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misstyless · 4 years ago

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as someone who shipped sambucky since civil war, I feel like I have to recommend the best pre-tfatws sambucky fics I've read on ao3

double back by flowermasters

Sam gets stuck in a time loop. In 1943.

Things could be worse, but they could certainly be better.

quick time by flowermasters

He’s never bought Sam a drink in any of the other loops—all ten of them, now. Maybe he should’ve tried that earlier.

Companion to double back.

Thanks by TheHedgehogSong

He opens the door to find Sam standing on the other side. "Me and the others are going to watch some movies in the living area if you're interested." Sam says by way of greeting.

"Steve ask you to keep an eye on me?"

"Yep." Sam replies simply. "So if you could come and sit with us it would make my job a lot easier."

"You're so charming." Bucky deadpans and Sam smiles at him.

"Hey when I'm putting on the charm you'll know." Sam says and jerks his head in the direction of the living area. "Come on, otherwise Clint will start the movie without us and if I miss the start I'm going to be pissed." With that Sam walks away. Bucky watches him for a moment before trailing after him – he guesses there's worst ways to spend the day.

Marriage Counseling for the Inept and Oblivious by ToriCeratops

Or: How Steve Rogers likes to play matchmaker for his infuriating best friends.

my love language is annoying the shit out of you by desastrista

There's a lot of nuances of human romance that Vision doesn't understand, but he thinks he can see what is developing between Sam and Bucky. Even if no one else does.

semi-cataclysmic events by wilsonsnest

It took time travel for Steve to figure his shit out, so Bucky doesn’t think he’s doing too bad.

feat. Old!Steve, Cap!Sam and Pining!Bucky

Flesh And Bones by asgardianthot

in a world where people bond with their soulmates through physical pain, living in the same compound makes the search much easier (or it should, if they weren't so damn stubborn)

When I'm With You (i'm who i want to be) by theappleppielifestyle

Threat, his mind says, but Sam Wilson makes him feel the opposite a threat makes him feel, like he's safer than he has been in seventy years.

Honey, Til I Die You'll Have Me Too by Ithinkwehaveanemergency

Five of Bucky's Friday nights in the months following the battle of Upstate New York.

“You stayed for me?” Sam's voice is a whisper. His eyes are more open and vulnerable than Bucky has ever seen.

“Eh.” Bucky smirks, trying to escape the heaviness of the conversation. “Mostly didn't wanna go back to an era where I wasn't an honorary citizen of Wakanda. God, I love that place .”

three words that became hard to say by suzukiblu

“I wanna step out with Wilson,” Bucky says, audibly traumatized. Steve blinks again, and lowers the shield.

“Uh,” he says. “Come again?”

I just couldn't say it out loud. by ashers_kiss

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Yes?” Bucky tries.

Are you both courting? by daredeviltrash

Gamora and Mantis asks bird boy and metal arm guy if they're dating. hilarity and sad stuff ensues.

farmhouse by Tazmaster

"You know, I think I'd want a farmhouse."

"A what?" Sam turns to look at him, slightly annoyed. This was the first thing Bucky has said in the past hour and a half they've been cramped in this god forsaken car. He had a knack for impulsively voicing his dumb thoughts at the worst times, but whenever you wanted to know what was actually going on in that head of his, he'd never say.

They were staking out the front gate of a large mansion, very much not a farmhouse. It was mind numbingly boring, being stuck in a beetle with absolutely nothing else to do than stare at the gaudy gates of some rich asshole.

"A farmhouse," Bucky repeats nonchalantly, "If we ever get out of this business, or you know, live long enough to retire maybe--- I want a farmhouse. With a lot of animals."

---

Bucky keeps talking about a farmhouse and it drives Sam crazy, that is until he finally asks why.

These Walls are Shakin' with My Heartbeat by Ithinkwehaveanemergency

“Well now I need to know.” Sam rolls his eyes. “Please, enlighten me. Explain why an eighteen year old is so invested in our non-existent sexual relationship.”

“She’s almost twenty. You were at her nineteenth birthday party.” Bucky frowns at Sam, disappointed.

Sam tries to process Shuri's inappropriate suggestion that he should have sex with Bucky, and Bucky won't stop eating his fucking pizza.

6PM/8PM by captainafroelf

Sam gets a call from a world away.

If I'm the Last One Standing, I Would Want to Watch it Burn With You by Ithinkwehaveanemergency

Just before the final fight in Infinity War, Sam and Bucky have a moment.

My canon compliant explanation for why Sam and Bucky are so cozy and content with what happened in Endgame.

Just an illusion by Llixale

Bucky and Sam are back from the Soul stone, unaware that they shared more than the experience of being snapped.

The Simple Life by through_shadows_falling

One year since the Accords, and Steve asks Sam to check up on Bucky in Wakanda. Sam agrees, but the man he finds is the not the man he expected...though that's not exactly a bad thing.

Bucky is a peaceful goat farmer who enjoys the simple life, and who happens to be attractive as hell.

Sam is so freaking screwed.

Takes place between Civil War and Infinity War Part 1.

Alone, With You by cruxcantare

Sam's pretty sure they're dead. Bucky disagrees. But whatever this is, it isn't living.

warm blood (feels good, i can't control it anymore) by notcaycepollard

Sam's just chilling watching TV one evening when Bucky comes in and stares at him silently for a minute or two before sitting down on the couch. He's pretty close to Sam.

Okay, he's really close to Sam. Like, Sam would be using the word 'cuddling' if it wasn't so bizarre.

"What," he says, carefully not looking at Bucky, and Bucky huffs a sigh.

"Steve's not here," he says as if it's obvious. "Don't make it weird. Just- shut up."

Unexpected Houseguest by faeryn

When Sam comes across Bucky in the strangest of places, his first instincts are to run, and to call Steve. He does neither, and in doing so manages to form a strange bond with the Soviet assassin who once tried to kill him. Bucky is broken, a shell of his former self, and Sam wants nothing more than to help return him to himself. But can he maintain a respectable and responsible distance from the man, despite how Bucky draws him in, in order to help him? Or will he falter, and shatter all the progress he has made by giving in to his own desires?

The Multiverse of the Falcon and the Winter Soldier by OhHelloFandoms123

Sam and Bucky find themselves trapped in alternate realities of their lives due to Dr Strange, they have to find out how to get back to their reality.

“How come in every fucking universe we’re married?” Sam said, looking around the place, raising his arms in anger and confusion.

“I’m not sure, maybe it’s trying to tell us something.” Bucky replied, shuffling his feet, looking at the ground.

a couple more fics that I remembered later

#tfatws #sambucky #sambucky fanfiction

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triptuckers · 4 years ago

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General - Poe Dameron

Request: nope Pairing: Poe Dameron x wife!reader Summary: a general arrives at the rebel base, along with new recruits. Finn is taking a liking to the general, until he finds out exactly who it is. Warnings: none Word count: 1.2K A/N: I’ve recently watched all of the star wars movies (finally) and I am totally in love with them. I’m also in love with poe, so here’s a little something! please keep in mind that I don’t have a lot of star wars knowledge, so I’m sorry if there are any (obvious) mistakes in it. enjoy reading! :)

Poe wipes his dirty hands on a towel and steps back to take a look at his work. His X-wing was in need of a wash, but now it’s back to the clean, shiny state it was in a couple of weeks ago. Ready for the next mission. He looks down at his little white and orange droid.

‘What do you think, buddy?’ he says and BB-8 beeps happily, earning a chuckle from Poe. ‘Yeah, it looks good.’ he says. ‘Should we go get Chewie, show him what a clean ship looks like? He might get some inspiration out of it for the Falcon.’ BB-8 beeps nervously and Poe chuckles again. ‘Yeah, maybe you’re right. I wouldn’t want to piss off a Wookiee.’ says Poe.

Just as he bends down to clean up the pile of materials he used to clean the X-wing, Poe hears footsteps come closer and looks up to see Finn walking toward him, a smile on his face.

‘Hey, what’s up?’ says Poe. ‘Came to see my shining, and very clean X-wing?’

‘The new recruits are here.’ says Finn, clearly not interested in the X-wing. Poe frowns as he looks at him. ‘Already? Thought they weren’t supposed to be here ‘til tomorrow?’ says Poe.

Finn shrugs. ‘Guess the general found a shortcut.’ he says. ‘Want to come and meet them?’ ‘Of course, and scare them a little of course.’ says Poe. Finn shoots him a “are you sure about that?” look and Poe raises his hands defensively. ‘Kidding. I know Leia doesn’t like it when I do that. I’m always just messing with her when I do that. And with the recruits, of course.’ says Poe. ‘Lead the way.’

As Finn takes Poe to the Medbay, where the new recruits are getting a standard check-up, he fills him in.

‘There’s so many more than we thought there would be. The ship landed and those doors opened and people started coming out of it and they’re fighters, Poe, really useful. We might actually win this war now.’

Finn is super excited and Poe just listens to him go on, also curious to see the new recruits, and if they really are as good as Finn says they are.

‘The one that recruited them all, the general, she’s really got a talent of picking the good ones. And her ship, oh, you have to see her ship. She’s nicknamed it the Destroyer because of how many tie fighters she’s taken out. How cool is that? Owning a ship that is literally called the Destroyer. And she’s-’ ‘did you say destroyer?’ says Poe, interrupting him.

‘Yea, and it’s one hell of a ship.’ says Finn. ‘Never mind the ship, who’s the one who recruited the new ones? The general, do you know her name?’ says Poe, as they turn a corner and enter the Medical wing.

‘Only a nickname, not her real name, she was in and out. Introducing herself quickly and then moving on to talk to Leia about the information and recruits she gathered. She introduced herself as Y/N/N, says her full name is-.’ ‘too formal.’ says poe, finishing his sentence for him. ‘How’d you know that?’ says Finn. A smile breaks onto Poe’s face. ‘Where is she?’ he asks, ignoring Finn’s question.

‘Last I saw her she was talking to Leia in the corner of the Medbay.’ says Finn. Without another word, Poe takes off, running toward the Medbay, closely followed by Finn.

‘Hey!’ says Finn. ‘Slow down! What’s going on?’

Poe ignores him as he speeds through the doors of the Medbay. He quickly scans the room, his eyes going over the faces of everyone who’s there. His eyes land on Leia, but he’s more interested in the woman that’s standing in front of Leia, her back to him.

He starts walking up to the two women, shouting your name as soon as he’s within hearing range.

‘Y/N!’ he says, and upon hearing your name, your head shoots up, looking for the source of the voice. You see Poe and your face lights up.

‘Go.’ says Leia softly and she gives you a little push. You smile and nod at her before turning around and making your way towards Poe. He’s running towards you and brace yourself just in time before he crashes into you, holding you tightly.

While you stand there, holding him, giggling happily and pressing kiss after kiss to the top of his head, Finn has caught up and walked over to Leia.

‘Who’s that?’ he asks. ‘That’s the general that got us all the new recruits right?’ ‘That’s her.’ says Leia as she looks at you and Poe. ‘I didn’t know they knew each other.’ says Finn, also looking at the two of you. ‘Of course they do!’ says Leia. ‘That’s general Y/N Dameron.’

Finn’s eyes widen and he looks at the two of you. ‘Dameron?’ ‘Surely Poe has told you all about his wife?’ says Leia, as she turns to face Finn. ‘He can barely shut up about her.’ ‘Well, yes, he told me about her.’ says Finn. ‘But I just thought he was messing with me. From the stories he told me, she sounds amazing. Didn’t think Poe could pull someone like that.’

Leia laughs and pats Finn’s shoulder. ‘Trust me, everything he’s told you about her is true. She’s a good fighter, smart, and a heart of gold.’ says Leia.

Meanwhile you and Poe have finally let go of each other and he smiles at you. ‘I missed you so much, sweetheart.’ he says and you smile and lean in to kiss him.

‘Missed you too.’ you say. ‘But don’t worry, I don’t have to leave soon. I can stick around for a while. Spend some time with you.’

Poe’s smile widens at your words. ‘Finally.’ he says. ‘You’ve been away for way too long. Come on, let me introduce you to Finn.’

He takes your hand in his and walks over to Leia and Finn. He smiles at Leia and turns to Finn.

‘Finn.’ he says. ‘This is Y/N Dameron, my wife.’ You hold out your hand for Finn to shake. ‘I've heard so many good things about you.’ you say. ‘It’s so good to finally meet you.’ ‘It’s nice to meet you too.’ says Finn as he shakes your hand. ‘Poe’s told us a lot about you.’

You eye your husband, knowing the kinds of stories he can tell. ‘Only the good things, I hope.’ you say. ‘Too good, actually.’ says Leia. ‘Finn thought Poe was messing with him, and that you didn’t exist.’

‘Yea, but, I mean the stories he told are amazing.’ says Finn quickly, defending himself. ‘And he messes with all of us, I figured I’d play along in case he was messing with me again.’

You chuckle. ‘Well, I promise you I’m not half as amazing as all of the stories he tells. Most of the times he adds a lot of drama to them.’ you say. ‘Not to all of them.’ says Poe. ‘Want to grab a drink so you can tell us all about those new recruits?’ ‘Sure!’ you say. ‘Are you in?’ you say, turning to Finn. ‘I’d love to.’ says Finn.

You, Poe and Finn say your goodbyes to Leia and make your way to the dining hall. Finn is already asking you questions about the stories Poe had told him, but you don’t mind. Judging from the stories he told you about Finn, you were excited to meet him, and you look forward to getting to know him as much as he’s looking forward to get to know you.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Jo

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7-wonders · 3 years ago

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Here's Where She Meets Prince Charming (but she won't discover that it's him 'til Chapter 3)

Summary: Thunderstorms do not conjure good memories for Duncan. He finds a kindred spirit in you.

Well, two people sent me asks saying that they liked the Beauty and the Beast AU, and as I am a whore for validation, I wrote an idea I had a while back. Thanks, friends!

Thunderstorms are not something that Duncan Shepherd is very fond of. While many children have a fear of storms, Duncan was not one of those children. He loved to hear the tremendous crash of thunder, counting the seconds between that and the crackle of lightning across the sky to see how many miles away the storm was. For Duncan, storms meant his mother would read him stories until he fell asleep, faking that he was frightened just so she would spend time with him. As a child, Duncan actually enjoyed storms.

But that was then, and this is now.

Now, thunderstorms conjure memories of the night where his life went to hell. When the winds begin to rage and the house shakes with the force of thunder, when rain demands to be heard and lightning lights up the night, Duncan flinches with the worry that she might be waiting on the other side of the door. After all, the witch who cursed Duncan and his entire household darkened his life on a dark and stormy night. Maybe the forced transformation into a beastly creature, being trapped on the grounds of the secluded manor with a now-invisible staff, and the reminder that he will die unless he manages to fall in love with somebody, and have that somebody fall in love with him wasn’t enough for her.

Staying in one spot is making him nervous, and he wants to make sure that, on the off-chance the Enchantress does decide to come back for him, she can’t catch him by surprise. Duncan begins to walk up and down each of the halls of the manor, checking doors and windows and only slightly flinching at a particularly loud boom of thunder. It’s worth it though, for the peace of mind that this security check provides him.

It’s when Duncan reaches the main floor that all senses are on high alert. There’s music playing from somewhere, actual music. Battery-operated devices had long since died, and electronics could not be charged, which meant that the staff was eventually unable to listen to music, their one lifeline to the outside world that they had once been a part of. When that day arrived, it came as a relief to Duncan, who loathed the tunes and melodies that haunted and teased him. Now, for there to be more than the quiet humming coming from the staff, music surely meant trouble.

He begins to follow the sound down the hall, all the while keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of a glowing aura. Eventually he reaches the library, where the source of the music is coming from. However, it’s not a witch that’s set up a perfectly-planned trap and is deviously waiting for Duncan to come to her. Instead, it’s a record player. He’s not sure where the record player came from, but it’s hooked up and spinning a Fleetwood Mac vinyl. You’re on your back next to it, reading a book in front of the fire.

Duncan didn’t think that he was going to go any further into the library, but his legs have a mind of their own. It’s only when you look at him before sitting up that he now realizes he’s halfway into the room.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly, turning the volume down on the record player. “I can leave, if you’re wanting to use the library.”

“No!” Duncan realizes that sounded a little forceful, so he clears his throat and tries it again. “No, you’re fine. I just...heard music playing, and it’s been so long since we had music here that I was trying to find the source. Where did you get the record player from?”

“I was bored and looking through closets, and I found this and a bunch of records.”

“And out of all of the records you found, you had to pick Fleetwood Mac?”

“Hey, don’t talk shit about Stevie Nicks.”

You throw your head back in a laugh, and Duncan thinks that he might actually smile. The beginnings of a rare smile are thwarted, however, when an unexpected clap of thunder makes goosebumps rise on his arms. Of course, you notice the grimace on his face.

“You don’t like storms?”

Duncan looks into the fire, not used to somebody looking at him for any amount of time. “Not really, no. Bad experience in the past.”

You nod in understanding, and Duncan believes this is the end of the conversation. Surprisingly, it’s not. “My dad would always tell me that storms weren’t meant to be weathered alone. We would spend thunderstorms together, playing games or watching movies, sometimes even just sitting together, and suddenly, the storms wouldn’t be so bad.”

Duncan hums in acknowledgement, not quite sure what you’re getting at. You sigh, rolling your eyes.

“Come and sit with me,” you clarify.

“Oh.” Out of all the things that Duncan had been expecting from you, this was not that. It takes a minute for his brain to cooperate, but he does finally sit down on the couch. It’s not exactly “sitting with you,” but you won’t argue with this. “Is...is this okay?”

“I’m the one that invited you in here, aren’t I?”

“You did.” A long time ago, he would have never been so shy and unsure of himself. If Duncan then were to meet the man beast that he had become, he definitely wouldn’t recognize himself.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

“An actual question, smartass, not just permission to ask a question.”

Duncan smirks, but nods. “Why did you save me? That night where I tried to run away, you could have just let me die. That would have solved a number of your problems, but you didn’t let me die. Why?”

How was Duncan supposed to answer this question without sounding like even more of a creep? After all, he couldn’t exactly say that he saved you because you were his last chance to even potentially break the curse and save his life. Even then, he knew that this wasn’t the full answer. Truthfully, he saved you because, for some reason, he couldn’t bear the thought of you dying. It was a split-second decision, and one that had a multitude of reasons behind it.

In the end, he settles for the very beginning of the truth.

“You selflessly gave up your freedom so your friend could have his. I couldn’t let that sacrifice go to waste.” You don’t look extremely satisfied with that answer, but it’s good enough that you don’t ask for further elaboration. “What about you? Why did you give up your freedom for Jim’s?”

You raise your eyebrow. “We’re playing 20 Questions now, are we?” With a sigh, you stand up. “I’m gonna need some alcohol for this.”

Duncan has not enjoyed himself like this in a very long time. He’s had so much fun learning about you, from the mundane like your favorite color, to the introspective like if aliens really do exist. Likewise, he’s found himself opening up to you as well. 20 questions had turned into 40, which turned into so many that he’s lost count. With each question you took a sip of wine, leading to personal space becoming nonexistent and your body becoming boneless, that is, you were now lying right up against him and giggling. You aren’t drunk, but you’re definitely tipsy, and the wine has given you a warmth in your veins that heats you up against him.

Most importantly, and something that Duncan won’t note until later that night when he’s alone and missing your warmth, is that the storm hasn’t bothered him since he started talking with you.

“You’re tired,” Duncan states, looking at the way your blinks last longer and longer.

“A little, but ‘m okay. Besides, we’re talking.”

“You should go to bed.” His hand pauses at the last second, and he jarringly realizes that he was about to stroke your hair.

You nod, clumsily sitting up and trying to get your bearings after dozing. Duncan stands with you, beginning to walk with you to your room. “What are you doing?”

“Wanted to make sure that you weren’t going to decide the floor makes a good bed.”

You chuckle. “Y’know, you try to act like you’re a scary guy, but you’re not. You’re actually really thoughtful.”

“I’m not, but thank you.”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.” Now, he almost regrets walking you to your room, the door of which you’ve now reached. He stands a respectable distance away, ready to slip off back to his wing and wallow in solitude for the night. “I want to ask you one more question.”

“And what question is that?”

“What’s your first name? Nobody ever says it.”

He could choose to ignore your question, or tell you that that’s something he likes to keep private. He doesn’t feel like he deserves a first name anymore. First names are for people who aren’t monstrous beings cursed by a vengeful witch. But you’re looking at him with a waiting smile, and you’ve both shared so much tonight.

You think this question is a lost cause as the silence continues to stretch on. As you start to turn the doorknob open, ready to mumble apologies, he speaks.

“My name is Duncan.”

You turn around, grinning, and for the second time tonight, the warmth with which you look at him almost takes his breath away. “Goodnight, Duncan.”

Duncan wishes you goodnight as well, waiting until the door shuts before finally going back to his wing. In the empty study that he used to use, the enchanted rose, which wilts more and more each day and continues to lose petals, glows with a long-forgotten hope.

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd imagine #duncan shepherd x you #duncan shepherd fanfiction #duncan shepherd x reader #beauty and the beast au #hoc #hoc imagine #house of cards

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band--psycho · 4 years ago

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Music Writing Challenge 2021 Update

At the end of last year, I decided to host a music writing challenge (here’s the masterlist for it -thank you to everyone who’s taken part so far!)

If anybody feels like taking part you’re more than welcome (you can find the rules here).

If you’re interested in taking part feel free to write a one shot/Drabble or series based on a song/album or lyric(s), just make sure you tag me in it, if I haven’t reblogged or liked it within a few days just send me a message with a link and I’ll add your story to the masterlist❤️

Below I’ve got some prompts that any of you can choose from for me to write, you can also send your own prompts into my ask box or write your own stories (just make sure you check out the rules first!)

Prompts:

It was never a crime to show me that you cared.

Remember the pact of our youth, where you go I’m going, so jump and I’m jumping since there is no me without you.

There may not be meaning so find one and seize it, do not waste yourself on this roof.

How could I ever love someone else?

Are you sure you wanna play this game?

Did I catch your attention you look like you lost your breath.

Don’t just stand there staring honey, try and move your feet.

Everything I hold dear resides in those eyes.

Life keeps getting between us and it’s all too heavy to keep up anymore.

He’s into me for everything I’m not, according to you.

I’ve got your back if you’ve got mine.

If we were meant to be, we would have been by now.

My love is yours if you’re willing to take it.

I want to stay with you ‘til we’re great and old.

Sorry that I can’t believe that anybody ever really starts to fall in love with me-Jax Teller x Reader-Falling In Love

It’s funny how the warning signs can feel like butterflies.

It’s the little things about us, that I love so much.

Why’d you have to go and make things so complicated.

And with one kiss you inspired a fire of devotion that lasts for twenty years.

You know you’re my one and only.

I promise you, I’ll make it right.

You remind me of who I could have been, had I been stronger and braver back then.

You are so much more than your fathers son l.

Your life was my life’s best part.-Negan x Reader-No Time

I don’t wanna make you feel bad, but I’ve been trying hard not to talk to you.

I get so lost inside your eyes.

You have to give respect to get respect.

You were the last good thing about this part of town.

Remember when you said that you wanted to give me the world?

Maybe you never cared at all.

I’m tryna be good but you’re making me be so bad.

Kiss me like the world is gonna disappear.

‘Cause if you’re dreaming about dying then you’re not really living darling.

I know I said go slow but I can’t hold back no more.

We’ll never be those kids again.

Baby what have we become?

We used to never go to bed angry but it’s all we ever do lately.

Just when I thought I was lost I saw your face and my whole life changed.

I could stay lost in this moment forever.

Darling just hold my hand, be my girl, I’ll be your man

Thought that we would be together forever but now I know that we won’t.

What the hell happened to us? We used to love, you used to trust me.

I know forever don’t exist but after this life I will find you in the next.

How the hell does a broken heart get back together when it’s torn apart.

It’s like I’m watching my life passing right by me like another movie.

I let you see the parts of me that weren’t all that pretty and with every touch you fixed them.

I never said what I needed to say, I left it too late and you slipped away.

I can’t imagine everything you’ve been through.

You remind me of the world and it’s wonder.

I've never met someone like you.

This is looking like a contest of who can act like they care less.

Tagging people who might be interested:

@little-diable @rebelwrites @hotdamnhunnam @darthwheezely @dumble-daddy @dumbassunderthemountain @miss-nori85 @xbreezymeadowsx @fizzyxcustard @gwen-ever @loony-loopy-lupinn @xdsockmonkey @thewalkingdead-imagines @you-a-southpaw-doll @edonaspanca @savior-adriana @xacatapelsyx @abadamn @flanagirl @amourtentiaa @brown-eyed-babes @heloisedaphnebrightmore @spideyyboii @elvish-sky @mrsnegan @beeroses @outer-banks-bitches @barneswidow @leah-halliwell92

#music challenge #music writing challenge #lyrics #writing challenges #marvel imagines #harry potter era imagines #marauders imagines #the walking dead imagines #sons of anarchy imagines #the hobbit imagines #lord of the rings imagines #star wars imagines #the maze runner imagines #suits imagines #his dark materials imagines #the gentlemen imagine #harry potter next gen imagines #stranger things imagines

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 5 years ago

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Far Away but Not Apart

Ao3

Summary: Roman loved Logan with all of their heart, even if they had only ever seen him through a computer screen. Content: Nb!Roman, don’t think there’s anything else really Pairing: Romantic logince Notes: This is the amos prize minific for @averykedavra who requested long-distance logince. I’m not certain I stuck properly to the prompt, but I do hope you like it, Avery!

“-I’m just saying, there is no crueler mistress than the one that would place soulmates such as ourselves so far apart!”

Logan sighed, rolling his eyes in a way that Roman was fully aware was amused, not annoyed. Though he had started the facetime sitting up and back in his fancy office chair, he was now leaning forwards, elbows on the desk, supporting his chin with one of his hands. “If fate were as cruel a mistress as you claim, Roman, then why would she allow us to meet each other at all?”

“To torture us!” Roman replied dramatically, grinning when Logan chuckled. “It is only in knowing the other exists that we suffer! To be so close in heart but so far in distance-”

“A pity, yes, but one we will survive.” Logan said, scoffing when Roman pouted at him. “You will only make yourself feel worse about our situation the longer you dwell upon in it.”

“I have dwelled upon it every day since the one I met you, and suffered it every day since the one you allowed me to call you mine.”

“We’ve only been dating for four months, Roman.”

“And friends for two years!” Roman added on for him. “And never once during all of that time have I so much as held your hand! It is a crime, my beloved, a crime, a sin, a defiance against all that is good and pure!”

“You’re overexaggerating.”

Roman sighed and collapsed backwards on their bed, hand splayed over their forehead. “No, I’m suffering.”

Logan laughed, and Roman lifted their head just enough that they could see him as he did so, their faux pout dropping so that they could smile at their muse. People who didn’t really know Logan said he was cold, unfeeling, logical to a fault. That was because people who didn’t really know Logan had never seen him smile brighter than the sun and laugh prettier than any angel could.

Roman didn’t realize they had gotten lost in their thoughts of loving Logan until the object of their affections coughed and said, “You’re staring.”

“How could I not?” Roman replied without missing a beat. “You are beauty incarnate, my sweetness, figure carved from smoothest marble and face painted with finest hues. I cannot help but to stare.”

“You really are too much.” Logan told them, but his cheeks had flushed a dark red that let Roman know their words had had exactly the impact they had hoped for. “I was asking you what you were doing this weekend.”

“Losing myself within worlds far more interesting than ours for but the fact that they do not have you, my angelic love.”

“So… binging Netflix?”

“My way of describing it was better.”

Logan chuckled. “If you say so, dear.”

Roman smiled at the petname. They had always loved how it made them sound as if they were an old married couple (which Roman fully intended for them to be one day). “And what are you going to be doing over your break from work-aligned existence?”

“Not really a break, I’m afraid.” Logan said, prompting Roman’s smile to become a frown. “I’ve got a business meeting on Saturday, leaving Friday night.”

Roman’s frown deepened. “Does that mean virtual movie night is off?”

Logan nodded, now frowning himself. “I’m sorry to say, but yes. We’ll have to reschedule for another week.”

“Well that sucks.” Roman said, trying to keep the majority of their disappointment out of their voice. They knew it wasn’t anything that Logan could change, so they didn’t want to make him feel bad about it. “You better get me a souvenir though. To make it up to me.”

“If a ten dollar bobble-head will fill the hole in your life that is our Friday night virtual movie marathon, then I am glad to oblige.” Logan returned, briefly looking away from the camera to check a paper on his desk. “Your address is the same, yes?”

“Don’t know how I could’ve changed it without you knowing.”

“Just checking.” Logan said, marking something down before he turned back towards the camera. “Now, I hate to once more be the figurative bearer of bad news, but I must take my leave- I have a client call in a few minutes here.”

“Skip it.”

“I do have to keep my job, Ro.”

“Your new job can be loving me, twenty-four seven, benefits are spending all your time with me.”

“And how much does loving you pay?”

“Did you not hear about the benefits? They’re better than money!”

Logan just laughed fondly. “You are cute, I’ll give you that.’

“So you’ll take up my offer and your new job?”

“Sadly, to function in the real world, I need a cash-paying job.” Logan told them, smiling at Roman’s following pout. “But if it alleviates your pains, know that I already love you twenty-four seven.”

At that, Roman allowed their pout to morph into a smile. “Well, look at who’s being cute now.”

“I’m simply stating the facts.” Logan replied, glancing at his watch. “One of which is, unfortunately, that I really must go now. I’m worried I’ll be too busy tomorrow to chat- I’ll call you on Saturday, alright?”

“Oh, my star, my sun, my only light through the darkness and troubles that are this world, however will I survive a whole day without any contact with you?”

“You are strong, my knight, I’m sure you’ll find a way.” Logan told them in return, grinning when Roman blushed. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Roman responded, blowing Logan an imaginary kiss. Logan, as always, indulged them by ‘catching it’ before he turned his camera off, Roman’s screen going dark soon after. As soon as it darkened, Roman sighed, falling back against their bed and shutting their laptop as they did so.

It was going to be a long day and a half.

“Roman? Wh- Why are you calling?”

“Because I miss you!” Roman whined, not bothering with pretending to not be clingy. “Yesterday was long and dull and completely devoid of true joy and true love! I simply could not bear to wait til you called me! Oh, how I have missed you, my world, my stars, my universe-”

“It’s barely been a day, love.”

“Love!” Roman said, ignoring the majority of his sentence and latching onto the important part of it. “I haven’t heard you call me that in over a day! Possibly two! Hell, darling, I’ve been in absolute hell without you.”

Logan laughed at that, and Roman had never before so desperately wished they were on a facetime, just so they could see the absolute glory that would be Logan’s face while he was laughing. It didn’t matter how many times they had seen him laugh- it would never be enough. Before Roman could say something to that extent, however, their doorbell rang, grabbing their attention.

“Damnit.” They said, annoyed. Did they have packages coming today? They didn’t think so. And they really, really didn’t want to get up.

“What is it?”

“The doorbell- it’s fine, probably just a package or some door-to-door salesperson. Just annoying, interrupting the melodic sound of your laughter-”

“You should probably get that.”

Roman groaned and threw their head back. “But I don’t want to!”

“It could be someone important.” Logan told them. “Don’t worry, I’ll still be here when you get back.”

Roman groaned louder, but they still swung themself off their couch. “Fiiiine. But when it turns out to be nothing, I’m going to… I’m going to…”

“Yes?” Logan asked, in a much too smug way that suggested he knew perfectly well Roman had no way to end their threat.

“...I’ll think of something.” Roman said vaguely, ignoring Logan’s following chuckle of disbelief and amusement. Shaking their head, Roman moved the phone from their ear to the side of their neck, muffling the speaker as they opened the door. “Okay, listen, I’ve got some important stuff going on so-”

Roman cut themself off as soon as they saw who was standing on their porch. Because it wasn’t a salesperson or a dropped-off package- it was a man with a suitcase by his feet, a phone in his hand, and a face Roman would sooner die than forget.

“Surprise?” Logan said, and that was all he was able to get out before Roman had flung themself at him and wrapped them up in what Roman was sure was the biggest, tightest, most important hug they had ever given.

“You’re here!” Roman said after a minute of just basking in the magnificence of the moment. They still refused to let go of him, having dropped their phone so that they could hold on solely to Logan, keeping him as close to their chest as possible. “You’re really here!”

“Well I’m certainly not a hallucination or someone pretending to be your boyfriend.” Logan said, having managed to get his phone into his pocket before returning Roman’s hug. “So I should hope I’m really here, yes.”

“Yes- but- you’re here! I can see you! I can hug you! I AM hugging you!” Roman exclaimed, knowing they were getting repetitive at that point but not caring at all. They were currently hugging their boyfriend for the first time ever, after all- how could they care about anything else?

“That you are.” Logan agreed, voice still a professional neutral before he tightened his grasp on Roman and added, “So I am as well.”

Roman giggled, a mostly involuntary sound that was brought about the sheer joy of the moment. They pulled back from Logan, just a bit, just enough that they could see his face- his beautiful, lovely, gorgeous face, a face that was a million times prettier in real life. “Can I kiss you?”

“Mhmm- not on the lips. Weird texture.” Logan said, but he was still smiling, unbothered by Roman’s question.

Happily, Roman pressed a kiss to Logan’s forehead, grinning when they saw Logan’s smile grow. “I can work with that.” They said before moving to pepper the rest of Logan’s face with kisses.

“If I- if I knew you were going to be this persistent I- I would’ve stayed home.” Logan protested, having broken down himself and begun giggling in between Roman’s kisses, rendering his protests unbelievable.

“My most beloved, you are a horrible liar.” Roman told him, pressing an extra special kiss to his nose before saying suddenly, “Hey, wait- don’t you have a business meeting you’re supposed to be at?! You can’t be here!”

Logan laughed. “Roman, my prinx, this is the business meeting. I lied so I could surprise you.”

Both Roman’s eyes and smile widened as they dived back into scattering kisses across Logan’s entire face, only stopping when Logan pulled far away enough they could no longer reach his face.

“We are going to get absolutely nothing done if I allow you to kiss me all day.” Logan said, though at Roman’s pout he did lean forwards to kiss Roman’s forehead. “I did take Monday and Tuesday off, but I can’t be here forever, you know.”

“You say that as if it would be a waste of our time if I used it for little more than showering you in all the affection you deserve.” Roman returned, attempting to resume their attack of Logan’s face.

Logan pulled back once more, chuckling when Roman immediately began to sulk. “There will be plenty of time for that. But there is also time for other activities, such as one that might have been missed recently…?”

Roman blinked at Logan, frowning for a moment in confusion before their face lit up in a grin. “Oh! Movie night! We can have a real life movie night!

“Only if we don’t spend our entire weekend standing on your porch.” Logan pointed out. “So… may I come in?”

“Of course!” Roman said, finally (albeit regrettably) letting go of Logan so that he could grab his suitcase and come inside. The moment he was within and Roman had closed their door, however, Roman had their arms wrapped around Logan’s waist, smiling as Logan laughed and put a hand backwards so that he could hold Roman’s shoulder.

“You’re very touchy.” Logan commented, though he didn’t sound annoyed.

Roman just held him closer. “Two and a half years, my heart and soul and life! So long have I waited for this moment- you wouldn’t hold it against me that I wish to cherish it, would you?”

“It’s actually been two years, four months, and three days since our first interaction.” Logan corrected them before softening, leaning back and more into Roman’s hold. “But no, I won’t hold it against you.”

“Good.” Roman said, pressing a kiss to the top of Logan’s head. “Because I have no plans of letting you go anytime soon.”

Logan tilted his head back so that he could smile at Roman. “Well I should hope you don’t.” He responded, looking fondly at Roman. “Four days aren’t that much time. It would be a shame to waste even a second of them.”

Roman grinned. “Aw, you do like being cuddled!”

At the claim, Logan looked down, trying (and failing) to hide the blush Roman could still see blooming in his cheeks. “Maybe just a little bit.”

Grin widening, Roman shifted as quickly as possible, eliciting a small yelp from Logan as they lifted him up and held him against their chest. “Don’t worry Lo,” Roman began, using their new position to kiss Logan’s forehead, “Four days may not be a lot of time in the grand scheme of things, but it is plenty of cuddle time.”

Roman expected Logan to protest that, to say that time was the same whether it was in the ‘grand scheme of things’ or in ‘cuddle time’ or any other definiment of time, but he didn’t- instead, Logan just let out a small sigh and rested his head against Roman’s shoulder. “We’re watching Big Hero Six first.”

“Of course!” Roman agreed enthusiastically, leaving Logan’s luggage behind on the floor as they walked over to their couch before adding (just because he could), “Anything for you, my love.”

Because Logan was right- four days wasn’t that much time.

But Roman had plans to make the most of every second.

#logince #ts logan #ts roman #nb!roman #ts sides #sanders sides #fanfic #fanfiction #the cryptid speaks #amos minific #i haven't written logince in forever #gosh i missed these bois #averykedavra

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ayocee · 4 years ago

Text

Soba & Sweets

Summary: “RAAAAUUUUGHHHH” Like a horror movie jump scare, a walker caught between a metal display and a shelf caught you off guard. Covering your mouth you contained your scream, refocused yourself and jerked your crowbar through the walkers head. It’s body slumped on the metal display and you surveyed your surroundings.

AU: Pshhhh @blackfanatics I’m your Secret Santa! So sorry on the delay, hope you like! This is my first fic in yearrrrrs. Thanks for the cool prompt

Italics are the readers thoughts

WC: 1812

CW: Gender Neutral Reader, Cursing, Mentions of blood, Zombies, aka walkers, aka the undead

“Scout the area. Search for supplies.”

You volunteered to search for food today. Supplies were in a good place but you knew they wouldn’t be for long. The goal was to get ahead of it as soon as possible.

Your group had set up camp outside a small vacant town. It was smart not to set up shop in the town. Walker groans could always be heard right before you reach the “Welcome to Town” sign.

“Scout the area. Search for supplies.”

Your grip on your backpack loosen and the grip on your weapon tighten. The groaning and grumbles were getting louder. You were getting close to town. As you scanned the skies, you noticed dark clouds moving in.

Hopefully I can could get something good before it started to rain

A snap in the nearby foliage captured your attention and put you on high alert. A walker, just one, emerged through the tree line. You quicken your steps keeping an eye out for the walker staggering behind you.

Maybe if I’m lucky I can find some candy bars. I can’t even remember the last time I had one

You made it to the edge of town and started climbing the fire escape of one of buildings.

“Always take the high ground.” You grunted, pulling yourself up to the roof.

A quick scan of the area helped you calculate your next move. There were quite a few buildings in the town your group had yet to clear or check. One that looked the most promising was of course near the center of town. Which had the most walkers in a concentrated area.

“Fantastic.” You groaned to the skies. “Welp I better get moving.”

-------

SMASH

You had a little over maybe fifteen minutes, twenty tops. The oven timer you used to distract the walkers just went off and you knew a few would have heard you breaking in through a back window of the building you were trying to get into. Clearing the remaining glass away from the window frame with your crowbar, as gracefully as you could, climbed through.

As silent as you could manage, the crunching glass beneath your feet was the only sound that echoed in the building. You broke into what looks like an office of some sort.

Gotta start somewhere

You checked every corner and hidden crevice to make sure you were really alone. After that you raided the drawers and bookshelves. A few batteries and a flashlight were added to you backpack as you made your way to the door.

You slowly turned the knob, opening the door just a silver to peak out. There were a few walkers, somewhat dormant just slowly rocking back and forth in the area they were standing. You took in the main area of the building realizing it probably used to be a local pharmacy.

“Hell yes!” You whispered in victory. Giving yourself a lil fist pump as you eased out of the door, gently closing it behind you so no wondering walkers would surprise you on you exist. But your movement didn't go unnoticed.

“RAAAAUUUUGHHH” Like a horror movie jump scare, a walker caught between a metal display and a shelf caught you off guard. Covering your mouth you contained your scream, refocused yourself and jerked your crowbar through the walkers head. It’s body slumped on the metal display and you surveyed your surroundings.

You were located towards the back of the store, a gaggle, maybe five or six walkers we located near the front and a few stranglers heads you noticed in-between the aisle in the store. Slowly, you made your way to the marquee that listed first aid. It was one more aisle over when you passed by the candy and snagged a few.

Major score! Candy and medical supplies today way turning out easier than I thought

You were almost there, all you had to do was-

“Ahhh!” You screamed startled by the wall of walkers. You quickly back-stepped trying to catch your footing so you can escape. Apparently a previous group had attempted to set up camp in this store and died leaving their bodies to turn. A few had mangled faces and one limping slowly had a foot turned at an angle it should never be in.

Loud groans and gurgling moans started towards you and your footing slipped.

“Fuck!” You miscalculated. You scrambled back on your butt and hands, kicking your foot to knock over the walkers. Which in hindsight made it worse.

Great now their crawling towards me

You reached in backpack to grab your crowbar and starting going to work. There wasn’t a lot of them but they had the high ground from where you were crawling. And the noise, was definitely going to attract more. You best bet was to kill the ones in front of you quickly and quietly.

The sickly squish and crunch the walkers skulls made as you kicked your boots into a walker skull made you scramble more and more until you noticed one of the larger shelves start leaning. Maybe you were seeing things, that panic and the adrenaline playing tricks on your eyes. Or more walkers then you thought were on the other side. You continued thrusting your crowbar through the walkers faces trying to create some distance between you and them.

More started coming from the main entrance of the store but they weren’t all coming for your direction even though their ambling towards you was making a pretty loud commotion. Weirdly something was distracting them, drawing the walkers away from you but you couldn’t hear anything over their grueling moans and groans. Your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you focused on the three still locked onto you.

And Then…

The larger shelf you noticed earlier toppled and took out two of the three after you.

Well that’s lucky

Someone stepped over the fallen shelf, stabbing the walkers that fell with the end of his blade.

With a flick of his wrist, the blood from the blade scattered against the floor.

“Can you stand?” You nodded absently at your savior. His hair was the shade of red and white parted in the middle. Relatively clean with rugged boots and black pants. He cut down two more walkers in one extension of his arm.

“Come on, we can hide from the undead in there.” He whispered creeping behind the shelves. The commotion had drawn all the walkers that were dormant back to life and the ones outside the store took notice of the activity they caused.

You quickly followed behind him. Noticing his sword sheath and backpack as well.

Traveling light. He must be scouting too

He found an unlocked door you hadn’t noticed earlier and you both quickly shuffled inside. You both watched the undead shadows pass by the glass of the door and the crevice underneath.

“Are you with a group...or?”

He placed his finger over his lips to silence you, then pointed to the walker growling’ by. Because of all the noise created in the shuffle more walkers were banging on the main doors. Only option for escape was to wait it out then sneak back into the office you came in though to make your way out.

But first you had to wait.

“It’s easier to travel by myself.” His answer surprised you. Some time had past while you waiting for the walkers outside the door to settle down.

“It must get lonely doing that though.” His face didn’t waver at your comment and you introduced yourself. It took a beat or so. A few walkers bumping into the fallen shelf making a loud banging noise.

“Shoto. My name is Shoto.”

You stared at him. Registering that he just gave you his name.

“Thanks Shoto.”

He continued looking at the shadows passing by the door. You drank him in, letting the silence settle in between you two. You really looked at him. In the faint light coming through the frosted window, you noticed he sported a scar that covered his eye on the left side of his face.

I wonder if he got that scar before all this...or during.

“Thank you...for saving me.”

He nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t really say anything for a reply.

“You don’t meet a lot of people like that nowadays.” You tried putting weight on your foot and realized you might have sprained it when you fell and grimaced.

“Are you alright?” You didn’t realize how close Shoto had moved in front of you til you looked up from your feet. His hands hovering near your waist. Your upper back leaning against the wall.

“I’m alright, I doesn’t hurt that bad so I probably strained it- Oh fuck your hand!” You whispered shouted gripped his large hand between the two of yours. It was warm and red, a cut slicing through the meat of his palms, blood dripping through his fingers.

“I cut myself when I was pushing the shelf I guess.” You quickly shrugged off your backpack and took out some medical supplies you just acquired to patch him up.

Up until this point Shoto hadn’t changed his stoic face until you applied an alcohol wipe to his hand and he hissed.

“Sorry, just don’t want it to get infected.”

“Of course.”

“Don’t want you ending up like one of those guys, especially with a sword like that on your back.” A small smile graced his face and you smiled back.

“You’d definitely do some damage.”

You finished patching him up but still held his hand as he looked at you. He slowly pulling his hand away from yours and you faked cough to clear the awkward tension of holding his hand. Packing away the rest of your supplies away.

“What’s one thing you miss?” He quirked an eyebrow at you. You decided to slide down the wall as rest. You didn’t know how long the both of you would be in here. Might as well save up your strength. He mirrored your movements sitting in front of you.

“Come on, what’s one thing you miss before the world went to shit.” The end of his lips quirked up at you statement.

“I can only pick one?” You chuckled at his reply.

“Okay as many as you want.” He used his good hand to stroke his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. Like there wasn’t the undead a few feet away from you both, groaning and fiending for your flesh.

“Soba and sweets.” You titled you head at his response. Trying to remember the last time you had soba or anything close to it.

“Mines was definitely candy bars and indoor plumbing.” He actual chuckled. You reached into you bag and pulled out two candy bars you swiped tossing one to him and ripping the other open with your teeth.

#secret santa #shoto torodoki #shoto x reader #au #fanfic #drabble #zombie au #bnha scenarios #bnha #shoto x y/n

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unfunny-quips · 4 years ago

Text

Snippets from The 22 Deaths of a Fool (an akeshu fic that I’ll eventually write more for).

Makoto’s week started far too early Monday morning with a call about a body being fished out of the bay.

It was supposed to start with a nice breakfast with Haru. Makoto had been looking forward to testing the latest scone recipe her wife had come up with for the cafe and enjoying the freshly roasted coffee Haru had made special just for them. Their schedules had been hectic recently, not leaving them with much time to see each other outside of curling together in an exhausted heap on the couch for a bit before shuffling off to bed.

There was no helping it, unfortunately. Between Okumura Industries’ newest restaurant branch Grand Opening pulling most of Haru’s time not spent at the cafe and the precinct being critically understaffed there was little time left for each other. Makoto’s captain had promised that at least a few more detectives were going to be pulled in from other precincts around the city - and apparently one all the way from Osaka - but until they actually were transferred Makoto was stuck handling the casework of three people. She didn’t even have a partner anymore to share the workload with since her last one had quit to pursue a career in writing romance novels.

She couldn’t even be mad. Not really. Himura’s novels were a delight to read and Makoto had bought every last one he’d written over the past three years and even had him sign them for her. He never seemed so happy as he did the day of his retirement party when he was loudly recounting all the time he would have to focus on his next series.

So, overworked and underprepared, it was to the bay she went. Dark circles under her eyes from not enough sleep and her wife’s coffee on hand as she trudged her way through the chill autumn morning. Haru had been nice enough to drag herself out of their warm bed and make a thermos for her while she showered and got ready. Makoto didn’t know what she’d do without her. Probably walk into traffic in an exhausted, uncaffeinated daze.

She arrived at the scene almost awake just as the body was being carefully zipped up and placed on a gurney, the coroner finishing up her notes as Makoto donned the last of her appropriate crime scene gear and carefully picked her past where the the forensic techs were scouring the area for evidence and towards the perpetually hunched form of the coroner.

“Dr. Ito.” Makoto greeted, only just managing not to yawn. The Coroner worked nights and by all rights should have already gone home by now rather than dragging her exhausted self to an early morning crime scene. She didn’t need Makoto yawning to remind her of how long she’d been on shift.

“Detective Niijima. Nice to see you this beautiful morning.” Ito said flatly, looking more dead eyed and exhausted than usual. A feat in and of itself, especially with her wild mess of hair tucked back under the hood of her clean suit and her tired eyes half hidden behind a pair of safety glasses. Ito nodded towards the bodybag now being loaded up onto the transport. “Won’t be able to tell more til I get him back to the office, but so far it looks like you have an interesting one on your hands this time.”

Makoto tilted her head, “Oh?” She asked. Ito was good at her job, exceptionally good, but had an air of apathy to her that rarely was shaken. Makoto had come to learn over the past few years that the coroner wasn’t actually indifferent to the victims she encountered or the cases she helped work on, but rather just worn out. Fifteen years on the job could do that to a person.

That Ito looked so interested now spoke of one thing for the case: trouble.

“Yep.” Ito said, “The call reporting the body came in a bit over three hours ago from port security. Me and the techs have been on the scene for about two hours.” Ito jabbed a gloved finger over her shoulder towards transport, “Everything I’ve seen in the report so far shows sightings of our victim drifting around since 2:06am. That’s four hours. And it’s very likely based on what the tech’s told me about the currents here in the port that our friend was probably pushed in from the bridge over the course of several hours,” Ito spread her hands wide, “So in the water probably since midnight and yet our victim looks fresh as a daisy. Barely any sign of decomp on him at all. Hell just you and me talking and not official? Looks like he could have died minutes ago.”

Makoto blinked. “That’s….”

Unsettling. To say the least.

“Yeah, I know.” Ito nodded, “Like I said, I won’t really know for sure until I get him back at the office and really start digging into things. But that’s not all.”

Unease pooled in her stomach at that. A faint warning at the back of her mind she couldn’t quite name just yet. Frowning behind her face mask. “What else is there?”

Ito glanced over her notes, “For the most part he looks fairly normal. Male. Black hair. Appears to be in mid to late twenties in good shape. 175cm tall. No apparent injuries or cause of death. Then there’s the tattoo.” The coroner pointed up at her covered head, “Right dead center of his forehead he has two Xs. Like roman numerals. And that’s not even getting to his eyes. Never seen anything like it before. Bright gold.”

“Gold?” Makoto found her mind, still a bit foggy at the edges, snapped wide awake at that. “What do you mean? Like contacts or?”

Ito shook her head. “I checked and nothing. I thought it was a trick of the light first but my assistant confirmed it and we double checked the pictures the photographer took.” Ito shifted, “Certain diseases can be known to cause a copper ring in the eye, I’m thinking it might be something similar. Certainly will make it easier to identify him.”

“Right,” Makoto said, feeling far away from her body. She watched blankly as Ito finished up her notes and climbed into the coroner’s van.

Golden eyes.

Apprehension crept at the back of her neck, a faint dread she couldn’t quite explain settling on her shoulders as she thought of a world long gone to her. A world of shadows and monsters and gods. A world of golden eyes.

A world that shouldn’t exist anymore.

—

Ren Amamiya stood still and quiet in the doorway of Sae’s office, eyes hidden beneath a tangle of dark bangs as he stared at the floor before him.

Sae hadn’t even noticed him arrive, so intent on making sure she didn’t drop the oversized pile of paperwork in her arms as she hauled it over to her desk. She’d just made him out in her periphery as glanced down, and nearly jumped out of her own skin as she did so. She very nearly flung the files in her arms across the room - which would have been a nightmare to gather back up and get back into order.

She should have never let Tae talk her into watching that horror movie the other night, she’d been jumpy ever since.

Swearing under her breath as she realized just who it was lurking there she sighed, “Ren, god, you scared me half to death.” Adjusting her hold on the folders in her arms she added, “I always thought Makoto was exaggerating when she said you needed a bell on you. Here, give me a second to put these down.

Turning away from the boy in the doorway she dropped the files onto her desk, glancing at the clock that ticked away next to her computer, the soft clicks of the mechanism turning slowly turning the hands the only sound in the still office. Last minute before midnight, no wonder she was so wired. The files could wait until morning when she could recruit the legal secretary to help her pour over them.

“What are you even doing here so late?” She asked her unexpected guest absently. Her attention was on shuffling the file folders into a neater pile - exhausted or no, there was no need for clutter. Once some semblance of order was in place she looked up at him with a small smile. “Don’t tell me you need a lawyer.”

Ren was no longer in the doorway. Only empty air and the reception area beyond with it’s expansive windows that overlooked the glittering city beyond.

She paused, brows furrowed in confusion. She hadn’t heard him leave. Well, she supposed she hadn’t heard him arrive either - and something buzzed faintly at the back of her mind at that thought. A warning that she’d missed something.

Frowning she shook it off and strode across the room to the open door. Knowing Ren, he’d likely seen the chance for a prank after seeing how spooked she’d been earlier. Maybe even had come in the first place for that exact purpose, Sae had mentioned he’d swung by the clinic recently. Sae didn’t doubt the doctor and the thief might hatch up a plan together to try and rattle her in the wake of the horror movie debacle.

The reception area was empty when she leaned out, no sign of Ren at all.

She frowned.

While her office only had her desk lamp on, lengthening the shadows and giving her eyes a rest from the fluorescent overheads, the reception area was still brightly lit. There were now dark corners for Ren to hide behind, and from where her office was she could see behind the reception desk. The other offices were locked up tight, and though she didn’t doubt that the thief could open one and slip inside in the sparse seconds it took her to cross the room, she doubted that he would just to pull a prank on her.

“Ren?” She called, leaning to see if he had tucked himself behind one of the plants by the elevator. He wasn’t there. Her frown deepened. Had she imagined him there after all? She hadn’t thought so. For all Ren tended to blend into a crowd when he wanted to go unnoticed, his presence was a difficult thing to ignore once you knew him. He had that kind of charisma, even back when he’d been in highschool. Bruised, beaten and drugged half out of his mind and still able to convince her to help him. He’d only grown into himself more in the ten years that followed.

There was no answer to her call. Her frown deepened.

She’d call him, she decided. If he was playing a prank on her, whatever cheerful sugar-pop ringtone Futaba had set him up with this week would give him away. Mind settled she turned -

And came face to face with Ren, a scant few inches behind her.

With a swear she jumped and stumbled back, catching herself on the doorframe so that she didn’t tumble to the floor entirely.

Ren didn’t make a move towards her, no attempt to reach out and help her, no offered apologies for scaring her so badly. Just stood there, still as a statue with shoulders hunched awkwardly up around his ears. His head was dipped down towards the floor, chin nearly to his chest. His face was obscured by the odd angle and the wild mess of his dark hair. His clothes, too, were wrong. A frayed and thin jumpsuit, black and white stripes, a shackle on each wrists as they hung limply by his sides. There were heavy chains hanging from them, pooling at his bare feet.

Something was wrong.

The thought settled coldly in her stomach, made the hair at the back of her neck prickle and heart hammer in her chest. She felt cold, looking at him, her hands shaking and fingers numb. Ren wasn’t speaking, wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing.

That gnawing thought from before, that sense that she missed something from just moments ago. Seeing Ren now, awkward and strange and wrong, it made the pieces click in place.

She hadn’t heard the elevator. Hadn’t heard the squealing of the stairwell door being pulled open either. Ren had always been light on his feet, a cat’s grace with the same tendency to get in trouble, but even then he would have had to slide in through a window in order to not have been heard arriving on the floor. A tricky thing to do twenty stories up.

“Ren?” She asked, cautious, voice wavering slightly in the sudden stillness of the room. Her throat felt tight.

A distant echo at the back of her mind, some ancient instinct shivering in warning. Not of danger, per se, but of something. She felt as if she was something very small and very helpless standing in the shadow of a giant about to collapse. Rooted to the spot despite knowing that the crash of the colossus might kill her.

Something dripped from his face to the floor. She thought, for the briefest of seconds, that it was a tear. That Ren might be crying but as her eyes flicked down she saw that no. Not tears. Blood. Thick and dark, sliding from his hidden face and collecting in a horrible constellation at their feet.

“I’m sorry.”

Her body trembled at his voice, cold fear icing her veins. Soft and thready, more whimper than whisper. It was not his voice that made her shake, not exactly, but something in it. A high clear note she couldn’t identify that made her ears ring and her bones throb. She felt it in her chest, felt her breaths struggle beneath the weight of it. She thought that her knees might buckle beneath the weight of it.

His head, slowly, began to lift. The movement was wrong - it was all wrong - too slow, too fast, too at odds with the way a human’s body was supposed to work.

She saw his eyes first.

Gleaming and golden, shining all the brighter against the dark blood that covered his face. No, not covered. His face was simply gone. The flesh around his eyes torn away grotesquely, it looked almost like a mask.

Her feet were rooted to the spot, body locked in place by the horrible desperate expression he held. She wanted to run, wanted to flee, but her body wouldn’t obey. Even as he took a shambling awkward step, body still not moving the way it should, the way someone as graceful and languid as Amamiya Ren was meant to move. He shambled and stumbled, hands raised - and they too were red, fingernails torn and hand stained, god it looked like he’d torn his face off. The thought made her want to scream, everything about the situation made her want to scream.

“I’m…I’m so sorry.” He collapsed into her, hands - cold, cold, cold - desperately clung to her. She felt the chill of his skin down to her very bones, felt the weight of fear and oddly grief choking her. Not her own, not entirely. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

He whimpered it like it was a prayer. His words looping on each other again and again, apologies she couldn’t understand crashing over her, drowning her. That sound that tainted his voice worsened, making her head spin and her stomach churn. He sagged into her hold - when did she move? When did her arms reach up to catch him, when did she become the one keeping him in place? - and they both collapsed to the floor.

She was crying. Cold tears sliding down her cheeks and landing on his torn and tattered face. His eyes were so wide, so frightened that she felt sick as his terror crashed and entwined with her own.

And then she felt the solidness of his body give.

His shoulders, his back, crumbling beneath the weight of her hold as if he was no more than wet paper. Inch by inch he collapsed into himself, black cracks appearing over him - not just his skin, but his eyes and even his clothes - the splintering spidery lines of cracked porcelain. Where he’d already crumbled was only black ash, flaking away and falling apart in her hands.

His mouth, half deteriorated already, opened.

“I’m so sorry.”

Sae jerked awake at her desk, nearly knocking over the cold cup of coffee at her elbow. Her heart pounded in her chest and she panted as her gaze darting around the dark corners of her office.

A dream. Just a dream.

She’d fallen asleep while pouring over her files and had another nightmare from the horror movie Tae showed her. That was all.

She’d should just go home and try to get some actual rest, maybe watch a comedy to settle her mind. And tomorrow, tomorrow she’d call Ren and see if he wanted to meet up for lunch. Just as a reassurance, just to see a friend. And maybe - Her hands stilled where she’d been gathering up her things, eyes wide as she stared.

The clock read midnight.

There was ash staining her fingertips.

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thingwithfeathers · 3 years ago

Text

tag 9 people to learn more about their interests

tagged by: @enniomorricone :)

MUSIC

fave genre? indie/alternative rock, and pop but not really current pop more like 80s/90s.

fave artist? bastille, twenty one pilots, fleetwood mac, the clash, the smiths, abba, probably a lot more i can’t think of right now.

fave song? my joint favourite songs are ‘with or without you — u2′ and ‘landslide — fleetwood mac’

most listened song recently? 'song for zula — phosphorescent’ it’s become one of my favoure songs ever.

song currently stuck in your head? any abba song because i was listening to them a lot earlier.

5 fave lyrics?

“It’s a hell of a long way to fall just to learn to get up” — the mess, the naked and famous.

“But now it’s just another show / and you leave them laughing when you go / and if you care, don’t let them know / don’t give yourself away / i’ve looked at love from both sides now / from give and take and still somehow / it’s loves illusions that i recall / i really don’t know love at all.” — both sides now, joni mitchell (this entire song though! really hard to choose lyrically because it’s a masterpiece).

“See, honey, i saw love / you see it came to me / it put it’s face up to my face so i could see / yeah then i saw love, disfugure me / into something i am not recognising / see the cage, it called, i said come on in / i will not open myself up this way again / but my heart is wild and my bones are steel / and i could kill you with my bare hands if i was free.” — song for zula, phosphorescent.

"Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? / can the child within my heart rise above? / can i sail through the changing ocean tides? / can i handle the seasons of my life? / well, i’ve been afraid of changing / ‘cause i’ve built my life around you / but time makes you bolder / even children get older / and i’m getting older too.” — landslide, fleetwood mac.

“And then you put your hand in mine / and pulled me back from things divine / stop looking up for heaven / waiting to be buried / and all their words for glory / they always sounded empty / when we’re looking up for heaven.” — bastille, glory.

BOOKS

fav book genre? just fiction in general. i’ve kind of grown out of young adult so i don’t really read a lot of that, and have been reading classics lately. just any books that make you really think and are written so beautifully that you can highlight quote after quote. i’ve also been reading a lot of non fiction spiritual books lately.

fav writer? recently, taylor jenkins reid. i’ve read two of her books and they’re incredibly gripping. love the simplicity and warmth of benjamin alire saenz as well, the care that ari & dante was written with. and also emily dickinson, especially her letters in particular to susan are just gorgeous.

fav book? aristotle & dante discover the secrets of the universe, wuthering heights, little women, a little life, and recently the seven husbands of evelyn hugo.

fav book series? i don’t really read book series, so the only thing coming to mind is harry potter which i only read for the first time about five years ago now.

comfort book? little women and aristotle & dante.

perfect book to read on a rainy day? any easy read, probably several i listed above.

fave characters? aristotle & dante, jo & beth march (little women), mina murray (dracula).

5 quotes from your fave books that you know by heart?

“You teach me now how cruel you’ve been — cruel and false. why did you despise me? why did you betray your own heart, cathy? i have not one word of comfort. you deserve this. you have killed yourself. yes, you may kiss me, and cry; and wring out my kisses and tears: they’ll blight you — they’ll damn you. you loved me — what right had you to leave me? what right — answer me — for the poor fancy you felt for linton? because misery and degradation, and death, and nothing that god or satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will did it. i have not broken your heart — you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine. so much the worse for me that i am strong. do i want to live? what kind of living will it be when you — oh god! would you like to live with your soul in the grave?” — wuthering heights, emily bronte (i could choose so many from this book but this is the most underrated one in my opinion and deserves more recognition).

“I will love you forever, whatever happens. ‘til i die and after i die, and when i find my way out of the land of the dead i’ll drift about forever, all my atoms, ‘till i find you again. i’ll be looking for you, will, every moment, evert single moment. and when we do find each other again we’ll cling together so tight that nothing and no one’ll ever tear us apart. every atom of me and every atom of you... we’ll live in the birds and the flowers, and the dragonflies and pine trees, and in the clouds and in those little specks of light you see floating in sunbeams... and when they use our atoms to make new lives, they won’t just be able to take one, they’ll have to take two, one of you and one of me, we’ll be joined so tight...” — his dark materials (amber spyglass), philip pullman. (don’t talk to me, this quote makes me actually ache)

“I wanted to tell them that i’d never had a friend, not ever, not a real one. until dante. i wanted to tell them that i never knew that people like dante existed in the world, people who looked at the stars, and knew the mysteries of water, and knew enough to know that birds belonged to the heavens and weren’t meant to be shot down from their graceful flights by mean and stupid boys. i wanted to tell them that he had changed my life and that i would never be the same, not ever. and that somehow it felt like it was dante who had saved my life and not the other way around. i wanted to tell them that he was the first human being aside from my mother who had ever made me want to talk about the things that scared me. i wanted to tell them so many things and yet i didn’t have the words. so, i just stupidly repeated myself, “dante’s my friend.”” — aristotle & dante discover the secrets of the universe, benjamin alire saenz.

“There are many beths in the world, shy and quiet, sitting in corners till needed, and living for others so cheerfully that no one sees the sacrifices till the little cricket on the hearth stops chirping, and the sweet, sunshiny presence vanishes, leaving silence and shadow behind.”— little women, louisa may alcott.

“And so i try to be kind to everything i see and in everything i see, i see him.”— a little life, hanya yanagihara.

hardcover or paperback (paperback for general reading and hardback for special editions!) | buy or rent | standalone novels or book series | ebook or physical copy | reading at night or during the day | reading at home or in nature (i love nature and want to be able to read outside but i cannot be in nature without being hypervigilent of bugs so wouldn’t be able to concentrate) | listening to music while reading or reading in silence | reading in order or reading the ending (i also used to read the last line of a book first for a long time but i started to piss myself off when it wasn’t vague enough) | reliable or unreliable narrator | realism or fantasy | one or multiple POVS | judging by the covers or by the summary (i can’t help it, i love pretty covers) | rereading or reading just once.

TV AND MOVIES

fave tv/movie genre? disaster/post apocalyptic, drama, sci-fi, documentary, occasional fantasy. i’m pretty on board with most things, other than horror but even that has some exceptions.

fave movie? titanic, shaun of the dead, little women (1994), eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, wuthering heights (2009 tv movie), portrait of a lady on fire, practical magic, the greatest showman, finding nemo, the grinch (2000).

comfort movie? finding nemo, little women (1994), shaun of the dead, all my favourite christmas movies which are too many to list.

fave tv show? friends, charmed, golden girls, gilmore girls, the walking dead, new girl. currently: 911.

most rewatched tv show? friends. i watch it almost every day and it would be impossible for me to count just how many times i’ve watched it from start to finish.

5 fave characters? all the friends on friends, piper halliwell (charmed), tara chambler (twd), glenn rhee (twd), maddie buckley (911).

tv shows or movies | short seasons (8-13 episodes) or full seasons (22 episodes or more) | one episode a week or binging (i’m conflicted because i miss the event of catching a show every week but at the same time once you binge watch you can’t go back) | one season or multiple seasons (but shows need to know when to stop) | one part or saga | half hour or one hour long episodes (depends on my mood) | subtitles on or off | rewatching or watching just once.

tagging: @bettyhofstadtdraper / @kubrickking / @koningen / @urispatty / @marmaladepotion / @mixye + anyone else that wants to do this, feel free to tag me to read :) !

#thank you for tagging me in this! it was really fun #i enjoyed reading your answers as well #:) <3 #enniomorricone #;

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amysmarch · 5 years ago

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~how i’m feeling~ | rp sentence starter

drugs & the internet

“another life, another story, ( she ) walked out, said i was boring.”

“shit, i said i'm never trying.“

“'til the bitter end, but every now and then, i wonder what it feels like to be more than i am.”

“i traded all my friends for drugs and the internet.“

“ah shit, am i a winner yet?“

“and i don't wanna base my actions, on reactions or the things they say.”

“so now i'm laying in my bed, and i can't get out my head.”

fuck, i’m lonely

“call you one time, two time, three time, i can't wait no more.”

“i know its been a minute since you walked right through that door, but i still think about you all the time.”

“i don't know, i don't know how i'm gonna make it out.”

“fuck, i'm lonely.”

“fuck, come hold me.”

“yeah i still watch the shows you showed me, i still drink that wine but these days it tastes more bitter than sweet.”

“and all my friends are way too drunk to save me from my phone, so sorry if i say some things i mean.”

“miss those nights when you would come over, spent all night just tryin' to get closer.”

lonely eyes

“i don't mean to be rude, there's things in myself that i see in you.”

“she had those lonely eyes, i only know 'cause i have them too.”

“no, you don't have to hide, the things you feel inside, i feel too.”

“'cause i'm lonely just like you.“

“we might speak different languages, and we might have differences. but where you are, i'm right there too.”

“stay the night, stay the week.“

“when you're gone, i don't sleep.”

“when you're gone, i feel weak.“

sims

“i wish that you and i lived in the sims.”

“we could build a house and plant some flowers and have kids.”

“i'll probably never see you again.”

“i wish that we lived on a vhs. i’d erase the things i said and that i'll probably say again, hit rewind on all the times i got lost in my head.”

“goddamn, i wish we would've met on another night, baby.”

“i wish that we met walkin' round the moma.”

“yeah, i'd say nice to meet you, 'stead of saying nice to know you.”

“i'd try to impress you with some bullshit 'bout monet.”

believed

“almost got a place out in midtown, instead i took a plane out of this town.“

“wasted, and all of my regret, i can taste it. if i had a time machine i would take it and make it back to us.”

“now i'm reminiscing 'round the clock, wish that i could make it stop.”

“shoulda believed in us, while we existed. 'cause now the whole thing's fucked, and just a figment of my imagination.”

“and i wish i would've been patient, instead i let in all the emotions.”

billy

“nobody told ( him ) the world was mean.”

“nobody thought ( he ) could amount to anything.”

feelings

“is my love too much, or is it just enough, for you?”

“'cause it's getting late, would you like to stay?”

“we could cross that line, know we've been friends.”

“and love only knows broken ends. yeah, that's what you said.”

“'cause feelings are hard to find.“

canada

“waking up in your bed, it's almost like i've been here forever.”

“i'm obsessed with your brain.”

“what if we move to canada?“

“buy some things we don't need, bring your mother's dog, your paintbrush and some candy.”

“how you talk with your hands, and how you sigh like a movie.”

“and we got luck so bad, we have to laugh. i guess we're lucky that, we don't need much outside of us, do we?“

“and when they talk about those, people who up and leave? that could be us.”

for now

“i keep you right here in my brain, even when we're waking up in different cities.”

“i know it's hard to feel so close to someone that's so far away.“

“for now, i'll love you through the phone.”

“for now, our friends will fill this home.”

“in the shadow of the moon, found the memory of that night we were in portland.”

“the moment i told you, that no matter where we are, you're still my best friend.”

“and if i had a candle i would wish you back to me.”

mean it

“i can't tell what you're thinkin', please tell me what you're thinkin'.”

“but you text me when you feel like, when it feels right to you.”

“i'm fallin' faster.”

“don't tell me that you need me.”

“don't tell me you're falling, with your feet still on the ledge.”

“don't kiss me, no, don't kiss me.”

“you know you got me in the palm of your hand, but i love those hands.”

“but you only let me hold you when ( he ) can't.”

“you've been staring at me with a heart of doubt.”

tell my mama

“i been thinking that life's too short, so many friends got their life cut short.”

“now i'm standing here doing lines in the bathroom.”

“i hate myself.”

“i been hiding pain, it's underneath.”

“and i been up so long i'm scared to sleep.”

“tell my mama that i love her, and i'm sorry for the pain.“

“and everybody says that i've been manic. i think they might be right, but i still manage.”

“lately, i been so annoyed. ‘cause they think that i'm just paranoid.”

sweatpants

“coffee with a little bit of alcohol.”

“oh no, no, don't judge me, just 'cause i do anything to get by.”

“said you don't wanna know who i am anymore, you don't care anymore. yeah, i can't really blame you.”

“and i don't wanna know, who you're with when you leave.”

“swear i still feel you on my skin.”

“i really miss you.”

“but, baby, that's not the issue, the issue is coming back.”

“we've been through this, we both know. we'll fight, fuck then let it go.“

who

“sometimes, i swear i think you hate me like.”

“i need to get outta here.”

“'cause you're not the ( girl ) i fell in love with, baby.”

“'cause something has changed, you're not the same, i hate it.”

“feelin' hypnotized by the words that you said.”

i’m so tired...

“i'm so tired of love songs.”

“party, trying my best to meet somebody. but everybody around me is falling in love to our song.”

“strangers, killing my lonely nights with strangers.”

“hurts like heaven, lost in the sound.”

“buzzcut season like you're still around.”

“can't unmiss you and i need you now.”

el tejano

“i met a ( girl ) at el tejano.“

“i'm from wherever you're going tonight."

“i always find myself in random situations.“

“do you wanna have a little bit of fun tonight?“

tattoos together

“i'd never fall but then i fell for you.“

“one weekend in portland, you weren't even my ( girl )friend. we were walkin' and talkin' then somebody said, let's get tattoos together.”

“if it's way too soon, fuck it, whatever.”

“if it's not forever, then at least we'll have tattoos together.”

“'cause i love you.”

“knew it from the moment, from the moment that i saw you naked, could never love nobody else, the way i loved you baby.”

“yeah, your cherry earrings are my favourite.“

“i've been hopin', prayin' we last forever, 'cause there's nothing better than you and i.”

changes

“i'm getting rid of all my clothes i don't wear, i think i'm gonna cut my hair cause these days i don't feel like me.”

“i think i'm gonna take a break from alcohol, probably won't last that long, but lord knows i could use some sleep.”

“changes. they might drive you half insane but it's killing you to stay the same.”

“living with your eyes half open.”

“it's all gonna work out.”

“i think I'm gonna take some pills to fix my brain, i've tried it every other way. some things you can't fix yourself.”

sad forever

“life feels like a daydream.”

“voices always keeping me up, telling me that i should give up.”

“'cause lately i've been in the backseat to my own life.”

“i don't wanna be sad forever.”

“i don't wanna wake up and wonder, what the hell am i doing this for?”

“i'll make it through to tomorrow, 'cause that's all i can do today.”

invisible things

“do you still remember the way that we felt when we were kids?“

“yeah, we built castles out of couches. felt fire without matches.”

“made promises without fear of getting burned.”

“we think happy is expensive.”

“it's the invisible things that i, that i love the most.”

“so let me hold you close.”

julia

“when we met i wasn't me, i was so numb.”

“i was so lonely.”

“out on the run i wasn't free, and you came along but you couldn't save me.”

“my hesitation and holding my breath, i led you in to the garden of my loneliness.”

“wish that you left, before it all burned down.”

“i'm sorry what i do to you.”

“i push and pull and mess with your head, then get in your bed 'cause i'm weak, deep down.”

“i wish i never lied to you.”

“i never meant to hurt you like that, and if i could go back i'd leave you alone.”

“when i left, i wasn't sure that i could love.“

“i won't lie to you no more, 'cause i know i did before hope you find what you looking for.”

modern loneliness

“i've been thinkin' 'bout my father lately, the person that he made me, the person i've become.”

“and i've been tryna fill all of this empty. but, fuck, i'm still so empty.”

“yeah, i could use some love.”

“i've been trying to find a reason to get up.”

“the baggage in my heart is still so dark.”

“modern loneliness. we're never alone, but always depressed.”

“love my friends to death, but i never call and i never text 'em.”

“yeah, you get what you give and you give what you get.”

“we love to get high, but we don't know how to come down.”

“if i could break my dna to pieces, rid of all my demons.”

“if i could cleanse my soul, then i could fill the world with all my problems.”

“we're never alone, but always depressed.”

#rpt #rph #rpc #rp meme #sentence meme #starter meme #billy was hard to do sentence memes im SORRY #if you have any requests for albums / songs / movies / tv shows feel free to send them #resources #pls reblog this i worked so hard #dfgjhdfgd #long post

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himbowelsh · 5 years ago

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webgott + jane/ chicken pox

a little fall of meme can hardly hurt me now ( accepting )

AN: this is almost certainly not what you were hoping for, but do you have ANY IDEA how much i’ve missed this little family?? writing jane?? this is officially part of the single dad web au and i regret nothing

It takes exactly thirty seconds of Googling for Joe to declare Webster banned from the house.

“What?” Webster exclaims, bracing himself against the doorframe as his fiancé blocks his way. “Are you serious? This is my house.”

“Our,” Joe corrects, because this is the hill he’s willing to die on, but not one Webster should. “The day I moved in, it became my house, and I’m temporarily kicking you out.”

“This isn’t funny, Joe. Let me in.”

“Nope,” Joe declares, and moves to slam the door in his face. Webster blocks it, and nearly gets a broken shoulder for the trouble. He’s nothing if not determined, the idiot. Gritting his teeth, Joe moves to shove him out, but Webster takes advantage of his loose stance to push himself further inside.

“My name is on the lease, so you can’t evict me — Joe, seriously, what the hell?” Finally, Webster pushes his way inside; he stands in the middle of the living room, hands on his hips. Webster’s got a Dad Mode, obviously learned through experience, and it’s in full gear now; he looks like he’s about to take away Joe’s X-Box for a week, though the genuine anger on his face speaks for itself. “What are you trying to do?” he demands, taking a step forward. “My kid’s in there, and she’s sick, so what do you mean I can’t be in there with her —“

“She’s got spots, Web,” Joe interjects, voice flat. “They showed up while you were at the store. Her arms are covered in them.”

Webster processes this for a moment, understanding dawning across his face. “Just chicken pox, then? Okay, that’s not so bad.”

Joe snorts, running a hand through his hair to force it back. When Webster raises an eyebrow at him, he just shakes his head. “That alone tells me you ain’t ever had chicken pox. So you’re gonna stay out of this house until Jane’s better, and I’ve deep cleaned everything. Not taking any chances.”

“Joe. Come on.” Webster’s incredulity is clearly toeing the line of frustration, but he doesn’t get it. “It’s just chicken pox.”

“Yeah, for her, because she’s ten.” Joe sweeps a hand towards Jane’s closed bedroom door — brightly decorated with drawings of Pokémon, sea creatures, and cartoon characters. Behind it, the poor kid’s laid up in bed, sheets thrown off because she’s too hot. Her dark curls are a tangled mess, since she couldn’t be bothered to tame them this morning; but they can’t quite hide the bright red rash steadily creeping up her neck. Joe was freaked out for a few minutes, before he recognized it. Once you’ve had chicken pox once, you never really forget those splotches, or the goddamn itch. “For her it’s just a little thing, sure. It’ll be over in a week. But in adults, it’s not so little.”

“Oh, come on —“

“Chicken pox is twenty-five times deadlier in adults.”

That shuts Webster up.

“I — you —“ He fumbles for words for a moment, the gears in his pretty little head apparently jammed up. “Have you —“

“Yeah, Web, I’ve had it before. Gave it to my whole family when I was six.” He rolls his eyes, before they catch on the plastic bag in Webster’s hand. Leaning across the room, he gets just close enough to pluck the bag from him, and immediately starts pawing around inside.

“Whatcha get, whatcha get... Tylenol, good.” He tosses it on the counter. “Children’s vitamins, weird, but okay — seriously, Web?” He holds up a shark plushie with unnervingly large, glittering eyes.

“They were on sale,” is Webster’s only defense. “And Jane loves getting new toys when she’s sick!”

“Amazing you didn’t raise a spoiled brat.” Joe returns to the bag with a snort. Pulling out a pack of mango orange juice — the only thing Jane will drink when she’s sick, apparently — he finally lays out Webster’s haul on the counter. For a moment, he scrutinizes it, lips pursed. “You’re gonna have to go back,” he finally says. “She’ll need calamine, for the itching. You can find it in a bottle, or a little can that sprays... and who can you stay with ‘til this blows over? We could ask Lip, he’s got an extra room, or — could you call Hoob? Dukeman?”

“For god’s sake, Joe,” Webster groans, “I’m not going anywhere, just to leave you to take care of my sick kid!”

That actually bites. Joe goes still, words dying in his throat. His gaze stalls on the counter for a moment, intent, before he rounds on Webster. This is a conversation they’ve had before — many, many times before — and he didn’t think they’d need to have it again.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demands, voice low instead of harsh. “You really think I mind it? You think when I moved in here with you guys, when I put that ring on my finger, I wasn’t signing up for this?” He pauses for a moment, drinking in the silence, before throwing his hands in the air. “Jesus, Web. Shit. If we’re still on that page —“

“Alright.” Webster, at least, looks appropriately shamefaced. In any other situation, this could easily spiral into an argument — not like they haven’t gone to war over dumber stuff — but now isn’t the time or place. He sighs, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. It just... feels wrong to leave you on your own.”

Jane’s not bad company at the best of times. Actually, Joe likes hanging out with her more than he does with her dad. At least Jane can put up a good fight in any video game — even the ones she’s technically not allowed to play — and she’s got enough stories to fill a library. Half of them, Joe suspects, she’s just making up off the top of her head, but Jane’s got an imagination like a firecracker. Her drawings are always brimming with color and life. When she brings them to her dad or Joe for inspection, she demands constructive criticism, and takes it seriously. Jane’s always busy — if she’s not drawing, she’s reading, and if she’s not reading, she’s writing, and if she’s not writing she’s caught in a very intense make-believe game in the backyard — but somehow she still finds time to spend with the adults.

It’s not like Joe doesn’t like Jane. It’s not like being around her is some burden or anything. Hell, he thinks he even loves her a bit — in a way he never imagined getting to love a kid of his own. He loves Webster, and Jane means the world to Web, so it’s simple as that.

And Web thinks he wouldn’t want to take care of Jane while she’s sick? Jesus.

“You kidding me? We’ll have a great time. Jane’s been trying to get me into Harry Potter, anyway, and you gotta show your kid Star Wars… I don’t trust you with the greats.” His topic shift is clearly a dismissal of the entire argument. Good old Web doesn’t get the hint.

“But you shouldn’t —“

“Fuck’s sake!” Joe exclaims — and if he wasn’t genuinely mad before, he is now. His tone lowers a second later, mindful of Jane in the other room, even if it’s hardly the first time she’s heard the two of them tear at each other. Instead, Joe settles for tossing the plastic bag on the ground, in blatant defiance of Web’s “pick things up” rule, and glaring at him. When Web gapes at him, incredulous, Joe just raises an eyebrow. Whatcha gonna do? Come over here and pick it up? It’s probably got chicken pox on it.

“You,” Joe says in a low voice, “are gonna let me do this for you. I’m gonna look after Janie. You are gonna go to the store and get some calamine, for shit’s sake, and then you’re gonna call up Hoobler and ask if he’s got a spare room. You can get whatever you need from our room, but I want you outta here, Web.”

Webster is silent for a moment, like he has to thoroughly chew his thoughts before saying them. His sigh, when it comes out, shakes a bit. “Joe…”

“Just let me take care of you,” he says again, and sees the exact moment Web breaks.

“What sort of lotion do we need again?”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joe’s encountered Sick Web in the wild before. He’s a drama queen if they ever existed — clingy, listless, and depressive. If he can manipulate you into doing something for him, he will; if he needs to act sicker than he is, he’ll damn well do it. If he gets you sick, he’ll have no remorse. Flu season in their house still feels like a bad dream, one Joe prefers not to revist.

Sick Jane, in comparison, is a dream.

“It’s so nice not to be in bed,” she chirps, sounding downright cheerful as she balances a soup bowl in her lap. Joe keeps an eye on her — not just because she’ll be devastated if she spills on her octopus PJs, but because of the scratching. Jane’s a sneaky scratcher. Joe’s caught her doing it at least twenty times today, and no matter how much he hammers the point home that she won’t get better if she keeps scratching at the things, she doesn’t quite get it. There’s a patch of spots just under her chin that are really giving her trouble, but other than that, she’s holding out well.

“It’s only if you’re up for it, okay? You start feeling tired and it’s back to bed.”

Jane makes a face at him. Joe rolls his eyes and makes a face right back.

“So,” she says, having seized control of the remote. “What do you wanna watch now?”

“I dunno, the amount of movies we’ve watched this week —“

“You want to watch a cartoon? Some of the new Marvel ones are supposed to be good, I haven’t seen them.”

“Meh. We could. Ooh, how about Young Jus—“

He’s cut off by the sound of hammering — not at the door, but at the goddamn window.

Jane yelps as a splash of her soup hits the couch cushions; Joe nearly falls to the floor, scrambling for the first weapon he can find, which happens to be the remote. The curtains are half closed to the cool night, which means anyone outside could see in if they got close enough — and, as Joe approaches the windowpane, he can see a white hand pressed to the glass.

It clicks for Jane first. “Oh my gosh,” she gasps, leaping from the couch. “Daddy!”

Joe has to fight the urge to groan as Webster’s smiling face appears in the window. How many times is this, now — eight? Nine? It’s been almost a week since Web left, but he sure hasn’t let himself be forgotten. Every day, he stops by… either to see Jane and leave gifts, or to see him and leave gifts. Collectively, they’re now three books, two plushies, three video games, three DVDs, and a dozen snacks richer.

At the moment, though, Webster’s not carrying any bags. He doesn’t seem to have shown up with anything — just himself.

It’s also impossible to hear him through the window, but to Jane that doesn’t seem to matter.

“Hi, Daddy,” she says, pressing her hand to the outline of Web’s in the glass. “Are you okay? Are you staying safe? Look at my spots, these ones are starting to get scabs. Joe’s been making soup every night, I’m so tired of it — can you get me a fruit salad? I like the hammerhead you brought over—“

Heaving a soft sigh, Joe steps back, giving the two some space. Knowing Jane, she can go on for a while… and she’s missed her dad. Rather than intrude on the moment, Joe slips out the kitchen door, into the backyard. The night air is sweet, waking him up in all the places exhaustion was starting to weigh on him. He closes his eyes, tilting his head to bask in it. The temptation to light up a cigarette is strong, but he’ll never hear the end of it from Web if he found out, so Joe just sits in the steps, arms braced against his knees as he stares into the night.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, footsteps echo around the side of the house.

“Oh, scarecrow. I think I missed you most of all.”

Joe exhales, deep from his chest. “That why you’ve been coming around every day? Careful, Web. I’m gonna start thinking you’ve got a crush on me.”

“Now, more than ever,” Webster replies, and the sweetness in his voice takes Joe aback.

When Joe looks over, he finds Web standing with his hands in his pockets, silhouetted against the porch light. His expression is open, warm — and his eyes might be glittering a bit too, which, crissakes Web — vulnerable in a way that leaves Joe feeling unmasked.

These are not the sort of feelings Joe knows how to deal with. He shrugs, eager to shake them off.

“Hey, you know, you don’t come back soon and Jane and I might take over this place for ourselves. We’re thinking of putting in a movie theater… indoor swimming pool…” Web is still smiling at him, and it leaves Joe feeling a bit weak. The bravado in his voice slides away, tone gentling. “A few more days, yeah? You saw her. She’s doing great. As soon as those spots scab up, she’s all yours.”

“You’re doing a great job, Joe.” And, because Web can never resist making everything ridiculously sappy, “Thank you.”

Joe shrugs, and has to look away. “Next time you visit, bring a pizza or something, huh?”

“I do have something for you, actually. Jane, uhh — Jane told me to give it to you.”

“Yeah?” Interest piqued, Joe turns back. “What?”

Web isn’t smiling now. He actually looks a little mortified. Sterling himself, he shuffles his feet, clearing his throat. “I — okay, Jane told me, remember, she said I had to —“

“Web.”

At last, Webster cracks. He raises a hand to his lips, and — to Joe’s amazement — blows a massive kiss.

“Thank you,” is all Web says — and he doesn’t get upset, even when Joe almost falls over cackling.

Any time, Web, he thinks, gripping the porch railing for dear life. Any time.

#webgott #david webster #joe liebgott #band of brothers #single dad web au #my writing #Anonymous

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thesethingsofours · 4 years ago

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Nina Simone, Duende & Pastel Blues

Nina Simone’s Pastel Blues is a true embodiment of duende — the rare depth and darkness that impels her work.

Her distinctive warble permeates thousands of movie soundtracks, hip hop samples and advertisements, let alone the countless personal moments by which people demarcate their lives. This omnipresence allows us to forget who Nina Simone was, and the outright value of her music. For the streaming generation, knowledge of such an artist is limited to “top hits”; on some Spotify, Sunday Mood playlist. Or worse, the songs will only wriggle into the brain from various attempts to sell Coca-Cola, Seat Atecas, Renault Clios, Volvo XC90s, Fords, Apple Watches, Chanel №5, Warehouse discount clothes, Virgin Flights, HTC Phones, Jockey underwear and Behr Paint.

Most egregious among these is the Muller Light yoghurt advert, inescapable for anyone sentient in early 2000s UK. It uses her 1968 song I Ain’t Got No, I Got Life, but only the second, I Got Life half; carving it off entirely from its I Ain’t Got No essence. In its truncated form, the song sounds like a free-wheeling celebration of life and limb: Got my hair, got my head / Got my brains, got my ears / Got my eyes, got my nose / Got my mouth, I got my smile. Yet the missing section is a lengthy condemnation of segregated American society, where disenfranchised black people had been given nothing to cling to: Ain’t got no mother, ain’t got no culture / Ain’t got no friends, ain’t got no schoolin’ / Ain’t got no love, ain’t got no name /…Ain’t got no god / Hey, what have I got? / Why am I alive, anyway?

Yes, the song contains positivity in tune and verse, but stripping the darkness from Simone’s work also strips away its incandescent light. It would be like taking Rodin’s Gates of Hell and shrouding everything except the seemingly peaceful thinker at the centre; or cutting the lightbulb from the top of Picasso’s Guernica and presenting it as a bright, merry, representative segment. Or a millionaire DJ taking Martin Luther King’s I Have a Dream Speech and turning it into a dance track during race protests and a global pandemic. But surely not even David Guetta would do that.

The reduction of such a deliberate and profound artist to commercialised snippets is saddening. In Simone’s case this is particularly true because of the highly unusual, powerful darkness that clutches her music. She has something rare. In Spanish, it is known as duende.

Duende

Rooted in Iberian cultures, duende derives from “duen de casa”, meaning “possessor of a house”. Originally the superstition of a dark, goblin-like spirit, it is now the concept of impassioned, death-endorsing, creative invention; typically associated with the performative aspects of Flamenco. In that context, poet and playwright Federico García Lorca describes its contemporary meaning (in his 1933 Buenos Aries lecture, Theory and Play of the Duende), as the “buried spirit of saddened Spain”.

As a guitar maestro explained to him, “the duende is not in the throat: the duende surges up, inside, from the soles of the feet”. Lorca quotes others, one, after listening to Paganini’s violin, identified it as, “a mysterious force that everyone feels and no philosopher has explained”; or another, upon hearing Manuel de Falla perform Nocturno, proposed that, “all that has dark sounds has duende”. In Lorca’s own words:

For every man, every artist called Nietzsche or Cézanne, every step that he climbs in the tower of his perfection is at the expense of the struggle that he undergoes with his duende. Not with an angel, as is often said, nor with his Muse…

…With idea, sound, gesture, the duende delights in struggling freely with the creator on the edge of the pit. Angel and Muse flee, with violin and compasses, and the duende wounds, and in trying to heal that wound that never heals, lies the strangeness, the inventiveness of a man’s work.

Nina Simone embodies duende.

It exists not only within her more explicit protest songs, born of the Civil Rights movement, but is present in everything she did — a ferocity, fragility, sadness and authenticity that claws its way up her throat and flings itself from her open mouth. It’s an otherworldly channelling of something very few can access, but which audiences pray to feel. With music so steeped in darkness, using it to gleefully sell products is a comedy — a joke on the shamelessness naivety of consumers and marketeers — as well as a tragedy.

A Brief History

Born Eunice Kathleen Waymon in 1933 and raised in Jim Crow-era North Carolina, Simone was ambitiously desirous of becoming a concert pianist — an uncommon career path for a young black girl at the time. Despite obtaining the ability to do so, she was instead funnelled into performing a mixture of jazz, gospel, soul and folk. And blues, in every shade. Her voice — ostensibly untrained — was burnished in the fire of necessity: if she wanted to earn money in the clubs, she had to sing as well as play piano. She electrified audiences, but remained persistently dissatisfied with how she was received and perceived:

It’s only normal to want acceptance from one’s own country for one’s gifts God has given you. I’m tired of begging for it. It took me 20 years of playing in clubs, in nightclubs, on the concert stage doing all these records to get a decent, real accurate review of my gifts by the New York Times… It was the first time I had been compared to Maria Callas as a diva. All before that I had been labelled a jazz singer, a blues singer, High Priestess of Soul, which… I am not sure what that is. I have studied piano 18 years! So yes I’m tired. I’m too old to keep asking for love from the industry. (Nina Simone, 1984)

Elevated by activists and aficionados alike, yet shunned by the industry at the height of her popularity after vigorously speaking out for black rights (see: Mississippi Goddam), she evolved as an artist in parallel with the revolution of television; first appearing in grainy monochrome and then in saturated technicolour. In the 12-year period between 1959 and 1971, she released 16 studio albums. In the years that followed, before her death in 2003, she released just four more.

Pastel Blues

These days, the idea of albums is virtually defunct, Drakefied to an incoherent heap of songs occasionally “dropped” like laundry, to be worn or discarded at the listeners behest. But as with other great artists, if the extent of Simone’s depth and duende is to be appreciated, it is essential to listen to her albums — the home of her authorship.

Pastel Blues is a nine track, 36-minute LP, mainly of covers and blues standards. It was released in October 1965, eight months after Malcolm X was assassinated, seven months after Bloody Sunday in Selma, and two months after the Voting Rights Act became law. Arguably, it arrived at the height of the movement. Nina Simone was 32. Just imagine.

Although the title suggests something soft and light, underneath the label, the substance is preternatural. As you listen, watch the image on the cover transform from a gentle gaze into a pointed glare; a stare in stereo. Altogether, it is a marvellous enunciation of Nina Simone’s darkness, with which she writhed in body, mind, and soul to give us some of the most memorable artworks of the 20th century. Pastel Blues gives her duende its due.

Listen to Pastel Blues on Apple Music

Listen to Pastel Blues on Spotify (1965 Live Version)

Listen to Pastel Blues on YouTube

Track-By-Track

Be My Husband

It opens with Be My Husband, featuring lyrics incidentally written by Simone’s own husband (and manager), Andrew Stroud. Slightly off-kilter, echoey, four-beat stamping and clapping, heightened by the tight splash of a high-hat, introduces a languid, yet driving pace. With purity of purpose, Simone’s voice drawls intensely into her opening repeated demand: Be my husband and I’ll be your wife / Love and honour you the rest of your life.

It suggests a woman pleading for the hand of her lover, committing to do all he would expect of a wife: If you want me to cook and sew / Outside of you there is no place to go. In return, she asks him only to curb his wandering eye: Stick the promise man you made me / That you stay away from Rosalie, yeah. This is presumably the intended (somewhat biased) perspective of the lyricist. But the way Simone sings it, with improvised shrieks dropping into deep, bassy groans, something quite different is suggested.

Nina Simone & Andrew Stroud, photographer unknown.

At this point, Simone was four years into an emotionally and physically abusive marriage with Stroud. Knowing this, it has far more resonance to picture her in a kitchen, staring down a boorish, unsatisfactory, and unsatisfying man; stomping on a linoleum floor, and throwing him a powerful, sacred ultimatum — give me what you promised. To imagine it otherwise is to imagine how Ed Sheeran might perform it — with the frivolousness of a millennial wedding on a sunny day in Surrey, and all the stamping, clapping vigour of a gaggle of giggling, inebriated aunts.

Furthermore, Be My Husband is effectively a re-worked chain gang song from the segregated south — a version of Rosie by the Inmates of Parchman Farm Penitentiary recorded in 1947 Mississippi by ethnomusicologist, Alan Lomax (and notoriously sampled by… well, well, well… hello again, David Guetta). The original lyrics ring out: Be my woman, gal, I’ll be your man… Stick to the promise girl that you made me / Won’t got married til’ I go free. Even aside from Simone’s interpretation, its genesis as a song of imprisonment immediately gives it a grimmer tone.

Nobody Knows You When You’re Down and Out

As it bows to track two, Nobody Knows You When You’re Down and Out, the heavy opening of the album is extended. A blues standard written in 1923, it was popularised by Bessie Smith’s 1929 recording and re-introduced to a new audience by Eric Clapton, who performed it throughout his career. Sam Cooke, Otis Reading, Janis Joplin, Bobby Womack, John Lennon, Derek and the Dominos and Duane & Gregg Allman all put their spin on it, with wildly varying degrees of quality, duende and notoriety.

It begins deceptively upbeat: Well once I lived the life of a millionaire / spending my money I didn’t care / Taking my friends out for a mighty good time. Simone’s version is no different as she lightly pads major key piano chords, but what immediately sets her rendition apart is the tremble in her voice. It sounds like she is singing through tears, not least when the song reaches its sobering bridge: Nobody wants you / Nobody needs you.

In Simone’s case, the song became painfully prescient. Following her fall from grace within the music industry, she left for Barbados in 1970, where she had an affair with then Prime Minister, Errol Barrow. Her subsequent divorce from Stroud limited access to her income, which he, as her manager, controlled. Also, due to an arrest warrant for taxes she withheld in protest at the Vietnam War, Simone was unable to return to the US, so ended up first in Liberia, then living across Europe. With little money to live from and few relationships to speak of, for a time, she came to epitomise the song.

End of the Line

The first fully original song on the album, End of the Line is initially carried by another deception of positiveness, this time through its melody; romantic and light despite the lyrics: This is the end of the line / I’ve clearly read every sign / The way you glance at me / Indifferently / And take your hand from mine. Such is the flowing nostalgia of the tune, it is plausible to imagine the same song with all words made positive (e.g. The way you glance at me / So happily / And place your hand in mine).

Divisible into two parts, the first has the feel of Simone sipping a martini in a Rogers & Hammerstein bar (perhaps offering some musical theatrical hope of salvation). The second, however, gives way to resigned sorrow, over a steady, rumba beat. Aside from showcasing Simone’s prodigious classical piano-playing ability — albeit only through twinkling, floral runs — the richness of her vocal tone spills forth, smoothly and lusciously, particularly in the second half. While lyrically it lacks the forcefulness of other tracks, its simplicity opens the door to Simone’s abundant musicality.

Trouble in Mind

Written in 1924, Trouble in Mind is another blues standard, but given its title, after three tracks of despair, it surprisingly brings a degree of levity.

The original lyrics (as sung by Dinah Washington, Janis Joplin, Jerry Lee Lewis, Ella Fitzgerald, Marianne Faithful, Johnny Cash and original recording artist Thelma La Vizzo) are far darker than this version. Typically, the singer, wrestling with the irrepressible demons of their psyche, contemplates suicide by train: I’m gonna lay my head / On some lonesome railroad line / Let the 2:19 train / Ease my troubled mind. Yet on Pastel Blues, it never gets that far.

While refrain of the song always concludes: I won’t be blue always / ‘Cause the sun’s gonna shine in my back door someday, Simone’s version leans more heavily on those lyrics than others’ versions; giving it a more hopeful perspective. She also dresses the music with a quicker, cheerier pace. Furthermore, instead of seeking the certainty and finality of a gruesome suicide, she resolves only that: I’m going down to the river / Gonna get me a rocking chair / If the Lord don’t help me / I’m gonna rock away from here.

Given she was be known to perform the full lyrics on other occasions, it is an interesting choice to uplift them on Pastel Blues. In terms of the album’s full narrative, however, it makes sense to offer a moment of optimism, keeping us on an undulating journey of emotion, rather than wallowing solely in melancholy.

Tell Me More and More and Then Some

The dynamic changes once again in Tell Me More and More and Then Some, as Simone hints towards her unapologetic, simmering, sexuality. Sex is known to have often enthralled her — as she wrote in her diary, “My attitude toward sex was that we should be having it all the time.”

Originally recorded in 1940 by Billie Holiday, Simone tweaks the lyrics to make the titular line more demanding, more desirous: I want more, more and then some. Accompanied by quivering, raunchy harmonica and clanging, insistent piano chords, Simone’s phrasing and emphasis draws lustfulness from the lyrics: You know how I love that stuff / Whisper from now on / To doomsday / But I never no no no no, ooh / I never, no I never, will get enough. It’s an erotic elaboration on Holiday’s already sultry interpretation, loading the request for whispered sweet nothings with a throbbing, sexual overtone.

Chilly Winds Don’t Blow

Chilly Winds Don’t Blow acts as a natural, also largely optimistic companion to Trouble in Mind, making Tell Me More and More and Then Some the bawdy, thick-cut meat between two, forward-looking slices of bread. That said, the song was previously released by Simone as single in 1959, as an even more upbeat spiritual, with denser orchestration and less of her signature vocal style.

On Pastel Blues, however, it is likely sung from a position of matured disappointment towards the unending hostility experienced by black Americans. With a sparser arrangement and greater vocal freedom, the new context is pointedly conveyed: There will be red roses round my door / I’m going where they’ll welcome me for sure, oh baby / Where the chilly winds, they don’t blow. Notably, as her piano rumbles, mimicking the sound of a rolling, cold wind, Simone also refers to her own maturity, as a woman. In this new version, she no longer wants to go where her father waits for her. Instead, it’s her daddy who will be waiting.

Ain’t No Use

Recorded in 1959 by Joe Williams and Count Basie, Ain’t No Use manifested as a break-up song. In that bright, brassy version, Williams croons at the opening: Ain’t no use of hanging round / Ain’t no use I put you down / There’s no love left / In my heart for you. In Simone’s rendition, the subject of the warning is much more ambiguous. When considered alongside Chilly Winds Don’t Blow and the tracks that follow, Simone instead implies a sense of exasperation, perhaps a desire to withdraw from broken American society, or the increasingly hostile music industry. She opens not with fallen love but accusation and fatigue: Ain’t no use baby / I’m leaving the scene / Ain’t no use baby / You’re too doggone mean / Yes I’m tired of paying dues / Having the blues / Hitting bad news.

To this point, Pastel Blues is a solid, often special, blues album, but here it really begins to soar; marking it apart. The underlying anguish of the blues is of course ingrained in the genre, but with Simone, her duende, fraught personal life, and civil rights activism, a dramatic narrative acceleration begins to emerge in the gap between Ain’t No Use and Strange Fruit (and again between Strange Fruit and Sinnerman). Without realising, tracks one to eight have been quietly coaxing you towards the edge of a cliff. The final two rip through you, forcing you over the edge before you can pull back. Amidst the silence between the songs, everything that preceded becomes re-contextualised with a deeper, darker tone. Embrace the fall.

Strange Fruit

The majesty of Strange Fruit is well documented — in 1999, Time named it the best song of the century. It was written by Abel Meeropol — a white, Jewish sometime Communist, and real-life MacGuffin, who intersects with numerous historically important features of 20th century America, but never appears at their forefront.

As a student and then teacher at Dewitt Clinton High School in the Bronx, he crossed paths with a young James Baldwin and numerous other luminaries of American culture. After seeing a photograph of a lynching, he felt compelled to write; originally penning the words as an anti-lynching poem. Published in a teacher’s union publication, it concisely described the horror he had seen through the sinister metaphor of a seemingly innocuous fruit tree. He later set it to music and presented it to Billie Holiday, who recorded her socially and sonically remarkable version in 1937. In 1945, he gave up teaching to become a full-time songwriter under the pen name Lewis Allen (the first names of his two, tragically stillborn sons), most famously writing Frank Sinatra’s Oscar winning, patriotic short film and accompanying song, The House I Live in. Not only that, but in 1953 he adopted the two sons of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg — a Jewish couple famously executed for spying on America for the Soviet Union.

Abel Meeropol with sons Michael and Robert Meeropol in 1954, via Robert Meeropol

As for the song itself, if Holiday’s recording is classical — a regretful, tender jazz lament — Simone’s is something more modern, more openly enraged; a cutting, resonant howl; transcending genre. The arrangement is minimal and masterful at once, with often dissonant piano chords treading like distressed steps through fallen leaves towards the horrifying tree at the agonising conclusion. It climaxes with a literal wail as the end nears: Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck / For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck / For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop / Here is a strange and bitter crop.

Its intensity lent itself perfectly to the sample on Kanye West’s scorching rebuke of destructive celebrity relationships, Blood On the Leaves.

Sinnerman

Simone’s Sinnerman is virtually unrecognisable from the first, folky version recorded by the Les Baxter Orchestra in 1956. Baxter adapted (read: plagiarised) the song from On the Judgement Day, by the Sensational Nightingales, which in turn takes elements from the 1924 No Hiding Place Down Here, by the Old South Quartette. But much like Jeff Buckley’s version of Leonard Cohen’s similarly spiritual Hallelujah, Simone’s version remains, and will forever remain, the definitive iteration; the most copied, covered, celebrated and recognised; never bettered beyond that point.

As her Sinnerman evolves, it reveals the preceding short, eight tracks to have been little more than an (excellent) overture to this — the epic, operatic finale. At ten and a half minutes, it makes up nearly a third of the entire album. Brace yourself.

After the silent gap following Strange Fruit — another inhale between urgent roars — the first few bars are timeless, perhaps some of the most familiar notes ever recorded. Piano keys clamber over one another, skipping like a broken record. A foot taps out a light beat in the background. The percussion joins: a double-time, racing, hi-hat heart rate, yielding only to the occasional heavy, melodious thump of a double bass. Simone enters, Oh, Sinnerman, where you gonna run to? / Sinnerman, where you gonna run to?

After Strange Fruit, the question takes on new meaning. Picture Simone in a deep purple Cadillac Deville n hot pursuit of a fleeing lynch mob; hood down, foot down, brow furrowed, engine roaring, steering on the edge of control. This toying with tumbling gives the song its energy. Like running down a steep slope, with the slightest misstep, all would be lost. As the beats impatiently trip over the piano notes, it feels like it’s constantly accelerating; never settling into a regimented pace.

After erupting into a minute-long call and response of: Power!, Sinnerman changes gear. A jangling, twanging guitar breathes heavily in contemplation of the next charge. The music fades, leaving only intimidating clapping, until the piano returns most wonderfully with a couple of pleasingly apparent (yet well-intended) mistakes; three or four notes missed, misplaced, or hesitated over as the tune searches again for its order among the tumult. When found, it resurges with renewed purpose; Simone audibly hyperventilating in anxious anticipation: So I run to the river, it was boiling / I run to the sea, it was boiling / All on that day. Judgement Day has arrived, and the devil is everywhere.

(Should this masterpiece really ever be used to sell hatchbacks?)

It ends with a pleading prayer, agitated piano chords and chaotic drums: Don’t you know, I need you Lord?, Simone cries. Whether the prayer is answered, we’ll never know, but as the percussion takes over and batters us into a final, frenzied submission, it feels too late.

Exhausted and exhilarated, Pastel Blues is at its end. But within it, Nina Simone’s duende forever persists.

#music #women #art #nina simone #album #race #civil rights #duende #1960s music #jazz #soul

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allyredlover · 4 years ago

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My thoughts about folklore

Cardigan MV: MAGICAL, the water scene? So cool, I love the piano being the lifeline

The 1: piano? I love her,, TAYLOR SAYING SHIT,, chill vibes, lover but like this love kind of, “roaring 20s tossing pennies in the pool” , “if my wishes were true it would’ve been you,,” I love the background vocals, the lyricism are incredible. “The greatest loves of all time are over now” “in my defense I HAVE NONE” background vocals again! Bridge! Persist and resist?

Cardigan: percussion in the back? second part of first verse talking about rep? Levi’s and the iiiiii part? Hand under my sweatshirt?? miss TAYLOR! the BRIDGE, “stars around my scars but now I’m bleeding” the parts about knowing what would happen, the sweetness of nostalgia

The Last Great American Dynasty: tension——the DRUM beat, upbeat? This is a story? Feeling like starlight, who is this about? Is this that mad woman from the later bit? Pool in champagne, like TIWWCHNT! It’s picking up! I kind of really like the chorus, like really really like it. MARVELOUS is my new favorite word I think

Exile: piano! And this is a feature, so chill, like I want to float in a pool with this playing like the feeling of contentment this is giving me.”I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending” the bridge, is so cool and it’s very pretty, Taylor’s voice is so so so pretty in this, very like the chorus after the bridge in Treacherous. “We always walked a very thin line” HAUNTED REFERENCE

My tears ricochet: the background! And it stops! It’s traveling earbud to earbud! Why do I feel like I’m going to cry? “Even on my worst day, did I deserve all the hell you gave me...I loved you...til my dying day” Cold as You who? “Same jewels I have you as you buried me” the word and imagery of this ALBUM “CURSING MY NAME WISHING I STAYED” YES YOU CAN GO WHERE YOU WANT “BUT JUST NOT HOME” OH MY GOD I-“BUT NOW IM SCREAMING AT THE SKY” “YOULL HEAR MY STOLEN LULLABIES” I love this “BATTLESHIPS” AND IT PICKS UP “you had to kill me but it KILLED YOU JUST THE SAME” good god this song is so good like

Mirrorball: please man I need a pick me up,, 70S VIBES FROM THE VOCALS, what is a mirror ball? Ah, thank you Taylor. “Hush, when no one is around my dear” is so pretty “on my tallest tiptoes, spinning my highest heels, love, shining just for you” so pretty the vocals on that part. “I CAN CHANGE EVERYTHING ABOUT ME JUST TO FIT IN” yes taylor you ARE A DISCO BALL GET INTO IT 💃🏼 SHINING JUST FOR YOU is so happy it makes me so happy, this is such like a happy song but like at the same time so freaking sad, so bittersweet

Seven: Aw this is so sweet, ah the snaps in the back is so cute! This is about her childhood! How cute!! “SWEET TEA IN THE SUMMER CROSS YOUR HEART CANT TELL NO OTHER” SLAPS this the second VERSE oh my god I’m gonna cry from that “why your dads always mad...you won’t have to cry” “I love you to the moon and Saturn” 🥺

August: chill and beachy vibes from the lyrics,!! THE CHORUS! AH! LOVE IT! “Cuz it was never mine” “CUZ YOU WERE NEVER MINE” “for me it was ENOUGH TO LIVE FOR THE HOPE OF IT ALL” “CUZ YOU WERE MINE TO LOSE” is so beautiful!! Yes taylor bring back the OUTRO yesss outros make me so damn happy “meet me behind the mall” “cancelling my plans just in case you called” STRINGS IN THE BACK I REPEAT STRINGS IN THE BACK IM SO HAPPY I LOVE ORCHESTRAL THINGS

This is Me Trying: ooooooh I like it so far the beat and instrumentation “but I’m here in your doorway” THAT WAS FROM BEFORE IN THE ALBUM (I’m too tired to remember which song but IT WAS THERE IM NOT SLEEP DEPRIVED) “at least youre trying” sounds HEAVENLY DIVINE IMMACULATE MARVELOUS the movie references! That was a thing! THAT WAS A THING! “At least I’m trying✨”

Illicit Affairs: guitar! Guitar! Taylor! With a guitar! “Ends with meetings in parking lots” “born with just a single glance but it dies and it dies and it dies a million little times” leaving no trace behind? Oooh is she the other woman or something man this is sad

“LOOK AT THIS GODFORSAKEN MESS YOU MADE ME” “LOOK AT THIS IDIOTIC FOOL YOU MADE ME” “and you know damn well for you I would ruin myself” the pain, the anguish, death by a thousand cuts

Invisible String: interesting backing, we’re doing some fun rainbows,, I love how “clues” sounds I want that repeated until my death, ahahahaha Taylor yes reference yourself, SHE SAID I LOOKED LIKE AN AMERICAN SINGER; dive bar? Delicate who? Too many references that this isn’t about her and joe, DEEP BLUE BUT YOU PAINTED ME GOLDEN!

Mad Woman: please tell me this is about the last great American dynasty? Or is it an allusion to the Kanye and the scooter stuff? TAYLOR SAYS FUCK! AH! “And you find something to wrap your noose around” and also the piano? can you tell yet that I like piano? “AND WOMEN LIKE HUNTING WITCHES TOO” omg THIS IS about KANYE AND KIM, IDSB, THIS IS ABOUT KANYE AND KIM. “COUPLE SIDE THINGS” THROW THAT SHADE THROW IT THROW IT THROW IT! MAATHBP but like make it about 2016s snakegate

Epiphany: track 13! SO CHILL, SO CHILL, LOVE THIS, LOVEEEEEE LOVE LOVE LOVE, LOVE LOVE LOVE. The vibes are IMMACULATE, the LYRICS, love it love it LOVE IT. WHAT oh my GOSH this is high key so SAD “DOC I THINK SHES CRASHING” DONT DIE NO ‘only 20 minutes to sleep?’ WHAT DOES IT MEAN? “Watch you bleeding OUT” NO, the background vocals I love this though, good god, HEARTBEAT BACKGROUND MY GOD NO THEYRE GONNA DIE ARENT THEY? It’s fading? Are they dying? Am I reading this wrong? Idc I love it

Betty: this is written with that William guy who doesn’t exist. HARMONICA, folkkkkkkk. “The worst thing that I ever did was what I did to you” HOLY SHOOT, mentioning summer! is this the guy that CHEATED? OH NO THE POOR OTHER GIRL AND POOR BETTY THIS IS SO SAD also the guiTAR! KEY CHANGE KEY CHANGE KEY CHANGE! oh my god the CARDIGAN,

Peace: ooh I’m anxious. THE GUITAR RIFF? Love IT, “If your cascade, ocean wave blues come//All these people think love's for show//But I would die for you in secret” “sit with you in the trenches” GIVE YOU A CHILD? SEE YOUR BROTHER AS MY BROTHER, THIS IS ABOUT TAYLOR AND JOE :))))) “you have a friend in me” vs “it’s nice to have a friend”. She could never give him peace because she’s a celebrity obviously, which is what I think this about

Hoax: last song on standard,, PIANO? LYRICS? I’m literally not even going to list them they’re all beautiful, but the vocals on “Stood on the cliffside screaming, ‘Give me a reason’ Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in” slight of hand? Card sharks playing games? please this is so sad, she sounds so SAD in the BRIDGE god, “but what you did was just as dark”

The Lakes: how do I listen to it? Lmao can’t find it and I’m tired

Wow Taylor outdid herself with the lyrics on this album, absolutely incredible, and the vibe is so chill but like sad and it’s like if Safe and Sound and Lover (the album) had a baby, but like with the sad songs on red, like Sad Beautiful Tragic fits right in here. Anyways I love it to pieces. Good night y’all 💗

#taylornation #taylurking #taylorswift #taylor swift #swifties #folklore

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dregstrash · 6 years ago

Text

in another time, in another place

A/N: This very long one-shot is dedicated to @kestrel-of-herran who basically encouraged me to write a zoyalai fic based on one of our favorite songs of Bastille’s album ( “Another Place” on Doom Days). Also thank her for this ending, cause I definitely was going to leave it at a different mood.

Also, thought I’d mention, this isn’t rated M, but this has a little bit more sex talk than usual for me.

Word Count: 4.8k+

I am bound to you with a tie that we cannot break With a night that we can't replace I'm lost but found with you, in a bed that we'll never make It's a feeling we always chase

There were alternate universes out there. Nikolai was really quite sure of it.

There was a version of himself that was a dashing pirate that only plundered the rich and the dangerous, and gave safety to those who didn’t need any better.

There was a version of himself that was a self satisfied prince who would rule his country with a fair hand, and he would take tours throughout his country where every village opened welcoming arms to him.

There was a version of himself that was a carefree musician.

Or maybe a universe that saw him as a small town librarian.

Or maybe a wizard. Or maybe a dragon slayer. Or just an entire dragon.

There were alternate universes out there, he was almost positive because he refused to believe that the reality he lived in was the only one that existed.

Surely, there was a timeline where he wasn’t trapped in a loveless marriage that his parents had orchestrated for him. In this alternate reality, his wife treated him like a husband instead of a roommate that she held in contempt 99% of time. He would go home after a long day of being in meetings and making sure his company were keeping everything on the ethical side, and he’d see his wife and drop a kiss on her cheek and offer to cook dinner. He would see her smile and he’d try to make her laugh with some stupid joke he came up with. Her laugh would go straight through him and he’d wrap his arms around her waist and feel her warmth sink into his bones. Because that’s what people who were in love did. That’s what people who were happy felt.

He had to hold onto that hope that some version of himself had all those things, because knowing that his life began and ended in the shadows would be testing the limit of his optimism.

As for his current state of existence... he made the best of it.

Like he’s done for most of his life.

When his brother tried to beat him up. He made sure that he knew how to defend himself.

When he found out that his dad may not really be his dad, he laughed through it and was glad that he’d never inherit the receding hairline that was already creeping up on Vasily.

When Ehri didn’t even look his way the night they got married, he respected her space and slept in the guest room of their loft.

When he realized that she expected him to do that for the rest of their lives, he painted the walls a light blue and moved all his clothes into the room’s walk-in closet. He didn’t shut up about it to Ehri, but she wasn’t in the loft often enough to truly get sick of his light griping.

When he came home one day and heard through the thin walls of Ehri’s bedroom that she wasn’t entirely alone...well Nikolai tried to make the best of that too.

There really was no love lost between them. Hell, they hadn’t even consummated the marriage. And he didn’t know her intimately enough to even be hurt by the idea of her sleeping with other people. In all honesty, he almost expected it.

But that didn’t mean that he’d do the same and sleep his way around New York. He may have had his fun in college, and enjoyed exploring just how far his charms took him, but he was a married man. That had to mean something, right?

He wasn’t his mother or his father. He wanted to be better than them-- wanted to prove that he could keep it in his pants and in his marriage. Even if his wife seemed uninterested in doing so.

But then Zoya Nazyalensky came into his life-- or well she stormed through his life. An environmental consultant that was inspecting the land that he was planning to to be a homeless shelter. She was all edges and no give. She was a fire that had no qualms about burning him alive. She was a puzzle piece that he wanted to fit into his life.

He’s not entirely sure how that first time had happened. It had been a late night at the office. He was trying to prolong his departure to his comically empty home, and he had been buried in a new design for a potential boat that could take him far, far away from his life. And it wasn’t until he had heard a knock on his office door that he realized that he wasn’t the only one in the building.

Zoya had been working late in her borrowed office. She had been pouring over the endless reports and field samples, and had come to ask him a question regarding the type of materials he was going to use as foundation.

He had lifted his gaze from his sketch and felt like the air had left his lungs when he caught her gaze. IThey had been dancing around each other for months now.

He’d tease, she’d snap. He’d compliment, she’d roll her eyes. He’d look, and she’d look away.

She’d suggest something, he’d listen. She’d tease him about his soft-heart, he’d call her ruthless. She’d stand firmly on certain practices, and he’d respect it.

Whatever words that were left unsaid during those months seemed like a cosmic force that tugged them closer and closer together, until they arrived in that moment. The dense air, the blazing stare, the first movement.

It all was a blur when their lips collided together. He could only recall impressions and sensations. Teeth pulling on lips. Hands wandering across bodies. Shirts being untucked. Pants being undone. Backs hitting flat surfaces. Moans and grunts a soundtrack to a night that made Nikolai forget his name and the ring on his left hand.

That first time was everything Nikolai wanted. That first time was something that couldn’t happen again.

Zoya could never be truly happy with him-- a man that was tied to another. And Zoya deserved to be happy. So, Nikolai had made some off-hand comment about Zoya’s talents, and she had called him an idiot. They had cleaned up and straightened their clothes, and had tried to part as casually as possible.

But there really was nothing casual about it. Nikolai felt unmade and he had a sneaking suspicion that he’d always be unraveling.

So lie to me tonight and pretend 'til the morning light And imagine that you are mine 'Cause when the sun will rise with the truth coming out your eyes We'll be good in another life

That first time quickly developed into a habit. Because Zoya decided to take more jobs throughout New York. She decided that there was a lot of opportunity in this city, and Nikolai had been one of the only friends she had in a city of millions.

Nikolai would be a bad liar if he even tried to deny the happiness that danced in his chest when she had texted him about her temporary plans.

He had planned to keep it as friends. Anything more would be selfish on his part. She couldn’t be just a vehicle for his sexual frustrations. He wouldn’t let her be. Friends he could do.

But like most of his plans for his life, it failed almost immediately.

Because as much as he tried to fight the attraction that leapt at him every waking moment of his day, he was one unhappily married man against an incredibly formidable woman. It was a fight he was destined to lose.

He had told Zoya about his arrangement with Ehri. It was over coffee and they had somehow gotten into a conversation over lost loves. Zoya had laughed in her very Zoya-way and claimed that it didn’t exist. While Nikolai had smirked and said that it did, it just didn’t exist in his marriage. They had stayed in that coffee shop talking all afternoon until an emergency at his office had him rushing out of there and completely missing the lingering look that lingered in Zoya’s eyes.

The next time they met up it was supposedly to watch a movie.

They both knew it was an excuse.

They both knew that the movie they ended up playing wasn’t going to be watched.

That’s how it was for them. Lies that were passed off as excuses so that they could have a reason to see each other. Some substantial thing to hold onto as they fell into each other’s arms and let the heat of their bodies consume their twin souls.

It was after one of these nights that Nikolai had lain awake. His body was sated and spent, and he rubbed circles on Zoya’s lower back as her head rested against his bare chest. She had been too tired to put on any clothes, and he could feel every inch of her curled into his side, and his fingers trailed over the scars of her back ( “I got them from a stray cat in middle school. A bunch of kids dared me to poke it.” She said as his hand had trailed over every ridge and bump. “Let’s say, I shouldn’t have turned my back on it. I just tell everyone else I slept with I was a tiger wrangler.” Nikolai had laughed as his hand dipped lower. “I’d say it’s the same thing.”).

For once, he seemed to be....happy. Or as close as he could get to it. Because his company was doing well, his parents’ partnership with Ehri’s parents were solid, and he just spent the last two hours exploring every inch Zoya Nazyalensky had to offer. There was a lightness in his chest that had never been there before.

So, of course, it didn’t last because he heard the front door to his loft open and shut softly and the gentle pitter patter of feet that could only mean Ehri had decided to grace their home with her presence. He heard another door open and shut, and he assumed that she was in her room.

It wasn’t until that moment that Nikolai’s situation came crashing back down around him. He was a married man who could offer nothing to the woman who was sleeping contentedly at his side. For all intents and purposes they were fuck buddies. And he didn’t want to be. He wanted to be able to take Zoya out into daylight, and be able to hold her hand without the fear of his parents bringing the hammer down and berating him for jeopardizing a partnership that was funding their need to have five homes and a Fortune 500 company that ran itself. He wanted to be able to have his own feelings and his own life. He didn’t want these stolen moments and casual hook-ups. He wanted a relationship. A relationship with Zoya. He wanted and wanted, but at the end of the day that’s all they were: wants and wishes.

As gently as he could, he pulled away from Zoya and threw on his boxers. There was no way in hell he was going to go outside with the risk of seeing Ehri, but his room did have a balcony.

And that’s where Zoya had found him. Staring at the New York skyline, half-naked, and on the brink of brooding.

“Pining over lost love again?” She said as she stepped up beside him, wrapped in the button-up he had been wearing.

He managed to pull a smirk onto his face, “I don’t pine, Zoya. Though I think even you have to admit that I look damn good brooding in the moonlight.”

She smacked his arm, “Fine, you arrogant ass, then why are you out here?”

Nikolai looked down at her, and the sight of Zoya in his shirt and looking at him with that unwavering focus made his heart flip. There were words he wanted to say to her. There were words that he had been wanting to say for a long time now, but they halted in his throat.

He knew Zoya pretty well now. He knew that commitments and real feelings were topics that held landmines that could blow their strange relationship into ruins. So he swallowed once, and looked back up at the sky.

“Just trying to see if I can read my future in the stars.” He sighed dramatically. “I figure I’d cut the whole psychic bullshit and just do it myself.”

He could feel her skeptical gaze on his skin, and he was glad when she chose to let it go.

“You’re looking for lies, Nikolai.” She said. He felt her head on his shoulder and like a reflex he put his arms around her smaller frame and cocooned her body in his own heat.

“I guess, I am. Do you have any for me, Zo? I could use a good lie.”

By the time she started to speak, his eyes had drifted downwards and into the silhouette of her face.

“I used to have an aunt who was clairvoyant.” She said. “So I think I’m more capable at reading your stars. And what I see is good.”

He snorted, “Really?”

She turned her head slightly, and shot him a shut up kind of look, “Yes. I see that eventually, you and Ehri will get a divorce without risking your parents disinheriting you. Then you’ll meet a woman that you actually love and she’ll love you back. You’ll get married for real and have dozens of children and save the world one building at a time. Then you’ll be happy for the rest of your life.”

His heart clenched at every single word that fell out of her mouth. He resisted every urge in him to correct her. I want you to see that it’s you, Zoya. You’re the one who I want to fall in love with. You’re the one I want to save the world with. You’re the one who could make me happy forever.

But instead, Nikolai laughed and dipped his head down to kiss her temple.

“Ehri leave me? Me, happy? You are a terrible fortune reader. A better one would come up with something actually believable.”

Zoya turned to fully face him, and she smirked, “Fine. Here’s another prediction.” She leaned further into him so that the space between them almost became nonexistent, “I can see you kissing me because whatever is going on in your head is driving you insane. And I can see myself kissing you back because for some reason I can’t get enough of that annoying mouth. And then you’ll lead me back into that much warmer bed, and then you’ll kiss me again and again until I can’t breathe. Do you want me to keep going?”

Nikolai’s blood was practically humming, and as a way of replying he leaned down and pressed his lips sweetly over hers.

The next hours were utter oblivion and bliss. Nikolai let his mind believe with every kiss, each thrust, each languid movement that this could be forever. That when he woke up next to Zoya the next morning her lies would have come true. That he was free from this marital prison, and he could start to entertain the idea of being with her-- maybe even marry her. As Zoya got closer to the edge, so did Nikolai and his mind narrowed down to the lie that there could be an infinite amount of tomorrows with her.

He felt Zoya’s final muffled cry vibrate into his shoulder, and she fell on top of him in a heap while he followed soon after as she placed one last heated kiss into his mouth.

His heart pumped from the exertion and his muscles shook from the pleasure that Zoya coaxed out of him. For the second time that night, Nikolai was sated, but he still couldn’t sleep. So he settled for tucking Zoya back into his side, and watching the sun come up in the horizon. He watched the sky lighten and the lies of the night disappear completely with the rising light.

Feels like something's special but it never felt like love Wonder what we could be living in another life

Nikolai had to hand it to the universe. When it wanted to tear down his life, it was really determined to raze it to the ground.

At their one year anniversary, Ehri announced that she had enough and she didn’t care about the consequences, she served Nikolai divorce papers (that he was all too happy to sign), and he had very graciously helped move her out of the loft they barely shared. Then he had to go and turn out the news.

That’s when he saw that his family was the top story in the business world. Apparently, his brother had committed tax fraud and his father had been caught helping him. Nikolai’s eyes widened as the news anchor listed the allegations that were leveling against his family, but he didn’t quite believe it until he saw the familiar figures of his dad and his brother being handcuffed and led away while his mother held onto a handkerchief looking distraught.

Nikolai wasn’t unintelligent. He knew what this meant for him. Even if he barely talked to his family, this meant that all of his assets were going to be frozen. He was going to get interrogated. His files were going to investigated. He was going to get kicked out of his loft. There were going to be fines to pay, people to deal with, and whatever life Nikolai thought he had was gone.

So, he did the only rational thing that came to mind: he went to Zoya.

Unfortunately, by the time he got to her apartment her apartment was ajar and there were boxes stacked against bare walls.

“I meant to tell you.” Zoya said coming out of the master bedroom, not even looking the slightest bit sorry. His whole body went numb as the puzzle pieces started to complete a horrifying picture. His family was gone. His career was probably near ruin. And Zoya was leaving.

In his unusual silence, Zoya started to talk again, “I have this promotion at our corporate office in California, and it was too good to pass up. I don’t leave until next week, but I needed to start packing up. I was going to tell you today, but then I saw the news and--”

“You didn’t know if I had been arrested too.” Nikolai’s voice sounded so strange to him. It was strained and hollow.

“No,” Zoya protested, a frown pulling at her lips, “I just thought you had enough to deal with--”

She was cut off as Nikolai barked out a laugh, “Since when are you ever considerate?”

He supposed he would have winced if he could feel the muscles in his face.

Zoya’s frown twisted into incredulity, and she crossed her arms in a defensive position, “Hey, don’t take that kind of shit to me. I know you’re probably just freaking out about what’s happening, but don’t start projecting on me. I’m your friend not a therapist.”

“Right,” Nikolai felt a smile on his lips, but there was nothing remotely amusing about this situation. He started to pace and pull at his hair. “ You’re my friend. That’s all you are a friend that I have sex with quite a bit.”

“Exactly.” If it was possible, her voice had turned icier. “Just sex. Granted it was really good sex, but that’s all it was. I thought you knew that, Nikolai.”

This stopped him in his tracks and he felt every muscle in his body tense. He did know that. He knew that from the very first time they had decided to go all the way. But it wasn’t just sex. There were the in-between moments that they shared too. The moments where he’d make her breakfast or bought her coffee or her visits to the office. The in-between space where there were some nights that they did actually just end up watching a movie and she’d fall asleep on his lap and the other nights that they talked about their day. Though, he had tried to keep his heart from the inevitable fall, it had seemed fated for him. He was in love with Zoya Nazyalensky.

“What if it isn’t just sex, Zoya?” He almost whispered the words, but he needed his voice clear. He needed to look more solid than he felt, because this was his last chance to feel whole “What if I--”

“Don’t.” She cut him off sharply with a move of her hand. “Don’t make this into something that it’s not. You were lonely, Nikolai. You were lonely and-- and sexually frustrated. Whatever you think you’re feeling it’s not real.”

“And how would you know that!” He hadn’t meant to yell, but he was losing control of his voice.

“Because I’m not lying to myself!” She yelled back. Her face was distant and closed to him, and he wished for all the world to be able to know what she was really thinking, “Maybe in another life, Nikolai. In another time where I was someone you could actually love, and where you aren’t so- so- vulnerable then maybe it could be a possibility for something else. But right now? You don’t-- you don’t love me. Because I don’t love you.”

Nikolai would look back at this moment, and realize that while Zoya was a good liar there was something about that last sentence that didn’t sound quite right. An untruth buried in her tone. But at this moment, all he could hear was the sound of his entire heart shattering completely. It was a physical pain that tore at his chest when he took one step away from the coldness in Zoya’s eyes. His body flushed with hot then cold. His vision was blurring slightly, and maybe that was the only good thing to come out of this because then he didn’t have to look at her stone-still face.

He didn’t know how he had managed it, but he finally forced his feet to remember how to walk. Just one foot in front of another, that’s all it was one foot in front of another. It didn’t take a lot of brain power, which was just as well because his brain was too busy trying to keep his heart from failing entirely.

In another time And in another place

It took the better part of a year before Nikolai had managed to stitch his life back together.

He had given his testimony in court. He willingly gave up his files from his own development company. He tried to look after his mom. He talked and paid for all the lawyers.

And after all of that, his dad and his brother were charged with tax fraud and corporate espionage and sentenced to fifteen years in prison. The FBI found nothing incriminating in his company and was cleared of any suspicion. His mom had run away to be with Nikolai’s real father who lived in Norway. And by the time the lawyers were all paid, he had just enough to salvage the rest of his money in his company. For all intents and purposes, things were beginning to settle down.

Sure, he was now living in a substantially smaller one-bedroom apartment. He’s had some lean months where food came in the form of fake noodles cooked in boiling water. But he’s at peace. He had taken a new partner in his company, and while David Kotsyk was a little eccentric he was a genius. And it seemed like his wife was the one that carried all the conversation and charm, so he had no qualms about hiring her as their official PR director.

In hindsight, he was almost glad that his half his family was thrown into jail, because it seemed like the universe’s way of giving him a second chance. A way to be a different person. A different life.

As long as he kept his thoughts from straying to a certain dark haired, blue-eyed woman, he’d say that he was content.

By the time Summer rolled around, Nikolai’s company was back on the upswing. He was able to buy more buildings in some of the rougher areas in New York and cut a deal with the state that let him rent out the new buildings that were adjusted to the income of the average citizens that lived in the area. He hoped this way, it stopped potential gentrification and let the locals try to live away from the more run down apartment buildings.

Their annual barbecue was in full force, and Nikolai was sure that Tolya was drink away from standing on a table and performing Shakespeare. Which would have beat his last year’s announcement that he was going to run away and audition to be Hollywood’s first Asian Hamlet.

“Nikolai!” Genya’s voice cut through the crowd, and he smiled as he caught sight of his friend holding up two beers in triumph. He didn’t know how his favorite drinks were always the first ones to disappear, but he was sure it was some kind of conspiracy.

“You’re a hero, Gen.” He said as he toasted her.

She laughed, “Do tell that to David, will you? I think he lost the list of compliments I had given him, and he seems utterly at a loss for words.”

Nikolai grinned as he spotted his other friend reading under the shade of the only tree planted in this saintsforsaken park.

“That doesn’t seem too out of--” Whatever quip Nikolai was about to say stuttered to a complete stop when he caught the sight of a familiar figure walking regally towards him and Genya.

This must be some heat induced hallucination. Or one of his employees had fed him an edible. Or he was dreaming. Because there was no way that Zoya was here. At this moment, looking like she’d rather be somewhere else.

“Zo!” Genya waved excitedly at her, and Nikolai felt his mind split into different levels of shock. Genya knew Zoya? Zoya knew Genya? Zoya was here?

When Zoya reached them, she paid Nikolai no mind, and crossed her arms, “Tell me again why you insisted I be here?”

“Hello to you, too.” Genya sighed. “Like I told you, it’s good to have more than me and David as friends since you’re moving into the city permanently. Anyway, have you met Nikolai? He’s--”

“I’ve had the pleasure.” Zoya’s laser gaze finally landed on him, and despite the utter swirl of confusion that raged inside his chest, Nikolai still managed to pull out a smirk and give a half bow.

“Oh believe me, the pleasure was all mine.”

Zoya was as impassive as always, but it only made him grin a little more. Even if after all this time, he missed her.

Genya coughed beside them, and made a weak excuse to leave the loaded silence that sparked between her friends.

After a few more beats, Nikolai stuffed his hands into his pockets and offered a friendly smile, “So you’re moving back, huh?”

She sighed and then shrugged, “Got promoted again. They made me the Eastern Regional Director, and it’s pretty permanent.”

“Congratulations, Nazyalensky.” Nikolai exclaimed a warm pride filling his heart, “Though I wonder why you didn’t think to tell me?”

Zoya scoffed, “I don’t owe you life updates, Lantsov.”

“Fair enough, but like our dear friend suggested, it’s good to have a friend in the city.”

“Friends?” There was no mistaking the scorn in her voice, “Last time I checked, we weren’t friends.”

That horrible day when Nikolai’s life fell apart replayed quickly in his mind, but he forced it away. That was then. This was now. The course of his life changed because he had the courage to keep going. This magnetic pull towards Zoya was no different.

He boldly took a step closer to her and was relieved that she didn’t move away. Instead, she just continued to stare at him.

“That may be true, but I also remember that the last time we talked you also had said that in another time we could be more than friends.” He spread his arms out to the change of weather and the shining sun, “Given that this is a completely different time, is that true too?”

Zoya held his gaze for a long time, and Nikolai waited patiently under her scrutiny. She had haunted too many of his dreams in the last year. She was the biggest what if of his life. Now that she was standing less than a foot away, he’d wait for an answer even if he had to wait another lifetime.

Without breaking eye contact, she grabbed the beer from his hands and brought it up to her lips. After taking a pull, she glanced out at the party and said, “Ask me out properly this time, Nikolai, and we’ll take it from there.”

#zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lanstov #nikolai x zoya #king of scars #kos #zoyalai modern au

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harmony-redgrave · 5 years ago

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Tangled au.

Yeah you read that right. Based on the Disney movie Tangled about Rapunzel. This is gonna be a long read so be prepared. I’ve already talked a little about this with some other people now that my thoughts are a bit more in order, I want to share it with the rest of you.

My original idea for this au was for it to be about Trish and Lady because they do NOT get enough love. Most minor characters such as the goons and the patrons of the ‘Ugly Duckling’ can be completely up to you. (Okay technically the main cast can have whatever roles you want but the premise stays the same)

So for our main cast we have:

Trish as Rapunzel

Lady as Flynn/Eugene

Mundus as Gothel

Sparda and Eva as the King and Queen.

Dante and Vergil for this specific version are the twin princes and are Trish’s older brothers.

Nero, Credo and Kyrie do not have roles as, again just in this specific version, they don’t exist yet. As the ages would be set about the same as dmc 3.

Onto plot! Now for the most part this plays out damn near EXACTLY as the original movie. Eva is sick while pregnant and is given a magic flower/soup to heal her thus giving Trish the powers of the flower. Mundus kidnaps Trish as a baby to have the power for himself and raises his “daughter” to be afraid of the outside world. The royal family grieves for their missing princess and hopes one day she will come home.

Skip to 17 years later, Lady steals the crown for one reason or another with some goons. She tricks the goons and runs off on her own and stumbles upon the tower. Thinking it a safe place to lay low for a bit, she climbs and is promptly knocked out by a very long haired Trish. Trish who has spent her whole life in the tower, ties up this intruder and demands to be taken to see the lanterns in person as she has watched them for her whole life. In exchange for getting back the crown. (Perhaps have a tiny version of Griffon or Shadow as Trish’s animal companion idk)

Then they’re off. Mundus is out getting the stuff for Trish’s bday present so he won’t be back for a while. The “Ugly Duckling” scene is the same. And Lady and Trish narrowly evade the knights who are looking for Lady. And the goons, also looking for Lady. And they get trapped in the cave filling with water. Lady reveals that her name is actually Mary and Trish tells of her magic hair.

They survive! And the story about how they got into their respective situations. Mundus shows up to Trish to plant doubt about Lady in her. Then disappears. The two make it to the kingdom and spend the day in town. Dante, also happens to be out and about at this time and spots them walking around. Lady sees him trying to follow, but thinks he’s after her, ya know what with having a criminal record and all. So she directs Trish through the crowd and eventually loses him. Dante then returns to the castle to tell his twin what he’s seen.

“Are you certain? She’d be a grown woman by now.”

“Dude how else would you explain someone with our hair and looks EXACTLY like mom?”

Vergil, who is in charge of the royal guard, then tells the knights to keep a sharp eye for someone with that description.

Afterwords it’s to the boat to have the best view of the lanterns. Sparda and Eva light the first one, Dante and Vergil doing the second before the rest of the kingdom joins in. Lady and Trish do theirs, confess their feelings and everything is happy! Until, Lady spies the goons on a nearby shore. She wants to get this over with so that they won’t bother her anymore. So she tells Trish to wait in the boat til she gets back. But she’s not coming back because the goons knocked her out and tied her to a boat with the crown headed to the kingdom. Mundus tells Trish that Lady betrayed her. At first Trish doesn’t believe it but as Mundus presses it, she becomes heartbroken. Mundus takes her back to the tower but not long after, Trish has her revelation about being the missing princess.

Cut back to Lady, now awake in prison. The guards begin to take her to the twins to be interrogated for the whereabouts of their missing sister. But upon spying the goons in a cell Lady gets pissed. She wants to know what they’ve done with Trish. And is wrestled back by the guards after its revealed that Trish’s “father” hired them. Lady gets broken out by the guys from the “Ugly Duckling” and heads straight to the tower where she found Trish.

Upon arriving inside she is stabbed by Mundus and spots Trish tied up and gagged. Trish begs Mundus to let her heal Lady in exchange for her obedience. Mundus agrees agrees and lets Trish go to her. Lady cuts off Trish’s hair which was made white by the magic, now turns blond like her mother’s hair. Mundus dies from rapid aging and falling out the tower. Lady dies from her wound but Trish is able to bring her back with the last bit of magic she had. Happy times are back! “Did I ever tell you that I had a thing for blonds?” Because I will not let that line be left out.

Lady brings Trish back to the kingdom and meets the twins at the edge of town about to embark on a search party. Hugs are exchanged. The twins insist on escorting Trish back to the castle to see their parents, and Trish insists on keeping Lady by her side. Vergil yields to this but says he will be keeping a close eye on her. (Criminal records! Gotta love ‘em) Sparda and Eva are ecstatic to have Trish back and are willing to pardon Lady at their daughter’s behest.

And so everyone is happy! Trish and Lady eventually get married, Vergil has his woman in red and together they have Nero. Dante is just happy his twin no long has a stick up his ass. (He’s also incredibly happy for Lady and Trish, but he teases the hell out of them.) The End!

Again you can change any character details but the main plot idea is basically what I wanted to get out.

#devil may cry #au #this took me two hours to write #harmony rambles #dmc lady #dmc trish

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