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beakeoghan · 3 years ago

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frustrations

Pairing: Druig x eternal!reader

Summary: Your nerves are on edge and Druig knows how to help you out.

Word count: 1.1 K words

Warnings: Suggestive dialogue, drinking and partying.

Author’s note: I watched a couple of episodes from Teen Wolf and I got so nostalgic that this was inspired by this scene in particular on episode 16, Season 3B! It's short and sweet and if you want I can try to do part 2, just to finish things in a more satisfying manner! <3 Thank you for reading!

Song recommendation: For the whole “scene” I pictured either Borderline by Tove Styrke or She Don’t Dance by Everyone You Know ! But it’s really a personal preference!

Thank you, my love Lu, for supporting it <3

Your distant gaze kept switching between your empty cup and the boys dealing the drinks behind the counter. You couldn't distinguish so well, but around you were loads of drunk people with partially naked bodies painted with neon colors, dancing to an intensely vibrant song. Somehow you found yourself in this house party with people you didn't even know.

The DJ seemed determined to keep people's voices stuffy with the speakers on the loudest volume possible. The chatter was almost indecipherable. To some extent, you were glad you couldn't even hear your thoughts because they kept coming back to your ex-boyfriend, who you knew would be here. One, two, three shots weren't enough to make them stop - not that the drink had that much effect on you.

Actually, why were you here? Sersi was kind enough to tell you that she didn't mind if you decided not to come since she knew what had happened between you two. He was a close friend of Dane's, and you had met between the travel back and forth to London while you visited Sersi and Sprite.

The relationship lasted for a while, but there was nothing you could do with him being human and having no clue about who you were. You didn't want to think too much about it, because if you did, all the doubts would creep in. You would hesitate, once again, the decision of leaving him, even though it had been more than eight months since it happened.

The heavy thumps were invading your rib cage as if the music was coming from inside you. You turned around with a fully stocked beer cup to face the crowd of people having a good time. The sudden realization of him being right in the middle of the dance floor almost made you drop it.

You found your breath hitching at the sight of him, fingers intertwined with a girl the same height as you, smiling with the brightest sheen of happiness on their faces. You couldn't cry, and you wouldn't shed a tear for this.

Nothing was wrong, he was moving on as you told him to. Yet, you couldn't shake the feeling of betrail from your heart. That's the problem with you - you always feel everything with the highest intensity, even when it seems unreasonable.

It was just a moment. He met your gaze for the first time that night, and you felt your cheeks burning because you were staring at them for too long by now and you were afraid people would notice. The heat from your tipsy body dissipated and you felt at ease, just for a second.

Even now, after all this time, he looked at you, searching for your approval. Like he wanted you to be okay with this, whatever this is. You smiled sweetly as if you had sealed a deal between you. As long as he was happy, you would be happy for him. It didn't matter with whom. So many unspoken words swiftly didn't need to be said anymore. It would be okay.

Looking to escape that burst of people, you found a small bench just by the DJ spot. You had a perfect vision of everyone dancing, laughing, drinking, and getting high in the dark. You knew your frame was timid, arms crossed over your chest, the cup still hanging on your hand.

"You okay?" Druig's unaware voice almost whispered in your ear. "Your frown is keeping me on edge here. Did you kill someone?"

"No, just my mood." You said, taking the last sip like a shot. You chuckled a bit now, realizing how that would sound to him. "Just saw my ex with his new girlfriend."

" I see." He responded, getting closer to you, shoulders almost touching. "You must be mad."

You nodded, the colorful beam lights flashing on both of your faces. You observed people making out on the corners of the room, only the neon painting highlighting their features. You felt an ache rushing through the pit of your stomach.

"I'm not mad." You said, finally taking your time to look at him. A sigh escaped your mouth before you could stop it. "I'm frustrated."

His eyes shifted focus, once on your eyes, now on your lips.

"Sexually?"

Time stopped a bit before you could cling to his words - Druig was a master of making you feel flustered. Your heart was pounding at the thought of him with you. His scent seemed stronger now, your eyes capturing his ever so slightly boyish smile.

You smoothly inched closer to him, never losing sight of his gaze. You smiled playfully as he mimic your expression.

"I just realized we are both with no paint on our bodies." You sighed loudly, shaking your head. "That's no fun."

"It isn't." He reached for your right hand, longing for your touch. "Maybe we could do something about it."

You nodded, taking his hand and embracing his fingers onto yours as you guided him to the corner where they make the body paintings.

As you arrived there, you asked him to remove his black shirt and in return, you would too. He complied and licked his bottom lip before saying: "Just because I agree to this, doesn't mean that I approve that you were suffering for that human boy."

"Agree to what?"

"To being your little distraction, love.”

"Oh, I see." You picked up a brush with a red-looking color paint damped on it. "You are just here to distract me, then?"

"Among other things." He looked around while provoking you with a silly hand on your waist. "You know pretty well that I can fix your frustrations."

You laughed, gazing down on both of your bodies so close. You put on a mysterious grin before returning to look at him again.

Being in public, you thought, that was the farthest you could go. "You mean, sexually?" You approached his ear, whispering.

"In any way that you want." His mouth was so thirsty for yours. It was almost like the desire was dangling, jiggling from your touch to his.

Druig knew what he was doing.

You giggled, your blood pumping at the same rhythm as the beat of the song. "Do you wanna keep talking about my frustrations or are you gonna do something to release them?”

"Oh, beautiful." His fingers gently stroked your cheek, patting from there to your lips. “You're gonna have to ask me nicely or you won't get it at all."

#barry keoghan #druig #druig x y/n #druig x reader #druig fluff #druig drabble #druig fanfiction #druig imagine #druig blurb #druig x you #druig fic #druig eternals

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mxtantrights · 4 years ago

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past lives | 4

a/n: the response this fic has gotten has made me so happy thank you guys so much!! I really couldn't have expected it. anyways happing reading and just know you can always send in stuff about the story <3

“Big meeting! BIG! Conference room seven, five minutes do not be late!” your boss Erwin said.

So you finished the sentence you were revising and shut your laptop. You got out of your chair and brought along with you a notebook and a sweater. Conference room seven sucked when it came to insulation. It was like practice for Antartica. You hated it.

You pulled the knitted cardigan over you as you walked to the room. When you opened the door you saw one seat saved, the one closest to the door. You took it and set out your notebook.

Pens were passed around before you finally looked up at the person conducing the meeting. You eyes didn’t budge out of your head this time. And you think that was because you had been in the same room before. Even though this was far different.

Bruce frickin Wayne cleared his throat to start the meeting. And you were sat across from him. Maybe you would’ve felt weird - or more weird- if you hadn’t been in the same room with him a couple of nights ago. Completing a mission for the league.

As you’re waiting at your table for Fallon to get your last drinks of the night, the waiter with the scar passes by. It’s so quick and no normal person would pick it up. He had flung the drive into your interlaced hands. With swiftness you caught it, opened your bag and put it in while pulling out your phone.

You unlock your phone and send a quick reply.

package received

Fallon makes their way over to you with the drinks. They pass you yours, a fancy sounding cocktail thing. The menu was hard to decipher as all you ever relate cared for in a drink was a high alcohol volume.

“What’s in this?” you ask.

They look over at your drink, “I swore I saw something clear in there so I think it’ll do you good.”

You smile. Taking a sip of the drink you taste the vodka instantly. It was mixed in between other kinds of flavors but not potent enough to drown the vodka. Which was good in your opinion.

“Say if I didn’t know any better I would say a certain Wayne is coming over here.” they say.

You look up with the straw still in your mouth and it’s Jason. He’s shed the jacket and he looks really good. Or maybe you were drunk. Maybe both. Still he looked good.

He reaches your table and plasters a grin on his lips.

“So maybe I can be your gala groupie?” he asks point blank.

Fallon almost chokes on their drink. You drop the straw back into the drink.

“Hmm, kind of presumptive of you to think I’d want a groupie.” you say.

He leans his face in closer, “I could be good I promise.”

“I’m- gonna go and order our rideshare, unless you wanna...” Fallon trailed off.

“Give me five minutes.” he says.

You eye him closely. He’s like a wolf. Showing you his pretty teeth, and you’re supposed to think he’s smiling. But really he’s showing you the canines, the things that will tear into you later on.

You’re not sure if that’s sexual or not.

“Two minutes, Fallon’s shoes are uncomfortable.”

“I bet I can make you blush in less than that.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

You notice Fallon snicker to themself as they back away from what’s going on. This just give you more incentive to lean into his personal space. Something you didn’t think you’d do on the balcony. But this guy in front of you is just intriguing. Something about him seems deeper.

That’s not really the right word but you don't care.

“If you want-”

He is cut off by a bussing noise. You know it’s not your phone because you can’t feel the vibration coming form your bag. Sure enough he pulls out his own from his left pant pocket.

His eyes read over something and he sighs.

“uh-oh. I think your time is up Mr.Todd.” you tease.

He puts his phone back in his pocket and smirks ar you. You return the gesture. He sends you a wink.

“To be continued.” he says, and walks away.

You watch him shuffle though the crowd until he’s gone. It doesn’t take long for Fallon to make their way back to you. And when they do you take your straw into your mouth again.

“So sex with a Wayne is not a go?”

You finish off you drink and put it down on the table.

“Fallon, if I didn’t know any better I would think you were trying to get rid of me.”

“Good thing you don’t know any better. Come on, let’s go to coat check and get out of here.”

You snapped out of the flashback to the gala. Daniel had finished talking about some of the new funded projects. Courtesy of Wayne industries. You thought to yourself how exactly this deal was made but then you thought against it. This is the richest man in Gotham, he doesn't just stay in one place.

You watched as Daniel pointed over to you. That was when you decided to pay close attention.

“We’re also going to have our Deputy writer produce a spread on the Wayne family. Obviously not too much but just enough to satisfy the public that they keep coming back for more.” He said.

Your eyes flickered to the man himself. He was already looking at you. What you couldn’t understand was, why did the Wayne family need an article or op-ed about them? Was there some bad rumor floating around? Are they trying to get ahead of something?

“You have a question?” Bruce Wayne- which is kinda weird and cool to you at the same time- asked.

“Sorry, I have the worst poker face. I’m just wondering why you and your family need a piece- or want it. But now I’m thinking that can be saved for the piece itself.” You said.

You added a smile after, out of manners.

He nodded his head. Then he thanked you by your first name. It felt weird too. Like he had wanted to say your name on purpose and this was his excuse. You tried to swallow down that feeling.

You pulled the sleeves of your sweater over your hands.

“Speaking of Ron is giving you full control over the piece. So no need to clear anything by him, he trusts your instincts and vision.” Daniel added.

You nodded a bit surprised. It’s not the first time that Ron, your boss, had given you total control. But those had been pieces or columns about things or places. Not people. Especially not a spread about the most important person in Gotham and his family.

Daniel called the meeting over not long after and everyone began to leave. You grabbed your notebook but were stopped. Bruce Wayne had called you by name again and asked you hang back.

The words ‘hang back’ coming out of a billionaire’s mouth was weird, because it was addressed to you. Nonetheless you stayed after everyone, including Daniel, left.

When the door closed behind Daniel you turned to the only man in the room.

“Hi Mr. Wayne.”

He put his hand up, “Oh you can call me Bruce.”

“You’ll probably have to correct me so that I can remember. What can I do for you?” you asked.

“Seeing as this is a family piece, I wanted to let you know that the whole family will be available this coming Friday night.” he said.

“Great, did you have a place in mind?”

“Would my place do?”

You stopped all your efforts to gulp. His frickin masion- manor it’s called the manor. Oh wow, you were really smoozing with rich people. At least the Wayne’s didn't seem to be the snobby or bratty type.

You won in that respect.

So you nodded along, “That’d be good.”

“I’ll send for a car,” he said and then he took out his business card, “Just get in contact and it’ll all be arranged.”

“Right.” you said.

You took the card. Which you thought meant the conversation was over. Yet Bruce Wayne did not bulge from his spot. You thought, maybe you should appear more nervous to move things along.

Turned out you didn’t have to. He excused himself and left the room. It was almost as if he wasn’t there in the first place. The only piece of evidence that contradicted that was the business card in your hand.

It was way to cold to be running errands this late. And without material covering your legs. Your outfit and the trench coat Fallon let you borrow was only equipped for balcony breezes. Not harbor ones.

Still, you will make do. The sign coming up above your head read Gotham Harbor which wasn’t a port of any kind. It was a bookshop on the Harbor. The number 45 the building number.

Was that a trick too?

The lights were still on, even though the close sign is turned. You push open the door and it gives way. This is the right place. You make sure to close the door softly. From the back you can hear movement.

You walk up to the counter where the bell is. Without a second thought you take the flash drive out of your bag and place it next to it. Then you ring it. You do not wait for the person in the back to come out front.

Instead you leave the way you came. Softly you end up back on the street and begin your walk a couple of blocks up. It was best to catch a cab a distance away as to not be easily traced.

As you were walking, a black SUV pulled up next to you. You were walking with traffic, and there was practically no other cars on the block. You knew exactly who it was.

The window rolls down.

“Raʼs al Ghul, what a surprise.” you say.

“You passed.” he answers.

“Great. Any details you wanna share?”

“In time, Nyssa says hello.”

“Don’t.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

#dc x reader #Bruce Wayne x reader #Jason Todd x reader #redhood x reader #batman x reader #batfam x reader #PAST LIVES #dc fic

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gottlem · 4 years ago

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‘let me go’ but like angsty lemyanka maybe if lemon is moving back to nyc from toronto 💔

here u go ! the most angsty thing i have ever written and will probably ever write. i havent proofread it bc its late, im tired and i got a bit carried away and ended up writing 1.7k words so.... yeah. hope u like it ! <3

“let me go”

Lemon and Priyanka were clearly in love. Everyone knew it, everyone could see. Deep down, they both knew that they were, but no matter how many times they ended up in eachothers beds, it just never came up. Because if it did, well, Lemon’s not too sure what would happen. But it would be a lot, maybe too much. So she decided to stick with friends with benefits, nothing more, and it worked. For a while. Until she didn’t know what counted as overstepping anymore and calling Priyanka her friend just felt like a lie, even though it wasn’t, not really. But the ‘not really’ part is what fucked her up.

Lemon could only deal with so much. She had her walls, they were strong and tall and Priyanka was the only one who could get through, but they just didn’t feel like they were protecting her anymore. One day, she feared they would become a little too high, a little too unstable, and crush her. And she didn’t want Priyanka to have to deal with that.

She had already made the decision to move back to New York before she even admitted it to herself. She tended to listen to her brain over her heart - you’re less likely to get hurt that way. Somehow, this time round she couldn't quite tell which part she was listening to, but before she knew it, she was on the phone to her friend Jan asking for a place to stay.

Jan was more than happy, albeit a little concerned, for Lemon to live with her for a bit, claiming she could use the company and the help with rent. It was a win-win situation. Though, was Lemon winning? She wasn’t so sure, she was however very stubborn and once she had made her mind up, there was no going back. It would be nice to see her New York friends again, they hadn’t fallen out of touch but things are always harder when you’re so far apart. Besides, she needed a change of scenery, she missed walking the streets of the city that never sleeps.

The real reason behind her decision was Priyanka. She didn’t tell anyone about it but Jan, knowing she would need at least some form of support once the train arrived. She just couldn’t bear to keep up with whatever their current situation was, but also she wasn’t sure she had the courage to talk about her real feelings, so the only option she could see was to just run away. They could keep in contact, a couple of texts and maybe a bi-weekly phone call, and Lemon could find some other girl to fall in love with and then she would be over her.

She didn’t know how to be in love, and even if Priyanka could show her, she didn’t know if she was ready, if she was prepared. Because love was scary. Commitment, too. It’s not that Lemon was scared they would end up breaking up, she was scared that they would never break up. She was still young, and while some people long to find the love of their life early on, Lemon found herself staring at hers right in the face and it just felt too overwhelming.

She had started hinting to Priyanka that she missed her New York friends about a month before she planned to be leaving. Priyanka would suggest a week’s visit, and Lemon would just shrug it off. She just didn’t want it to come out of the blue when she finally told her that she'd be moving. And yet, all her hints didn’t stop Priyanka from being surprised.

It was dark out, and the pair lay not so comfortably in Lemon’s bed. It was too hot but neither had the energy to do anything about it, so they stayed there in silence, Lemon slowly building up the courage to speak.

“Hey, Pri?” She barely recognised her own voice, hating the crack that came out when she started speaking. Priyanka hummed in response, turning her head to face Lemon’s, eyes trained on the side of Lemon’s head as the yellow haired girl stared blankly at the ceiling. Eye contact would be too much, she didn’t want to see Priyanka’s face when she told her.

“I’m moving back to New York.”

Silence.

More silence.

Then, the shuffling of covers and creaks of floorboards as Priyanka grabbed her stuff and left. Somehow Lemon didn’t register any of it until the door had shut behind her. She closed her eyes and went to sleep.

The next day, Priyanka showed up at her door again, not too long after the sun rose. She looked tired, but Lemon said nothing because she probably looked the same.

“Sorry for just, leaving. I, uh, I was pissed off? I think?” Lemon’s jaw dropped.

“I’m sorry, you were pissed? At me? Priyanka, I get that I could have told you sooner but don’t pretend like telling you would have made me change my mind.”

“Wouldn’t it? Why are you moving anyway? When are you moving?”

“I miss my friends. I miss New York. I need a change, a get-away. I leave in two weeks”

“Jesus Christ,” Priyanka almost stomped past Lemon, sitting on the couch with an angry thud. “You’re telling me, you move to New York in two weeks, because you miss your friends, and I am only just finding out now? That is bullshit, Lemon”

Of all of the reactions Lemon anticipated, this was not one of them. They never argued. They always poked fun, never too serious, always having a good time. But this was new. Lemon didn’t even know how to argue with Priyanka. She didn’t even know how she was supposed to react to hearing her full name, and the way she said it too. Lemon couldn’t quite place a finger on how Priyanka was feeling, not used to not being able to read her like an open book, and she fucking hated it. But if Pri wanted to argue, then they were going to argue. Lemon didn’t make this decision on whim, she needed to do this, she needed to move, she didn’t have a choice.

“God, Priyanka, do I need to tell you everything? It’s not like I’m your fucking girlfriend!” She regretted saying it the second it came out of her mouth, no matter how true it was. They avoided the word ‘girlfriend’ like the plague, but apparently this was the line that needed to be crossed to have this discussion.

“No, you don’t need to tell me everything, but if you’re moving to New York? Yeah, maybe tell me. Maybe mention it before you have to leave in two weeks, for fucks sake, Lem”

She had stopped shouting, her voice sounding a bit more tired and defeated that angry. Things were complicated. Lemon thought running away would be the easiest option. And maybe she was right. Maybe the easiest option was still hard, but it was too late to change her mind now. The damage had been done, and now Priyanka knew that she would be getting on the train in two weeks time, and they didn’t know when they’d see eachother again after that.

They spent all day talking. Avoiding direct eye contact, getting goosebumps every time their hands accidentally touched. Unsaid ‘I love you’s floated around them, taunting them every time Lemon went over her excuse for moving. They hid behind sad smiles and even sadder eyes, but never managed to actually surface, not like they ever did anyways.

They pretended like nothing happened the next day. Instead, they opted to make the most of the last week and a bit left they had together, refusing to mention the fact that time was slipping, or how much they would be lost without each other. Lemon spent her nights on the phone to Jan, planning logistics, but mostly trying not to cry about how she was leaving the woman who was quite possibly her soulmate in another country for however long without telling her how she feels.

Her final day in Toronto came round after what felt like a short eternity. She was only slightly ready. Her yellow suitcase rolled next to her and she drowned out the noise of the train station with her earphones on full volume. A coffee warmed her shaking hands as she waited for the train she was obnoxiously early for. Not long past before she felt someone sit down next to her and place a hand on her shoulder, startling her from the daze she had managed to force herself into.

Of fucking course it was Priyanka. And of course she was looking at Lemon with tears threatening to shed. Lemon placed her hand in Priyanka’s after taking out her earphones, and gave it a small squeeze.

“I don’t want you to go” Lemon wished she could kiss her and say she didn’t want to go either. But she couldn't because she would be lying. She wanted to go. She loved Priyanka, and Priyanka loved her. They both knew it, without it being said. But Lemon just wasn’t ready.

“I know. I’ll miss you” Priyanka shook her head and tears began to fall down her cheeks, one by one then all at once.

“God, Lem, what went wrong? Do I have to fucking beg you to stay or something? I don’t understand why you have to move all the way to New York, I don’t know what I’m even supposed to do without you here”

Lemon refused to cry. She absolutely refused. When she felt the back of her eyes stinging with tears, she simply shook her head and pushed them back. Not now. Not in front of Pri.

She took her other hand, and looked Priyanka in the eyes, inching in closer and closer.

“Pri, I’m going, and it’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna be fine, and you’re gonna be fine, okay love? It’s time to just… let me go.”

Lemon released her hands and stood up, the action followed by Priyanka, who gave her a bone crushing hug, still crying. When she finally let go, she gave her a small kiss on the top of her head, and Lemon had to hold back her tears for the millionth time within the past five minutes. They looked at each other for just a moment, once again opting to not say anything, despite it being their final chance. Lemon gave a small nod, as if in response to the silence, before turning away and walking to her platform. She didn’t look behind her. And if she stopped holding back her waterfall of tears the second she faced the other way, she could hide that from Priyanka too.

#lemyanka #anon #lemon🍋#lemongivesyoulife #priyanka love #im sorry its unresolved #normally i kinda hate angst bc im too messed up already for that shit #but i think now i have learned to love it #however if anyone maybe wants a pt2 #i will be happy to write #bc this is practically an entire fic #i got pretty carried away

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doomedandstoned · 4 years ago

Text

King Buffalo Provide Respite For Pandemic-Weary Listeners on ‘The Burden of Restlessness’

~By Billy Goate~

Artwork by Zdzisław Beksiński

I confess, I came a little late to the KING BUFFALO party. I mean, I’ve known about them from their very first record on and have even picked songs to play on The Doomed & Stoned Show that's I've found particularly enjoyable. Regulars to the program know I’ve always been more a doomer than a stoner, though obviously relishing music from both worlds. Only recently had I given myself the opportunity of really baking in their music. It probably has something to do with the summer psychedelic kick I’m on lately, that and I’ve been getting a lot more sunshine, walking more, learning how to enjoy being human again.

Not only did I give the band's latest LP, 'The Burden of Restlessness' (2021) a solid listen, I've been spinning it non-stop! The title grabbed me right away, because I could very much identify with the uncertainty and fear of 2020 lockdowns, which eventually gave way to boredom and stoic despair. Depending on who you ask, it's their third studio album and it's got its hooks in me for damn sure.

Sonically, the sound is fresh and vital, every note captured prestinely by frontman/guitarist at Rochester's Main Street Armory between December and January. I don't know if he's a sound engineer on the side or what, but I really am impressed by how present the instruments sound, without excessive reverberation. After Sean finished recording and mixing, the tapes were sent to Grammy-nominated producer Bernard Matthews for mastering on the other side of the continent in Portland, Oregon.

Let's go through King Buffalo's release track-by-track, because I think there's plenty to talk about here.

1. Burning

The Burden of Restlessness by King Buffalo

I feel it falling apart Too many blisters and scars Are we the wick or the flame, are they just one in the same? Was it just doomed from the start?

The record opens with “Burning” and in those first dozen seconds of churning downtuned noise, we’re unsure what kind of song it’s going to be. An assertive riff-motif starts to dance to the accompaniment of a motor-like rhythm. The singing is as depressive as we’re bound to encounter from King Buffalo, with lyrics that express regret about “another year lost in the wasteland” and that feeling of falling apart while time stands still.

The members of King Buffalo have been on a steadily rising trajectory in recent years, so the sudden closures of concert halls and canceled tours wasn't just a bummer for a lot of professional musicians; it had immediate career implications, along with the obvious problem of no job = no money. It’s one thing to weather through a crisis when you know what the end game is, and at this time last year most of us still didn’t know what the hell was going to happen. We thought everything would open up and return to normal, then the summer of 2020 exploded all around us with social unrest. The album’s title speaks to the creative frustrations of being not only uncertain of when your band is next going to tour, but what to do in the meanwhile. For creative people, there’s a burden to create -- sometimes just to keep yourself from going mad with frustration.

2. Hebetation

The Burden of Restlessness by King Buffalo

I don’t know which way to run One thousand different ways but I can’t seem to live with one So I’m stuck where I’ve begun Another languid day, can’t seem to break away

“Hebetation” was one of the singles that emerged before the album was independently released toward the start of summer. It is the song I relate to the most, too. Vibrant Helmetesque riffmaking sets the song a sail, with a bit of a nod to Sabbath as well. The math-like interplay between drums, bass, and guitar have a vaguely krautrock aura about it, though the volume and tone is pure metal. Like the opening track, the words are frank and honest, addressing the weight of unfulfilled dreams, the jadedness that comes with disappointment, and suicidal thoughts that come floating into mind when it seems nothing's working out as planned. “Nothing’s changed at 35. Still every night I dream a million different ways for me to die.”

3. Locusts

The Burden of Restlessness by King Buffalo

Stifling the sun with wicked hands Everything undone with vicious plans

“Locusts,” as the name implies, is replete with bouncing guitar rhythm, with picking that seems to dart about like that swarm of grasshoppers that used to sweep through my poor pitiful East Texas garden mid-summer and shred everything in sight. Around the 3:30 mark, we’re treated to an extended high-end grinder of a B-section, with sweeping psychedelic gestures ala Kim Thayil -- and hearkening back to the melodic motif of another great song: “Sun Shivers.” When the A section returns, the rhythm is more deliberate, less dashing about in math or progressive fashion. The song ends with what could well end up an extended drone jam on just the right night as King Buffalo continues to roll through the U.S.

4. Silverfish

The Burden of Restlessness by King Buffalo

I stare at the cracks in the wall And melt into nothing A silverfish slithering away, from everything

“Silverfish” got a music video, which was a wise choice as the song is quite accessible and relatable, too (even if it did get a few people wondering if King Buffalo was having their own “The Sword Moment” stylistically). The main motif is a two-note broken interval from high note to low in an almost an ‘80s-style nod to the advent of computer generated music (to my ears it sounds like the guitar may either be taking on the action or playing in sync with the synthesizer).

Never fear, the heavy is soon here. When I heard those first crashing tripled-down chords, I let out an inner hellllll yeah to that shit. The quirky little melody from the start comes back, this time on guitar in a way that really works to convince you that it was a good artistic choice from the get-go.

Lyrically, it's another wistful line of expression: “I stare at the cracks in the wall, I think I’m unravelling...I think I’m losing my grip on everything, I’m drifting away.” This is also one of the few songs on the record with a strong melodic chorus. It comes towards the end, which works quite effectively in climaxing the song.

(BTW, anyone else freaked out by silverfish as much as me?)

5. Grifter

The Burden of Restlessness by King Buffalo

I make my way over the dunes Desolate and dry The remnants of empires past Too stubborn to die

“Grifter” returns to the everyman accessibility of “Burning” and “Hebetation,” with a notably despondent tenor to each line of the song. The calm singing over rhythmic verses so characteristic of King Buffalo’s writing gives way to a brutal grind sans chorus. Sometimes you don’t have words and you just have to work it all out with your axe or piano or whatever's your jam. There didn’t need to be a big, bloated angry chorus on top of it all. We feel that most adequately from the riffmaking itself, which plays out like slow burning frustration that intensifies with every round of the dirge.

6. The Knocks

The Burden of Restlessness by King Buffalo

Everyday I wake up on the floor Another useless day like every other that’s come before I can feel it creeping more and more Don’t think I wanna wake no more, don’t think I wanna live no more

“The Knocks” features the same keyboard playing as before, so now I’m sure it's either Sean or bassist Dan Reynolds on synth -- though the playing here is much more ornamental, at times adding an exclamation point to the sentiment of the lyrics. It might be a little much if overplayed, but here it’s dispensed judiciously. We have a bass, drums, and synth break where a chorus would normally be, followed by another shred sesh that’s feeling like Helmet or Prong love. A beautiful mid-range guitar melody intervenes, then things start to feel a distinctively robotic pattern announces itself around the 3:20 mark, joined in short order by the rest of the instruments. This leads to a melodious guitar sequence, with the dexterous kind of finger work that the one dude at shows likes so much when he pretends to shred next to the stage.

7. Loam

The Burden of Restlessness by King Buffalo

I’m shedding the burden of restlessness To rise from the loam of the nothingness

“Loam” hearkens back to my favorite King Buffalo album, ‘Longing To Be The Mountain’ (2018). A broken octave rhythmic pattern is plucked with drums and bass being all cool, saying just the right thing at the right time. Atop it, the jaded, sedated crooning of Sean McVay, which as both a musical and cultural Doomer I find appealing. A mean guitar lick lashes out like a whip atop bass and drums around 3 minutes, then tears into another voiceless psychedelic improvisation. It's a beautiful instrumental metal section with a hard rock appeal. The song returns to its opening vibe in an almost Toolesque fashion, then opts for more catharsis-giving mosh time and another plaintively sung extended note melody.

The verses give us a hint of hope, as Sean declares: "I’m shedding the burden of restlessness / To rise from the loam of the nothingness." I'm curious to hear the two other albums the band plans on releasing in 2021 (yes, you read that right!) and how they will pair or contrast with this one.

King Buffalo's The Burden of Restlessness holds a special place in my music library and its songs are a frequent highlight of my daily playlist. I suspect it will be a record you, too, will keep close at hand as the plague rages on. A balm for the weary soul.

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#D&S Reviews #King Buffalo #Rochester #New York #desert rock #krautrock #blues #stoner rock #progressive rock #metal #HeavyBest2020 #Doomed and Stoned

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real-jaune-isms · 4 years ago

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RWBY Volume 8 Chapter 10 Review/Remix

WHAT the ever loving FUCK was that just now RT?? You give us several great answers and scenes we really wanted to see, and then rip all that joy away in the last 3 minutes!!! I want to sue for emotional damages, but I really can’t be mad cuz it’s very masterful writing on their part. After years of shows doing redemption arcs we finally have it... the bastardization arc~

We open, perhaps to the disappointment of some, on Ironwood staring out the windows of his office at the battlefield and city in turmoil below. He’s being given a situation update on the destruction of the cellblock two episodes back, and he takes the news a little differently than might have been expected (read: worse). Jacques apparently stayed right where he was and let himself be put back into custody, while Qrow avoided much harm by being a bird and ending up in a spot where the rubble wasn’t landing directly on him. Robyn was only slightly lucky, she was under some large debris but doesn’t seem terribly hurt and is actually conscious when Atlas soldiers uncover her and say she’ll be moved to a new cell elsewhere. Qrow isn’t about to be put back in a cage though, and flies right at the soldier who finds him. Behind a conveniently placed piece of wall he turns back and, as I was somewhat praised for phrasing it in a discord chat, he tackled that man as a man. We can assume he knocks out the guy about to apprehend Robyn, and the two make a getaway. Ironwood doesn’t like this news one bit, though he focuses more on recapturing the two huntsmen he had arrested on paranoid treason charges than the actual war criminal he lost an arm catching whose dangerous work on the city of Mantle still hasn’t been undone. Not cool, dude. He yells at the soldiers who had come to report this, and they leave to try and find the jailbirds. He stares out the window again in contemplation and tries to calm down a little before turning on his earpiece to get an update on the status of some thing or another, probably the bomb, when something massive happens.

With a blinding flash and an array of gold and green, Oscar’s staff goes off with whatever he was charging up. It’s as bright and forceful as you’d expect a nuclear bomb to be, and it knocks Winter and the Ace Ops off their feet as they were heading towards Monstra lugging their own bomb. Weiss and Nora see it from Schnee Manor, and it seems to do a real number on the Grimm around Monstra and in the city. Rooster Teeth had to give a flashing lights warning at the start of the episode for those it would adversely affect, and I can totally understand why after the crazy display this gave us. When the light fades and the noise settles, Monstra has been snapped and is fading away to dust, and in that dust cloud we hear and barely see Neopolitan skipping away with the Lamp in hand. What a little punk... Winter gets back on her feet and is quick to ask her squad for their status, she doesn’t want to have lost anyone or suffered serious wounds from whatever the hell they just saw/felt. No one is hurt, though Elm’s ears seem to still be ringing. But Marrow is very distressed, realizing they still hadn’t heard back from Jaune and the others and they may have been killed in that blast. Nobody has anything to say that would appease him, so they stay silent. Vine tries to put a reassuring hand on Elm’s shoulder but she brushes him off. Guess after they got called out by Ren she wants to show even less emotion and sentimentality than before. Ironwood contacts them under the false assumption this was the result of their bomb, and requests they return to HQ for an update on the new problem he wants to deal with. Marrow naturally points out that the destruction wasn’t their doing, and Winter decides that will be news best delivered in person, so they load the bomb back on the airship and take off.

Cutting into the city, we see Watts and Cinder viewing the destruction of their mobile HQ from a distance. Nobody is returning Cinder’s calls but they know Salem will be back so Watts suggests they come up with a plan in the meantime. But Cinder is fully confident that they can still do what they originally intended, that being having her kill Penny and take the Winter Maiden powers after Watts brings the synthezoid to her. But this was a plan made under false assumptions, because apparently she misunderstood the terminology in his message and thought he could puppeteer Penny to go wherever he demands when really he just laid a new prime directive to send her straight to the Vault as we saw two episodes back. Hearing this pisses Cinder off immensely, especially the part about Penny being set to self destruct as soon as the Vault is open since that means the next recipient of the powers will be randomized again and she’ll have lost her chance to yoink them. Watts is too busy grumpily musing to himself about Penny having free will and a spirit that doesn’t want to succumb to his leet hacks to notice Cinder growing more and more enraged, until he turns around and she pulls him in close to yell at him. But Watts is having none of that, he works for Salem not her, and his plans weren’t made to give this flaming whining goth what she wants every single time. He’s just supposed to get the Vault open for Salem, and this is how he’s doing that. This is not the kind of answer Cinder wanted to hear, and she stretches her arm out to shove Watts to the edge of the roof and leave him on the verge of falling over to his demise. He doesn’t seem terribly fazed, calling her bluff and saying her mission was to bring him back and Salem won’t be a bit pleased if he dies. But you know what Salem is not? Here right now to stop Cinder from dealing with this arrogant self righteous prick once and for all. So she fully intends to drop him and then tear up Atlas on a fiery path to the Vault where she can intercept Penny and steal the Winter powers before tearing her to pieces herself and being the triumphant follower getting everything done that Salem really needed. And Watts just... laughs. Chris Sabat must have had a great time in the VO booth for this one, because he gets to have an absolute roast session the likes of which he hasn’t delivered since Majin Vegeta tore that clown Kakarot a new one. Naturally Cinder’s plan would be to brute force her way to victory and get glory for none but herself with her every whim satisfied along the way. Because that’s always her plan. And it always fails. She tried to storm Fria’s hospital room like that and got her ass handed to her by some teenagers and a dying woman before Penny took the powers before she could. She did the same damn thing 2 Volumes ago when she tried to massacre all her enemies under one roof in an alliance with a woman she thought she could outwit, but ended up blindsided by a surprise Maiden reveal and almost died while her outnumbered forces were on the verge of surrendering without her. And did anyone warn her not to do that? YES! WATTS DID!!! WATTS IS ALWAYS RIGHT, YOU FOOL!!! Well, okay, he’s really not. But he’s more clever and meticulous so he saw the flaws her arrogance left her blind to. And then Watts really tears into her by saying she isn’t smart, she isn’t worthy, and she isn’t entitled to what she wants because she’s suffered in the past. The one thing she is is a goddamn migraine. I’m a little mad Tyrian stole the show’s first cuss 4 years back cuz I really would have liked for Watts to cap this off by calling Cinder a bitch. This roasting literally lights a fire under Cinder and she seems ready to snap and kill Watts here and now, but instead she pulls him back onto the roof and stares off blankly into space before her fire fades and she walks off to sit on the ledge of a different side of the building to really think about his harsh words and shed a single tear. It’s a little unclear if she’s just feeling sorry for herself and realizing she’s more of a failure than she wanted to admit, or if she’s just overwhelmed by Watts reminding her of her childhood trauma. Maybe she’s realizing how powerless she’s truly remained all this time after fighting so hard for her own freedom and independence, and crying at the fact that she seems unable to escape that role she hates so much. Whatever the case, it’s real rough for her but I don’t feel like shedding any of my own tears for her sake. She doesn’t seem like she’s gonna change her allegiances so I don’t feel much need to cheer for her, but maybe she’ll reevaluate her strategy and become a force to be reckoned with as a villain because of this. I wouldn’t mind that. We’ll have to wait and see.

Back in the ruins of Monstra, we see Yang Ren and Jaune are all doing alright, and Oscar seems to be as well. Jaune is using his Semblance to help Oscar heal up quicker so that’s good to see too. Yang answers a call and sees Blake anxiously hoping she’ll pick up. The biggest smile comes to her face when she does, and the two halves of the group are ecstatic to hear the other is still alive and well. Neither are quite ready to tell the full tale of what they’ve been up to, but Weiss pulls up a map of the city and lays out a safe route through the subway tunnels that will take OYRJ straight to the mansion so they can actually reunite. Oscar isn’t about to leave Emerald behind though, and we see her knelt in the chaos holding out her hands as if hoping to catch some of the dust that was once her father figure. Yang is vocally against the idea of bringing Emerald with them, but Oscar advocates for her being every bit against Salem as them so the enemy of their enemy should be their friend. Emerald actually doesn’t seem to want to keep hanging around them and says they should just part ways, but Jaune isn’t about to let her walk free without facing any kind of justice for her past crimes. Ren thinks they need to be able to see past their emotional hang ups and consider the value in having her as an ally, and Yang is quick to remind them all that Emerald is part of the reason she lost her arm. Technically that is true, Adam was working with Cinder and if Yang hadn’t been framed as a brutal criminal she would have been around the rest of the team when everything popped off so maybe that first fight would have gone differently. But I do feel like it’s a bit of a stretch. Yang keeps going about why she can’t just forgive and forget when Em had been such a snake in the grass back at Beacon, but that’s not what Oscar is asking of her. He just wants her to try and give the girl a second chance to be better. He gets a little cryptic about how they’ve already gotten help from someone they haven’t had the best track record trusting, and Ren perfectly guesses he means that Oz has reemerged in his mind. This takes the blondes by surprise, and Oscar stands up for the old soul by saying he took the brunt of the beatings and told him how to impede Salem like he did just there. Turns out we’ll be finding out the secret of Ozpin’s cane today: It’s been made into a magical repository for kinetic energy stored over dozens of past lives to be made into a sort of bomb to set off when needed. I don’t know quite enough about physics to describe how exactly that would work, but it seems to make sense that it does. But the blast that took out Monstra used up the majority of what was in there so he can’t rely on it for that kind of attack again. It seems likely that was what Ozpin used against Cinder in the Beacon Vault, but didn’t use very much of it, and again what Oscar used to bust a hole in the bottom of the pit Ironwood shot him into. Oscar finishes making his case that Oz really does want to aid them, and the others seem convinced. What’s worth noting is that all eyes had been on him during this, but Emerald made no attempt to run away or even lower her hands. Guess she might really want to stick around after all... The moment is interrupted by the not so distant sound of a crying baby, and they all run further down the tunnel to find a subway station where the people of Atlas are taking shelter on Ironwood’s orders. Emerald starts to feel the weight of her action and those she used to side with, especially when she sees kids scared and hungry like she was before Cinder found her. They continue past the station on their way to the manor, and Oscar offers some encouragement to Emerald that they need her help in this war considering what she’s capable of. Considering the feats she performed under stress back in Volume 5, I’m inclined to agree.

We fade away from that scene to Ironwood’s office and the camera rises up the stairs as if being held by the Ace Ops as they and Winter come through the still broken doors to give their report to the general. He’s looking at multiple holographic screens projecting from his table: one with graphics telling him the status of all the airships mechs and soldiers, one pulling up news articles and any other info they can get on Monstra presumably for the purpose of cataloguing it in case they ever need to worry about another one, the third seems to be a map of city to monitor the damage so far, and the last is all the info they have on Cinder. He congratulates the team for their work destroying the Grimm, but Winter admits it wasn’t their bomb that did the job, they still have it intact for him. This confuses Ironwood greatly, but he sees an opportunity in this twist of fate. Penny hasn’t come to the Vault like he wanted her to be programmed to do, so he assumes Watts did a shit job of reprogramming her or just intentionally screwed them over. Yet the truth is something he can’t seem to imagine, she has free will and doesn’t want to do as she’s told. Who’s the real tool now Jimmy? He informs them that Cinder broke Watts out, and he seems to consider Qrow and Robyn escaping to be an even worse consequence. Harriet seems ready to sprint out of the room and haul them back here herself, but Ironwood stays her hand... or foot in this case. With Salem temporarily halted, now is the best time they’ve got for him to have the Winter Maiden open the Vault and use the Staff to lift Atlas higher than she can reach like he wanted so badly. So he wants Winter to bring him Yang Jaune and Ren. Winter doesn’t see the purpose of that, or she does and hates to imagine it’s truly what he intends, but either way she knows she can’t do what he’s asking. He plans to make full use of the lives they hold in their hands, and he’s going to use Jaune and the others as leverage to make Penny do what he says. He acts as if he’s actually proud of himself for realizing this is an option available to him, and I think it’s his Semblance that’s partially blinding him to the moral reasons why it should not be an option worth considering. Winter is left wilting under his unaware and proud gaze, and then Harriet pipes up to tattle on her commanding officer. Winter gave the kids a chance to try and rescue their friends from inside the whale(they don’t mention that friend was Oscar so he still doesn’t know the kid survived his attempted murder), and they weren’t seen exiting before it blew up. I want to say I’m shocked and disgusted that Harriet snitched on Winter just for the brownie points of being honest and taking Winter down a peg, but I’m really not. She’s been a loyal bootlicker since this time last Volume, and this feels like payback for that whole “I outrank you so you can’t stop me from giving them a chance” thing in chapter 7. Ironwood removes the proud and probably intended to be comforting hand he had placed on Winter’s shoulder, as if ashamed to be touching her after she let him down like this. This was his last plan for his definition of success, and now it’s ruined so he can’t do anything. In a fit of rage he smashes his table like the goddamn Hulk and the Ace Ops are left to watch and wonder just how in his right mind he actually is. As he tries to catch his breath, the general gets an urgent transmission that dozens of non-military aircraft have shown up on radar. I and probably a few dozen other people watching this hoped this was an Avengers Endgame moment of tons of allies coming to the rescue of the down and out heroes. But no, its the Schnee Dust Company ships Whitley sent out. Almost forgot about that plan, whoops. Ironwood immediately recognizes this as Weiss’ handiwork for the sake of saving Mantle, because nobody would have guessed Whitley would show some humanity and make this plan himself. Winter immediately shows attentive concern hearing her sister has done this, and Harriet gives her a look as if to say “you are such a bleeding heart for these little criminals...” Ironwood makes the very one dimensional assumption that everything Ruby and the others have been doing is simply to protect Mantle, as if they didn’t have a serious conversation with May about helping Atlas as well as Mantle 3 episodes back. With that knowledge in mind, he decides he needs to make a call.

Speaking of phones, Cinder gets a cheeky text and an accompanying selfie from Neo revealing she has the Lamp and she knows Salem will tear Cinder to pieces if she doesn’t bring it back to her. So she’s proposing a trade; Cinder gets the name to activate the Lamp, and in return she has to bring Neo to Ruby for the revenge she so deeply craves. Watts can’t see Cinder’s screen so he wonders who among their comrades has survived. Unclear if Cinder is going to tell him.

At last, we see Ruby throw open the front doors of Schnee Manor with Weiss and Blake flanking her, to see Yang and the others on the front steps. The sisters immediately embrace and Ruby sheds a tear of relief and joy that they’re all okay. Yang tells her she missed her too, and that seems to be that for the distrust and argument they had back in chapter 1. Ruby goes to greet the guys, and Yang gives Weiss a nice hug too. Then she sees Blake has taken a few steps away from the group and seems ashamed or embarrassed, unable to even look in their direction in Yang’s direction. Yang puts a hand to her cheek, her thumb softly stroking up and down as she turns Blake’s head to meet her gays gaze. Yang blushes and smiles, Bake returns the smile, and the two softly press their foreheads together. The intense sapphic energy of this deeply intimate moment was almost overwhelming, and many couldn’t help but adore it. I know I couldn’t stop myself from being a little giggly. Ren notices Nora isn’t there to greet them, and Weiss seems like she’s going to bring him up to her room and possibly even explain what happened along the way. Ruby takes this chance to go and greet Oscar with a hug, but stops short when she sees Emerald behind him. She seems real mad and is about to go on the attack, but Oscar steps between them and insists he can vouch for her, or maybe he’s saying he can explain? We don’t quite know because they get cut off by the sound of Ruby’s Scroll ringing. May is calling from the crater to say that the SDC freighters aren’t the only thing in the air right now, and she seems very panicked by what she sees. She yells for everyone to run into the mines for shelter, and an explosion is hear before the call is cut short. Before anyone has time to try and puzzle out what they just heard, a loud alarm tone goes off on all their Scrolls. It’s a fun detail that as a Faunus Blake covers her ears cuz the loud noise is especially bad for her. An emergency CCT broadcast is coming in for everyone in the kingdom, and Ruby magnifies her Scroll’s playing of it to be projected into the air for all of them to watch. The cargo ships are shown being shot down by military ships, and then the feed cuts to Ironwood standing ominously under a single light to deliver a downright villainous speech. He claims he has been trying his best to protect the technology and future of the kingdom from those who would do it harm, but I think it is VERY telling he never mentions protecting the people. Because that’s not what matters to him anymore. Not really. He says the only person stopping him from finishing his plans of making sure the currently crippled Salem can’t hurt them anymore is Penny. So he has an ultimatum for Penny and her friends, because he knows they will be listening right now. Either she turn herself over to him so he can have her do her “duty” and save as much of the Kingdom as possible and forget about trying to save Mantle, or he will nuke Mantle as punishment for her selfishness. The more he talks the more angry Ruby and the others get, and we are right there with them. He somehow thinks that if Mantle is destroyed then Penny will be free to only care about Atlas and its protection and will gladly work with him to do so. What a delusional bastard. And if anyone tries anything other than what he has said to do, he will use the bomb. 1 hour to decide how they will respond, and a hell of a lot riding on that choice.

There can be absolutely no question now, Ironwood will be the villain for the rest of the Volume and Salem will probably return at the end to ruin whatever hope putting him down will have raised in our heroes... And I’m kinda excited for how that’s gonna play out. Let’s see how team RWBY get out of this one~

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anika-ann · 5 years ago

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Grease and Pearls - Pt.3

Dreams Meet Reality

Type: One-shot turned three-shot (because does anyone really want a 17k in one go?)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (main), Tony/Reader, Tony/Pepper

Word count: 3400 or 5100 (yeah, you read it right, see A/N)

Summary: An uptown girl met a downtown guy with a heart of gold. Oh, and he was handsome too. It inevitably leads to their relationship developping… but is there any chance for them at all?

For @cxptain ’s challenge. Prompt: Uptown Girl by Billy Joel

Warnings: swearing (a lot), attempt at angst, ghosting, communication par excellence

A/N: We had fluff and smut. What are we missing? That’s right. Heads up, people! There is an alternate ending to my original one, the one sentence where it breaks is in italics. I hope that makes sense ;) Pick whichever or read both :D Enjoy!

Story Masterlist

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It was bound to happen – you knew as much – but deep in your heart, you had hoped it wouldn’t. You had hoped it would last longer. You had hoped that perhaps a miracle would occur and in some mysterious way, you would be able to convince your parents that marrying you to Anthony was a terrible idea.

You should have known better than that.

The very day you had fell asleep in Steve’s arms after making love – and God, you could still feel him, his touches on your skin, his mouth, everywhere, even in the most intimate places, a pleasant, almost ceremonial ache lingering exactly there, a memory of fire in your belly and your heart – you got caught.

Your parents had been waiting at Potts’ house as you reached it around eleven in the evening, a smiling mess, a sight to behold, and any illusion about the future you had been painting in your mind shattered.

Pepper had tried to take part of the blame, but your parents always believed that you were the faulty daughter in your household and such ways stretched outside your house.

Your father was furious. Your mother was deeply disappointed and even faked a few tears – or perhaps she shed them for real, mourning her reputation, one the family would fight tooth and nail to retain.

You had literally fallen on your knees and begged when they found a drawing from a street artist, a souvenir of one of your trips to downtown which you had only craved to explore-- and by some miracle indeed, you were allowed to keep it and not to have it torn to shreds right in front of your eyes. Pepper’s teary gaze told you she knew you were making up things up as you went and that the drawing, the one that captured beauty you weren’t sure you possessed, meant much more.

You couldn’t even hope to earn forgiveness, so you only asked for it half-heartedly.

What you did earn was a damn chaperon.

In your age! In this day and age!

Her name was Maria and she was truly efficient and strict to a fault. Nevertheless, she respected your privacy and whenever you were to meet Pepper, she would stand just outside the door and wait if you asked for a confidential conversation… which was always, you didn’t need some goddamned stranger spying on you. What the hell.

But truly, all things considered, you had lucked out; as your parents didn’t fault Pepper for your actions, you were still allowed to meet with her at least and to talk her in private.

However, the marriage plans were sped up.

And naturally, you couldn’t even hope to set your foot anywhere near downtown. You hadn’t seen Steve for two weeks, you hadn’t even found his number in the phone book to explain yourself and you missed him.

Your heart seemed to fail in its basic function; when you were lying in your bed at night, wide awake, it longed after ocean blue eyes with a drop of green, strong hands holding you close, and it wouldn’t stop pounding wildly in your chest. In the morning, your heart appeared to be beating so slowly you had to place your palm over the area to make sure it was still there, that it still had enough strength to keep you upright all day ahead.

And it ached 24 hours a day. For you, for Steve, who must have been clueless on why you never showed up to your set date or any time after. You were hurting and your parents watched you suffer along with your sister, frowning at you and scolding you to stop acting like a five-year old who had a toy taken away.

They could never understand. Was that a curse or a blessing?

Pepper was the only person you could trust, only person you could talk to about your true sorrows and her patience never seemed to wear thin despite her own turmoil – after all, if your marriage was to be sped up… her hopes were being crushed as well.

“Pepper… I don’t want to marry Tony. God, I can’t marry him,” you whispered, a cup of tea in your hands, your palms and fingers curled around the warm ceramics, hoping for it to take away some of the ever-present cold your body radiated these days.

Your friend smiled at you sadly, an honest and heart-breaking lift of the corners of her lips.

“I know, honey.”

You chuckled bitterly at the irony. Here you were, stealing her dreamed man, on she loved, while yearning after another, after the one you loved. You looked up at the ceiling, blinking away the tears gathering in your eyes – again and again, barely a day without their presence. They were always there, ready for the dam to broke so they could run down your cheeks.

When you spoke again, you could barely force the words out of your tight throat.

“I… I truly love Steve. I dreamed tonight, about having a little boy,” you whispered, the image still vivid behind your now closed eyelids. He was so damn pretty, your sweet little boy. “Blond hair, pretty blue eyes full of mischief and such innocent smile with a front tooth missing and I was expecting with another--… I want that. I want to have Steve’s children one day and I want Steve. I need him. It feels like I can’t breathe without him.”

Tender hands reached for your shoulders and pulled you into an embrace, soft and careful, yet very unladylike, not proper for anyone to see in public – at least not here, not in uptown. God, you hated it here. You despised it now, truly. And if that made you an ungrateful brat, then so be it.

“Oh sweety, I know exactly how you feel. I’m so sorry,” Pepper replied in the same manner, comfortingly stroking your arm. She sounded on the verge of tears as well. “But you know what your family is like, they would never accept Steve. As much as it hurts you and me… I’m not sure you really have a choice.”

You swallowed against the lump formed in your throat and shakily breathed in.

“Don’t I?”

You thought of your chaperon and wondered… just how heartless could she be?

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It was three weeks after his girl’s last surprise visit that had somehow resulted in her and Steve tangled in his sheets when he lost his faith in her and whatever the two of them had had completely.

Three weeks without as much as a glimpse of her or a word, two weeks of not going to bed without few bottles of beer to keep him company, Steve walked into the shop and instantly knew something was wrong.

The usually loud environment full of chatter and teasing was suspiciously quiet.

“Hey guys,” he called out, trying to sound casual. “What gives?”

“Nothing-“ Thor responded swiftly – and way too quickly. Steve rolled his eyes.

“I’m blond but ain’t that stupid. Who pissed in everyone’s cereal? Buck?”

Steve’s best friend looked up from his work, shorty meeting his eyes. The regretful gaze spoke volumes on its own, but the brunet still sighed, tossing the rag in his hands on the nearest hood.

Steve suddenly wasn’t so sure he wanted to hear the news whatever it was. Dread filled his stomach, a feeling that had his gut twist uncomfortably. The blue-grey irises of his friend hid behind his eyelids.

“I… I’ve been in town this morning, Steve,” he explained slowly, cursing under his breath when he took in Steve’s perfectly confused expression, awaiting a metaphorical punch. “Fuck, Steve—I-eh, I saw Carter with Stark and they were-“ The coil in Steve’s stomach tightened to the point of him thinking he might throw up. “-shit, I’m sorry, Steve, they were at jeweller’s, probably picking up a ring.”

A ring.

Right.

Because she was getting married. To Stark. He knew that—he had been, in fact, informed that it might happen at some point.

But no-- like a fool, he had painted an image in his head, stupid and naïve and even found himself thinking about his ma’s engagement ring – once or twice since he had met his stunning uptown girl –, one he had inherited and was planning to give a woman who would take his heart.

Funny how his mind had been purposely leaving out the fact that the very same woman he had given his heart to was the one who could stomp on it and let it bleed on the pavement.

Fuck, he was a complete idiot, wasn’t he?

Steve swallowed against his suddenly dry throat, nodding few times in acknowledgement of the information, lips in a tight line, one corner lifted in an ironic smile as his blood boiled.

“Well… we knew it was comin’, didn’t we?” he remarked and shook his head with a scoff.

God, he was so fucking stupid-

“Steve-“

He waved Bucky off, stalking towards his own station. He dropped his bag, always stashed with clean clothes just in case, to the ground by the counter, hand blindly reaching out. He grabbed the wrench on the top unmistakably, his fingers curling firmly around the metal.

One swift movement, one jerk of his bulging arm and the wrench was sent flying, hitting the momentarily empty chain with an ominous clang that could only hope to echo the mad rage he felt, sizzling in his veins, eating him up from the inside.

“Fuck him!” he roared, the ferocity of his voice startling even his mates who were familiar with his occasional temper.

His breathing turned heavy as he reached for another tool, flinging it the same way, this time hitting the wall, much to his irritation.

Jesus fucking shit-- he was so fucking mad – at her, at himself, at Stark, Stark who thought he could just take and take, greedy asshole, just like all of those uptown snobs that thought they owned the fucking world!

“Fuck Stark and all of those privileged assholes! I hope they rot in- Fucking! Hell!”

Two more objects Steve didn’t bother to look at flied through the air and hit the chains, the harmless violence not providing him with half the satisfaction he hoped in.

By the time the boss stalked into the shop the check on what was going on – and to yell at his employees to stop fucking around – Steve had been long gone, taking the SHILED bike and driving away until all he could feel was the wind swishing around his head, loud enough to drown out his noisy thoughts.

“Rogers came in sick, we sent him home,” Pietro supplied helpfully, the deadpan expression on Fury’s face telling him that he had none of that shit.

Yet, the bossman sighed and headed back to his office.

“Good, wouldn’t want him to puke all over my fuckin’ garage.”

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She showed up in the shop on week four. Steve was just coming back from a short bathroom break, quickly taking a U-turn when he got a glimpse of her in the overhead door to the garage, wearing black and red elegant dress.

He leaned his back against the separating wall, closing his eyes at the painful jab to his stomach.

Logically, there was no reason for him to be so devastated. He fucked girls before—he liked girls before. So why did he have to be such a missy when it came to her? She was pretty, sure, but there were plenty of cute gals. Steve really tried not to think about the L word they had exchanged, because deep down it had dawned to him a while ago; he was so fucked up because he was in love and then he was dumped by a lady who normally wouldn’t look at him twice, which was something that his brain had been bullheadedly refusing to accept.

“Sorry, he ain’t in today,” Odinson drawled, traces of hostility in his voice.

“Oh,” she sounded surprised and he could picture the gentle confused frown, the slight pout to her lips—shit, those lips tasted like cherry-- "Uhm, do you know when he will be in?”

“Why do ya’ need to know?”

Steve was certain that her frown deepened at Bucky’s words.

“Well, uhm, I need to talk to him, it’s important. Should I come here in few days or-“

“Don’t think he’ll be ‘round here any time soon.”

“Is he alright?” she asked, genuine concern in her voice and it took all of Steve’s willpower not to bang his head against the wall.

Why, just why was she doing this to him? Why would she care?

Now he knew that was cruel to her – he believed that once, she had truly been interested in him – but he told himself multiple times that her looks were deceiving, that she only had been looking for a distraction from her uptight uptown world. Maybe if he told himself enough times, he would start to believe it.

“Ain’t none of your business, princess,” Thor retorted and Steve just knew she winced at the harsh tone, a soft gasp escaping her mouth, that sweet mouth he had kissed over three weeks ago, sweet, innocent and sinful, the music of her short breaths filling his poor excuse of a loft, keeping him fucking going.

“Nice ring, by the way,” Bucky said nonchalantly.

Steve gulped at that. Yeah, he bet it was; but there was no way Bucky was being polite. The venom dripping from his words was a message on its own.

And she picked up on it, naturally. His –not his anymore, not that she had ever truly been – brilliant beautiful girl.

“Oh. Thank- thank you,” she whispered and Steve had to strain his ears like a creep, catching the crack in her voice; he almost ran out hearing it, ready to comfort her, because God, he couldn’t imagine her crying, salt tears rolling down her rosy cheeks - few had when they had made love, but she had been smiling too.

He was sure that seeing her cry without that smile… it would feel the world was ending. Her eyes were made for shining with happiness, her lips made for laughter-

“The fuck-?“

Steve’s head snapped straight when he heard his boss leaving his office, catching him chilling by the wall, very much not working and instead trying not to break and kiss the woman he loved stupid – no matter how stupid that made him. She was engaged. Promised to another, a much classier man… or at least much richer, Steve didn’t imagine his character being worth a damn penny.

On instinct, Steve put a finger over his own lips, wordlessly begging Fury not to rat him out. The man rolled his good eye – the one that hadn’t been hit by hot oil years ago – and crossed his arms on his chest.

“And—uhm, I see. Tell—please tell him I stopped by if he- and that I am sorry for not coming here for so long. He can leave a message with Mrs.Maximoff if he--- tell him I really need to-- that I would like to talk to him,” her voice trembled a bit as she stuttered, but it was clear she had been aiming for a firmer voice and missed by miles.

“Don’t see why he should want to know, princess, but sure, whatever.”

Fury gave Steve another annoyed look and stalked into everyone’s sight. For a second, Steve panicked – was his boss about to tell on him? – but the bulky man only walked in, a professional greeting on his lips.

“Good afternoon, madam. What can we do for you today?”

“Oh, good afternoon, sir-“

“My name is Nicolas Fury, I own the SHIELD Car Repairs. May I be of service?” he continued pleasantly, a businessman in his heart. And actor in his soul, apparently, because Steve was sure he figured out what was going on from the few words he had heard and from Steve’s cowardice and was now putting up a face.

“Mr.Fury, thank you for your readiness, however I was only just leaving. Your staff was most helpful,” she said, polite and respectful, almost a hint of a kind smile in her tone as if she hadn’t sounded on verge of tears only a moment ago. As if the guys hadn’t been jerks to her, standing up for him and his… ugh, his hurt feelings.

“Very well then. Have a pleasant day. Should I walk you out?”

“I actually already offered to walk Ms. Carter out if that’s alright with ya’,” Pietro quickly stepped in, a voice that hadn’t spoken since she had arrived.

“Thank you for choosing SHIELD Car Repairs, Ms.Carter,” Fury’s voice echoed through the shop, complete silence following for what felt like an eternity.

Steve gulped, knowing all too well Fury was waiting for him to come out of his hiding spot.

And sure enough – the boss’ eye found him the moment he returned. “Mr.Fury-“

“For fuck’s sake, Rogers, don’t pull shit like ‘dat in my shop. And all of ya’ – less chatting, less big-mouthing customers and for fuck’s sake, don’t go jerk into the bathroom now just because a girl in skirt showed up. Get your head in the game… and don’t drop anything on your fucking toes, accidents on a workplace are shit to deal with.”

Steve nodded with fervour, going back to his station, even when he couldn’t say that his head was in the game. No, his head was miles away, with beautiful pouty lips, the sweetest smile and a body to write sonnets for.

When Pietro came back, he didn’t say a word, but Steve could feel him burning a hole in his head with how much he stared.

That night, Steve switched from beer to whiskey, just once, hoping to drown out the sorrow that consumed him at simply hearing her voice.

Two months later, two months of Steve avoiding Maximoff’s diner like a plague and dodging Pietro Maximoff’s attempts to have a minute alone with him, a Good Samaritan left a newspaper on Steve’s doorstep. Steve, utterly confused and bone-tired from the long day at work, lifted it and started flicking through the pages absentmindedly as he went inside of his apartment.

And there, right among the obituaries, were marriage announcements, one single photo from a wedding.

She was stunning in her dress, the fabric appearing as delicate and soft as her skin when Steve had felt it under his rough fingers the day she had asked him to make love to her. A smile, crooked and melancholic, played on Steve’s lips at the memory, her breathless moans echoing in his ears.

In the photo posed a beautiful bride with her husband; and yet, Steve couldn’t make himself think she looked as pretty as she had been when sitting on his bed, misplaced, breath-taking and tempting, as pretty as she had been in the moments of ecstasy he had brought her with his loving; for the first time and for the last time at once.

He abandoned the paper on the counter and poured himself a glass of whiskey, bringing it up, hesitating an inch from his lips.

Eyeing the amber liquid, stirring it in the glass, he recalled a movie he had been to with Buck a long time ago. He had never seen people do it in real life, they certainly hadn’t done that at his ma’s funeral, but it would feel symbolic perhaps; the action of pouring a drink into a freshly dug grave was as outside his reality as the foolish idea of a relationship with her, after all.

Taking the newspaper to his hand once more, straightening the picture, he let himself feast his eyes on her. She was radiant, like sun, like the damn sunflowers on her dress the day he had met her.

Shaking his head, he threw the paper to the trash, picture up. Pouring half the whiskey on it, he buried the bittersweet memory of his untouchable uptown girl;downing the rest, he ignored the burn in his eyes and focused on the one in his throat.

As much as he hated himself for it, his last thought before he fell asleep that night was of her, a minute of wonder if she had ever truly been as affected as he was, at least for a moment; he lulled himself to sleep hoping that perhaps she had.

He dreamed of reaching out to Mrs.Maximoff as she had asked the guys to tell him to do. He dreamed of her being there the next time he came in, with an inviting and yet sad smile, a big-ass diamond on her finger… her cherry-flavoured kiss of goodbye lingering on his lips when he opened his eyes to a new day.

He took the trash out that very morning, adding a half-finished sketch he torn away from his book.

It was the last time he saw her.

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Thank you for reading! Scroll to the end of the fic for notes. ….Or? ;)

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◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦ Alternate ending ◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦

That night, Steve switched from beer to whiskey, just once, hoping to drown out the sorrow that consumed him at simply hearing her voice.

In the night of week four turning to week five, Steve’s eyes snapped open to the darkness of his apartment. Momentarily confused, not remembering a nightmare or anything that would cause him to wake up so abruptly, he groaned when he reached for the alarm clock on his nightstand only to find out it was half past one.

He woke up for no fucking reason barely two hours after he went to bed.

Furious knocks on his door made him jolt, his irritation only growing.

Not without a reason then – some fucker was-- ugh. People were fucking assholes. He was not getting up from his bed for sure.

“Fuck off,” Steve muttered, lying back down face first, determined to ignore-

His door rattled with the force of the next series of knocks and he growled, scrambling to his feet, shuffling to the door and wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“C’min’, comin’, Jesus, fuck.”

Unlocking and opening the door for a slit, Steve stared at the face of his night visitor, absolutely baffled.

“The fuck, Pietro? Do ya’ know wad time ‘zit?”

“No. Do ya’?” the blond retorted, his voice dripping sarcasm and Steve really wanted to shut the door to his face. It was too early – or late – for Steve to deal with that bullshit. “Pack your bags, Rogers, Natasha has a free room.”

Steve briefly wondered when the fuck the world stopped making any goddamn sense, but opened the door fully for his clearly delusional friend. For all Steve knew, Pietro could be having a stroke, he’d better hear him out.

“Huh?” he hummed, his palms massaging his bloodshot eyes. “Da’ fuck are ya’ talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Natasha? My cousin? Remember her?”

Why the hell was Pietro acting as if it was completely normal to stop by a guy’s loft to talk about his cousin, one Steve hadn’t even met?

Steve sighed, humouring the other man. “Yeah? Married some… general or somethin’? What’s ‘dat-”

“Colonel, yeah. She’s the one who lives in Baltimore. She got a room for ya’,” Pietro repeated, still not making an ounce of sense.

“The fuck’d I do in Baltimore?” Steve asked tiredly, earning a look that told him that it was fucking obvious. Which it wasn’t really, not to him.

…was this a fever dream?

“Open your own shop, dumbass, or find a spot in some. Make money for that pretty gal of yours and that little cute as fuck babies you’ll make.”

Steve’s heart dropped to his stomach at the mention of you, fully prepared to rip Pietro a new one to wake him in the middle of the night to fuck with him—but he caught a movement to Pietro’s right from a corner of his eye and his heart leaped right back, suddenly sprinting.

This was most definitely a fever dream. Steve felt his jaw drop, his eyes fixing on the vision in front of him as he entirely tuned out Pietro’s next words.

“She must like you real big if she’s willin’ to sell her family nick-nack to look at your ugly mug every day. And skip town and shit…”

And a vision his beautiful uptown girl was, a mirage his mind must have come up, because there was no way she was standing there, sheepish as always, but instead of her dress, wearing a pair of jeans and a simple red blouse, a denim jacket unbuttoned, hanging loosely over her shoulders. Her hair was in a messy ponytail, threw over her left shoulder.

And shit, she talked too, which made it appear this was in fact real.

“Good evening, Steve. I am sorry to wake you,” she whispered, leaving him stare at her blankly, dumbstruck, breath stuck in his chest.

“I’ll drive ya’, Dr.Strange’s car needs a test ride. Fury’s payin’ for the gas, by the way, the ol’ bastard,” Pietro continued as Steve managed to only watch the woman he had been missing for the past weeks lower her gaze, her teeth anxiously biting on her lower lip, fingers toying with the edges of her jacket. Hers? “I’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon, even have an hour or two to spare. That’s if you start packin’ now, bud.”

The mention of packing snapped Steve from his trance, all the emotions hitting him like a damn truck. Anger, longing, more confusion, restlessness as his girl was standing only few feet away from him and he couldn’t take it anymore.

He took a hesitant step towards her, ignoring the smirking man clearing his path.

“What—what are ya’ doin’ here?” Steve asked incredulously, his inner turmoil reflecting in his voice. She hadn’t showed up for weeks and now-- what exactly was she doing here? “You- you’re engaged-”

Gulping, she looked up, her eyes glistening with unshed tears; yet, a hint of a smile spread on her lips as she shifted her weight from one foot to another. For the first time, Steve also noticed her shoes, a simple pair of sneakers looking bizarre on her feet.

“To a man who loves my best friend and vice versa, my best friend who has been covering for me whenever we were together before it blew to our faces,” she explained, not daring to raise her voice above whisper. Steve still didn’t understand – not fully, unable to comprehend what was happing on his doorstep. Pietro talking about his cousin, about driving, Fury paying for gas, the woman he still loved standing there as if ready to skip town- “She was too covering for me when I talked to Mrs. Maximoff when she helped me to plan this. Pietro said you would want this as well— but- but if you don’t, I will leave you alone. I-“

The day Steve had met the strange girl from uptown, Bucky hadn’t failed to mention Pietro was the fast one, clearly implying Steve was the slow one.

Bucky should have fucking seen Steve now when she hesitated, unsure of his feelings – he had never acted so fast in his whole damn life.

He crossed the distance in one long stride and his hands shot up to her, grabbing her by her shoulders unceremonially. Before she could react, he pulled her body against his with all he got, claiming her mouth like there was no tomorrow.

He swallowed her yelp of surprise, followed by her happy laugh, feeling tears springing from her eyes, causing him to halt just as she finally started kissing him back.

“But your family-“ he blurted out, interrupted by her shaking her head wildly, hair flying.

“Mr. Ross has an eye on my sister. He is from a good family, of good name, generations of lawyers. My family will do splendidly,” she said with a smile playing on her lips, sweet and watery as tears still rolled down her face – happy ones, Steve believed. He felt the same delight bursting in him, switching from a broody cynic back to the fool in love in no time. “And we might too. We will have each other and I have learned enough to teach—or-- or I can be a waitress if I can’t find another job, it doesn’t matter, just so you are not the only one to-“

God, he loved her. She was so adorable and sweet and was talking about being his and going from basically a modern princess to a damn waitress, because she was willing to be with him whatever the fucking cost, apparently--

And was there really anything else he could do?

He grabbed the back of her neck to connect their mouths again, a hungry open-mouthed kiss, his hand fisting in her hair, because holy fuck, how was this happening, she was here and she was his-

“Alright, alright, smoochin’ later, packin’ your friggin’ bags now, Rogers,” Pietro cleared his throat loudly, sounding only as annoyed as amused. “I have a long drive ahead.”

Later, bags hazardously full and piled up in the trunk and on the backseat next to them, Steve couldn’t stop smiling and yet he felt a pang of guilt, ruminating over everything she was giving up.

She was resting her head on his shoulder, their interlaced fingers in his lap and Steve revelled at the absence of an overpriced engagement ring on her hand, the one from his ma’s securely in one of his bags to take place on her finger one day. She was walking the fine line between the real world and the dreamland, breathing softly to the crook of his neck and she seemed content. For now.

He sighed and pressed what could be the hundredth kiss to her hair that night.

“Doll?” he whispered softly, the question burning on his tongue, the only one he could hope to actually have answered now and not after they would try and started a life together.

“Mm?” she hummed softly, nuzzling into him further, her lips brushing the exposed skin on his throat.

“Why me? You could have any of those-“ snobs “-high-class… uptown guys.”

The smile he felt against his skin had him melt into the seat as he chased away all the grim thoughts about what the future might bring, her regretting her decision and blaming him for her ruined life on top of that list.

“Because I love you, Steve, and you are worth ten of them. My amazing downtown guy,” she emphasized, filling Steve’s chest with the most delicious warmth, his heart swelling, feeling so full it might burst.

He knew she wasn’t just saying that – she meant it. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t’ have been in his arms right now, heading to damn Baltimore with nothing but her bags, little money and few pieces of jewellery.

“I love ya’ too,” he whispered, this time pressing a kiss to her nose, drawing an exhausted giggle from her lips. Yep, his heart was about to burst before they even reached their destination. “Love ya’ so much. My sweet, sweet uptown girl.”

“Not so uptown anymore...”

Steve chuckled as rather than regret, her voice was filled with relief. “I’m willin’ to put up with ‘dat as long as ya’ stay mine.”

She squeezed his hand, tilting her head up, blinking up at him sleepily and softly pressing her lips to his.

“I think that can be arranged.”

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S.R. masterlist

cxptain’s challenge (check it out, prompts are still available - and who doesn’t like the 80′s?)

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Tags:

@wxstedhexrt, @comicshoplife, @elysianecho, @scentedsongrebel, @orions-nebula, @pies-writes-and-more, @kayteewritessteve, @murdermornings, @rinkashirikitateku, @queen-kass-the-writer

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….yes, in the first ending, there might have been a chance of our uptown girl planning an escape and Steve aka heartbroken dummy blew it. But hey, maybe not, perhaps she only wanted to say goodbye like he dreamed of… who knows.

Aaaaanyway.

You are my hero if you finished reading this fic! Thank you so much for finding time to do that, this one truly was a beast – at least when I consider that it WAS supposed to be a one shot.

Any feedback is appreciated, as always – good, bad (if constructive), coherent or incoherent, or ‘just’ a like if you enjoyed and don’t feel like putting feelings into words. Thanks again for reading!

#cxp1k #marvel #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #avengers #modern au #80s au #if you squint #forbidden love #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #grease and pearls #anika ann

105 notes · View notes

shianhygge-imagines · 5 years ago

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Silver Rose [Vergil/Reader] [V/Reader]{Devil May Cry} Splitting Fool

AN: This chapter is another long one. The point of view shifts quite a bit in this chapter. Each time there’s a break and a time stamp, I’ve shifted the POV. The purpose for this is to allow me to convey all the details in the scene that should be addressed.

|Masterlist Link| |First Chapter| |Prev. Ch.| --- |Next Ch.|

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May 3rd, 11:40pm

Try as you might, you weren’t able to hide your red rimmed eyes when Dante called you downstairs for the second time that night. Something akin to sympathy settled in your brother-in-law’s eyes as he addressed you, “Y/N, V doesn’t have a place to stay. Is it alright for him to take the guest bedroom?”

You paused on the small bottom stair landing, staring down Dante before shifting your gaze to your new client.

V, the mysterious client, wouldn’t directly meet your gaze at first, head bowed and posture hunched over the walking cane that supported his weight. There seemed to be an air of guilt that surrounded the younger man beyond that of chastisement from Dante’s earlier ‘talk’. But what could he be feeling guilty about? You wondered, observing V as he slowly raised his head, dark green eyes meeting your own. “It’s really not necessary,” V reassured with a half hearted smirk, “I really must be on my way.”

The posture… the manner in which he held himself… it was one you saw many times before. Slouched… raven locks limp and unwashed… slight shadows under the eyes… He’s fatigued… Tired… when was the last time he allowed himself to rest? It brought back memories… some happy, some painful. Like Dante… Like Nero… Like Vergil… Like me…

“At least stay the night, V.” You suggested impulsively, stepping down the last few steps to stand in front of the younger man. “You look like you need the rest.” Like you need a safe place to rest your head. Like you need someone to help you shoulder your burdens.

“I don’t believe that I should overstay my welcome. I should-”

“I insist.” You interrupt, a gentle smile on your lips.

V hesitates as he stares into your eyes, which peer up at him empathetically. He knows that he should leave this place. That he needed to go get Nero. But when have I been able to say no when she looks at me with those eyes? Dark green eyes shut as a heavy sigh escapes his lips. The man knew exactly when he was able to deny her. He knew that he’d done it many times before. “…Then I thank you for your hospitality.”

As your smile brightens, chiming that you would go prepare the guest bedroom, V finds himself staring after you, wondering… lamenting why it was that he had ever been able to bring himself to cause you pain.

My Spectre around me night and day,

Like a wild beast guards my way;

My Emanation far within

Weeps incessantly for my sin.

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1am

He could sense your restlessness from down the hallway, and he knew that it was because of the sudden reminder of a painful past. He could hear the quiet whimpers coming from you as you suffered in silence and in the dark, not wanting to bother anyone with problems that you believed should have been resolved with time. Your voice, your suffering called to him, and though he knew that he was what plagued you, he found himself following your voice until he stood outside your door, listening to you cry.

Slipping through the door, he found himself in a position that seemed very familiar. The rain pattered upon the window pane as he stood in the middle of your dark room, watching you sleep, haunted by nightmares of him.

“No… don’t…. Please…. Vergil.” You begged for a phantom to stay within your nightmare, tossing your head back and forth in denial with your arms outstretched to catch someone that had abandoned you so many years ago.

He found himself growing angry at the phantom within your nightmares, gritting teeth and pacing to and fro the length of your room. All around were reminders of the phantom, but he could make out how you’d displayed his gifts to you from years ago. The Silver Rose rested on your bedside table, and he could see that the sapphire necklace that he’d given you rested on a vanity display. He allowed a pleased hum to escape his lips before making a discussion, wanting to comfort you the best he could.

Unlike when he’d been Nelo Angelo, he decided not to stand and watch, and joined you in bed, making sure you were comfortable before settling in. He brought his head close towards your own before allowing his own eyes to close in sleep.

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3am

V slept restlessly from his place in the guest room down the hall. The bed and pillows were comfortable and clean, a luxury that he hadn’t been able to experience in a very long time, but he still found himself troubled. Every time V would close his eyes, anxiety and urgency seemed to wage a war on his mind. The mortal man knew that he didn’t have the time to be resting. That he should have gone back to Red Grave City to keep an eye on Urizen’s progress, but when you’d offered V a place to stay despite how he’d callously brought back past memories, he couldn’t help himself.

It was something that V had to constantly remind himself about now that he was around you. That while V the mortal man had the memories and emotions of Vergil, he was not the older Sparda twin. And yet, the guilt remained, a constant nagging pull to make amends. The fragmented man would close his eyes, begging for a dreamless rest, and wake an hour later from nightmarish memories.

A family home in flames.

Fleeing from the enemies of Sparda.

Watching in horror as his best friend was stabbed by a pair of absurdly large scissors

Helpless as he watch the woman he loved most be hurt by the venom that spewed from his own mouth.

“What am I to you that you could just toss me aside?”

V tried to halt his tongue, knowing what would spill from his traitorous lips.

“A burden.” He closed his eyes as your tears fell, not wanting to see the heartbroken expression on your face. But even when he closed his eyes, he couldn’t escape what he knew would come next.

V could see your face, still shedding tears, morph with the darkness, until you were hunched over, blood dripping from your lips… the Yamato buried to the hilt in your abdomen. The horror that appeared on your face mirrored V’s as he scrambled to support your body, only to once more be unable to move. And then, all at once, it was like he was detached from his body, watching as Vergil violently yanked the Yamato free of your abdomen… his wife’s abdomen before leaving her bleeding out on the apex of Temen Ni Gru.

A tortured sob left V’s mouth as he forced himself to wake from the nightmare… from the memories. Shaking… Shivering… On the verge of tears, V sat up from the guest bed and extended his hand towards the nightstand where he’d left his volume of William Blake poems. Tracing the golden etchings on the cover, the mysterious young man closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe deeply, counting the seconds that passed with each breath. Once satisfied with the stability of his breathing and the calm rhythm of his heart, V shifted to turn on the small lamp beside the bed, bringing just the slightest of illumination to the previously dark room. Flipping to a random page in the book, V read the first line aloud.

“Wept for me, for thee, for all,

When he was an infant small.

Thou his image ever see.

Heavenly face that smiles on thee,”

He chuckled at the coincidental poem before closing the book, throwing his legs over the side of the bed to stand. How strange… V thought, his eyes scanning the guest bedroom for his feline companion. Shadow usually would have appeared by now. Glancing down at the ink that decorated his body, the man hummed in surprise when he found that his tattoos for Shadow were missing. Dark green eyes darted over to the bedroom door in confusion, “Where did you head off to now?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3:10am

You awoke to the pleasant sound of a deep rumble under your head. It was soothing and seemed to intensify when you burrowed further into your pillow. A purr… Blinking your tired eyes open, you first noticed that your pillow was a different color than it had been before you fell asleep. Instantly alert, you raised your head to stare at what you were snuggling up with. The lights from the street signs outside illuminate your room enough to see that it was indeed a large panther that you had cuddled up to. That’s a… big cat. You observed sleepily, sitting up cautiously so as not to disturb the slumbering feline.

Your efforts to be sneaky are futile when you notice the two glowing red eyes staring up at you. The cat stares up at you for a few moments as you freeze in place before its tail twitches and it rises to sit on its hind legs, its size easily allowing it to match your sitting height. Eyes wide, you want to scream in alarm at having such a strange predator in your bed, but can only gulp nervously as it leans forward, maw dropping open. You close your eyes, hoping that you won’t be mawled by the panther. Out of everything I’ve faced in my life, don’t tell me the thing that gets to kill me is an overgrown cat…

Something rough and wet licks your face before something warm and fuzzy nuzzles into the space under your chin. You open your eyes when the cat starts to purr in contentment as it nuzzles its head into you. Shocked, you hesitantly raise a hand to pet the panther, and its purring grows in volume. “This is so weird.” You mutter, befuddled, but enjoying the affection from the panther.

A knock at the door, interrupts the peaceful moment, and while you don’t stop petting the large cat, you open your mouth to answer the knock. “Come in.”

The door cracks open slowly, and it is V that steps through the door, posture slightly straighter, but even in the dark, you could tell that he hadn’t rested peacefully. His gaze is cast to the ground as he enters your room, closing the door behind him. “Pardon my intrusion, Y/N. I was looking for one of my companions.” His gaze raises to look in your direction, but not at you. “Shadow… it’s not nice to sneak into a woman’s bed.”

The cat, Shadow, pauses in its activities, its back suddenly ramrod straight as it stares at V, judging and silent as it flickers its tail. It doesn’t seem interested in leaving your side despite V’s chastisement.

V’s lips thin in disapproval, “My apologies for disturbing your rest, Y/N. We should be departing now.” The younger man turns to leave the room, one hand raised to open the door, but pauses when Shadow growls at him. Turning to look back at his companion, your mysterious client levels a stern glare at Shadow, “Let’s go, Shadow. We should leave her alone.”

“I don’t mind.” You voiced your opinion, voice hoarse from sleep. And in all honesty, you didn’t mind the affection that the large feline had shown you. It was a nice comfort, and you wondered why you had never thought to get a pet before.

When you voiced your thought, Shadow immediately rose to position itself curled around you, its red eyes somehow smug as it stared at V, as if saying, “See? She doesn’t want me to leave.”

“Don’t be childish, Shadow. You know that we have work to do.” V argued with the cat after shooting an apologetic expression your way. “We need to go.” Huffing in exasperation, the feline’s form seemed to melt away, and V immediately tensed up, “Shadow. Stop it.”

The command did little to stop the demon (at this point, you were sure that Shadow was a demon...) from shift into a very familiar form, causing your eyes to widen in pain and confusion. Now armored, Shadow threw its arms to embrace you, pulling you into its body possessively. Nelo Angelo… You remembered the name that Dante had given you for the armored visitor… “Vergil…” You muttered in confusion before turning your head to look at V, who looked more tired than ever, “V… what is going on? Why did your companion turn into Nelo Angelo?”

“I… cannot explain now.” V gasps, backing towards the bedroom door. “There is no time to-”

“Bullshit.” You scowl, moving out of Shadow’s arms to stalk swiftly towards V, extending your arms past his body to pin him against the door. “First you appear with a job, telling Dante that Urizen was his reason for fighting. You cite quotes from William Blake’s anthology as if it’s your favorite thing in the entire literary world. You called me the ‘fabled Y/N,’ as if I were as well known as Dante, Trish, or Lady. Which is bullshit because I know for a fact that people don’t know shit about what I do or who I am. Then, the entire time you’re here, I keep getting weird looks and a strange feeling in my gut. And now… now your companion has taken a form that is eerily reminiscent of my late husband.” Peering up at him, you practically growl out your demand. “Explain. Now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3:20am

With bated breath, V stares down at your fierce expression as you pin him against the wall. He knows that if he wanted to, he could physically force you to back down. But as soon as the though appears in his mind, he immediately dismisses the idea. No… he’d hurt you enough already, and he refuses to hurt you again. Besides, V is quite sure that if he tried to hurt you, he’d get mawled by Shadow. Dry swallowing, V could only bring himself to do one thing…

“Your husband didn’t die, Y/N.” He watches as the fire in your eyes temper before steeling himself to continue. “He was weakened considerably, but he managed to escape Mundus’ control.” When V noticed that you had begun to calm down, he continued to explain, “But suffering such defeat at the hands of Dante and being enslaved by Mundus, Vergil resolve for power only increased.” Dark green eyes peered down at you in the dark, “He took back the Yamato from Nero.” He could see your jaw clench in outrage on behalf of Nero, but continued to speak regardless. “And with the Yamato, he severed everything that he considered a weakness… memories… nightmares… until what remained was he demon half.”

“And what became of each part of him after?” You whispered, arms falling from his sides, “How do you know all this?”

V sighed and closed his eyes before opening them again. “I suspect that Dante already realized it. And I think that deep down… you know it, too.”

“Urizen…” You uttered the name, but a part of you didn’t want to believe it, “What remained became Urizen, and the parts of him that he cut away…” your eyes shifted from V to Shadow, “Became you two.”

V offered a hesitant smile before shaking his head, “Close. I merely stumbled upon the parts that he’d severed, and forged a contract with them to keep them alive.” He gestured to tattoos all over his body, “These are your husband’s memories. I was just a convenient vessel.”

“And your interest in William Blake?”

The man smirked, gaze almost pitying. “Just a coincidence, I’m afraid.”

Tired and overwhelmed, V could see the gears shifting in your head. A frown appeared on your face before you frowned and shook your head, “Fine. I’ll believe what you’re saying for now. But if you’re lying…” Your eyes narrowed as the threat left your lips, and V couldn’t help the smirk that appeared when you turned away to shower Shadow with affection now that he’d turned back into a panther.

You always were too smart for such lies. V mused, already regretting the lies that spilled from his lips. Hopefully, you won’t piece the truth together before we confront my other half.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” V turned to leave the room without another word, trusting Shadow to behave himself despite the glare that the panther sent his way.

Pausing, you nodded towards the younger man, “Goodnight, V.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed my work, please consider buying me a Ko-fi!

#shianhygge #shian imagines #vergil x reader #v x reader #dmc v x reader #Vergil Sparda #Vergil #v #dmc v #v dmc #v dmc5 #Dante Sparda #devil may cry #devil may cry imagines #devil may cry 5 #dmc #dmc5

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skgway · 4 years ago

Text

1823 July, Fri. 4

10 50/60

10 3/4

Bled a good deal in the night – Felt weak & languid – On using the pot and wiping myself surprised to see on the paper a considerable portion of very white thick looking matter like cream. I did not expect this after the bleeding, but it seemed so pure perhaps it is no argument against my having received the benefit I hoped – Washed with cold water this morning as usual all over the leech bites &c [etcetera] – Some of them seemed threatening to bleed again –

Thought a great deal all yesterday and this morning before getting up on M– [Mariana]’s letter. Shed a few tears over it before going to sleep last night and getting up this morning when I felt a little inclined to passion. Much encouragement might have led to self gratification –

Down to breakfast at 12 – Attempted a turn or 2 on the terrace, but soon came in, and upstairs at 1 1/2 – From then till 6, reading over my 12mo [duodecimo] volume of “British Bards” or particular sections; and looking over some of M– [Mariana]’s letters and mine to her of early part of 1821. She refers me to one of 21 March of that year (she must have meant that received Saturday 17 March, I have not of March 21) respecting Mrs. Milne –

In the evening my father and Marian came – Would not say I had been bled, but said I was very sleepy, and after staying with them 5 or 10 minutes came up to bed at 7 50/60 –

Dampish, softish day, but fair – Barometer 1/4 degree above changeable Fahrenheit 57 1/2º at 7 50/60 p.m. – Writing the last 6 lines of yesterday and the above of today took me till 8 1/2 – Musing over M– [Mariana]’s letters the 3 last – E [three dots, treating venereal complaint] O [no dots, signifying no discharge] –

#anne lister #anne lister code breaker #mariana lawton #shibden hall 1823

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buckys-forgotten-plum · 5 years ago

Text

I prefer Bucky, Doll ||3||

Read Part 2 Here

Prompt: James Buchanan Barnes has been coming to your weekend market table for a while now and finally has something to ask.

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Steven Rogers being an idiot, Y/n also being and idiot, a very sad and very soft James Barnes.

wowzers a part three. At this rate I might have to actually become a regular writer and not be a lazy pos.

Please, Like, Follow, Reblog, Comment, Sing, Dance, whatever you wanna do!

Have a nice day guys and enjoy reading :)

“James you look so handsome in your uniform,” you compliment happily to the man standing in front of you.

James had just arrived to take you and Steve to his send off. It was a sad day but you still made sure to wear your prettiest dress and bake a dozen of your famous snicker doodle cookies for him.

“Thanks doll, you look lovely as usual.” Bucky blushes and looks down at the small bouquet of flowers clutched in his hands. He was a bit embarrassed about his gift choice. why would I get flowers for a girl who sells them for a living.

“Are you giving those to Stevie?” you joke and motion towards the pretty bundle of flowers that Bucky seemed to be holding on to for dear life. You couldn’t be too mad though, your grip on that poor bag of cookies was just as tight.

Bucky let out a quiet laugh, handing over the flowers with a sheepish grin, “Sorry doll, can’t say I ain’t nervous or anything,”

A soft breath of air leaves your lips, “I know, James. It’s going to feel a bit... Lonely, here. Especially at work,” You finish the sentiment with a tight smile.

James doesn’t respond, only smiles back and takes your hand in his.

________________________________________________________________

The send off was filled with tears and mothers yelling for their sons safe return. You don’t remember if Steve cried, too busy focusing on your own tears that clouded your vision. You remember Bucky’s mother holding onto him for almost up until he boarded the giant, dark grey ship. You remembered Becca sobbing loudly next to Steve. You remember the way, after his mother letting him go, how he held you. It was tight and all consuming around your smaller frame, his right hand tangled deep into your hair as his left arm wrapped around your waist and his hand was latched to your hip. You remembered how he breathed deeply, shushed you quietly as your violent tears soaked the shoulder of his forest green jacket.

“Don’t cry sweetheart, I promise everything will be fine,” Bucky mumbles into your hair.

“You can’t promise that James. That’s not fair,” Your voice is scratchy as you cry out a reply.

“You’re right, honey. But please promise me something? Promise that you’ll look after Steve for me, yeah?” He pulls away just a bit to stare down at your surely makeup stained face.

“W-What?” your brows furrow, face tilting into the warmth of the soldiers hand.

“It’s just... Steve’s always had me there, during his father, after his mother. I need you to make sure he stays out of trouble... Keep em’ safe for me alright? He’s kinda stupid,” The smile that adorned James’ face was beautiful as he spoke to you.

You’d miss it immensely.

“Okay, yes-yes I promise.” You nod your head in agreement, pushing your cheek into his hand even more.

A sharp intake of breath made its way to your lungs as you see a few tears run down Bucky’s face. You quickly wipe them away, leaving your hands to rest gently on each side of his face.

“See you soon. Right doll?” His smile spoke volumes as he stared down at you.

“Of course, Bucky. I’ll see you soon,” You answer, voice shaky and weak.

With a small, lingering kiss to you forehead and one to each cheek, Bucky lets you go and steps back. With one final wave, he turns to the ship and begins to make the small journey to board. You feel the other three onlookers step beside you and gaze upon the heavy sea of green flowing onto the main deck.

“Lord, please get my boy home safely. I beg of you,” Ms. Barnes words cut into your heart with a deep pity and you grab onto the sleeve of Steve’s shirt for stability.

Your small group stands there, watching the process of everyone board as family after family says goodbye to their sons, fathers, brothers, husbands...

At some point in time, you couldn’t remember when, James’ family went home, while you and Steve stayed at the docks until the sun had begun to set. You had stopped crying after you had run out of tears to shed, Steve being there to comfort you the whole time. He told you empty promises of James’ safe return in a couple months but you couldn’t believe him, you weren’t blinded to the fatalities and ugliness of war, for God’s sake your mother had been a nurse in the first World War, she had returned with an abundance of scars and lack of hearing, Your father wasn’t fortunate to be able to come home...

“You wanna get out of here kid?” Steve’s voice had broken you out of your seemingly endless train of thoughts as he quietly asked the question.

“I’m not too sure yet Stevie... You can go on home if you need, I know you get sick real easy and it’s gonna start gettin’ cold soon,” your voice was hoarse and painful as it ground its way from your lips.

“Y/n, you know I would never leave you out here alone! Come on, let’s get some food in ya,” Steve stood up and held his hand out for you to take.

You hesitated for a moment before allowing his hand to grab yours and stand up.

________________________________________________________________

Steve ended up taking you to the same diner that Bucky had taken you to on your first (and sadly last) date. It was warm and quiet inside, the newest big band record playing from the jukebox filled the air quietly, creating a comforting environment that soothed your aching heart just the slightest bit.

“You want some pancakes, Doll?” Steve asked, a small teasing smile gracing his lips.

You pull a sad smile on to your face and shake your head, “Just a malt is fine Stevie, thank you,”

“Comin’ right up,” he assured, lightly knocking on the table you had chosen for your visit before heading up to the counter to get the waitress’s attention.

As you waited, your fingers messed with the hem of your dress, tugging at the soft material and running your fingers over the few wrinkles that had managed to set themselves into it. It wasn’t long until Steve had returned with too delicious malts in his hands. You both drank the majority of them in a comfortable silence, enjoying the warm atmosphere and each others company.

“He’ll be alright, I know he will,” Steve mumbles, his eyes gazing up at you and just for a second, it seemed as though Steve was trying to convince himself more than you.

You reached across the table and placed your hand upon Steve’s, “You’re right, he will,” You tried to put as much confidence in your voice as you could muster, hoping it would be enough to calm you friend.

“Are you ready to go?”

You nodded in agreement, Steve wasting no time in standing up and offering you his hand like the gentlemen he was. “Thank you Stevie,”

“No problem doll,” he smiles gently, removing his hand from yours and placing it lighting on your back.

The walk back to your apartment, you assumed, would have been uneventful, until Steve had seen a recruitment center, making his feet stutter in their movements.

“Y/n your apartment is just down the block right?” he asked absentmindedly.

A sigh escaped your lips before you could even think about responding, “Steven don’t-”

“It’s fine, I’ll only be minute if you don’t feel comfortable walking the rest of the way,” Steve mumbled and began walking towards the entrance like he was in some sort of trance.

“Steven Rogers you will not sign up again. You’ve done it so many times your bound to get caught, you’ve never passed one before-” “Y/n my best friend just left on a boat to go save countless lives, I owe him this,”

You hurriedly followed Steven into the mess of canopy and folding chairs, refusing to back down.

“You owe yourself your life Steve. This is ridiculous, there are so many other ways you can help,” Your hand reached out and gripped onto his arm, turning him towards you and staring into his eyes.

“What? Collecting scrap metal like little Timmy?” “Steve-” “ Working in a factory? Y/n men are laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them, that’s what you don’t get. It isn’t about me,”

Your brows scrunched in frustration, “right, cause you got nothing to prove? At all?”

Steve’s jaw clenched as he glanced away from you, “You can’t stop me from doing this, Y/n. I’m sorry, you just can’t,”

You let out another begrudged sigh and refrained from slapping the man in front of you, “Fine. I’m coming with you then,”

“What? No you’re not, the war is no place for a girl like you,” You blanched at his words.

“A girl like me? Steve I grew up with three brothers, I have two master's degrees, and I have more than enough knowledge on what goes on in war due to what my parents went through before I was born, so excuse me but you have your views completely backwards. Now, let’s get this done and over with so I can go home because today has been complete hogwash,” You huff, grabbing Steves wrist and dragging the frozen man over to the check-in.

________________________________________________________________

Steve was now sitting on an exam table, shoes pushed off into the corner and sleeves rolled up. You sat in another corner, ankles neatly crossed and hands folded stiffly in your lap. A young doctor stood at the small counter set up, quietly going over the documents in hand. You had no doubt they would reject Steve, just like the other five recruitment offices. Steve had the longest list of illnesses and disabilities you had ever seen, when he had first introduced himself to you it was after he had suffered an asthma attack while walking around the market with Bucky.

Everything seemed fine until a pretty nurse walked into the room, quietly whispering into the doctors ear and leaving with him in a hurry. You could see Steve stiffen from where you sat as he quickly looked over his shoulder, his eyes roaming to the sign above your head, stating that it was illegal to lie on your form.

“Steve,” you bit quietly in warning, your ankles uncrossing and getting ready to dash out.

“Yup, got it, leavin’, you were right,” he agreed immediately and jumped to put his shoes on.

“You’re damn right I was,” you mutter under your breath, too stressed to remain ladylike.

Another man enters the room and you both freeze from your escape, two sets of wide, cautious eyes stare at the intruder as he casually walks over to the counter. “So... You want to go overseas, kill some Nazis,” the accent made the both of you perk up a bit as you stared in awe at the doctor in front of you.

“Excuse me?” Steve asked, slightly taken aback.

“Dr. Abraham Erskine, I represent the Strategic Scientific Reserve,” the man walks over to you, offering his hand for you to take, which you quickly do, shaking it firmly and quietly saying you name before the doctor moves back to Steve.

“Steve Rogers,” the man introduces, stiffly taking the others hand.

Doctor Erskine turns away and begins to shuffle through his stack of papers once more, “Where you from?” Steve asks suddenly.

“Steven,” you gasp at his rude intrusion and the meaning behind it.

“It’s alright miss, I live in Queens, but if it’s that important to you, I originate from Germany, this bothers you?” Erskine’s response is calm as he turns to Steve, giving a pointed look at the other man.

Steve shakes his head quickly, “no,”

There’s a beat of silence before the doctor responds, “Where are you from, Mr. Rogers? Mmm? Is it New Haven? Or Paramus? Five exams in five different cities,”

He had been figured out, a sigh escaped your lips and you clapped your hand to your forehead in a mixture of defeat and frustration.

“That might be the wrong file-” “forget about the exams, I do not care about the exams... Five different tries, now that is something I am interested in. Do you want to kill Nazis?” the doctor asked, eyes locked onto Steve's.

“Is this a test?”

“Yes;”

“I don’t want to kill anybody, I just...Don’t like bullies,” Steve answered, his voice quiet but firm.

“There are many big men fighting this war, have been for a long time, maybe now what we need,” the doctor paused for a moment, glancing in your direction, then back to Steve, “maybe we need a little guy,”

Your eyes shot up in shock, “You’re taking him?”

“I can give him a chance,” the doctor answered.

“I’ll take it,” Steve agreed quickly, hopping to his feet.

Doctor Erskine turns to you, “Miss Y/L/N, you seem... Upset,”

“I made a promise to someone I care deeply for that I would keep Steve from doing anything stupid,” you let out a dry laugh, standing up and looking to the man who had sealed Steve’s fate.

“So that means it would likely be best you accompany him, yes?”

“What?” Both yours and Steve voice ask in shock, glancing at each other then back to the seemingly crazy doctor.

“It doesn’t take much to look up a last name in these files and see if any family has served before, Miss Y/L/N. Your parents are highly decorated service members, I can only hope you have inherited their gifts?”

You smile proudly and look Doctor Erskine in the eyes, “Fully graduated with a Masters in molecular biochemistry and another in Bioengineering sir,”

“Your parents must be very proud, you have a chance to build upon that pride. I have a place for you on my team,”

“A-Are you serious? Would I be staying alongside Steve?” Your voice shook as you tried to understand your situation.

“Assuming that he doesn’t waste his single chance, that is correct. So, are you truly willing to keep your promise to that person? Will you be joining us?” Both men stared back at you expectantly as your mind reeled to catch up with what was happening.

It only took a moment to figure out your only option.

“When are we leaving?” You ask, finality in your voice and a new feeling beginning to bloom in your chest.

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shravanya · 4 years ago

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Okay, so this is history. My first ever movie of yours.

Sravani di is the only person cuz of whom I could have watched it. So all my love goes to her first, for giving me a unique experience. The movie has been a roller-coaster ride where I experienced a lot of emotions, which might not be related to the exact meaning of the lyrics, but then we have the freedom to interpret it in any which way we want to! That's the beauty of your songs, and you give us that freedom! I cried a lot in the first half of the movie bcz most of the songs sung in the first half are my favourite.

To begin with The 1 is a song which tbh didn't stir any emotion, it just began and ended.

Next up was Cardigan, and I suddenly sat serious, concentrating on the melody and I increased the volume and got emotional with tears rolling down, and proud because it's the first song you released and the videography, lyrics and everything about is just so perfect! Leaving like a father for me is literal, and I love the entire Verse 3 the most - But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss... I mean I could play this verse just forever.

Illicit Affairs gave me goosebumps! Your high notes for certain words at the end of each line sounds extremely melodious and renders bliss!

I cried when August played. It's one of my favourites and is also my birthday month so I sort of feel special whenever I listen to it. You told about naming the girl Augusta or Augustin and I wish you did! All the while I had the exact opposite perception about the storyline until you spoke that she's the one James cheats on Betty with. The bridge, oh my god. Again that gives me chills! I can play just the bridge on loop forever! You were so happy while singing it, and when I got to know you composed it I was like there goes my Taylor!

Seven is the song in which I cried inconsolably, not just because of the melody, but the lyrics. I identify myself as the girl with the braided hair, rough childhood, and a mad dad. I also relate with Please picture me in the weeds before I learn civility which implies that I don't want to live in a city where there's rat race. You mention my country India and that also makes this song special. Also I remember you saying how children create nuisance while at store, "throw cereal at my mom" made me laugh so bad.

Okay now here comes my favourite Mirrorball! It's my all time favourite and I relate to the lyrics in a completely different way. I shed tears when you talked about how we all are sort of hypocrites and behave in different ways in front of different people. I was told once that it's like I wear a mask, and it broke me, to think of myself as double faced. But you negated that and now I feel myself. So I read the lyrics of the song before it became the 'song on repeat' and I could identify myself as the girl who's ready to do anything to make the love of her life notice her. I again absolutely fell for the bridge, that's something I sing with intense emotions.

This Is Me Trying is a song where you talk about mental health, and it made me super proud, being a psychology student.

Invisible Strings - I love it. I just fkn love it! I mean this is the only song which is the most positive of all, both by melody and lyrics! And whenever it's played, I feel overly cheerful! The strings render an innocent feeling in the bosom, and the lyrics are super cute! I love every single line, and the waitress line is so funny! And you mention the colour Teal, which is again my favourite!

In The Last Great American Dynasty, you told about how country music begins by telling a story and the central character turns out to be the singer himself/herself! That's an interesting fact! You said that you wanted this song to fit in some album that's relevant to telling stories, and that's such a carefully devised plan! I was just imagining how excited you would have felt when you would have figured that the album is folklore!

While singing Mad Woman, the way you said - fuck you, I totally felt you, and could empathise when you explained about the prevalent male mistreatment. You were just so savage there! I have always respected you for speaking up against Patriarchy, you go Taylor!

My Tears Ricochet is again a powerful and bold song, and I love how it sort of brings out the woman in me! It too feels like a Feminist song, and the ooh ooh part gives me creeps! It sounds ghostly tbh, and it's like sort of a revengeful song so it totally emits those vibes!

You made an entire song - Epiphany - for your grandpa, and that just makes me hug you! They usually compose songs about lovers, friends, family which mainly consists of parents and siblings, but you focused on your grandpa, that itself brought tears to my eyes and then you also said that it's not just about him but also the doctors with shifts, etc. It's the only song that sort of makes me feel it's the closest to describe the covid situation.

When you asserted that James in Betty is a fool, no he's a fool, I laughed. Betty is a name that I find relatable cuz back when I used to read Archie comics in childhood, Betty was my favourite.

Peace and Hoax again are not the songs I would listen to, but I noticed you cutely you said that you just like the word with the 'x'

My god, what can I say about Exile. Taylor, do you know you made me fkn cry with the ending - Aa Aa, which isn't there in the original song of the album. Tbh, it wouldn't have been on my Playlist if Sravani di wouldn't have told me that it's her favourite. My god, I even pinned a post about it on Twitter and Tumblr! That few seconds part has been on loop since days, and makes me cry and sink in. It's the only song that I prefer listening to than the original, from the Long Pond Studio album.

The Lakes, oh my god Taylor. You just went so poetic there! I mean it legit sounded like a song made in the 18th century! I have always loved the British Victorian era and stuff, and that song exactly delivers that feeling! It's been on repeat since I heard it in the movie. And it's sounds like the last puzzle piece or something and it's so explicitly mysterious, and you talking about running away so casually, that gave me chills tbh. Whatever you do, wherever you wanna run away to, just don't stop being a queen and never leave us.

P.S.- Thank you for being my unofficial therapist Taylor, I love you.

#taylor swift #folklore #long pond studio sessions #disney plus

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diamo-chan · 4 years ago

Text

A bit of lore and backstory

(snippet of the ninth chapter of my unfinished unpublished fanfic in the classical trope of “let me put as much info as possible compressed into a tiny dialogue”)

not beta-read/ written on a tired mind/ english is not my native language/ my list of excuses goes on and on...

Word count: 1.7k

It was at times like these when Pheebe noticed that she was way too emotional to do her job the way it should be done. Binding her hair back into a loose ponytail she threw an exhausted glare at the blonde aristocrat who barely lifted his eyes from the book he was currently reading. A if they did not just have a war council, as if death itself was not waiting just around the gates.

“Vlad this is serious. If we want to survive this we have to work together, we have to talk like normal people.”

He turned the page, uninterested. ‘What the fuck was so important, he had to read it now?!’

“I will survive this, I’ve been through worse. And you are just food to us. A blood bag to satisfy Ivan’s needs. Why should I treat you, like you are anything special?”

Pheebe wanted to scream and flee the room. Hadn’t Vladimir disagreed to listen to her plan, they would already be all on their way to a safe place. But no, instead he was clinging to this mansion. They had more important things to take care of. And for once, she knew that Beliath would agree.

This is not about me. It is about Mary. About Ethan. Both are on the edge of death and you talk about waiting and planning”

He turns another page. But she saw the hand that held the book upright tighten against the Bordeaux hardcover. He took a deep breath to maintain his poise, before speaking with the certainty of a head of house, no room for discussion: “Ethan will manage, and if your friend doesn’t make it we can still share her blood, drain her before the battle. But we will not run into a confrontation unprepared!”

The last drop broke the barrel. How dares he even suggest using Mary in such a gruesome way? How dares he put organization above life. And at once, the words poured out before she could stop them. “I cannot understand how you can live with yourself, let alone how other people can live with you. You only care about yourself, don’t you? You don’t give a damn about the suffering of others”.

A reaction. He looked up. There was shock in his eyes, as well as a tiny warning of the storm that was rioting in his thoughts. Through tiny slits and gritted teeth he growled at her.

“You have no idea what it’s like to be immortal. Have you ever watched everyone you care about die, with nothing that you could do to stop it? You know nothing of pain and suffering!” His voice became louder and louder until, at the end, he was screaming in rage, at such a volume that Pheebe was sure, even Ivan in his room two floors above them, could hear every single word. She did not fear his anger, and he was powerless to lift his hand against her. At last, she got what she wanted and he was no longer as emotional as a stone. But he would not guilt trip her with a sad back-story or the typical “I-am-a-poor-misunderstood-immortal”-farce. Eyes hard, she brought her face closer to the blond man’s, who backed away in irritation.

“Do you know what it feels like to drive a knife through the heart of the person you love?”

At first he was taken aback by the question. Then a condescending smirk appeared on his face “Oh, yes, go on. Tell me the story of the vampire that fell in love with a hunter and gets staked down in return.”

Patience! She told herself. Think of him as a child that questions the whole world. “He was sick. Do you know what bloodlust does to a vampire?” His discomfort became more and more apparent. His eyes danced over her face on the search for some kind of weakness. She felt the threatening waves that he tried to sent off, but once again she thanked Miss Ginaldi’s team for her training. Not many Vampires have encountered bloodlust and survived it. None of the ones that Pheebe had known, at least. ”Incurable, it turns him into a feral beast, with no recognition of anything but blood.”

“How do you know that it was bloodlust? Maybe He attacked you because he just found out what you are and-“

“Because I was there when he caught it. I was there when he fought it.”, every word was pressed out with anger and frustration about Vlad’s stubbornness. About his way of denying anything he didn’t want to see or hear. “He always hoped that maybe it would go away. And he trusted me to step in if it didn’t. Because he knew who I was from the very beginning, or rather, who I was supposed to be.”

“That’s what vampires get for trusting a hunter.” Voice cold, face empty.

His expression remained calm and neutral, there was not one muscle that gave a sign of consideration, no empathy left for her words and it made her fume. Pheebe had tears brimming on her lashes, so short of falling to his ignorance. But her anger was without cause. Vlad could not have known, there was nothing he knew about her but her name and the fact, that she did not like him.

“I wasn’t a hunter back then. I was just…” she searched for a suitable word, an attempt to justify the unjustifiable, “an employee who wanted to help maintain peace.” But then her emotions dropped as pictures flashed in her memory, vivid as if she was at that place once again. Laughs, smiles, congratulations. Hands ruffling through her hair and telling her that it was time she grew up to the expectations. So much positivity over a lost life. “You cannot imagine how proud my family was when they found us, when they saw what I have done. I don’t even know why I had that dagger with me in the first place. I swore to never touch these damned murder instruments!”

They were both breathing hard with keeping this discussion on a verbal level. The need to shake the pale boy was stagnant in Pheebes chest. Meanwhile Vlad has stood up to put his book back into the shelf, as it was apparent he would not be reading in peace with the hysterical girl in the library. Eyeing her from bottom to top his voice turned almost soothingly intrigued: “A Vampire willingly associated with someone who was connected to the circle?”

The facepalm was only mental. Of cause Vladimir would not know how the circle worked. For most of the vampire population it would remain a secret for all of their drawn-out lifetime. Meanwhile, for others, well…

“There were many vampires who worked with or for us, some voluntarily, some not.“ To sum up the whole picture Pheebe went for both extremes: “some came to council meetings, others were chained up and starving in the basement… With all those doors that my parents opened for me, to proudly present my new future, with that blood on my hands I could no longer play friends with your kind. I started my training so I can bring hope to those who don’t deem themselves worthy of it. I have saved almost fourty vampires, and it was never necessary to shed even a drop of blood for them to cooperate. Maybe they felt that I was a little like them, damned from the depth of my blood. A curse that already shows on my hands.”

Once it was pronounced the black eyes of the vampire scanned her arms to hind her hands unexpectedly bare. There were soft lines that faded on their way towards her elbow, as if drawn up with coal, fingerpainted with ashes of burned purity and hopes.

“Is that why you wear gloves?”

Pheebe nodded. “They are so I can touch my weapons. The vampire blood in my system keeps rejecting contact with the cursed materials. But it is also what keeps me immune to hypnosis and manipulation.” This was what made this discussion so hard for Vlad. She had seen the way he talked to the humen at Nikita’s party, and felt that he instantly surrounds them with his commanding aura to get his points across more easily. But talking to her was like talking to the other house members. Futile, if she was as closed off to his point of view, as he was to her.

“Where did you get blood from our kind?” There was a little bit of disgust in his expression. But who would blame him, for not finding the aspect of being drained of your life essence, so someone else had it easier, appealing. He had never lived on that side of the food chain after all.

Suddenly she felt like a walking tome of hunter knowledge to Vladimir’s eyes. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, with morbid interest. Just how much was he allowed to know? Or rather how long would he survive to pass that knowledge on?: “It was an integral part of my training to regularly get vampire blood and venom injected, so it does not cause turning if I die in battle or cause hallucinations when I am bitten.”

His eyebrow rose. “The effects of vampire blood in the human system are dangerous. You never know what it might cause”

Something rang in her memory as he said that sentence. She must have heard it somewhere. Or read it in a book. There were not many objectively useful tomes about vampire blood, the only ones are lost, stolen from the hunter association’s library, written during experiments and updated regularly. The last ones who were working on the manuscript were Monsieur and Madame Martine-Blanc, or so it was told.

“You know…There were two hunters who are kind of a legend in the circles, scientist, who were obsessed by the idea that the cure to any disease could lie in the blood of the elder vampires. My instructor, Doctor Ginaldi told me about them. One night they just disappeared, and took half of the inventory with them. After searching for their whereabouts for 3 month, they gave up.” And with a tiny laugh that was only encouraged by the uneasiness on the blond vampire face, she added:” And now, twenty years later, I read their names on a doorbell in the middle of fucking nowhere. Crazy, isn’t it?”

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