone have any class in this town!? They don't even validate his parking.

This is my favorite movie about making movies since BOWFINGER. And I may not be lying. And somehow less weird than THE ARTIST.

Is everyone gonna start killing each other over Ed's famous black book? This is oddly funny.

"Something bit me bad!" This incredibly long fight scene between the blond guy and secretary... it reminds me of the Uma Thurman/Daryl Hannah trailer fight in KILL BILL VOL. 2 but with less snakes.

These closeups of lingering looks on Rita's cash-filled purse are great... She's pulling wads of cash out of that purse one at a time, like Leslie Nielsen pulling eggs out of that blond lady in AIRPLANE!

I want to know what direction David Lynch gave that braless woman who's following the blond assassin around. It's like she's doing an acting exercise... like you know, when you're told to fill the space... "walk around the room, and clear your head. And now you're walking really fast. And now you're slow. NOW, imagine what it would be like to walk with your nose as the furthest point in front of you. Lead with your nose..." And David Lynch did that and told the braless woman to lead with her chest.

Justin Theroux is basically Robert Downey Jr.'s character from BOWFINGER, except NOW, he's the protagonist.

Betty is loving Rita's amnesia a bit too much. If this were my life, Rita would be the most interesting thing to happen to me too. Hell, if I was from Ontario, getting off at LAX would rock my world.

When Justin Theroux enters his glass-walled home to find his wife with another man, well... Justin Theroux may never star in something like HOBO WITH A SHOTGUN, but I can definitely picture him in YUPPIE WITH A GOLF CLUB.

That slinky theme song playing in Justin Theroux's/Laraine's house is a song that I actually listen to in my tiki, lounge playlist - to give you a hint of my music tastes. What I listen to for fun, Billy Ray Cyrus puts on to drown out his love-making.

By the way, BILLY RAY CYRUS!!! WHAT? Is this how Miley was conceived??? I think yes.

Pink paint in a jewelry box! This is much better than the usual throwing-all-his-belongings-out-a-second-story-apartment-window-scene that happens in every other movie.

I wouldn't be THAT excited if I learned MY name was Diane Selwin. BUT the sexxxual tension with the waitress Diane at the diner is palpable!

So, not-Linda Fiorentino has amnesia. How does she know that answering machine is NOT her voice!?

Justin Theroux/Adam Kesher's wife is very aggressive with the large man who's so dedicated to finding Adam Kesher that he keeps calling Adam's name in vain like the secretary in my doctor's office.

I watched this movie in pieces, the first half late at night. The second half the next morning. In between, while sleeping, I had a dream where Betty and Rita were looking over a map and any time one of their hands brushed over another, their hands would turn gold. As if this was a stylistic choice made by the filmmaker directing my dream to show that there's some kind of deeper relationship between these two women. So I've started dreaming in Lynch.

I like how this film is so utterly connected to not only Lynch's subconscious, but the audience's as well. Lynch is TAPPED IN. I don't always love when a film goes all in with a surreal style, because sometimes that's just a cover for something lacking in the storytelling department. But I do feel there's more to it here, in MULHOLLAND DRIVE.

The hooded woman, Louise... I feel like I've run into her on the streets of New York. A Louise will ALWAYS find a way to give you a portent of doom that ruins your day. Friggin’ Louise.

This movie is so moody, you really have to be in the mood to watch it.

There's something magical and prophetic about the cowboy, like he's the seer that the old general sees on the eve of battle... Also, I love how the lead female role in Justin Theroux's movie is his sword of destiny. There's a glitz and gleam and nostalgia to Old Hollywood that naturally gives this movie, set in "modern" Hollywood," a total fantasy vibe.

Hahaha that "You're still here?" scene rehearsal between Betty and Rita is an excellent transition.

James Karen - the real estate guy from POLTERGEIST - is handling casting! "He moved the headshots but he didn't cast the bodies!!"

The casting direction: "Don't play it for real until it gets real." It's interesting how the characters, who work in the "business," seem to control their reality. Betty seems unsure of where the scene is going, then she gets into it. And it really speaks to her conversion from a bright-eyed new arrival to someone who surrenders to the darker impulses of the city.

HEAVY BREATHING.

Ugh friggin' Bob...

I love how Lynnie, the casting director, pulls the rug out from under that scene. There's always a jaded casting person who totally wrecks any good feelings about every audition. It's a thing.

David Lynch uses nostalgia and a latent love for Hollywood to draw the characters (and us) into his world and then subverts our expectations. A lot.

Why is the screen test just a lip-synching contest? ...I think it feeds into the nostalgia element for the movie at large but it seems like a waste of studio resources here. Early-aughties Hollywood spending, amirite?

Rita's reaction to finding the body is played very much like the reaction a character would have in an older film... The horror! The fear! The silent gaping terror while possessed with the inability to scream. I was watching the original KING KONG before this (which is may be a sign from the universe that I had to watch this Naomi Watts vehicle, as she starred in the remake), and specifically remember the scene where the director Carl Denham is coaching Ann Darrow/Fay Wray on how to act in a horror film - "now look up, and you see it, you see it in all its horror. And your jaw drops and you try to scream but you're so frozen in terror that you can't!" - I imagine that's what Lynch is doing to not-Linda Fiorentino off-camera as they filmed this scene.

Uh-oh, Rita is single-white femal'ing Betty now... She doesn't have a personality of her own, so she's going to take Betty's.... And now we're just getting NUDE with each other. This erotic thriller immediately turned from skintillating to Skinemax.

"I'm in love with you" - is Betty just saying that to convince herself? It feels more lusty than real. Betty's so bright-eyed and bushy tailed. Rita is gonna chew her up and spit her out!

I like the shot when they're sleeping together and, as they rest, their faces overlap thanks to the perspective of the framing. How much of the same person are they becoming? Where does one personality start and the other end?

The weird 2am theater. How'd Rita and Betty find this place? I love how this pop-up slam-poetry reading in this opera house is as terrifying to Rita and Betty as finding the dead body.

So Betty starts convulsing in her seat and then the poet disappears in a kind of old-style, cinematic I'm disappearing effect. I dig it.

Wait... is this a mysterious, magical show that just appears in LA, like Hamunaptra, the City of the Dead, that town in THE MUMMY that only shows up at sunrise on the third day or something like that? Or is this just a poorly attended Spanish-language talent show that could only afford to book this theater at 2am on a Thursday?

I love that Betty and Rita are tearing up over Rebekah Del Rio's performance (Rebekah Del Rio is a real person, by the way). Then, Rebekah faints as her voice keeps singing - is NOTHING real? Has Betty totally given into this weird world to the point that she doesn't really know what's authentic and what's fake anymore OR was Betty fake before she got to LA so it was easy for her to get acclimated.

This movie is like THE MATRIX, from the perspective of characters who only took the blue pill and didn't look back.

OOOH, Betty has the box and Rita has the key! But the box is empty except maybe its the Gom Jabbar pain-box from DUNE. Is David Lynch using MULHOLLAND DRIVE as an excuse to make good on his promise to produce a good version of DUNE.

WAIT A SECOND, the cowboy knows the dead girl? Does this even matter?

Now, wait ANOTHER second. Is Betty performing or DREAMING when she's Diane or is something else going one??

What's the BLUE KEY doing there?

"Two Detectives"??? Is she talking about Betty and Rita OR Robert Forster and the pudgy guy? OR someone else entirely - the two guy's from Winky's???

The movie became more interesting the moment the perspective shifted to "Diane" and "Camilla." When that happened, Naomi Watts really amped up her performance... reaching a level of intensity we hadn't seen since Betty's audition... it does take 2 hours to reach that point.... But then, when Betty and Rita are topless on the couch, I couldn't tell who they were supposed to be until Rita/Camilla called her "Diane."

Wait, now Rita's acting?? OH, so Rita was an actress? And Diane wasn't? Or Betty looks exactly like Diane?

The weird shifts in focus. The sad masturbating. This is the most depressing soft-core ever made!

Did Betty get killed and have amnesia too?

They take a shortcut to Eddie's house which looks EXACTLY like where Rita/Camilla was taken at the beginning of the movie by the hitmen in the towncar before that wild accident with those teenagers made her life weirder... OR less weird. You be the judge.

IS this a flashback or the future. Eddie and Camilla are having an affair?

MY MOTHER? COCO - what's real and what isn't????

The jitterbug competition.... Diane/Naomi wanted the lead so bad, Camilla got the part but in Mulholland Drive, Naomi is the star.

Then, Camilla is kissing that other blond actress who Betty watched screen test...

MULHOLLAND DRIVE is just David Lynch telling us that LA is a place for lust and jealousy and no matter what, purity gets ruined.

WHAT, the blond waitress is BETTY? And Diane hires the blond guy, who's officially labeled as a hitman.

Diane is also from Canada...

Are Diane and Betty just different versions of the same people in nearby parallel universes? I certainly HOPE so. This is too much insanity for ONE universe to handle.

The blue key will be found where the blond guy told Diane. Okay, that makes sense. But if this were to mirror real life, the key was in her hand the WHOLE time!

OH, and hobo-Cloris Leachman comes back... AND she's holding the blue box/Gom Jabbar... WHY the hell did those two old people wander out of that paper bag??? Do they represent longstanding guilt? Seems like it. Because they've just crept into Diane's apartment.

MULHOLLAND DRIVE is almost silly to the point of pretentiousness at points - at least with the last word to be uttered on screen - "silencio." That said, it does evoke the HAMLET line: "And the rest is silence," so THAT's poetic.

Sadly, Robert Forster was barely in this movie...

Oh, and Lee Grant played Louise - the old-Hollywood connections keep coming!

I can't believe this movie was intended to be a pilot?

***

Now, some final notes:

On the swapping of characters and relationships in the last 30 minutes -- my first thought was that Betty/Diane and Rita/Camilla look similar and/or they're connected by a parallel universe, and the diner is like the central hub between worlds, and hobo-Cloris Leachman is the gatekeeper between the two worlds... I buy the "dream world" explanation that some critics espouse, that's something I considered myself as I watched. But I'm not sure I believed Betty is Diane's dream version of herself. Also, I think David Lynch has a feeling about how everything fits together, yet I don't know if he's even settled on an explanation for everything. He just trusted his subconscious and he's so confident in his latent abilities, that we trust him to show us everything we need to see and take us everywhere we need to go.

I enjoy how it's a surrealist answer to SUNSET BOULEVARD. I hope in 2050, someone makes "The 405" really tying all these movies and Los Angeles roads together.

MULHOLLAND DRIVE is weird but good. Still, I don't know if, to me, it's more weird than good. It's also funny. But is it funny because it's weird or because it's actually, genuinely funny? Are these questions David Lynch actually wants me to ask or does he make it weird on impulse to cover for the fact that the film is simply just weird and based entirely on impulse? MULHOLLAND DRIVE is almost like a parody of a film noir, made by an inter-dimensional alien life-form who studied a bunch of movies from the 40's through the 90's but doesn't have a full grasp on human behavior, and DESPITE THAT, it's more of an emotional experience than a logical one. It's somewhere in between. It's self-indulgent in a way but also very giving. It's a paradox wrapped in an oxymoron wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a coffee-stained napkin covered in cigarette ash locked in a small, blue box.

***

Summing it up: I don't think there's a world where this movie would get a perfect score from me. Because ultimately, for all it's interesting and exciting moments, it's more of a passion project for David Lynch than a piece of entertainment for the audience, no matter how entertaining it may be. To me, it's a vision board more than it is a complete film. And yet, it IS a complete EXPERIENCE. And there's nothing wrong with that.

All of that said, I know David Lynch doesn't really like to give viewers a clear cut, traditional narrative. So, I had a feeling the mystery was just that, a mystery. Or even moreso, the FEELING of a mystery. It's not about where we're going, it's about the journey to the destination. And while the general atmosphere is moody and evocative and often powerful, MULHOLLAND DRIVE plays more like a 2.5 hour piece of music than a cohesive narrative. Maybe that's the best thing about it.

In the distant future, when our way of speaking has become as archaic as the words of Shakespeare are to us, it's the feeling and emotions and images of movies like MULHOLLAND DRIVE that will still have a timeless impact on the future audiences who view them.

#Random Reviews #movie review #review #Mulholland Drive #David Lynch #Missing Frames #Twin Peaks #Naomi Watts #Laura Harring #Ann Miller #Justin Theroux #Dune #existential #surreal

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