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lovehypegirl · 8 months ago

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ִֶָ ⊹ ִֶָ INFRUNAMI

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"GIRL, YOU'RE THE ONE I WANT" "YOU'RE THE ONE I NEED"

pairing: miyuki x f! reader synopsis: you're miyuki's girlfriend from new york city, a former baseball player, and a manager for seidou notes: kinda connects to REAL HOT GIRL SHIT. and yes, I'm from the city warnings: i would say none but y/n talks about nyc's crime so thats the warning. nyc. all the cute kissy stuff is toward the end wc: 0.6k

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infrunami reminds me of him. as well as blame by bryson tiller and family affair by mary j. blige but oh well

you began to date at the end of your first year

tbh he might have been a little intimidated by you since you're an American and the Japanese are known for their etiquette and decorum and the US is known for well...guns (and expensive health care)

his mental stereotypes kinda went away when he realized you weren't going to whip out a glock 19 whenever you got mad

he did admire how you always spoke your mind even if it meant you ending up saying the national anthem in English to prove your patriotism. you can take a man out of America but you can't take the America out of a man (i deadass do this like i've got that shit memorized down PAT)

"for the land of the freeeeeeeeee....and the home of the...braveeeeeeeeeee" you concluded your serenade of Star Spangled Banner as you two sat in his dorm

"kinda impressive that you know that by heart" Miyuki mused

"go to enough sports events and sit through enough graduations and you'll get the hang of it"

he's probably asked you a bunch of questions about what growing up in nyc was like

he was confused when you said your parents let you ride on the subway with friends at age 11 (you had said the subway was dangerous like 14 seconds ago)

he was mortified when you said you saw 2 girls get stabbed in Grand Central Station while you were eating your food in the Dining Concourse (real life events)

but he still doesn't really understand why people are so rowdy during baseball games and why you hate it that Japanese baseball games are quiet

"You're saying people get drunk at baseball games?" he asked you one night during an evening jog "Yeah, and it won't even be four pm yet and the guy next to you is fucking buzzed. Some get drunk even before they get to the stadium" "Why do people get drunk at games?" "Cause it's a sports game. people get drunk at all kinds of games. probably makes the experience better. Not that I've got experience" "Wouldn't that distract the players if the stadium was loud?" he asked as you rounded a bend in the track "Not really. when I was on the mound and everyone was cheering after I shut the opposing team out, three up three down, it's kinda uplifting. like an adrenaline rush almost. like you've got hundreds of people in the stadium and around the country watching you play so well and be proud of you. it's the American spirit" you huffed with a grin "What if a player gets booed at?" he asked, facing you slightly "hmm, well if hundreds are booing you, that's worse than your coach screaming at you in the parking lot" you shrugged and handed him his water bottle as you two took a break by the benches "I think I'd prefer getting booed at than Coach Kataoka screaming at me in the parking lot" he said, accepting the water bottle you handed to him "See? You do get it. Although I do prefer baseball games in the states tho, 'cause security won't come up to you and take the homer you caught" "You know there's a section you can sit at to catch homers and foul balls?" "Yeah but I ain't payin' an extra like, 20% to catch a goddamn ball" "Fair enough"

PLEASEEE PUT HIM ONTO WESTERN MUSICCCCC OH MY GODDDD

I think he'd like TYLER, THE CREATOR and KENDRICK LAMAR for runs/light workout (he's kinda invested in the kendrick vs drake saga)

Even the THE NEIGHBORHOOD he would like, along with STEVE LACY for anytime of the day

BOSSA NOVA, HOUSE MUSIC, and JAZZ while he reviews baseball scorebooks and you do your homework, your legs in his lap and you're trying with every cell in your body to not rip apart your homework 'cause trig makes no sense

And you guys watch MLB highlights together (cause he might join the MLB after college)

He really likes it when you are at his games (you go anyways ‘cause you’re the manager) but he just likes it when you watch him and when you smile at him when he walks into the dugout from your desk where you're scoring the games He gives your hand a little squeeze when he passes you, a quick kiss on your neck after you help him with his catchers gear, or a kiss to your cheek when you help him with his batter helmet

He always wants to know about what nyc was like for you and what baseball was like for you

Sometimes you both go out to the fields after practice in the evenings and you give him pointers on batting (not that he needs it) but you teach him what you've learned from the states

Or in the evenings when the sunset is pretty and the weather is perfect and there's a warm breeze you're on a field and he's practicing his swings and you've got your legs up on the fence with your back on the grass with this playlist playing in the background (pink & white ESPECIALLY GODDD)

He's probably more quality time based but add quality time and mix it with making something together to swap for a gift giving aspect and it's perfect

Take him to a make and paint your own pottery studio and I think he'll love it a lot

You're both sitting at a table together while you focus on a rectangular box (for him to keep the new MLB cards you'll be gifting him for his birthday) and he's sitting across from you, expertly shaping a bowl

He's oddly good at this (he watched videos on it after you brought it up)

In the end, he got a navy blue box with baseballs painted on it and you got a pink bowl with strawberries and little while flowers scattered around on it (I made a bowl like this today!!)

This one is kinda broad but let's say on off-season, students have their break and you take him to nyc (this happened in character ai last year erm...I HAVEN'T TOUCHED THE APP IN MONTHSSS)

I think he'd like the city though (probably SoHo)

And you guys go to central park and watch the little league games and he's got this super stupid grin on his face 'cause that used to be him

"What're you grinning about?" you ask him as you two leaned on the fence. Parents of the little kids stood around you, cheering their little baseball players on "I dunno, but feels like I'm watching myself when I was little" "AWWW I bet little Kazuya was so cute!" You grinned as you poked his cheek "Quiet" He playfully shoved your finger away "You know, I'll tell you what, that's gonna be a little Kazuya and y/n in the future" he pointed to the little girl playing as a catcher who turned to look at her parents with a sweet sweet grin after she had caught the ball "You bitchhhhh! Stop changin' the damn subject!!" You burst out at him in embarrassment and he cackled at your red cheeks "If there's gonna be a little us than it's gonna be a little girl" you said after you calmed down "A little girl sounds nice..." Miyuki mused

Take him to a Yankees game and he'll get shock from the sheer volume and you screaming in his ear as you and the other people in the stands dance to YMCA dance after the seventh inning during the field refresh

(Make sure you bring him to a Mets game so he knows the Yankees are better)

Your chest is practically puffing with pride as the stadium sings the Star Spangled Banner before the game beings with your Yankees cap over your chest. Nothing is better than patriotism. And Miyuki knows the lyrics cause you've sung it so many times (I have an issue where I'll randomly sing it. When I graduated eighth grade, my homeroom teacher practically drilled it into our heads so it's stuck there forever)

I think he'd appreciate Japan Village in Industry City. A little slice of home in a foreign land. So make sure to take him there

You hit up all the tourist spots with him starting with The Edge (he'd be kinda freaked out by the glass floor section in the center)

"C'mon you'll be fine" you beckoned him over to the small triangle glass section of the huge balcony rising 1,131 feet from the ground "Nuh uh that does NOT look safe" he refused, a few feet away from you "You'll be fine I'll hold your hand. Plus you can take a picture and send it to Kuramochi to boast or whatever. You seriously can't beat this one" "....Fine" he slowly walked over and held your hand as you took a picture of your feet standing on the glass with the view of the city streets 1,131 feet below you

You take him to One World Trade, Empire State, Rockefeller, The MET (he'd like this one), The High Line, Grand Central (which you end up going through anyways to see the Yanks)

Take him to Brooklyn Bridge park in the evening for a picnic or to Roosevelt Island for biking and food trucks

For Godssakes bring him to the Botanical Gardens in Brooklyn while you're hitting up Dumbo and heading up the borough

Anyways

On his side, I think he'd enjoy introducing you into Japanese culture. He'd bring you to festivals and teach you what to do at shrines

He cooks Japanese food for you so you're able to adjust your palate to it

HE COOKS FOR YOU

If there's a food from home that you're missing and can't get in Japan, he'd find the recipe and cook it for you. Now you can only eat his food cause nothing else tastes as good (he secretly enjoys that)

During break he'll take you around Japan and visit all kinda of places with you during the winter up to the northren parts of Japan or Okinawa during the summer

I think that he enjoys it when you watch him practice baseball LAWRDD

You do the tiktok trend with the lipstick kisses all over his face and he refuses to wash them off until baseball practice begins

AND AND he goes with you to makeup stores and let's you test lip products on his hand

STHAPPP when he hugs you he runs his hand up and down your back and since he wears like sweatshirts n shit, his hugs are probably really comfy too nd he kisses the top of your head

Either his kisses are short and quick or slow and soft and for someone who's never been in a relationship he sure knows how to kiss

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#hypegirlwhispers #hypegirl: ace of diamond #ace of the diamond #ace of diamond #ace of the diamond x reader #ace of diamond x reader #miyuki kazuya #miyuki kazuya x reader

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autisticlancemcclain · 2 years ago

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“Al-righty.” Shiro hums merrily to himself as he puts the car in park and holds the keys out to Keith. “Here we go.”

Keith stares at them. Shiro’s hand remains where it is, keys dangling from the key ring around his finger. His expectant look leaves Keith at a total loss.

“Did you drive me out here to murder me?” Keith asks eventually, finally breaking the building silence. He looks pointedly out the windshield, where all that is visible for miles and miles is the desert.

Shiro snorts. “Yep. You ate the last ramen pack one too many times. Time to meet your end.” He reaches over with his other hand and grabs one of Keith’s, gently prying his fist open and placing the keys into them. “No, I’m not here to murder you, doofus. That would be a horrible idea. I don’t have an alibi.”

Keith refuses to laugh at that. It’s not funny and also Keith has been warned about letting Shiro think he’s funny. It can only lead to more dad jokes, or worse. “These are your car keys,” he says, gingerly holding the objects in question.

“Yes,” Shiro says.

“Context clues imply that you are asking me to drive your car.”

“Mhm.”

“I am thirteen years of age.”

“Yep.”

“We met, famously, because I stole your car. This very car, in fact. And crashed it.”

“Correct.”

Keith blinks slowly at him. His amused expression does not shift. Keith’s not sure how else to spell things out for him, so he just shrugs. He’s not about to say no to getting a chance to drive. How many other thirteen year olds can say that a legal, licensed adult took them out to drive?

“Okay.”

He steps out of the car, Shiro quickly vacating his own seat as well. He stands outside the driver’s side as Keith settles back in behind the wheel, leaning his torso through the open window.

“Okay,” he starts, voice taking on the same instructional quality he uses to lecture. “First step: seatbelt. You know this.”

Keith dutifully buckles himself in.

“Excellent. Now you can adjust your seat — levers on the underside there, yeah. You want to be able to easily touch the pedals, but when you fully straighten your arms, they should only go to the steering wheel. You’re a little too close.” He reaches down and guides Keith’s hand along the lever, helping him push the seat back slightly. “There, perfect. See you you can reach everything, but you have lots of space to move? That’s perfect. Fix your posture, though.”

“Does that help with visibility?” Keith questions, figuring a straight back will make it easier to see over the wheel.

“Nah, I just don’t like it when you slouch. Moving on.”

Shiro quickly runs through the rest of the set up with him — adjusting his mirrors, making sure he knows where all levers and signals are, testing the brake lights. Once he’s satisfied that Keith has a general idea where everything is, he jogs over to the passenger seat and climbs in.

“Okee dokee,” he says as he flicks through radio stations so fast you can barely even hear the first couple notes. He pauses after a moment, eyes flicking to Keith, then clicks back a couple stations, finally settling on a country station playing an old Johnny Cash song. “Start the engine.”

Keith does. The old car sputters for a second, then roars to life.

“Good! Drive!”

Keith looks at him in alarm. “What? Just — go?”

Shiro grins, wide and cheeky. “Go!”

Keith doesn’t need anymore encouragement. He steps on the gas, and the car careens forward at top speeds, shooting a cloud of red dust behind them. Shiro whoops, turning the song up louder.

The wind blows loud and fast through the open windows, competing with the blasting music and whipping Keith’s hair all around his face. He gets sand in his eyes more times than he can count, but he doesn’t dare take his hands off the wheel, just blinks it away as fast as he can. He watches the speedometer climb past forty, fifty, sixty, and his belly swoops every time they ricochet up a hole and go careening back down. Every so often Shiro calls out instructions — “Look at your mirrors and your blind spot before you make turns! Foot off the gas for the first half of the turn, then accelerate through the end of it! Don’t cross your arms over the wheel! Listen to the car so you know when to shift gears!” — sometimes a little too late. Keith stalls the car more than once. He also, at one point, swerves to avoid a cactus that seems to appear out of nowhere.

But Shiro never asks him to stop. Never has him pull over, never screams at him for messing up, never chides him about his speed (which, he might add, is entirely reasonable). He only grips the ceiling handle and cheers Keith on, whooping every time they hit a bump. He only calls out words of encouragement, smiling big and proud, cheering Keith on til he’s smiling just as wide.

For the first time since he lost his Pa, Keith feels like someone wants to see him happy.

#i love the broganes so so much and especially prekerb #this is in a specific universe of mine also i just don’t have a name for it #vld #voltron #keith #keith kogane #shiro #takashi shirogane #broganes #kid keith #young keith #young shiro #big brother shiro #fluff #humour #my writing #fic fragment

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nero-vanderwolf · 1 year ago

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3 times Yosuke feels he doesn’t belong and 1 time he knows he does

Yosuke is 12 and living in Tatsumi Port when he realises. It hits him like a punch to the gut, except he thinks a punch would be better in this scenario.

He realises that he doesn’t belong in this group, all rich and snobbish and definitely shunning him. None of them spare even a second glance as he slinks away, resolving to find the nearest pay phone that’d be still operating at this time of night.

Eventually he makes a collect call to his mom begging for her forgiveness and quickly explaining that he’d lost track of time before catching the last monorail to the station by his house. His “friends” don’t call. They don’t ask where he’d gone at school the next day. They don’t care, and Yosuke knows. So he stops caring about them.

2. Yosuke is 14 and tired. He’s stopped attending school, too busy preparing to move to a whole new place halfway across the country. Inaba, his mom told him. He’s too tired to put up a fuss about moving.

His “friends” from school still don’t call. They don’t drop by to offer help with packing. They don’t talk to him when they see him around town.

His “friends” aren’t really his friends. He knows this. But that doesn’t stop it from stinging any less. He can’t count how many things he told them, how many secrets he’d whispered in the darkness of sleepovers, unaware that he was the only one really saying anything.

But they also held him when he cried, they listened when he ranted about his dad, they stopped him from punching things when he became angry.

Silver lining, Yosuke supposes.

3. Yosuke is 15, and still tired. If anything, it seems to have gotten worse. His bones ache when he moves, his eyes feel heavy with a lead weight he doesn’t remember attaching to them. But his heart has been encased in concrete.

Chie and Yukiko are nice, absolutely. But he doesn’t mesh with them like they mesh with each other. Because having lived here in Inaba for about a year now, he’s still the school’s exotic attraction. A city boy in a backwaters high school, with slender, gangly limbs and a face that he’d heard other boys describe as “girlish.”

It’s unfair, really, how some people can blend so well with everyone, while he can barely blend with himself. Music is his only comfort, as pathetic as that is. The blaring from his headphones helps him turn his attention away from what’s bad in his life, and focus on what’s good. Like Chie and Yukiko not constantly making fun of him for how he looks.

There are good and bad aspects about everywhere, Yosuke has figured out. Chie and Yukiko are good aspects, definitely.

Yosuke is 17 and living in Inaba when he realises. It hits him like a punch to the gut, except he thinks a punch would be better in this scenario.

He walks in a field outside Inaba, shoes discarded behind a bush by the roadside. The sky above a deep, dark blue, with black clouds rolling by lazily. A cool breeze drifts by in the warm air, carrying the sweet scent of summer and ruffling his hair.

Beside him walks Yu Narukami, his partner and best friend. It’s been a year since the Inaba murders were solved, by them no less, and now Yu is back, and Yosuke feels gobsmacked by how much his partner has changed.

Yu is taller now, the baby fat in his cheeks burned away to make way for handsome features. He’s taller now- Yosuke has to look up to see that Yu’s grey eyes are darker now, more stormy than steely, and his hair has grown out a bit, though it remains the soft grey it was last year. Yosuke finds that the urge to card his fingers through it has only gotten stronger as time passed.

“Yosuke. What would you say...” Yu begins, turning his head to look at Yosuke. They both stop walking. The sky turns even darker, and Yosuke breathes in the sweet air, listens to the cicadas in his ear.

“If I told you that my parents are letting me stay in Inaba for this school year, too?”

Yosuke feels like he’s been punched in the gut twice. Once because his best friend is staying here again, his best friend will be within arm’s reach once again.

Twice because Yosuke realises he likes Yu as more than just a best friend.

It’s a terrifying realisation. But it’s one he welcomes. He knows where his place in the world is. He’s known it ever since Yu placed himself in their lives, made himself comfortable in the spaces of their hearts and made residency in Yosuke’s head, whispering soft things that make way for yearning that makes his entire body ache.

His place is at Yu’s side, so that’s where he places himself. Hugs his partner so tight he hears bones popping into place, slots himself comfortably in the space between Yu’s arm and side, resting his head on Yu’s shoulder. The fabric of his shirt is soft and comfortable, and Yosuke makes a mental note to steal it from his partner the next time he spends the night.

“I’d welcome you home, partner.”

god where do I even start with this. yosuke is my beloved creature and this is just so delicious. love the detail that yosuke migh be from tatsumi port island. yosuke feels like an outcast his whole life, no real friends, no one to care about him until he meets yu. yu just brings the group together, makes yosuke feel seen, like he's important. they're partners, not just friends. yu makes him feel seen for the first time in his life and that means so much to him. yu means everything to him and he just wants to be by his side forever. loving each other. yosuke finally getting the love he deserves.

#i love this one so much actually #nero answers #shackle-foes #souyo #yosuke hanamura #yu narukami #souji seta #persona 4 #p4

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joshsindigostreak · 1 year ago

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I See Hell in Your Eyes

Chapter Two

“Does the deer forgive the wolf?”

Josh Kiszka x Vampire!Reader

Warnings: None other than descriptions of blood.

Word Count: 3504

You hobbled through alleys and back streets for what seemed like hours, desperate to get to your destination without being seen, or worse, stumbling upon a human and doing something stupid. Your wrists were still burning, bleeding, and locked together because of those stupid fucking silver handcuffs that asshole shackled you with. As you twisted your way through the city, your mind was reeling with theories as to how that man was able to resist your Persuasion like that. It was unheard of! In the three centuries you had been alive you had never seen a human of all things resist that. Humans by nature were so gullible and easily persuaded to do anything that it was hardly even considered a “power” by other creatures. But he not only resisted it, he completely fooled you into thinking it was working. Arguably this was much worse, a fucking human getting the best of you? He needed to be dead. You needed to bleed him dry, watch the light slowly leave those pretty brown eyes of his, and leave him behind in some alley while you get on with your life.

Turning a corner, you finally spot the heavy metal door you had been walking towards all night. It was very nondescript, blending into the alley wall it was stationed in. With the last bit of strength you had, you start kicking the metal hoping the occupant on the other side would hear you and let you in. Your hands were too sore to knock properly, your fingers curled into your palms in defeat from the sterling silver of the cuffs.

You kept kicking the door, getting more and more forceful the longer you went without a response. Finally, you could hear slow footsteps on the other side, a familiar grumbling voice complaining on its way to the door, before dramatically sliding it open and flooding the alley with light.

“Alright, alright, calm the fuck down-” a thick New York accent greets your ears and older, crinkly blue eyes took in your appearance and looked you up and down, immediately spotting the cuffs and blistering wrists, “Ah shit come inside, love.” He was probably one of your favorite faces, but you wouldn’t admit it. He went simply by “Les”, no last name, and never elaborated on what it was short for. He was one of the most prolific arms dealers this side of the country. He was human…as far as you could tell, but you always suspected he was a lot older than he said. Les had bailed you out a few times after you pissed off the wrong creatures, and here you were again, needing his help.

You gave him a half smile as he stood aside for you to come in and swiftly slammed the door shut behind you. Your ears were met with familiar Italian opera music playing on a record player in one of the other rooms. Various weapons he had collected over the decades lined the walls, with a few taken apart sitting on his work bench in the center of the room. You made your way over to the bench, sitting on a vacant stool and hauling your mangled wrists onto the surface of the workbench, wincing as the cuffs dug deeper into your skin and making the most unpleasant sizzling sounds.

Les sat on a stool next to you, immediately dragging over a tool kit to start picking at the locks. “Now what have you done this time?”

You start rattling off details of your night, how you just wanted to go out and have a nice meal in peace, running into…him, and how he blind sided you in the alley behind the bar. Les nodded along while working at the locks, you noticed he was being extra careful to not break them, which started to annoy you, “Can’t you just cut them off?”

“And damage sterling silver cuffs like these? Hell no. That's more work for me to fix later, these have more value than you think.” Of course, business always came first. You slouched in a petulant matter, sighing in relief as one of the cuffs popped open, freeing one of your hands. Les started in on the second one immediately as you shook out your free hand, letting the skin heal and close up.

Les looked up at you curiously, “now what do you mean he wasn’t affected by your Persuasion at all?”

“It didn’t even phase him! He just kept going on his little ‘I hate your kind you will pay for existing’ spiel and trying to say I was behind a bunch of bodies being left all over the city? I never leave bodies behind!” Les narrowed his eyes at you, “I mean, not in a long time!” The second cuff popped off your wrist, and you were finally free from the blasted things. You shook out your hands as your wrists healed, relief flooding your body as the wounds closed. Your skin healed quickly, but it still left you in your original predicament of being hungry.

Les scooped up his tools and slid the cuffs off to the side, “Now…don’t quote me on this but I’ve heard that some hunters have gotten their hands on some sort of magic to protect themselves from your kind.”

“What kind of magic would do that?”

“Sigils mostly, witches are all about their sigils as you know,” he said with a slight eye roll. “But those hunter families, you know the ones who are born into it? Where their whole family line consists of hunters blah blah blah, they typically have a few witches to help them out for their…line of work. It's honestly a little hypocritical to me, using witches to hunt other supernatural creatures, but you know how hunters are, they’re not exactly ethical, even if they think otherwise.”

You inwardly groaned at the idea you ran into one of those bloodline hunters. You didn’t cross paths with them often, the last time had been a few decades ago when one of them had ended up in actual Vampire territory, way too confident for their own good. They didn’t make it out alive. You recalled their skull was used as a trophy, and a warning, for quite some time.

“There aren’t very many of those families left anyway. The Turners were wiped out back in the 60s, the McGavins haven’t been in the country in years, last I heard they were hiding out in Canada. I remember some French family that stupidly thought they had cleaned out most of Paris but found out the hard way that they had not.” you counted on your fingers as you tried to remember the fates of the hunter families, your eyes trailing off lost in thought.

Les nodded as he crossed his arms, “...have you heard of the Kiszkas?”

Oh no. Oh god no. Not them. You had heard stories, even lost some friends to those fuckers. They were a long line of hunters, from “the old country” as it were. You had kept your distance from them, they mainly kept to themselves on the western side of the country. There were rumors about how ruthless the newest generation was, and how there was an alleged set of twins that were particularly nasty.

“They haven’t been this far east in a long time. No…it couldn’t have been one of them…” You tried to reason.

“For your sake I hope you’re right and it was just some random dickhead adrenaline junkie. But you have to consider the possibility given that he wasn’t even phased by any of your Persuasion tricks.” He stood up from the stool and walked over to a small fridge in the corner, “still hungry?”

You looked up at the sight of the open fridge and saw a few blood bags sitting on the top shelf, and your mouth instantly watered, and your gums itched to let down your sharp teeth. Blood bags weren’t ideal, and no Vampire would say it was their favorite way to eat, but they worked when necessary. “Since when do you keep blood bags?” You tried to keep your voice steady and held onto the table so you didn’t launch yourself at the fridge.

“Since I seem to have little Vampires show up at my door at all hours of the night needing my help,” he said warmly before plucking a bag off the shelf and carrying it over to you. You took it instantly, ripping off the end of the tube that was connected to the bag, using it as a straw. It was almost embarrassing how fast you slurped it down, but Les handed you a second one to make sure you were ok. The two of you had a quiet understanding. He always stayed neutral when it came to the politics of supernatural creatures, never taking any sides and helped out whomever paid him what he was owed. Strictly business, he always said. His neutrality was what earned him his respect, but he never helped out hunters. Even though he was an arms dealer, he had never once done any sort of work with them. Not for any virtuous reason, but they had fucked him over a few too many times and he just couldn’t be bothered with them after that.

“The sun will be up soon…you need to get home before it does.” You glanced up at the clock on the wall, and saw you had about an hour before proper sunrise. Shit, you’d have to hurry to get back across the city to your apartment.

Standing up, you place the second empty blood bag on the table, “thanks, Les,”

“Any time, kid,” he always referred to you as ‘kid’, even if you were as far as you knew centuries older than him, “just promise to not be stupid out there, ok?”

You nodded as you slipped out the door, and back into the night.

~*~

However, across town, a particular hunter was not having a good night. Not only did you completely give him the slip, he lost his only lead on the case he had been given by his father. Typically, he worked cases with his twin, Jake, but this was one of his first solo missions, and he wanted to prove himself. He sat in his kitchen, pouring over the evidence folders he had been given, looking at the photos of dead bodies, all with familiar puncture wounds on their necks. It didn’t take a genius to know a Vampire did it, and this one was sloppy. One of the bodies was found in a shopping center parking lot, and was nearly discovered by other humans who still didn’t know Vampires existed. The hunter had wondered what ignorance felt like, and if it was as blissful as often described. He never had the chance to know if the world truly had monsters or not. His bedtime stories were always filled with creatures, his schoolwork always supplemented by “additional” education at home. He knew what weapons were best for whatever creature by the time he was in third grade.

He knew Vampires couldn’t stand silver, and had even witnessed it first hand when a particularly stupid one tried to break into his family's house when he was roughly six years old. The vampire had gotten ahold of his twin and he had the wherewithal to grab one of the knives hidden under his bed and stabbed the creature in the leg, disarming him until his parents rushed in and…took care of it. That was the night he saw a Vampire die for the first time as well. A silver tipped stake, shot out of his fathers crossbow directly into its heart. It didn’t turn into dust, like he thought. The creature collapsed onto the ground, lifeless, but it was what happened to the body that startled him. The skin shrank back and turned this disgusting gray color, almost shriveled on the bones, especially in the face. The eyes glazed over in a yellow cast, stuck open in surprise from being shot, and the death rattle it emitted would haunt his nightmares for months.

The hunter sat back, running his hand over his face, trying to think of any other leads. His mind kept circling back to the alley, and how easily you got past him. He thanked his lucky stars his brothers hadn’t been present, or else he would’ve never heard the end of it, especially from the youngest of the four. It pissed him off how ill prepared he was, he had been so confident going into that bar that he’d capture you and take you back to his family’s estate for questioning. The idea of dragging you in front of his father had spurred him on for over a week as he tracked your whereabouts. He could have, and was usually instructed to just kill you and be done with it, but he had the thought that you might be useful in leaking any other information on the Vampire nests that infested the city. It took a lot to impress their father, especially when it came to hunting because of how important their work was. Ridding the world of that filth and keeping fellow humans safe was paramount.

However, his brain would not stop flashing back to how you looked, and he hated himself for it. The stupid ponytail you had your hair in, the laughable get-up you had on to “blend in” with the other humans, the giggle you let out when he spoke to you, the way your eyes sparkled as you listened, but it was all a ruse. A sham, no different than a cheetah blending into the savannah grass in hopes to capture a gazelle. He closed his eyes as he remembered the kiss, still a little shocked that kissing a Vampire wasn’t much different than kissing another human. The warmth of your body surprised him the most. He hadn’t expected your hands to be so soft, let alone your lips. He hated himself even more for thinking about it like that. These were rookie thoughts about rookie mistakes and he had too much experience under his belt to get distracted by a single Vampire. He had to focus.

But most importantly, he had to find you again to get the answers he was desperate for.

~*~

Weeks went by and you hadn’t had any run-ins with that annoying human. You had been living your life in relative peace. Feeding where you could and being extra careful to not leave behind any “evidence”. Heeding Les’ advice, you kept yourself out of trouble. You were being good!

The human in your possession had been very easy to lure into the back corner of the park, where the trees were thicker and people hardly walked by. You had him up against a tree, fangs clamped into his throat as you enjoyed the rush of blood into your mouth. You almost moaned at the taste, your left hand gripping his hair to hold his head still. As always you instructed the human to remain quiet, assuring him that he wouldn’t remember any of this when you were finished.

You were so close to being fully sated, seconds away from being finished when you heard a familiar, and aggravating voice behind you, “let him go.”

With a small gasp, you pulled your mouth away from the human's throat and looked over your shoulder at the source of the words, “... can I help you?”

“I want you to get the fuck away from that man, for starters,” the hunter said.

Rolling your eyes, “Ok, fine.” You turned to the human, who was still in a daze from being fed on. Quickly, you bit into your finger to draw some of your own blood, rubbing it into the wounds of his throat to heal them as if they were never there. You took his chin between your thumb and index finger, looking him directly into the eyes as you instructed, “I need you to go home, you were never here in the park, you don’t remember me, or the lughead behind me.” The hunter scoffed at that, “you’re going to go home, eat some food, take some iron, and go to bed. Now go on and get a cab.” You smiled, tapping his cheek as the human nodded, and walked off into the main area of the park and out of sight.

“See? Catch and release!” You turned toward the hunter and threw your hand at the direction the human had walked off towards.

The hunter rolled his eyes, “You know I could kill you for even doing that.”

“And yet here I am. Alive.”

“‘Alive’ is debatable.”

You fully turned towards him, leaning back against the tree. “Alright, Boy Scout, what do you actually want with me?”

In a speed that you weren’t aware humans possessed, the hunter was on you once again like in the alley that first night, silver knife once again pressing into your throat, burning the skin. “I just have a few questions.”

You threw your hands up near your face, you weren’t risking him cuffing you again. “Yeah? Same here.” He was so close, his face inches from yours. This time the moon was shining overhead, its nearly full face was reflected in those big brown eyes of his. They looked so determined as they glared at you, he wasn’t faking his disgust at all.

He ignored your response, “well, since we last met,” he hissed, his mouth twisting into a snarl, “three more bodies showed up just outside the city.”

“Once again, that wasn’t me,” you emphasized, rolling your eyes.

“I know your kind are more in contact than you’d like for us to believe, do you know of anyone who would be sloppy enough to do that?”

Staring at him, “it's not like we go over that in the meetings,” you deadpanned. He pressed the knife even further into your skin, blood starting to trickle out of the wound, “Ok! No, I haven't heard anything. None of my friends are that stupid. Anyone who leaves bodies behind like that are normally really young and either don’t know any better, or don’t give a shit.”

“Do you know of any new Vampires around this town?”

“I haven’t heard of any newbies for awhile. We’re more selective than you think.”

“How did you get turned?” For a fraction of a second you saw his face soften, as if he hadn’t meant to ask that out loud.

But the question itself made you pause. You never thought about the how, and why you were turned. It was so long ago that you firmly shut the door to your previous life in your mind. You weren’t one of those self-loathing Vampires who felt cursed by their existence. You loved your life. You loved the power you had, forever young, being able to do whatever you wanted and go wherever the wind took you. Longing for human life was only in the movies. Being turned freed you in so many ways, any reminder of before was unnecessary. You weren’t that kid anymore. You never would be again, and you were fine with that.

Cutting your reverie short, you straightened your shoulders against the tree, and smirked at him, “personal questions like that require dinner.”

“Yeah well I’m not a big fan of the kind of dinner you like,” the corners of his mouth twitched. Did he almost smile? Whatever expression it was, it was gone instantly. The snarl returned.

The two of you stood there, staring at each other. The mutual resentment was palpable.

“All these questions, Boy Scout, and I still don’t have your name.”

He studied you for a second, weighing his options. He briefly thought about giving you a fake name, but his ego wanted you to know exactly who he was. His name had weight in their world, it meant something. Well, his last name did. His first name on its own hadn’t been given its own reputation yet. He had always been in a unit with his brothers that just their last name was all they needed to get anywhere. It struck fear into other creatures. Sometimes, fear is good.

“Josh.”

You were really being pinned to a tree by a man named Josh? Of fucking course. You were right by calling him Boy Scout, it fit almost too perfectly.

“Josh what?” You narrowed your eyes, he was playing keepaway with the details on purpose.

Pressing the knife even further into your throat, the dark blood trickling even more onto the knife, spilling onto his thumb that held it in place. Vampire blood was different from humans, not nearly as red, but a darker, sludgier color. The stain it left was unmistakable.

He leaned even closer to your face, all but whispering, “...Kiszka”

Well, fuck.

Tag List: @lightmylove-gvf , @dannyandthekiszkas , @gretasmokerising , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema ,

#josh kiszka #josh kiszka x reader #greta van fic #greta van fleet #josh gvf #i see hell in your eyes #🩸🖤#I hope y’all like this one :)

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black-arcana · 6 months ago

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HALESTORM's New Studio Album Is 'Half Done'

In a new interview with Liv Maddix of the 105.7 The Point radio station, HALESTORM frontwoman Lzzy Hale and guitarist Joe Hottinger spoke about the progress of the recording sessions for the band's follow-up to 2022's "Back From The Dead" album. Lzzy said (as transcribed by BLABBERMOUTH.NET): "Well, this has been an interesting process for us — very new." Joe added: "Yeah, the record, it's been fun. We're working with a new producer [Dave Cobb] we've never worked with. And he has a house in Savannah [Georgia] that it's just a studio house and a band house. So we go in and all four of us move in and wake up and we just start writing."

Lzzy continued: "Doing it with Dave Cobb, who is a closet metalhead, but he's gotten his due from Chris Stapleton and Brandi Carlile. But he's got such a great sense." Joe concurred, saying: "Oh, yeah. He's just a song guy. He loves songs and he knows all about rock and roll. He's done RIVAL SONS and GRETA VAN FLEET. He's a rocker, too. But it's fun. We have it half done right now. I think most of the basics and music is done. It's neat because we have this big break between here and we're gonna hopefully finish it by the end of the year. And you get to kind of think about it a little bit, let it live with you a bit. And then, like, 'All right, what are we saying? What do we wanna say?'"

Elaborating on the songwriting process for the new HALESTORM album, Lzzy said: "Well, the beautiful thing about [having a break in the recording], too, is that even just now on this tour, I am, for better or worse, kind of a sponge, and I am absorbing all of these experiences and seeing how they're actually fitting into the record. So I'm drafting and redrafting as we're going, just so I can get back in the studio and be, like, 'But wait. What about this?' Because that's actually what the experience called for. So, yeah, it's very interesting, but we've been taking our time with it because we've been having fun doing that. 'Cause, as is tradition with all of these other records, we're like, 'Okay, we have this amount of songs. All right. When can we get in? We're gonna go in for a month. We're gonna bang it out, do the touring thing all over again.' So it's kind of nice."

Last month, HALESTORM drummer Arejay Hale was asked by The VORTX Podcast with host Ethan Jackson, HALESTORM when fans can expect to hear new music from the band. Arejay responded: "I'm hoping next year… We always say the same thing. It's, like, it'll be out when we're done with it [laughs] and the whole process after it — getting it mixed, getting it mastered, getting the promotion campaign together and all that. There's a lot to it. But the experience has been great 'cause we're doing it in Savannah with Dave Cobb, and Dave Cobb is absolutely killing the game right now."

Regarding HALESTORM's decision to work with Cobb this time around, Arejay said: "It's always good for a band to, if you want your sound to evolve, bring in some fresh minds into it. And the cool thing about Dave is that he's a total hard rock and metalhead at heart. A lot of his most successful projects have been a lot of country, a lot of alternative — I mean, he's all over the spectrum — so when works with us, you can tell… There's a really great mutual respect between [us], 'cause we've been doing this long enough and he's been doing it for so long. We've been a huge fan of his as well, so there's a lot of mutual respect between the two of us, and you can feel it in the room."

Asked if he and his HALESTORM bandmates set a date for themselves for when they want to be done with a record, Arejay said: "It used to be a lot more stringent in the early days. 'Cause when you're trying to get the band off the ground, you really wanna kind of keep that momentum going. But our last couple of records have been a little bit more laid back, which is nice. It kind of gives it room to breathe. It gives us time to like really assess where we wanna go. And definitely COVID changed everything."

On the topic of whether the HALESTORM members do more work remotely now or if they still all get together in the studio and collaborate on ideas in one room, Arejay said: "Oh, it's so much more effective for us to be in the same room. I think it kind of forces you to just… I guess we work well under pressure, 'cause, going back to your last question… We definitely feel the pressure to get the album out at a certain time, but what really cranks up the pressure is the fact that we're leaving Nashville and going to Savannah for only a set period of time, 'cause Dave [only has certain] windows [of availability]. And it really forces us to just dig into your gut and just pull things out. And when we're all together in the room and Joe [Hottinger, HALESTORM guitarist] starts playing around with the riff and I start jamming with them, things just come out, things just happen. There's a magic there."

In June, Lzzy was asked by Decker of the rock station Razor 94.7/104.7 (WZOR) about the progress of the writing and recording sessions for the follow-up to "Back From The Dead". Lzzy said: "We've been in the studio with Dave Cobb for some time now, and it's been different this time. It's been very sporadic. It isn't like we mapped out, like, eight weeks of time and we're gonna get a record done. We started going to him — first it was three days to test him out and we wrote a song together from scratch. And everyone was, like, 'Wait. What is this?' And then we went back — we went out on tour, we came back, had another session with him for about two weeks, and then we had another one for three weeks. It keeps getting a little more. And so we have one more session fully booked for August after this tour to kind of finish up everything. But it's really exciting."

Elaborating on HALESTORM's working relationship with Cobb, Lzzy said: "The process has been very like A.D.D., which I really love, because all of us are a little touched by [it] [laughs], if anybody has noticed over the years. But it was a great challenge, because this is Dave Cobb. He's worked with RIVAL SONS and AIRBOURNE, but that's like the rock world that he's in. He's made most of his name from Brandi Carlile and Chris Stapleton and Jason Isbell, whom I love, all three of those artists, so much."

Lzzy went on to say that she and her HALESTORM bandmates initially "got a lot of pushback" from their team about the prospect of working with Cobb. She recalled: "We were saying, 'Oh, wouldn't it be cool to do a record with Dave Cobb? Because that would be something that nobody would really expect from us. And I bet you he would come up with some crazy ideas. Don't know the guy, but let's figure it out.' And everybody on our team was, like, 'No, no, he's too busy. That's not you. He's got this stuff going. He's got, like, nine Grammys with Chris Stapleton. That's not your scene.' And so we kept pushing back. We're, like, 'No, no, no. Just ask him. Just ask him. We can handle rejection, but just ask him.' And so finally, our A&R guy at our label is, like, 'Fine, I'll reach out. Whatever. Just stop bugging me.' And so he reached out, and then he called me, like, the next day. He's, like, 'Hey, I heard back from Dave Cobb. And guess what? Not only does he absolutely know who you are, but he's been wanting to make a record with you for, like, seven years. And he has a plan already of how he wants to do it.' And we're, like, 'What? This is sick.' So anyway, we went to go test the waters, and we go into the studio. And look, I write every day. When I die, there's gonna be so much that everyone has to sift through, just gibberish songs, all that. So I always have, like, a bank with me, like, 'Here's riffs, here's songs, here's subject titles, here's poetry.' And he was, like, 'No, no, no. We're not gonna do anything that you already have. Nothing.' I'm, like, 'Uh. What?' And he's, like, 'No, we're just gonna start.' Everyone's sitting in a circle and we're, like, gonna kumbaya. So everyone got an instrument, like, 'All right. So what are we feeling today?' I'm, like, 'Is this a therapy session?' And we ended up — it's crazy, 'cause then we'll like grab on to something 'cause of that pressure of, like, 'Well, I was thinking about this as this is happening.' 'Cool. Let's go there.' And so he has this amazing instincts that are very, like, you can't see it when you're in it. And then, as soon as we start like putting stuff together, we kind of zoom out and, like, 'Oh, wait a minute. This is so wild and awesome and exactly what we do.' So it's very strange. But we're all very free. And then the other thing is that while we're writing it, we're recording it at the same time. So these tracks are, like, us discovering the song for the first time as well as we're performing them. There are some things that we're performing them all at the same time. There's one track in particular that we completely forgot to put the click track on, and we did like three takes like that, and then we're, like, 'Oh, wait. We don't even have a click going.' Arejay [Hale, HALESTORM drummer and Lzzy's brother] said something, like, 'Were we supposed to have like a click track so we all are on time together?' And everyone's, like, 'We didn't even notice it was gone.' And so we did another take with the click. We're, like, 'No, we like that other one better.' So there's stuff like that. A lot of weird surprises. There's a lot of space. And we're really excited because we're not going country or anything like that, or Americana. This is such a new — it's got so much teeth, and it's so different than what we just did with 'Back From The Dead', but in this almost weightier, heavier way. And the lyrics are — I'm tackling subjects I've never tackled before because I'm having the freedom to do so. So I'm very excited."

HALESTORM and I PREVAIL recently embarked on summer 2024 co-headlining tour. Produced by Live Nation, the trek kicked off on July 9 in Raleigh and will run through August 17 in Las Vegas. HOLLYWOOD UNDEAD and FIT FOR A KING are serving as support. The tour is also the catalyst and the creative spark for HALESTORM and I PREVAIL's collaborative track "Can U See Me In The Dark?", which was released in June.

HALESTORM has partnered with mental health organization Sound Mind Live to engage fans to pledge support that will provide free-to-the-community mental health programming across the country for fans and the broader community.

"Back From The Dead" has tallied over 100 million streams worldwide. Rolling Stone called the title track "a biting but cathartic howler about overcoming all obstacles," and that song as well as "The Steeple" marked their fifth and sixth number ones at rock radio, respectively. Associated Press said the album "will definitely be in the running for best hard rock/metal album of the year." Their previous album, "Vicious", earned the band their second Grammy nomination, for "Best Hard Rock Performance" for the song "Uncomfortable", the band's fourth #1 at rock radio, and led Loudwire to name HALESTORM "Rock Artist Of The Decade" in 2019.

Fronted by Lzzy with Arejay, Joe and bass player Josh Smith, HALESTORM's music has earned multiple platinum and gold certifications from the RIAA, and the band has earned a reputation as a powerful live music force, headlining sold-out shows and topping festival bills around the world, and sharing the stage with icons including HEAVEN & HELL, Alice Cooper, Joan Jett and JUDAS PRIEST. Additionally, Lzzy was named the first female brand ambassador for Gibson and served as host of AXS TV's "A Year In Music".

youtube

#lzzy hale #joe hottinger #halestorm #Youtube

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hammill-goes-fogwalking · 2 years ago

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The issues & beauties of German music

(70s Kraut Rock )

Here, NOT ONE SINGLE SOUL talks about Krautrock 🌿 it seems like dead & forgotten (except CAN)

which is sad about this phenomenon :/ the only ones paying attention are prog magazines and music connoisseurs

Everyone talks about the Scorpions and Rammstein (in fact it's quality). Sometimes Boney M but... it's always the same: good music is too elite for the masses.

Even the band Eloy. Prog fans love them- the most listeners come from other places of the earth but not their origin country. Often a fault of the music industry, critics as well as the radio stations which really neglected these now in modern times.

The rhymes & language, pronunciation

Sure, worse languages exist. But to be honest, can you relax, with the German language? There's no flow at all, nothing like Italian or, you know, English. It's a popular opinion and what speaks against it?

Depends on the way someone sings and per region there is a difference but some harshness is always there.

Sung in English example: Eloy (again)

Some people are totally fine with the accent (their whole discography is in English sung by Frank Bornemann!!) others have problems getting into this band. Depends on the listener.

What often happened was that the groups had a British singer...

Old fashioned names

For example British rock: someone asks you, you say your idol is some random Jeff or Pete or whatever their names are. What about German musician's names? They're called Dieter or Jogi or Herbert or Udo

"Who's your favourite musician?" - Jürgen xy (sorry shouldn't sound mean)

People make jokes about old fashioned names, then why blaming yourself and getting sideeyed.

This is all a matter of coolness, let's move to the music...

A few information

Okay don't judge (seems extremely stereotype now) the people, musicians of the 60s and 70s were the first generation after WW2. You can imagine. The children of ex- patriots. They wanted to change something. BUT!! They were BOUND in the roots of their country.

There was a scene and later with many students and discotheques. There were artists from all over the world. The music is innovative and you can hear it even clearly. You can also hear their protest, spirit and the diversity of sounds.

There is nothing you can call THE Kraut. It's practically impossible to sum the sound up. Actually it's not a genre. That one word represents all the music made in Germany

An example.

You hear the instruments? The bass, drums, hard guitar, organs, saxophone EVERYTHING WORKS. SO FINE MUSIC.

Listen to it, create your own opinion.

Notes

1. So many songs by this one group called Lied des Teufels? Yeah. They're not known at all. That singer sounds like imitating Ian Gillan- Everyone can TRY to copy but they do it in their own style which is not copying, it's storytelling. (Kind of)

2. THE WHOLE THING SHOULD NOT MAKE ME SEEM PASSIONATE OR SOMETHING BECAUSE I DISCOVERED KRAUT LITERALLY YESTERDAY

3. Probably it's something that gets boring really fast

So...

Skillful musicians w/ ability to express themselves and the problems of their country. Wether the singing style is something for you or not- there are countless of other groups.

We HAVE TO speak about these forgotten acts again & give it a chance

#PLEASE CORRECT ME #PLEASE SAY WHEN THERE R SOME GRAMMAR MISTAKES #con:#So I bought a CD of classic kraut #SOME songs are horrible. Why? The rhymes suck. They suck what else to say they suck.#(You maybe think I'm mentally insane) It's true.#Spotify #Kraut Rock #why not making a post about Polish French Arabic whatever kinds of counties UGH WHY NOT EVERY ETHNIC IN MY GENES #my irony is miserable #ignore #random mind

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munson-blurbs · 3 months ago

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21 and 22

21. A song that evokes a good memory? Have You Ever Seen the Rain by CCR. My mom and I heard it when we were walking back to Penn Station after seeing Gaten in Sweeney Todd, and my shy af mother started singing down 7th Avenue. She was just so happy to have met Gaten.

22. A song that evokes a bad memory? Drunk on a Plane by Dierks Bentley because it reminds me of the time I pretended to like country music to impress a guy with an awful personality and an even worse wiener.

Get to know me!

#answered #ask game

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spitinsideme · 1 year ago

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Peach blossoms and wolfsbane

By writer anon

Chapter 2 part 1

Yellow Smooth Violets

Tw:Homophobia briefly mentioned

Author’s note:Hello! I’ll be using flower language in these chapters from now on due to the fact that this is a Victorian era fic and back then people used to use flowers to communicate in secret so I thought it was fitting I’ll put the flowers symbolism at the bottom of the page! Hope you enjoy! I’ll also be adding music to certain parts too to help elevate the ambiance the story has Without further ado lets get into the story!

Edit note: there isn’t any music in this chapter since I couldn’t think of anything for it sorry! I’m open to some suggestions thou!

The train gently moves along the track swaying the cars ever so slightly. The train whistle blows and the train pulls into it’s stop. Agatha looks up from her newspaper and folds it neatly before getting up and stretching. Then she turns to her very sleepy body guard and gently taps her wake. “Winona we’re here hun wake up.” She said in slight hush tone. “Waz that Waz happin.” Winona drowsily says. “Welcome back to earth cowpoke we are about to get off the train.” “Oh finally i’ll go get our bags from the over head. Winona groans and stretches up and out of her chair. She yawns showing off them sharp pearly whites once more. Agatha could not and would not miss an opportunity to tease her loyal guard.”You sure you ain’t part dog or something? With teeth like that you otta be tearing meat off a bone.” Winona may be tired but she isn’t a fool and whips her head around “For the last time I ain’t no damm house pet.” She said with a growl. Agatha snickered “ Ya know what you are right you are more like a stray instead of a house pet.” Winona huffs” Why do I work for you again.” Because I’m very nice and sweet.” Agatha said with smirk. And with this Winona finally laughs at something Agatha said howling with laugher Agatha now agitated asked”And what is so funny?” Winona barrels over and wipes a tear from her eyes “ Ya know that was the funniest joke you said all day.” She barked. Agatha fed up with Winona shenanigans” Just carry the damn bags to the carriage. Don’t forget you to have to dress up for the ball.” She said “Ugh don’t remind me.” Said Winona wincing at the idea. They finally exit the train and walk a few paces away from the station to find their carriage. The driver opens the door for Agatha while Winona helps load up the suitcases and bags. She eventually also climbs in the carriage. As they are being pulled along the road Winona takes in the scenery of the city noting that it’s smells like grime and smog. She sighs she has only been in England for a short while but she already misses the Country side. Some time has passed now and As the carriage pulls along wheels turning on the the now dirt road Winona sees that the city getting smaller and smaller in the distance. She feels as though she finally gets to breathe and takes a big whiff of the country air. “Ahhhh this is much better.” She said. Agatha looks up at her “ Heh you were never really a city slicker.” She said with a smile. With a big toothy grin Winona replied “Yes ma’am I ain’t much of a city folk.I prefer to be wild and free in the country side. City is much too stuffy and even dirtier than a hog’s pen.” Agatha nods in agreement. “ Indeed the city ain’t for folk like us we enjoy the simpler things in life. I just wish my damn husband felt the same materialistic bastard.” “Why marry the fella if ya don’t fancy him?” Winona asked Agatha sighs “ It’s cuz my daddy caught me kissin a woman so he tied me off the nearest man.I don’t like men in that way so being married to him is the absolute worse it’s like bein in a jail cell with no door or window.” She said with a sad tone in her voice. Winona recoils a bit from what she heard “ Damn forgot bout all that sorry. Men are fowl creatures in my opinion so never felt the need to have one in my bed.” Agatha with an empty laugh states “Yeah just be lucky then that you don’t have to lay next to one and be grateful you have freedom in that regard.” Winona head hangs a bit low and she now is clasping her hands and twiddles her thumbs. An awkward silence fills the carriage then after it seems like an eternity Agatha clears her throat “Anywhosit I hope you did actually pack something nice to wear. This is a formal event not a night at the saloon here.” She said. Winona scoffs “ Yeah I know I got somethin don’t you fret. You just worry about rubbin elbows with them other rich folk.” She said with a small smile. They let the carriage fall in silence for the rest of the ride…

To be continued in part 2 of chapter 2

(Tumblr wouldn’t let me fit the whole thing :(

From,

Writer anon

verg long story .. eoah .. vrrh good do far 👍👍

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sansloii · 4 months ago

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038. a road trip across country, music blaring through speakers . (Evan and Juno)

Evan's fingers rap against the open space created by the equally open window as he cruises down the highway, head idly nodding on beat with the music blasting from the speakers. Every now and again, he'll start mouthing the lyrics to the song playing over the radio--eyes still trained on the road ahead. Every now and again, though, he'd cast a glance over to the passenger side at Juno, his companion for this… spontaneous little trip of theirs; each time he did, his gaze would linger… a little too long — longer than necessary — before his attention went back to the road.

If he's being perfectly honest, this… this all a bit odd for him. Make no mistake — he agreed to the road trip without question. The destination is somewhere he would have to visit anyway and one that, for better or worse, he had business in on top of that. But perhaps it was because it wasn't just luxury or… a fun time for him that it felt so odd to be traveling with a stranger Juno. He hadn't thought about it much yet but… he'd have to come up with some excuse to go a little “missing” for a while to tend to said business and meet his contact before they got too antsy. He's not sure what he's gonna say or if Juno is going to ask questions when he slips away for a couple hours but… hell — he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

The change in song calls his attention back to reality and, when he glances over, his lovely car companion has reached over to change the station. His eyes are back on the road as she flips through a couple stations, each change earning a small, playfully displeased tut from him.

“Didn't know we were changing things without asking, now.” Evan says with a furrow of his brows. “Not even gonna consult me before you change my driving music, huh? How cruel.”

“Is my taste in tunes not to your liking, perhaps? 'Cause I'm about to change that shit back in a second.”

scene prompts | @tearenola

#tearenola #🗪 ┊ ⧼ you all are some chatty cathys! ⧽ ⇹ ( asks. )#✖ ┊ ⧼ the guns aren’t just for show ⧽ ⇹ ( e. )

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beantothemax · 1 year ago

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3 times Yosuke feels he doesn’t belong and 1 time he knows he does

Yosuke is 12 and living in Tatsumi Port when he realises. It hits him like a punch to the gut, except he thinks a punch would be better in this scenario.

His “friends” from school still don’t call. They don’t drop by to offer help with packing. They don’t talk to him when they see him around town.

But they also held him when he cried, they listened when he ranted about his dad, they stopped him from punching things when he became angry.

Silver lining, Yosuke supposes.

There are good and bad aspects about everywhere, Yosuke has figured out. Chie and Yukiko are good aspects, definitely.

Yosuke is 17 and living in Inaba when he realises. It hits him like a punch to the gut, except he thinks a punch would be better in this scenario.

“If I told you that my parents are letting me stay in Inaba for this school year, too?”

Yosuke feels like he’s been punched in the gut twice. Once because his best friend is staying here again, his best friend will be within arm’s reach once again.

Twice because Yosuke realises he likes Yu as more than just a best friend.

“I’d welcome you home, partner.”

holy shit gay people real………………..

#yosuke actually finding friends who accept him was very sweet…#good for him!#auh and the whole end part………. they………….#im not usually a big souyo guy but this is a very nice fic mav! gold star #asks #adventures-of-turnabout #inbox fic #also is yosuke actually from tatsumi?

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

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new in town

for @strangerthingsocweek prompt '80s, 90s, today'

rated t | 1,122 words | cw: mention of alcohol abuse/dui | tags: hellfire club, 80s era, high school

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Transferring to the middle of nowhere Indiana the week after her 16th birthday might be Meg’s villain origin story.

She was coming from the outskirts of Boston, where her family had lived her entire life until her dad got a DUI and then got arrested for not showing up in court for said DUI. Meg’s mom was insistent they needed a fresh start while he got his shit together back home.

Why that fresh start was here escaped Meg.

Even worse, Hawkins High School was her worst nightmare. Her school back home wasn’t the best either, but at least she had her small group of friends who she could be herself with. Just looking around here made her realize she would probably spend the next two years alone.

She’d been a pretty good student for the most part, passed every class with As and Bs, only got detention once for a fight where she was defending her best friend from bullies, had almost perfect attendance except for that stupid flu in freshman year that nearly put her in the hospital.

But her teachers here looked like they were just going through the motions, and the students were clearly segregated into their cliques, and it was too late in the year to join clubs, not that they had any that interested her. She’d been in music appreciation club at home that met once a week at the record shop by the school where they got to preview a lot of new records as they came into the shop thanks to the owner who had basically adopted them as his children.

She didn’t even think Hawkins had a record shop. Or any radio stations that played anything other than country or worship music.

She spent lunch on her first day hiding behind the cafeteria, eating a bag of chips she got from a vending machine and hoping that her mom would change her mind and move them back home.

******

By day four, she’d decided to brave the cafeteria.

She couldn’t hide forever, and she definitely couldn’t keep living off of chips.

Most kids left her alone in class, only one guy bothered her to ask for a pencil and she was too shocked by the attention she handed him her own. She had to go the rest of the class without one since the rest of hers were in her locker. Luckily, English Literature was one of her best subjects and she probably didn’t need to take notes.

The cafeteria was loud, students sitting and standing in corners, talking and yelling and being obnoxious. It wasn’t much different from home in that respect, but still overwhelming. Not a single person here seemed to pay any attention to her.

She managed to find a seat alone at a corner table, clearly there for outcasts like her. Lunch today was meatloaf and mashed potatoes, which she normally didn’t like, but she’d skipped breakfast this morning and needed something to get through the rest of the day.

She was startled mid-bite by a loud voice coming from a long table on the opposite side of the cafeteria. She’d already clocked that table as a nerd table, which she wasn’t necessarily opposed to, but she wasn’t interested in making her life any harder by joining them.

A guy with long hair was standing on the table, all of his minions looking up at him from their seats surrounding him, as he gave a speech about the perils of high school hierarchies and sports being the downfall of the education system.

He made a lot of valid points.

A teacher came by and tugged him off the table, invited him to after school detention for disrupting lunch, as if that was even a thing, and the people in the cafeteria continued on as if nothing happened. His table seemed to move on quickly, laughing and talking amongst themselves while the guy in a battle vest shoved meatloaf into his mouth.

Maybe she had one potential friend here.

****

It took her another week to build up the courage to try to sit at their table. But one awkward pep talk in the bathroom before school and she was confidently walking up to the guy with the long hair and a shirt that read Hellfire Club.

Actually, all of them had matching shirts today.

Was this a cult? God, her mom would be pissed if she got involved with a cult.

There was one empty seat next to the only other girl at the table, so Meg sat down.

All eyes were on her immediately.

“You a lost sheep?” The guy at the end of the table asked.

“Is that what I need to be to sit here?” Meg asked in return.

The silence around the table was deafening. The guy at the end of the table smirked.

“It’s what all of us were at one point. You’re new here, right?”

Meg nodded.

“I’m Eddie. This is Hellfire Club. We play D&D and allegedly worship Satan. If you wanna sit here you definitely have to do at least one of those things,” the guy, Eddie, said.

“I’m Meg. I’m not into either of those things, but the shirt’s cool, so I guess I could be persuaded.”

Eddie took her in silently, gauging if she was serious or fucking with them.

Less than a minute later, he clapped his hands together and stood on his chair.

“Everyone welcome Meg! Introduce yourselves or whatever. You only get a shirt if you join a campaign. We meet on Thursdays. You in?”

Meg shrugged. “Might as well.”

“Great!” Eddie sat back down and watched as everyone took turns introducing themselves. He started eating a sandwich he pulled from his backpack. A lunchbox sat on the table unopened.

****

After a few weeks of joining them at the table and joining their dragons game on Thursdays, Meg got a shirt.

And while the shirt was basically a target for any popular kid to throw insults and punches, Meg felt protected.

Being a part of the group was nice, even if it wasn’t quite what she left behind in Boston.

She was seen now, by people who seemed to have a lot more in common with her than just being outcasts, and she didn’t feel the pressure to get out the moment she graduated. At least not as much as Eddie seemed to.

But Eddie sometimes mentioned traveling the world with his band, who Meg could admit had a decent sound for a high school band in the middle of nowhere, maybe heading east to Boston and New York to try their hand at big city life.

And they couldn’t do it without a guide, could they?

#stranger things #strangerthingsocweek #original character #meg #eddie munson #hellfire club

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juliasdowntonstuff · 1 year ago

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So, about a week ago I did a writing-WIP-tag here on tumblr and that caused an old drabble to resurface thanks to @bella-caecilia. In the last few days I finished it and reworked it a couple times. That did not help in the least - in fact, it only made it worse (classic case of verschlimmbessern) so now I’ve decided to just put it out here to prevent me from making it even worse.

The prompt I used was given to me a by a friend and it was: "I don't need a lot to be happy"

you can also find it on ao3: click here

My dearest Robert,

I hope this letter reaches you well and in good health, wherever you are right now. I still do not dare to imagine what your daily life looks like and what horrors you are facing. But enough about that — I am sure you want to hear about home.

You will not believe what our daughters did yesterday afternoon. The three of them put on a show for me and your Mama! Edith played the piano — her lessons have not been wasted, I can assure you — while Mary sang so beautifully for us. And darling Sybil danced to their music. What a sight to behold.

It baffles me time and time again how Mary and Edith can be so nasty towards each other and fight all day long, and then put on such a nice show together immediately afterwards. Even Carson clapped excitedly for the girls and their efforts — Mary had insisted he stay and watch the show, as you can imagine.

Apart from that, nothing much has happened since the last time I wrote to you. Life has been slow, and the weather is still cold and windy, not at all pleasant enough to go on strolls alone. Oh, how I miss our daily walks, my dear!

I hope you get to come home soon, at least on leave from the front. I need to see you, my darling one.

But until my tired soul sets eyes on you again, I remain your longing, loving wife

Cora

Robert had had a bright smile on his face when an officer handed him the envelope with his wife's neat writing on it, even more so when he found not one, but two letters in the envelope. Reading his wife's letter first, that smile stayed there and almost extended all the way to his ears. He must have looked like a fool, but he frankly could not care less. He was a man deeply in love with his wife, and who could blame him for that?

She did not write much about life at home, she never did. She missed him, just like he missed her and their family, and that did not improve with writing about it too often, both of them had found. She had stopped writing those long letters full of stories of what happened at home months ago. At first, he had not noticed, he had been too preoccupied with the raging war. Still, when her letters had turned from spanning several pages to barely scraping the bottom of one single page, he had started to worry and eventually posed that question in one of his letters. Her reasoning had only been all too understandable when she replied and it made him miss his family even more.

He could not wait to get home.

Two and a half years. That's how long he had already been stationed in South Africa. He had seen his family only a handful of times in the many months since he got called up to serve his queen and country at the front. Even when he got leave, it was rarely enough to travel all the way back to England and see them. This war had cost him over two precious years of his life already. More than two valuable years he did not get to spend with Cora and their daughters and he couldn't wait to get home, hopefully for good in the near future.

Home. Downton Abbey.

He could still picture vividly the abbey's striking architecture as it rolled into view when one came home from the station or simply went on a long walk across the estate. He was proud, incredibly so, that he was the one to call this his home.

If only he was already standing at the gates to the estate.

But he was not. Not yet, anyway. Robert was still on a boat. One that was set to land in Southampton in only a matter of hours. Sure, he would still have to board several trains to take him up to London, then on to York, Ripon and then finally to Downton.

Home was already well within his reach. He had sent a letter to Taylor when he was on his way back to England to inform him of his arrival in the village but asked the chauffeur to keep it to himself as a surprise for her ladyship. By god, the young Earl hoped his chauffeur had listened and kept it to himself.

Then, on the train taking him to London, Robert had finally found the time and peace to read the letter his daughters had sent him. It was clear that Mary was the one who wrote it — he knew her writing that looked mature and meticulously placed for her age only too well. Reading the words she had written in seemingly hasty penmanship made his heart only grow heavier than it already was. He hated to think of his dear wife in such a state that even their daughters couldn't lighten her mood with a joint performance. Those were rare enough as they were. And it only made him want to get home even quicker.

Dearest Papa,

We sincerely hope you are somewhere safe and not getting yourself in danger.

Mama only just now told us we could write a few lines and put them into her envelope to be sent to you along with her letter, but we do not have much time.

All of us miss you so terribly much and we cannot wait for the next time you get home on leave. It seems like we have already forgotten what you look like — Edith and I have had quite the argument about the colour of your hair. She says it is a very, very dark blond, while I think your hair is a shade of brown. You do need to settle this for us, so please come home soon!

Mama has not been feeling too well since the last time you were home to see us. Ever since you left again, she has been in her room for most of her days and has not taken much interest in anything apart from tea with us and Granny. She looks so awfully, awfully sad all the time and we have not managed to cheer her up for long. Edith and I even played the piano and sang for her while Sybil danced!

Granny said that she is worried about Mama's lack of interest, and I have never seen her look so concerned.

Please, come home very soon, Papa!

That is all we wish for.

Promise us to please stay safe and think of us every once in a while.

Mary, Edith, and Sybil

Oh, he would give anything to see the scene of his daughters trying to cheer their mother up. He would give anything just to see their happy little faces look up at him.

What would his darling girls say once they caught sight of him in this state — his arm in a sling, covered in bandages, a healing gash on his forehead? His wounds and bruises were the sole reason he got granted this longer leave that allowed him to travel home to his family. He had not told them of his injury, not even Cora. He simply couldn't get himself to write those horrid words on paper.

Cora.

How would his beloved wife react when she saw him, battered and bruised as he was?

It was the beginning of May, and what a nice day it was.

Finally, after weeks of nothing but horribly dull weather in all of England, the sun had made a rare reappearance. For the first time in weeks, Cora wanted to go outside and maybe sit on the bench for a while — she would have to ask Thompson for her light coat in a few minutes. Cora had not been outside for longer than a few minutes in at least a month, but that had not entirely been to blame on the weather. Similarly, she had not even responded to any of the invitations to luncheon or tea with her mother-in-law down in the village in the dower house. A fact that would likely turn into a lengthy argument when she would next meet Violet, which was inevitably quite soon.

Cora knew that she should take more of an interest in the estate and entertain more of her acquaintances. But truth be told, she did not feel like it and she had no great aspirations to spend evenings with women who looked down on her because of her heritage, not when Robert wasn't there to cheer her up with a look or a stolen kiss.

She had not seen her husband in well over 9 months, and his last letter had reached her over a month ago. He had never taken so long to respond and it concerned her greatly. What if something happened to him, what if he wasn't coming home?

All of this uncertainty only further added to her uneasiness and sudden need for constant solitude. She found no real joy in things she once loved, and not even her daughters had managed to lift the heavy clouds weighing down on her.

Cora was standing at her bedroom window, looking out over the green grass in front of the house and the gravel path that stretched all the way down to the gates of their estate when she saw a carriage ride up to the house drawn by two horses.

They were not expecting anyone, were they? Or had she forgotten about a visitor? No, that could not be — someone would have reminded her; Mrs Hughes would have, surely.

Quickly, Cora turned and left the well-known comfort of her bedroom to rush downstairs and see who came to see them without prior announcement. Just when she arrived downstairs and crossed the threshold of the grand entryway, their butler opened the carriage door to let whoever was riding in the back step out onto the gravel.

There he was in his khaki uniform, climbing out of the carriage with a bright smile plastered onto his sun-kissed face.

Her eyes must be deceiving her, or maybe this was all just a dream.

Had Carson not looked so surprised himself, she would have believed that this was just wishful thinking, a rather vivid daydream at most. But he was here, he was home. Robert was home.

With three quick and long strides, he reached her, stopping only a metre in front of her when she did not move. His bright smile slowly turned into a frown when she still did not show any reaction to his presence.

"Cora," he said, trying to sound encouraging, and it seemed that this finally snapped her back into reality.

"Are you really here? Or are you just a figment of my imagination?" she breathed, looking up into his excited face.

"I am really here, my dear. I got granted enough leave to travel home at long last," he replied, taking off his beige military hat with his gloved left hand.

Then, without any warning, she closed the gap between them and fell into his arms. Her arms wrapped around his neck almost on their own accord and she pulled herself up into his embrace.

While trying to hold her tightly to him so that she would not fall, he winced and drew in a sharp breath. The sudden impact of her body on his was painful, and so was his right arm being squeezed between their bodies, but he couldn't deny relishing in the familiar sensation he had been deprived of for so long.

"Robert?" she asked alarmedly when she heard his sharp intake of breath. Only then, having stepped away from her husband again, she noticed the sling his right arm was in and caught sight of the already healing cut on his forehead. "Robert, what happened?" she gasped.

"Don't you worry, darling. I was wounded, but not too badly, and they gave me leave to convalesce a little. It is not as bad as it looks, I assure you, my dearest," Robert replied before making a start for the main entrance of his ancestral home. "Where are the girls?"

"They are on a walk with Nanny, I believe," Cora said, not at all sure if this was truly the case. Maybe they had gone on that walk the day before, or maybe Nanny had asked for the day ahead? Cora couldn't remember, she hadn't paid close enough attention. Their girls were not all that little any more, and she trusted their Nanny. It's not that she did not care — she did care, a lot! She just couldn't get her mind to focus on anything lately. Not even on her daughters' whereabouts.

"Good, so you can tell me all about what happened without us being interrupted over a cup of tea," he smiled as they went into the library.

///////////////////////////////

"Cora, I have to ask," Robert said after she had given him an account of what had happened in the last few months since he had last been home to England in August. By the sounds of what she told him, everything seemed perfectly alright, but that did not go well with what his daughters had written. Adding to that, he knew his wife well enough to know that she liked to keep her sadness to herself to spare the feelings of others.

"What is it, darling?"

Cora looked at him wide-eyed, expectation and fearful anticipation clearly visible on her still youthful features while her hands closed around the empty teacup she held close to her chest, sitting up straighter on the settee.

Robert scooted closer, carefully taking one of her hands in his. While she was trying to avoid his gaze, his eyes searched her face worriedly. Calmly, he said: "How have you been, truly?"

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked, pretending to sip from the empty teacup in her hands.

"The girls wrote to me and they said you were incredibly unhappy, hiding away in your bedroom most of the time. They even said that Mama was worried about you. Speaking of which — she, too, wrote to me, about 6 weeks ago, stating that you have ignored all her invitations to come down to the Dower House and also haven't invited her to come here, either. I know you haven't been entertaining, that is somewhat understandable. But this is not like you, dear, no matter how hard she is being on you."

"Nothing gets past you, then," she replied dejectedly. "You know everything, even when you are half a world away. It's true, I have not been feeling my best in recent weeks."

"What can I do? What do you need to be happy again?"

"I don't need a lot to be happy, Robert, you know that," she said dismissively, glancing shyly to the ground near the fireplace.

"Yes, I do know that. But what does it take for you to be happy now? There must be something, surely."

"I need to know you're safe," she replied, finally meeting his gaze.

"And you shall have that for at least another fortnight still," Robert replied, taking her slender fingers in his bigger, unscathed hand.

That was not entirely what she meant and he knew that, but a fortnight was all he had to offer, no matter how much he wished it was more.

"What happened?" she then asked, motioning to his arm to bridge the silence that had fallen over them.

"We were under attack during the night, we had not seen it coming. They cornered us, but we fought back. I was lucky that my batsman had been awake, he warned me just in time, he saved me. We managed to get away, not unscathed, obviously. He had to be taken to a military hospital to get stitched up while they sent me home. So many of our fellow men didn't. But enough about tha-"

Suddenly, squeals of delight filled the library when the three girls entered, almost running to their father but remembering their lessons in etiquette and good behaviour.

"Papa?"

"Papa! It is you!"

"I knew that was your voice I heard from out in the hall!"

It was little Sybil in her light blue dress who first asked: "Papa, what happened to your arm?"

"Oh, that. It's nothing for you to worry about. Papa fell badly and needs to let his arm rest for a little while longer. That is why the doctors gave me a sling."

"And what about your forehead, Papa?" Mary asked curiously.

"Like I said, I took a rather bad fall. But this, too, shall heal again, I have no doubts about that. And now come here and let me hug you," he laughed, opening his arms for his three young daughters.

They all but ran towards him again, throwing their short arms around him while squealing in delight.

"Mary, Edith?" he asked as his daughters hugged him.

Dutifully, they all let go of him, stepped away and looked at him expectantly.

"Yes, Papa?"

"I hope you did not give your mother and Nanny too many grievances while I was away?"

The two elder girls looked at each other rather guiltily, but it was Sybil who eventually replied: "They did fight a lot, but I managed to calm them down, apologise to each other and then make them play nicely again every single time."

The young girl looked up proudly at her father, bouncing on her feet so that the hem of her dress swayed animatedly with her movements.

"That was very good of you, Sybil, my dear. Thank you," Robert said as he patted his youngest's head. Turning to face Edith and Mary he added: "Now, the two of you have undoubtedly noticed that I have not yet replied to your last letter and there is still an unresolved argument, isn't there?"

"What do you mean, Papa?" Edith asked sheepishly, her eyes flitting from her father to her mother and back again to her father.

"Well, I gather the two of you have been fighting about the colour of my hair, haven't you?"

"Oh, that. That was nothing, Papa. It was just a silly argument, I should not have mentioned it," replied Mary hastily, trying to diminish the fight she mentioned in the letter to their father. It was, after all, a truly banal question that she posed.

"Was it really silly if you indeed argued over it?" he said when his daughters both shook their heads no rather shamefully. "No, I didn't think so. If you were to ask your Granny for photographs and paintings of me in my youth, you would find that my hair indeed used to be lighter. I had blonde hair when I was a child, with a hint of red in it, just like Aunt Rosamund. Then, as I grew older, it got darker until the darker shade of blonde I had in my youth had turned into brown. Until finally, in the last few months especially, it has started to turn increasingly more grey."

The Earl leant forward in his seated position and pointed towards his temples to let his daughters inspect what he had just told them. And it was true, the hair at his temples was already turning considerably grey, even though he had not yet reached 40.

Just then, Nanny came to call the girls upstairs for their bath. Diligently, Mary and Edith bid their parents goodbye and quickly dashed upstairs. Only Sybil stayed back and moved closer to her father.

With her voice barely above a whisper — as if she were to plot something with him — she said: "You know, Papa, they didn't fight badly about this. I'm not supposed to tell you this, but I can't let them lie to you and mama. They didn't fight about the colour of your hair. In fact, they never truly argued about your hair at all, we simply talked about you, what we remembered about you and how much we missed you. This was all just a plan we came up with that was meant to get you to come home to us faster. We thought if we exaggerated things, you might be able to come home. I am sorry," the young girl said, bowing her head ashamedly.

"Sybil, darling, I know."

"You do?" she asked. Her brown eyes were wide when she looked back up at her father with surprise and shock

"Yes, of course. Why would you ever seriously fight about something so insignificant like the colour of my hair? And I am not mad about this plan of yours, not in the least. I wouldn't even have been mad if they had argued."

"You would not?" Sybil asked.

"You would not?" Cora echoed her daughter, almost at the same time and just as surprised.

Robert quickly smiled at Cora before turning back to face his daughter. He took Sybil's small hands in his.

"Sybil, your sisters argue over many things. They always have and they likely always will. They are very different people, and both have inherited their mother's strong determination, as have you. That leads them to argue a lot, but they are still sisters. They love you and they love each other, they just can't show it. They don't know how. This plan of yours just shows that you care; all of you do, and I am glad for it. So no, I am not mad that you lied."

Sybil beamed brightly at him, more than relieved that her Papa was not cross with any of them for their deception, and quickly made to leave the room and follow her sisters upstairs.

"But only this once, little lady," he shouted after her when she was already out the door.

Her head peeked back around the wooden door again, still smiling widely, as she said: "Of course, Papa, we will never lie, ever again!"

Her parents shared a laugh at that, both knowing this to be quite far from the truth. Neither of them was an only child, after all. Just when they thought they had the library to themselves again and Robert made to kiss his wife, Carson entered with a silver tray in hand. Starting to get quite irritated by the interruption, he asked rather harshly: "What is it now, Carson?"

"I am sorry to interrupt you, milord, but this just arrived for you," the butler replied as he lowered the tray for him to retrieve the envelope. "I will also ring the dressing gong in a minute." Then, turning to face the lady of the house, he said: Oh, and the Dowager Countess has also sent word that she will arrive very soon. She will stay for dinner and she will not take no for an answer this time."

"Thank you, Carson," both of them said in unison, and Robert helped his wife up from the settee. He knew she would immediately want to go down to the kitchens and report the change in the menu to their still rather new cook and inform her of the two extra stomachs that needed to be filled.

Sure enough, Carson rang the gong as soon as he was out in the hall again and soon after that, Violet arrived at the abbey. All evening, Robert wanted nothing more than to finally be alone with his wife. And yet, his mother, who was understandably quite joyous about his leave of convalescence, simply would not leave that night.

///////////

It was almost midnight by the time they were alone in her bedroom, both exhausted after the events and surprises of the day.

Lying in bed, Robert watched his wife, who was still sitting at her dressing table and took off her jewellery. He saw how preoccupied she seemed, that her mind was somewhere miles away. Cora had her brow furrowed and pensively took off her right earring while staring at her reflection in the mirror with a frown on her face.

"Cora, what do you truly need to be happy?"

"I told you already, darling. I don't need much to be happy."

"Yes, I know you don't. But what is it that you truly need or desire? What would make you feel better?" Robert pressed on.

Silence.

For a minute, a deafening silence filled the otherwise cosy bedroom. His wife looked at him through the mirror on the vanity. She let her gaze wander from the long laceration on his forehead to his arm resting limply in the sling, and then back up to his face.

"You, Robert. You are who and what I need. I need you with me, here at Downton, and not away on another continent fighting for your life every single minute of every single day. I need you here with me. I need to be sure that you're safe, that you are far out of harm's way. I need to know you're alive, that you'll come home to me."

Cora turned and finally looked at him.

When he did not reply, she added: "It seems like I have steadily gotten worse at coping without you here. It is true, what the girls wrote in their letter to you. I have been unhappy and I have been ignoring your mother's messages and invitations. I am honestly quite surprised I did not get an earful about that tonight. No doubt that was only because of your unforeseen presence."

"I think you might be right about that, dearest," he chuckled. The same thought had crossed his mind already, as well, and it would be in his mother's character.

"Robert, I mean it. Look at you, you have been hurt badly-"

"It could have been worse, so much worse. So many of my comrades will never return home like I did. But I had a lucky charm that saved me. Which reminds me-"

As gracefully as he could, he hoisted himself out of bed and went to his dressing room. Cora only heard how he rummaged through something, muttering under his breath, until he eventually returned and took a seat on the cushioned bench at the foot of their bed.

"I want you to have this back," he said, extending his left hand.

With surprise written all over her face, Cora looked at what he tried to give her.

It was her lucky charm, the small toy dog she had insisted Robert take with him to the front when he was first called up. Her father had given it to her when she was a young girl and it had always brought her luck, and so she wanted Robert to have it. He would need all the luck he could get, she had figured.

"No, Robert. You need it. I can't take it from you."

"You can. Your lucky charm did its trick, it saved me. I am here, am I not? Please, I insist."

Once again, he urged her to take the toy, extending his arm further towards her.

"No, take it back with you. This time, you and your batsman were only injured. But god knows what will happen next time," Cora replied adamantly.

She took his hand and closed it around the small dog, trying to push Robert's hand back towards his chest.

"Cora, take it, please. I have no use for it any longer. There is nowhere left I could take it."

"I don't understand?"

"The mysterious letter Carson brought this afternoon. I never told you what it was about, did I?"

Seeming more than slightly confused about the sudden change of subject, Cora shook her head no. They hadn't had a chance to talk since then, and she had already forgotten about the letter delivered to him, if she was completely honest with herself.

"It was a telegram from the general I served under in Africa. He said that the last of the guerillas finally surrendered a few days ago and that a treaty is currently in the works, waiting to be signed. That will put an end to this war once and for all. I don't need your lucky charm any longer because I'm staying. I'm staying for good this time, Cora," he smiled.

"You will never have to go back there?" she asked, bewilderment written all over her features.

"No. I will never have to go back there. The war is over for me, for us. I am home and I wanted you to be the first person to know."

Robert tried again to give Cora the toy. And this time, she took it. Gladly. She stood up and put it on her nightstand before getting into bed, waiting for him to do the same.

He lifted the covers on his side of the bed and slid under them, carefully trying not to move his arm too much. Once she had finally settled into bed next to him and her head was resting on his chest as she snuggled up to him, he asked: "Cora, are you happy now?"

"I told you, I don't need a lot to be happy," she replied. "And this proves it. Yes, I am so very happy."

"Good, so am I."

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