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kasagia · 10 months

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Bring me a dream pt. 1

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/general Kirigan x fem! sun summoner! reader Summary: Everyone has their soulmate—someone they are meant for. This was due to Sankta Maradaia, who decided to connect two souls destined for each other during their sleep to show them their other half, Sankta also sent them a tattoo of their loved one name, so that souls thirsting for each other can finally be united. Aleksander never had even one, short dream about his soulmate. Just a tattoo that has taunted him for ages. The Darkling believes this is his punishment for creating the fold, another privilege of being condemned. To never know his soulmate. But one day, a dream about a sun summoner comes to him. Someone equal to him. Someone meant for him. And he promises himself to find you at all costs. Not just because of your powers. Nonsense from me: This is an request from @morrigan-crowmwell I hope you like it! 💙🖤 P.S. I know it took me soooo looong again and I'm so sorry. I'm trying to fight my writer's block. 😅 I used a quote from Taylor Swift's Blank Space. Inspired by the song Mr. Sandman - SYML Wairning(s): mentions of blood, abuse, fighting, violence Word count: 6,7k Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @morrigan-crowmwell ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

I've been waiting a long time to meet you in my dreams…

"My soulmate is great! I've seen her fight with a REAL sword! Can you imagine that, guys?! My father still teaches me on that wooden. Ugh! I envy her so much."

"Mine swims faster than either of you! Of course, he's not as good as me, but I've seen him shoot a bow. What I'd give to join him on a hunt!"

"And you, sahdow-boy? You sit more quietly than usual, don't be shy! Show off what she or he is like."

Aleksander tensed up, feeling the other boys' eyes on him. The young shadow summoner felt a blush of shame appear on his face. He hated such conversations. He already couldn't fit in with a group of other kids, and he was constantly reminded that he was different. Weirdo. Proteus.

"I… I haven't dreamed of her yet. But I know her name!" he tried to reply in a tone of voice that mimicked their enthusiasm. He couldn't show them that he was weak. That the fact that he had never seen his soulmate before hurt him. That he was a changeling again.

"My father also started dreaming about my mother late. Maybe she just wasn't born yet?" his only friend put a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. He thanked the saints for Ivan. He was a light in his darkness for now. And heartrender wasn't talking about his shadows at all...

"Did you hear, guys?! Shadow-boy will be dating a baby!"

Aleksander was furious. He felt anger rise up in him as the other children laughed at his soulmate. Without knowing when, he summoned his shadows and plunged the clearing into darkness, stopping the laughter of the other children.

"Hey, take it easy, shadow-weirdo! We're just kidding!"

"The freak, as usual, can't control himself."

Voices came out of the darkness, and the footsteps of children receding were all Aleksander could hear before he was alone with his shadows again.

Even Ivan's hand disappeared from his shoulder as shadows blanketed the area.

He was utterly alone. And he hated it.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, smiling.

18 birthday. Your big day.

You adjusted the necklace your grandmother had given you around your neck, proudly displaying the amulet with your birthstone. Your mother's earrings hang proudly from your ears. Nostalgia is starting to get to you. You so wish she were here.

"I've lived in this world for so long that, for ages, I've felt that time moves infuriatingly slowly. But ever since you came into the world, I've felt it slip through my fingers. You've grown up so fast... you look like your mother." the woman sighs as she stands behind you in the mirror and looks at you tenderly, fixing your braid.

"I wish a madraya was here." you say sad. Grandma puts a hand on your shoulder and turns you around to look her in the eye.

"She is here, my sun. In our hearts and memories. As long as you can picture her before your eyes, she will always be with you. Watching you from heaven." you both stand in silence, remembering your recently deceased mother.

"I have something for you." the woman speaks as she pulls a beautiful gold bracelet engraved with your family symbol from her sleeve.

"Oh, grandma, you didn't have to… it's beautiful."

"And practical. Materialnik made it specially for me. Thanks to this, no one will see THAT on your wrist."

"Why should I hide it?" you ask, confused, when she helps you fasten the bracelet on your wrist where was your soulmate's name on it.

"I want you to be careful."

"Careful of what?"

"Powerful men." she replies seriously, stroking your cheek tenderly. "There is nothing worse in the world than the greed of men. Than their excessive ambition. We are the sun summoners, honey. You are my blood, my pride, and my only solace in this world. The love of men is fatal. You don't need it, and trust me, you don't want it. Promise me for your dead mother and my daughter..." your grandmother grabbed your wrist, turning it so you both could see that the black ink, that showed up this morning, disappeared. Aleksander Morozova. "Do not seek him. Avoid him. Treat him like the plague. Do not repeat the fate of your poor mother. I couldn't stand losing you because of another man's lust for power."

"I promise you, babushka. I will not share my mother's fate." you promise with tears in your eyes. Your mother trusted the wrong person... you were not going to repeat her fate.

"And you will always wear a bracelet and necklace from me?"

"Yes. I promise." you solemnly promise, while looking into her eyes. You two were one of a kind. Summoners of the sun. Long-lived. Powerful. You have to stick together if you want to survive in this cruel for Grishas world. "Can I go now and enjoy the summer solstice festival?"

"Yes. Have fun, sunshine. And return home no more than two hours after dark!" she screams after you as you run to get some freedom... to forget who you are for a while.

"That boy keeps staring at you!" your friend shouts through the crowd of people having fun and nods her head at the boy by the fire.

You glanced at the side she indicated. She is right. A handsome brunette with dark eyes looks straight at you. He looks away when he sees you noticing him and pretends to be talking to the boy next to him. You roll your eyes at your friend's behaviour and continue drinking your beer.

"And what do you think I'm supposed to do about it?"

"Go and have fun!" she says, offended that you don't know. "I've known you since you came here. You haven't had a single boyfriend, you're shooing all the suitors away. You're 18. Go and flirt with him, or I'll take care of this handsome one."

You are laughing at her words. You look at the boy again, and you can't deny that you feel a strange pull… a bond that wants you to come to him. But you don't listen to it.

"So take him. I'm going home," you say as night falls completely. The flame of the torch and bonfire is the only source of light.

"Really? Will you waste an opportunity like this?" you just laugh with a shrug at her words and make your way to the path through the woods leading to your house, pushing your way through the crowd of people.

You leave the clearing where the festival is taking place and enter the forest. You sigh with relief to be alone, away from people's voices. You walk confidently into the darkness without being afraid of it as you watch the stars above you.

You are walking down a familiar path when suddenly you hear the crunch of leaves and branches behind you. You turn slowly with your hand close to the hidden dagger at your hip.

You see in front of you the same boy who was staring at you by the fire. You watch him warily, waiting for his move.

He takes one slow step towards you, his dark eyes never leaving yours. Without knowing why, you stare spellbound into his eyes again, unable to utter a word. It's only when he crosses halfway between you that common sense returns to you and you raise a dagger in his direction.

"Don't worry. I won't hurt you." he says, stopping and staring at the blade glistening in the moonlight. "Of course, only if you don't hurt me either."

"Why are you following me?" you ask without lowering your weapon, still holding it as a warning between you two.

He frowns, looking from the dagger to you. "I have no bad intentions. I saw you going this way and this forest… is not the safest place."

"I know. Nowhere is safe." you reply coldly, eyeing him carefully. "Which doesn't answer my question. Why did you follow me in here?"

"I wanted to make sure you made it through safely." you snort, amused, not for a moment believing the stranger's concern for you. He stays where he is, not moving for a moment, undaunted by your reaction. If anything, curiosity only grows in his eyes. "You haven't experienced much kindness from others, have you?"

"I'm not going to answer a stranger's question like that. You do not know anything about me."

"I can see you're too distrustful, and if the lack of trembling in your dagger hand tells me something, it is that you've threatened someone more than once."

"That's right… shouldn't you run as far away from me as possible, then?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at him as you watch his impassive reaction…but you certainly didn't expect him to raise the corners of his… pretty mouth in response.

"I'd rather walk you out and make sure you're okay... or anyone who dares stand in your way." you bite your lip, holding back a smile so you don't react to his teasing.

"I doubt you'd be able to do anything."

"I'm tougher than you think." he says, answering your challenge with a mischievous smirk. The sparkles in his dark eyes shine in the moonlight… and you involuntarily agree with your friend. He was handsome… and dangerous.

"I don't need a man to play my prince on a white horse. I can be my own knight."

"Well, if you want my opinion…" you cut him off before he could finish.

"No, thank you. I have my own." he laughs at your words, shaking his head in amusement as he licks his lips.

He stares at you intensely, and you know that if you were anyone else, you would have pounced on him by the campfire. But you were a sun summoner. You couldn't trust someone like that. Even if you wanted to...

"Very well then... but, I'd feel better walking you through the woods at least. May I?" he asks, extending his hand towards you. "Or are you too afraid that you will enjoy my company?"

You snort, placing your hand in the crook of his arm. You could have let him. Clearly, he has had no ill intentions so far. You glare at him defiantly as you see a spark of amusement in his eyes and a wild smile on his lips.

"What?" you ask dryly.

"Nothing. I just thought you couldn't look prettier… you seem to glow even more when you prove people wrong."

"I'm too smart to be seduced by you." you warn him, looking at him carefully as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. You feel your cheeks blush slightly.

"Maybe that's why I'm so drawn to you?" he asks, whispering, staring into your eyes.

You're drowning in the moment. His smell, the depth of his dark eyes… and without knowing why, the feeling is… actually the opposite of what you felt when others tried to flirt with you.

"Careful... you've stared into my eyes for too long to say you don't care." he says, sparks of malice appearing in his eyes. You snort and are about to respond to his taunt when his expression suddenly cools and he pulls you into his chest.

You're about to yell at him and attack him when suddenly an arrow flies right over where you used to stand. You recognise its distinctive arrowhead. "Drüskelle." you whisper.

You don't waste time. You back away from him and grab your daggers. You can't show the world what power you wield, so you limit yourself to melee combat. You're also not sure if your companion is Grisha.

You kill the first of them, and next to you, you hear the sounds of your companion's fight. He's doing fine. You deal with most of the Drüskelle pretty quickly when suddenly one of them comes up behind you. Before you can engage, your companion pulls you back to his chest. You see nothing. He makes sure of it when you hear Drüskelle's desperate cry from behind you, who wanted to kill you as well as the others who managed to stay alive. Suddenly it's quiet again... but it's darker around you than before.

You gently pull away from him as he releases his strong grip on your hair. You look around, seeing Drüskelle's bodies as if they were… cut.

"I… how?" you ask, dumbfounded, not believing what you see. You turn your gaze back to him. "Are you a Grisha? Heartrender maybe?"

"It's... a little more complicated." he says, looking down at your hands and bloody daggers.

"I'm guessing you're not a Grisha, then?"

"It's a little more complicated." you say, repeating his words. He looks up and stares into your eyes again. Without knowing why, you both giggle. "I... thank you. I wouldn't handle them all alone."

"No problem." He says, still staring at you. Without knowing why, you lean towards him.

You swallow, smelling his scent again, involuntarily remembering the warmth and safety his arms gave you. You shouldn't feel that way about a stranger. And yet...

"I… I should probably go now."

"Me too." he whispers back, but you're both too hypnotised to move. Not thinking much about the bodies around you or the blood on your clothes.

For some strange reason, the eyes of the other and this closeness seem much more interesting to you both than the world around you.

He leans towards you too. A short distance separates you as you both stare at each other in silent anticipation and excitement. However, that moment is effectively cut short as you hear another movement around you.

You both draw your daggers and aim at where you heard the movement. There is a woman behind you. Her dark eyes are remarkably similar to those of your companion. You are surprised to see how his irises have already been etched into your memory.

"You find yourself a friend?" the woman asks him mockingly, staring at the two of you.

"I'm going, mother." he says, obviously waiting for her to leave. But she stands there, watching you curiously. He sighs in annoyance and turns to you. "See you soon." he whispers, placing his dagger in your hand.

You shiver at the skin of his hand on yours as unimaginable power rushes through you. But that's not what keeps you staring at him speechless… and you think you both know it as he gives you a wistful, longing look before turning away.

You can only stay there and stare at the receding silhouettes of the two of them. Then you are all alone again. You turn around and continue on your way home. With a small smile, you tighten your hand around the black dagger.

You were coming home to your grandmother. It was winter, and it was getting harder and harder to drive through the snow from town to your house. But someone had to do the shopping.

As you walked, you heard the sounds of a struggle. Interested, you veered off the path to the house and walked slowly through the snow, trying not to alert anyone to your presence.

You froze as you saw a group of teenagers fighting the same boy who gave you the dagger and helped kill Drüskelle.

The rational part of you told you to get out of there and not deal with this stranger. And you almost did, but then you saw one of the girls stab him in the back and shove him into the ice hole.

You threw the wicker basket with your groceries in the snow and ran towards them. You used your light and stunned them all into unconsciousness. Not enough to kill them, but enough to make their heads hurt for days and some of them lose their eyesight.

With your light, you melted the ice in the river and pulled the mysterious boy out of it by his shoulders.

You held him close as he coughed, spitting water into the snow. You only let him go when he's back to normal.

"Do you attract trouble, or do you just like getting into it?" you ask him with a laugh, trying to lighten the atmosphere. You take off his soaked coat and cover him with one of yours.

"Both, I'm guessing." he says, still shivering. You don't know if it's from the cold or from the attack.

"Get up. We need to keep you warm." you speak and help him stand on two legs.

If he notices the bodies of his unconscious tormentors, he decides not to say anything or ask how you did it. You pick up the basket you dropped earlier and guide both of you to your house.

Surprisingly, he doesn't protest when you enter the house, and luckily for you, your grandmother hasn't come back yet.

"Stay here for a while. I'll go get some dry clothes for you." I speak as I disappear into the other room for a moment.

"How did you overpower them?" you hear his question. You swallow and try to think of an answer as you walk back to the main room.

"It's... complicated." you reply, handing him the clothes. "You can go there and change. I'll put some water on for tea."

He nods and takes the clothes from you. He wants to say something, but instead he sighs and goes to the next room.

You place the kettle over the hearth and wait for the water to boil for tea for the two of you.

"Do you often save people from trouble?" he asks jokingly as he joins you. You smile when you see that he's feeling a little better. He still has a red nose, though. And you're pretty sure if you took his hand, he'd be icy.

"Selected only. Feel honoured." you snort, amused. His laugh makes you shiver. A strange warmth begins to spread from your chest.

"I am." he replies, looking deep into your eyes. He leans closer to you, examining you intently, searching for any reaction from me that would indicate that you are uncomfortable with him.

He finds nothing.

So he leans in a little more. Your noses brush against each other as he waits, giving you the option to either kiss him or pull away from him.

You feel your heart beating fast... you know that if he was a heartrender he would have leaned forward and kissed you a long time ago. You also know you should back off, he was a stranger, a man, you shouldn't trust him.

But after the look he gives you and a glance at his enticing pink lips, you lean forward and press your lips uncertainly to his.

His cold lips warmed up.

You close your eyes as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer with one hand on your waist and the other in your hair. You sigh, feeling how wonderful it feels, how proper it is to kiss him even though you don't even know his name. What's undeniable, however, is how great you feel around him.

But you feel something else… like an unimaginable amount of power flows into you with his touch. How your light calls for release. And for a moment, you feel like you're going to lose control if you keep kissing him.

Fortunately, before you stupidly reveal your powers, you pull away from each other, startled by the sound of a whistling kettle.

You both laugh, resting your foreheads against each other. You eventually pull away from him, take the kettle off the hearth, and shift your gaze to it. He's warmer from your kiss than from the fire.

You shift your gaze towards him. And experimentally, you take his hands in yours. You feel the surge of power buzzing through your veins again. Your gaze returns from his warming hands in yours to his irises, and you get lost in his dark eyes again.

"You... are the amplifier." you whisper as you look at him. "That's why they wanted to kill you... they wanted your bones."

He swallows, moves his gaze from your eyes to your joined hands. He doesn't take them out of your warm embrace as he nods, trembling without looking at your face.

"What are you going to do about it?" he asks, realizing full well that you must be Grisha to sense his ability.

The very idea that you, the only person who has shown him any kindness (not knowing him at all) will suddenly want to hurt him after what happened between you two a moment ago makes him sick.

But Aleksander has been through it more than once. Last an hour ago. Despite everything, he still holds a strong grip on your hands, trembling unconsciously.

Your response is to pull him close to you in a tender embrace.

"You're safe." you say simply, and from the way he holds his breath before burying his head in your neck after a few seconds of complete shock, you know that you must be the first person in a very long time to show him such affection.

And you're realizing that you don't need to know his name to know that it's good to hold him in your arms.

And Aleksander feels warm for the first time in a long time. He feels like he's holding the sun. But the most striking thought for him is that he is no longer alone...

"Is that all, General?" Ivan's question pulled Aleksander out of his thoughts. He stopped stroking the tattoo with his soulmate's name hidden under his kefta and glanced at the heartrender.

"Yes, you can go." he sighs, shifting in his chair and rubbing his eyes with his hand.

Ivan looks like he wants to say something but changes his mind at the last moment and leaves the war room, closing the door softly behind him.

Aleksander sighed, staring at the map in front of him. The king was going to bring down Ravka. Only his Grishas were able to hold Ravka's borders. He shuddered, thinking of all the good soldiers the Fjerdans, Drüskelle and others had taken from him. He felt powerless. And if he knew anything in his centuries-old life, it was that he hated that feeling.

He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at his watch on the wall. It was long after midnight. He sighed as he got up from his chair and walked towards his bedroom. He won't help his army if he's barely conscious. He took off his kefta and pushed the books to one side of the bed. He lay down in the free space and fell asleep as soon as his head rested on the pillow.

Something was different… otherwise, Aleksander could sense it the moment his dream began.

There was a strange feeling in his bones; his heart was beating much faster, excited, as if it couldn't wait for what was about to happen.

He was alone again in the deep black shadows. He took a step, and suddenly the shadows parted. He looked up and gasped as he saw a figure in a black-golden kefta in the distance.

He'd had that dream many times before… especially when he was a little boy. That he was irretrievably lost in the darkness.

He had never met anyone in the depths of his shadows before. He took another hesitant step towards the mysterious figure, not taking his eyes off it, afraid that it would disappear at any moment.

But it's not.

A figure in a gold-black kefta stood with its back to him.

Aleksander is afraid. He's afraid that it's just another trick of his mind, that as soon as he utters the name that has haunted him both asleep and awake for hundreds of years, you'll disappear, leaving him utterly alone in the darkness of his shadows again.

But Aleksander had been patient enough for a long time... maybe he could finally give in to what he most wanted, what he missed most, what he craved for like a foolish boy.

He came over to you. Hesitantly and slowly. As if he could spook you at any moment. He raised his hand, but instead of touching your arm, he met air as you took a step away from him and slowly turned to face him.

He held his breath in anticipation, waiting for you to pull down your gold-black hood to reveal your face to him. He watched in fascination as golden threads of light slowly began to flow from your hands.

He had been accustomed to the darkness for centuries. But he couldn't take his eyes off you as your threads of light slowly grew stronger. He watched in utter awe as your light changed from gold to pure white after dispelling the shadows around you two.

His eyes widened as your hood fell back to reveal your familiar, beautiful face. He sighed, letting out a long-held, shaky breath.

And when you took his hand, which he still held out to you, and ran your thumb over his palm? He completely lost himself in your irises, feeling your light grow stronger through its amplifying powers, enclosing the two of you in a silver and gold orb.

But before he gets a chance to reach out to you and caress your cheek tenderly, to feel again that warmth he always felt from you and which turned out to be your light, you suddenly disappear. And with you, your warm light.

His cold shadows enveloped him again…

He wakes up and finds himself in his bed, in his chambers. But for the first time in a long time, instead of being disappointed that he didn't dream of his soul mate this time, he's relieved. And happiness. Excitement. And something he's clung to so desperately all these centuries, much to his mother's taunt... he feels hope.

He doesn't know what has changed. Why suddenly did the saints decide to reveal your face to him after you had met so many centuries ago? For a moment, the bitter thought crosses his mind that he could have had you by his side much sooner. That together you could carry the weight of eternity... but he shakes his head.

He had a chance to implement all his plans now... and to meet his soulmate, whom he had missed for so many centuries. All he had to do was track you down.

And he's not going to lose.

"I'll find you... moya solnishko." he whispers to himself, fondly stroking the tattoo on his wrist. "And when I do, I'll make sure you'll never hide from me again." he promises, placing his lips on the tattoo on his wrist.

He would do anything to finally have someone to call his own…

"I was hoping to find you here." Aleksander turns around in surprise when he sees you standing behind him.

"How did you know?" he asks, putting the book back on the shelf. You see the title out of the corner of your eye.

The Lives of Saints

"I know many things." you say, leaning against the shelf. "But honestly? I didn't take you for someone who prays to saints. Or maybe your ego and ambition are so big that you want to become one of them?" you say teasingly, smirking at him. He rolls his eyes and takes your hand, leading you out of the library. You let him lead the two of you into the woods.

"You must have wanted something if you took your precious time to find me." he starts when you both walk a familiar path. This is where your strange "friendship" began, if you could call those stolen moments, kisses, and nights between you two like that… how poetic that it will end here as well.

"I am leaving." you speak briefly without looking at him.

You feel him tense up. It was probably not the answer he ever expected. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him swallow.

He clears his throat, trying to look composed. However, his dark eyes, as always, reveal his true feelings to you. You wonder if you're the only one who can read him like that. "Why?" he whispers.

"Apparently my warning was… not strong enough. One of the people who tried to kill you complained to my grandmother. I have to leave."

"I can talk to her…"

"No!" you cut him off quickly, letting go of his hand and standing in front of him. The last thing you need is his intercession with your grandmother. "I know you mean well, but it's the final decision."

"I see." he says coldly, looking away from you. "Is there anything else you wanted?"

"Yes." you say, pulling his dagger out of your sleeve, handing it to him. "I wanted to give it back to you."

"It's a gift. I'm not in the habit of taking back what I've given someone." he snorts, offended, at which you giggle, amused. He turns his gaze back to you, raising an eyebrow.

"I knew you'd say something like that. That's why…" you pull out a second, identical dagger to the one he gave you. The only difference is that the dagger's handle is decorated with a sun… an eclipsed sun. "I did it." you say, handing it to him.

He takes the dagger from you and examines the engraving. "Why it?" he asks curiously. "Why the eclipsed sun?" his gaze is burning, inquisitive. You know there's no turning back now. You take a step back, his dark irises following your every move.

You shrug. "Guess, shadow summoner."

He stares at you in shock. A thought… a ridiculous and beautiful thought crosses his mind. He knows there's no point in chasing after you. You'll run away from him anyway. But he can't help but scream after your receding silhouette. "What's your name?!"

You're smiling. But you don't turn around to look at him one last time, to steal one last look at his dark, piercing eyes, to get one more moment... Instead, you scream over your shoulder: "Call me sunshine!"

You disappear from his sight. Deep down, you know you'll meet again… But you weren't going to share your mother's fate… even for such mesmerising, dark eyes as his.

After hundreds of years, you've become accustomed to dreamless sleep.

It was your conscious choice. A promise to grandma, mother, and you. You didn't pray to the saints to bring you a dream about your soulmate. You didn't want him... even though his name on your wrist, hidden by your grandmother's bracelet, had tormented you for hundreds of years.

That's why, when your first dream started, you knew it was something bad. You knew your grandmother's necklace had somehow fallen off your neck. And so, you were dreaming. You dreamed about him... and he probably dreamed about you.

You galloped on a horse. It was early morning. The clearing where you galloped was shrouded in mist. The cool wind hit your skin, and your cloak billowed behind you as you tried to lose the black rider following you.

People usually run to their soulmates. They wanted to meet them at all costs. Not you. But the saints have never been merciful to you… maybe because you never prayed to any of them.

Or have they stopped letting you prolong the inevitable.

That's why the black rider soon caught up with you. He rode by your side for a moment, then shot forward. You knew he was trying to block your way, so you sped up and managed to catch up with him for a moment. You rode side by side for a while, but you didn't dare look and atface.

But your wishes no longer mattered.

He sped up ahead of you and stepped sideways, causing your horse to stop and stand on two legs. You held on tight to keep from falling. It wasn't until your horse had calmed down and stood on all four hooves that you loosened your grip on the reins.

"Moya solnishka..." his whisper made you shiver. You lifted your head and looked into those familiar, damned dark eyes that were the cause of all your troubles.

You sat still as he rode his horse closer to yours so he could touch your cheek with his hand. His thumb caressed your skin gently. "I've been waiting a long time for you."

You shivered, hypnotised, as you watched him lean closer to you. A familiar warmth spread through your body as you felt him amplify your powers. But his lips were too close for you to notice anything else than him; his touch and dark eyes, which were looking only at you...

You wake up suddenly. Your hand goes to your neck. Panicked, you discover that your grandmother's necklace is not there… you must have lost it in a fold.

"Fuck." you whisper, running your hand through your hair. The only defence against dreaming about your soul mate is gone. And now he knew who you really were... just as your fears were confirmed.

He was your soulmate. General Kirigan, Darkling, Black Heretic, the boy who was your first kiss hundreds of years ago…

The monster who created the fold…

And as it turned out… Aleksander Morozova.

You look around the room, realizing you're in a tent. And the red keftats of bustling healers confirm your worst fears.

During your journey through the fold, the ship was attacked by volcra. And you, obviously not wanting to die or let other people die, decided to use your power. You've done it hundreds of times before. Only much more discreetly… and you've never fainted from using so much of your power.

Your grandmother must be cursing you from the grave. She warned you a thousand times not to go near Ravka or the fold… and even after her death, you didn't listen to her. Now you have to sneak out of here somehow before word about the sun summoner spreads around the world. Hundreds of years of hiding will be wasted just because you weren't careful enough…

He was excited. He couldn't stand still.

His soulmate, his sun summoner, the solution to all his problems, his little sunshine was here.

He had been waiting for this moment for centuries. He had imagined it thousands of times. However, he never thought that his soulmate would be brought to him by his heartrender after they captured her after rescuing a ship full of people from the fold.

He dismisses everyone from the tent. Only he and she remain.

"It's been a long time, solnishko." he speaks softly. He is prepared for her silence and gives her a moment to process the situation. But he hoped to see a little more enthusiasm from her...

So he takes the time to look at her. On noting all the changes he might notice in her… her cool, indifferent look in those eyes that captivated him so much is one of the worst changes.

He clears his throat. You are still silent. You still ignore him. And Aleksander can't stand it.

"I had an interesting dream recently…" he begins, but you don't pick up on it. You don't really take your eyes off the floor… he's starting to get annoyed.

"You won't look at me?" he asks, waiting for your reaction. However, he finds nothing. Just a blank stare at the symbol he has chosen over the course of several hundred years. Eclipsed sun.

"You won't even comment on that? What a pity. I've always liked your sharp tongue." he says, taking a step towards you. You watched him carefully. He's a little triumphant to see that he's managed to catch your eye. Saints… he missed those damn eyes. "The cat stole your tongue? Or did they finally cut your tongue out for your insolence?"

"I thought you liked my sharp tongue." you snort sarcastically, avoiding his gaze as you realize he won't come any closer.

"She can talk!" he says, clapping his hands. "I was afraid something had happened to you, sunshine." you flinch at his words.

"Don't call me like that." you growl angrily, turning your stern gaze on him.

"You told me to call you that yourself. Don't you remember?"

"And now I take away your right to do so, Black Heretic. Or maybe you prefer a Starless Saint? I think I remember that you wanted to become one; what a pity people didn't even try to remember your name." you taunt him, and for a moment you see that he is offended, even hurt by your words, but his eyes quickly become blank, unmoved by your words.

As if he had heard them hundreds of times before and gotten used to them…

"I don't remember you being so… hostile to me before. What has changed?" he asks instead, watching you carefully and looking for answers in your eyes. But after all these years, you too know how to hide your emotions behind a stony mask of cold indifference.

"Maybe you didn't know me at all?" the question hangs between you for a while. You see for a moment that he hesitates with his answer, but his indecision is quickly replaced by a mocking, derisive smirk.

"When I heard about the mysterious Grisha, who can summon light and was stupid enough to throw herself into battle against hundreds of volcra, I immediately thought of you. And guess what…"

"At least one of the two of us should be concerned about Grishas' welfare. Why am I not surprised it's me and only me?" you see him clench his fists in rage when you insinuate that he's selfish, that he doesn't care about his people.

"Or maybe you don't know me at all?"

"I know men like you."

"There are no men like me. There are no others like us. And there will never be. I thought you had enough time to accept and understand it." he says bitterly, staring at you, disappointed. "Anyway, I have to go through the formalities. Your sleeve, please."

You stand still, too stubborn and angry to cooperate with him. He snorts, expecting your reaction, and takes two steps over the distance between you. You lift your head slightly, giving him a defiant look. He just gives you that irritating, confident smirk and grabs your hand gently, rolling up your sleeve himself. His dark eyes never leave yours. Even when his ring pierces the skin of your forearm.

You're so intent on each other that there might as well not have been that beam of light between you that shot the moment he made a small cut on your arm. It's just you and him. And from the unreadable smirk on his face, you might as well expect anything.

If you used to do it easily, now you can't read his eyes anymore. A skill he had to acquire over time. Hiding true emotions.

You both have changed. Each in its own way. He was no longer the nameless boy you met. And you weren't the mystery girl he used to know. He became the darkness he so often summoned... and you became the light you were meant to carry. If you once had anything in common, now you are completely strangers. Time heals wounds... or deepens them, but it always and undeniably changes people.

But neither of you could deny the connection between you. Even after all this time and even after what happened. It was a bound that was pulling you both towards each other…

"You and I are going to change the world, Y/N." you shivered hearing your real name for the first time come out of his mouth as lightly as if he had always called you that. Like he's always known you by that name deep in his heart.

Even if you didn't agree with him, you have to admit that he was right...

It's gonna be forver or it's gonna go down in flames...

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kkongdakz · 11 months

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“ A SUMM(LOV)ER SONG. ” ft. kim taerae

taerae x gn!reader, genre : fluff, warning : none, wc : 1,435

🎧 taylor swift — love story (taylor's version)

summer has always been your favorite season : the sun on your skin, the gentle morning breeze, the song of the seagulls and the sound of the waves crashing on the fine sand. something about summer made you feel good, like at home.

for as long as you can remember, you've always spent your vacations at your grandparents' house by the sea, and this year was no exception. but something had changed this time : you meet a boy.

this boy was as radiant as the sun, and despite his less-than-stellar style of clothes, he was still adorable and funny. he had a lovely voice, perfectly in tune with the sound of the waves crashing together, it was like a sweet melody, a bewitching siren song that made you capsize.

you met him around a campfire, the first of the season and also the first night you arrived. he's the first boy you've noticed, with his guitar on his lap and all eyes on him — and above all his pretty white sneakers stained with sand. « who wears sneakers at the beach anyway? » you said, but probably a little too loudly because his eyes met yours just afterwards. needless to say you wanted to hide in a hole right after, but his smile made you lose your mind. this boy had the vibe of first love — the one that lets you discover how fast your heart can beat and that butterflies in your belly, really do exist. so you settled in beside him, his shoulder brushing yours as he busied himself teaching you a few easy guitar chords. you learned that her name was taerae, and that his eyes were endowed with the most honeyed hazel color possible.

you were still wondering why you'd never met him before, when he assured you he'd been coming here every summer for years now. but in the end, it mattered little : because after that evening, you spent all your evenings, all your days, and almost all your nights in his company.

and little by little, new feelings were created between you. it began with hands brushing, like waves gently lapping against the sand, followed by soft words whispered in the ear, as the summer morning breeze blows through the palm trees, ending with an explosive first kiss, similar to fireworks launched from the beach. then your grandmother would invite him to eat her good homemade food and your grandfather wouldn't stop talking about soccer matches to him, even if taerae wasn't into sports at all. taerae was so cute and sunny that you were able to enjoy every second of this beautiful vacation thanks to him and his angelic voice.

but like every season, summer also comes to an end — and your summer was no exception. the more the days went by, the more you felt like you were walking on a tightrope, the latter ready to snap at the slightest opportunity. the sun was setting earlier, the heat was cooler, and the date on your return ticket had never been so close. a sigh left your lips as you lay on the floor of your bedroom, staring at the ceiling with misty eyes from the many tears you had shed. but suddenly, something seemed to knock against your window : like throwing pebbles at your window to get your attention.

so you straightened up — with difficulty but surely, approaching the window before sliding the curtains aside. you almost caught a rock in the face, which you narrowly avoided. « oh, okay.. » you say, staring at the deformed gray ball on your bedroom floor, until a voice outside draws your attention, « oh, sorry ! i didn't mean to throw it in your room ! »

placing your hands on the window sill, looking down from your window, your eyes found taerae's despite the half-light, his silhouette illuminated by the moon. « what are you doing here? » you asked, as he waved to you, « i have something for you, will you come with me? »

without much hesitation, you put on a jacket and walked softly over the creaky wooden floor, so as not to wake your grandparents. once you were near the door, you took one last look behind you, before stepping out like a thief. your hurried steps are instantly directed towards your summer love, and his hand found yours in a matter of seconds, his warm fingers intertwining with yours. his bright smile unconsciously stabbed your chest — it was as if your heart wanted to remind you that you'd soon no longer be facing it that much. but you decided to ignore his warnings, preferring to blindly follow your boyfriend to the beach, your footsteps illuminated by the moonlight.

the breeze was cool, but still warm enough for a summer's night, tuned to the sea, which was rather calm, like a lullaby accompanying your night. on a corner of the beach, a towel was unfolded, and a dim light next to it made the place extremely cosy, almost heavenly for you. taerae guided you and invited you to sit on it, which you did with pleasure, while watching him as tenderly as possible. « did i ever tell you you were cute? » a chuckle escaped his lips, as he nodded positively, settling down beside you while grabbing his guitar which lay right next to him. « a hundred times at least. am i still as cute as when you met me? » feeling a certain shyness crackle in your muscles, you nodded positively and leaned in to place a kiss against his cheek, « you're even cuter than before. »

taerae seemed suddenly shy — you could tell by the shifty look in his hazelnut eyes and the way his lips were pressed together. so you leaned forward, offering him your most beautiful smile as you tucked your face under his, bending your gaze into his. « what's up, honey? » you asked, in a soft voice that taerae liked to describe as melodious. he took a deep breath, before placing his hand against your cheek, tenderly caressing your skin, « i'm a little nervous but.. i wrote you a song. »

at the sound of his words, your heart exploded in your chest, racing at a speed you'd never imagined. you straightened up slowly, watching him with wide, bemused and curious eyes as he began to strum the strings of his guitar. you felt like you were falling into a deep well of happiness, the bottomless ones that make you hope your summer love will never end. his sirenic voice settled on your whole being, invading your every thought, every muscles, every free space of your being. little by little you felt the tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to crumble down your cheeks with every new word sung by taerae. your heart ached terribly — but this pain was proof that he had marked your summer with an unforgettable love. the one engraved on tree trunks, the one you tell to the moon about in the middle of the night, the one whose memories loop in your head for days on end. taerae was that incomparable, unforgettable first love, the summer one that will make this season even more special for you. and as the words are spoken, tears of joy and sadness had covered your cheeks, your being completely touched by the sincerity and beauty of his song. and the fact that you had inspired such a masterpiece, made you the happiest girl on the planet.

as the last notes of the music mingled with the summer night breeze, his apprehensive gaze, accompanied by a satisfied gleam, locked onto yours. « it was my summer love song, and it's entirely dedicated to you, y/l/n y/n. » — trying to hold back a n ugly sob, you placed your hands against his cheeks briskly, drawing taerae's face to yours to kiss his lips passionately and lovingly. then his fingers slipped innocently around your hips, pulling you close to him, practically making you climb onto his lap while not breaking your kiss for a second. it was like fireworks again, your heart in turmoil, ready to explode with love at any opportunity. you couldn't speak — you weren't good with words like he was, but you could show taerae how grateful and touched you were through the feverish kisses that faded towards his rosy lips.

and by the i love you you whispered in his ear as the last summer sun rose.

·˚ ༘ taglist (fill out this form to be added to the taglist) : @snowflakemoon3 @annoyingbitch83 @kpoprhia @ilovechanhee @wtfhyuck @neroislost

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lalaisdevoted · 6 months

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I love making playlist as the first offering to the Deities that I'm going to work. It's my way to show them how invested I am to them

Maybe this is why I'm Apollo's devotee, maybe it's because I breathe music, I write poems that maybe could be a song. I listen to musics on repeat and when I'm tired of an specific song, I go to the next one.

I listen when I'm taking a shower, when I'm writing one of my multiple fanfictions, I listen when I'm washing and drying the dishes, when I just want to feel alive. Because sometimes I feel like I'm not real and maybe I'm actually a ghost or a lost soul wandering my own house.

And I have so many playlists, playlist for when I'm sad, for when I need calm music, to feel hot and baddass, to my own fictional characters, to my loved ones. So why I wouldn't I make one to the Deities that are going to take care of me? For the Deities that are so gentle and understanding when I tell them that I don't feel comfortable about offering food because I don't have a lot of money, but I can offer them poems, love letters and what more they want me to write?

Apollo reminds me of "Would That I" by Hozier, because it's such a song to be dancing while being bathed in the sunlight, feeling it's warmth and comfort. And I hope he thinks of me too when he listen to this song, because for me it's our song.

Athena is "Labour" by Paris Paloma, because it makes me feel empathic to my mother, my grandmother and so goes on. It's the song that makes me see, truly see, how much the world needs change, and Athena makes me want to change the world, makes me want to be independent and powerful and as intelligent as her.

Eros is Enchanted by Taylor Swift, he who started working with me recently but who took me under his wings, who helps me understand that it's okay to want a love even if I'm still trying to understand who I am. Who sees my attraction to the Idols that I like, who sees that I like more of the bad boy looking guys but who are actually softies, who sees the wounds that my father gave to my mom so he's making sure that I get a guy who treats me kindly, who doesn't yell at me and makes me feel angry all the damn time.

There's so many songs that I associate with them, and I love each one because it reminds me of them.

So if you want to start working with deities but don't know what to offer them first, try making a playlist. It's such a sweet sweet gesture, something so personal and kind and beautiful to do.

#apollo devotee #athena devotee #hellenic polytheism #eros deity #athena deity #apollo deity

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bananaofswifts · 11 months

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Sorry, Hayley Williams and Fall Out Boy: Marjorie has stolen the show again. Not that Taylor Swift’s beloved grandmother actually puts in a vocal appearance from the great beyond, as she did on the “Evermore” album three years ago. But Marjorie Finlay still manages to be a dominative force in the Vault Tracks for the newly released “Speak Now (Taylor’s Version),” by having her photos appear throughout the lyric video for the closing track, “Timeless,” and having her relationship with Taylor’s granddad be a focus of the inspirational ballad. Twenty-first-century pop-punk or emo can hardly compete with that emotional a capper.

But for those less sentimentally inclined, Paramore’s singer and Fall Out Boy’s Patrick Stump will be way up there in what Swift fans immediately take away from the six previously unheard compositions that have been appended to the previous 16-track running order of 2010’s “Speak Now.” The duet with Williams, “Castles Crumbling,” is particularly pungent, as a lament that just about could have been an outtake from the more recent “Folklore” or “Evermore” instead of an album that came out a full decade before those. As for the FOB-aided track, it’s the farthest thing from a Swift classic. But — having been written, like the rest of these tracks, when the artist was 18 or 19 — the number does hark back to an era when girls (and Fall Out Boys) could just wanna have fun.

A more careful inspection of the 16 re-recorded tracks will have to wait, since the details of what feels the same or different bear a certain amount of forensic analysis, or at least repeated A/B comparisons. (Of course, the whole world has just done an instant side-by-side of the altered lyrics of “Better Than Revenge” — see our story about that here.) But before we figure out how more or less haunting the new “Haunted” is, here are insta-reactions to the six never-before-heard tunes.

“Electric Touch”: Although the recreations of the 16 original songs credit Christopher Rowe as Swift’s co-producer (filling in for O.G. producer Nathan Chapman), when it comes to the six Vault Tracks, Swift splits those producing collaborations between her two modern-day mainstays, Aaron Dessner and Jack Antonoff. Neither guy gets to do anything either as modern-sounding or eccentric as they have on Swift’s last few albums — they stay true to the stylistic spirit of 2010, for the most part, with the organic pop-rock band sound she favored at the time. “Electric Touch” is probably the least immediately interesting song here, compositionally; it lacks any of the truly great, peculiar lines that mark a Swift song as unmistakably hers (or “Mine”). Yet embedded underneath the hopeful, anthemic and — honestly — somewhat generic rock veneer is a lot of the pessimism and self-doubt that goes so far toward making Swift our most relatable superstar. “I’m trying hard not to look like I’m trying,” Stump sings, stealing some of 19-year-old Taylor’s lines, “’cause every time I tried hard for love it fell apart.” It’s the uneasy tension between luck and predestined loss that gives this one a little tension amid the breeziness, before it tips on the side of even the losers getting lucky sometimes.

“When Emma Falls in Love”: Dessner is at the co-reins again on this one, but this time leading things off with a lilting piano that lends the song a childlike spirit. On the scale of sweet songs about fictional girls that have Swift doing a little third-person projecting, “Emma” is close to being up with there with “Betty.” “She’s the kind of book that you can’t put down / Like if Cleopatra grew up in a small town / And all the bad boys would be good boys / If they only had a chance to love her.” Any chance this could actually be about a small-town gal from Reading, Pennsylvania? Nah, because Emma makes all the right moves and figures out that’s how you get the boy. It has a happy ending right out of “Love Story,” but by the time of making what was her third album, Swift was feeling like she had to assign something that cheerful to an alter ego.

“I Can See You”: Well, now, here is a groove. Jack Antonoff comes on board for the first time on the revamped album, and you might have to look to “1989’s” “Style” to find another song in the Swift catalog that benefits as much from the simple electric funkiness of a well-played rhythm guitar. (This particular riff sounds especially fine in headphones, landing just off the beat and bouncing between ears ever so slightly.) Swift never had an office job, but must have attended Take Your Daughter to Work Day just enough to wonder what it’d be like to seduce a guy in a suit and tie. “I could see you up against the wall with me,” she sings — because she knows places you two can hide, and they’re just around the corner from the copy machine!

“Castles Crumbling”: As mentioned, this sounds like a flash-forward to the Swift Songbook of 2020, and surely would have had a different production in 2010 than it gets now with the artist and Antonoff updating as a more modern mood piece. Williams is her duet partner on this one, and it recalls Swift’s vocal collaboration with Phoebe Bridgers on the previous “Taylor’s Version” just a little, in that both this song and “Nothing New” have her writing about foreseeing the end of her fame, or at least her acclaim. In a way, its paranoia prefigures the defensiveness against a fan base she sees turning on her that would come to real fruition in later years on the “Reputation” album. But in another sense, this is the less chin-up mirror image of “Mean,” a song that obviously did make the original “Speak Now.” “Mean” had her bucking up against a blogger who told her she “can’t sing,” and in this number, it’s as if she imagines a whole nation of fans as that blogger, turning backs on her. It’s like she’s following that maxim about imagining the worst and you won’t get disappointed.

“Foolish One”: A strummed acoustic guitar starts this one, and although a bit of drum programming soon kicks in that probably isn’t what Nathan Chapman would’ve done, it still belongs distinctly to the turn of the decade it came from. As with “Electric Touch,” this teeters back and forth between possible optimism about the outcome of a relationship and fatalism, but lands on the side of one-sided love doomed to go to heck in a handbasket. It still sounds impossibly cheerful, in the way that Swift’s falsetto tips up at the end of lines, as is so often her trademark, with a final realization: “He just wasn’t the one.” What’s with this gentle acceptance, for a singer we want to obsess over scarves forever?

“Timeless”: The most truly “organic”-sounding of all the bonus tracks on this new edition — it has ukulele and flute floating in the background behind those acoustic guitars and organs — “Timeless” is a ballad you can imagine Swift having considered for a “Speak Now” album-closer at the time, instead of the brotherhood-of-the-road anthem “Long Live.” Most of the initial lyric videos Swift put up on YouTube have visuals of the static or circular screen-saver variety, but this one is the exception, consisting largely of a lot of photographs of Swift’s grandparents, modeling a great love she believes would have happened in any era, falling just shy of putting in an endorsement for reincarnation. It’s not the emotional tour de force that the song “Marjorie” was — there’s no otherworldly soprano reaching out from beyond the grave to jerk your tears, here, and good, since fans can only handle so much of that in one lifetime. But the grandmother’s solely visual cameo may still ply misty from you.

#taylor swift #speak now tv #review

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disneybrandautism · 5 months

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here are some taylor swift songs i think each of the sides would like! (with some explanation)

nobody asked for this but im doing this instead of my APUSH homework. i’m going to start with roman and go through all of them!

(some ships are mentioned but it’s only a couple times. i promise it’s not all the songs.)

(roman has the most because he would be the biggest swiftie leave me alone)

Roman

enchanted- you cannot tell me roman wouldn’t love the disney romcom vibes of this song. he would love how sweet it was. it’s like meeting your hero.

i bet you think about me - he’s so petty. he would eat this song up.

mirrorball - i feel like this is a given. he would relate an insane amount to this song.

hoax - “your faithless love is the only hoax i believe in” be so fr. this could apply to any of his friendships or relationships with the other sides. his blind faith in the other sides. yeah.

the archer - we all knew this was coming. he would sob listening to this song.

jump then fall - again with the hopeless romantic bit. he would just thing this song is really cute.

question…? - i just think he’d have fun with song. he’d like the beat and just how much of a bop it is.

tolerate it - do i really have to explain myself? come on. he tolerates all the insults. this is his like standing up for himself era.

king of my heart - king is literally in the title. he would again just have fun with this song. so disney prince of him.

champagne problems - feeling the bad guy and knowing you fucked up. it’s so him oh my god don’t even with me.

i could continue. i won’t. next up is logan!

Logan

say don’t go - i just feel like logan would really relate to needing to hear someone tell him not to leave when he gets into an argument.

innocent - i can’t explain this one i just feel like he would get it.

the lakes - he would love the lakes and just this idea of loving someone like this. “take me to the lakes where are all the poets went to die”. this is his song.

marjorie - i feel like he would appreciate that taylor used her grandmothers vocals for this. i feel like he’s more in it for the genius behind her lyrics.

delicate - he lacks understanding of social cues often. “i know that it’s delicate”. he would eat this song up.

glitch - he would get this song in ways i can’t even describe. he would love the beat. his vibes fr.

no body, no crime - a story based song. he would think about this all the time.

lover - idk a reason i just think he’d really enjoy this song.

Patton

never grow up - he’s like a dad. so. watching his kids grow up. it would destroy him.

invisible string - i feel like he would love the idea of the string of fate. he would like the idea that he was just supposed to know these people.

you’re on your own kid - he would feel the pressure of just being on his own and feeling the pressure of being the moral compass.

state of grace - he feels like everyone is the “worth while fight”. yeah you know what i’m saying.

ivy - “you pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand” THE CARETAKER AGAIN

Me! - listen i know it’s not everyone’s favorite but this makes so much sense. the bright colors. the message of the song. the whole thing screams patton.

long live - he would think it’s a really sweet song. he adores the whole message and just how sweet it is. the nostalgia aspect. yeah.

love story - if anyone was getting this song it would be patton. queue the scene of richie from the bear where he is singing this in the car. that’s pat.

Virgil

electric touch - this is so in your face obvious. of course virgil would love the song with fob on it.

clean - i feel like he would relate to this. he’s finally not an “other side” and he’s just virgil. but he sometimes still misses them.

today was a fairytale - i feel like he would be unapologetically a fearless fan. he’s more of a hopeless romantic than i’m willing to admit. it’s so prinxiety coded idk.

closure - idk just very like “other sides apologize” to virgil. (i believe firmly in sympathetic other sides but i think virgil would struggle for a bit to forgive them)

my tears ricochet - “an i can go anywhere i want, anywhere i want just not home.” home was confusing for a bit. where did he belong? yk?

afterglow - the bridge sounds like asking for reassurance during a panic attack. he would love this song.

the lucky one - he for a bit thought that he was the lucky one but realized that all the sides are messy and no one is perfect.

new year’s day - this is so analogince and it would remind him of his boyfriends. he would pick up bottles with them on new year’s day.

holy shit this is getting long. i’m sorry.

Janus

mastermind - he is so this song. he would love this song. he masterminds everything so i just know he would adore this song.

foolish one - i don’t know but i feel like he would love this song in a way no one can understand.

bigger than the whole sky - he probably feels remorse for all he did to roman. maybe he’s saying goodbye to the possibility of friendship? i don’t know but he would like this song.

you’re losing me - i really don’t have explanations for all these. i feel like janus angst always. he would like how this songs has a lot of self blaming.

bad blood - he has beef with a lot of people. i think he would enjoy this song ironically at first. then he didn’t.

so it goes - he is rocking out to this in his room. i just know it in my heart and soul and it makes me nuts.

dear reader - “if it feels like a trap, you’re already in one” this just feels like janus’ internal monologue. all the contradictions feels like deceit. yeah.

cowboy like me - he just wants someone to want the things he wants. he loves this song. it makes sense in his head.

Remus

cruel summer - he would love the beat. he could and would shake ass to this song.

getaway car - i think he’d endorse the message of this song and think it’s a lot of fun.

cardigan - he comes out when people are bored of roman. he definitely struggled being pushed aside so he likes cardigan a lot.

the way i loved you - he would love the idea that even after fighting with someone an insane amount you can still miss them.

i don’t have anything else for remus. i hope this makes sense. if not i apologize. if you think of anything else for remus let me know. i am just slightly nuts about taylor swift.

#i’m just nuts about taylor swift #roman sanders #tss roman #logan sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides headcanons #taylor swift #tss logan #tss patton #tss remus #tss janus #all the sides

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taylorhawkins · 1 year

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“My music career started with women” - Taylor Hawkins (full interview)

My paternal grandmother, Josie Hawkins, grew up in the Great Depression and lived in Jackson, Mississippi. She’d throw us grandkids into the back of her old Buick while wearing giant sunglasses and listening to Kenny Rogers. She was a sweet woman who cooked amazing soul food. She didn’t know how to sit still. She lived almost to age 90 and was the matriarch of the Hawkins family.

My mum, Elizabeth Ann Hawkins, had her demons and a dark side. She was full of love, sweetness and tenderness and the total opposite of my dad [Terry]. She always believed in me. I would stand in front of her as a kid and sing, impersonate or dance for her. When I first got drums, she was the one who would watch me play. She was a big supporter and told me I’d make it. She counteracted Dad’s stony coldness, typical of a ’70s man.

I remember going to my first rock concert in 1982 to see Queen. I told Mum, “I’ll play that stadium one day.” She looked at me with eyes that matched my ambition. Mum was always there for me emotionally. She let me open up to her and showed me it was okay to have a gentle side.

Mum was a little absent sometimes because of her demons and my older sister Heather took up a lot of that slack. When dinner didn’t get finished because Mum had passed out on the couch, Heather was the one who made sure everything ran smoothly. My mum died from an aneurysm, nine months after Dad died in 2011 from emphysema. They loved each other, but for the last five years of his life it was Mum who took care of him. I saw this great release in Mum’s eyes after he died because she’d been carrying his oxygen tank everywhere they went. They were like best friends; they lived a full life. But there was tragedy, too.

Heather is the toughest member of our family. She’s the middle child and can still boss us all around. While my dad worried I’d live on his couch for his whole life because I was some loser musician, he never had to worry about Heather. My older brother, Jason, followed in Dad’s footsteps and became a businessman.

My celebrity crush was Olivia Newton-John. I noticed her in Grease, but even earlier than that I fell in love with her country songs. I was around three when I heard Have You Ever Been Mellow. There was something in her voice that I loved before I saw her.

My music career started with women; I first came to Australia playing in Alanis Morissette’s band – I owe so much to her. I recorded with many women on my most recent album with the Coattail Riders, Get the Money: Chrissie Hynde, LeAnn Rimes and Heart’s Nancy Wilson. I did ask Olivia Newton-John but her management never got back to me. Maybe one day.

I married Alison Hawkins in 2005. We have three children [Oliver, 13, Annabelle, 12, and Everleigh, 7]. There’s a song on Get the Money called I Really Blew It, which is for those men who think they can win an argument with their missus! I only speak for myself, but the man will always lose because the woman has the power.

I wrote a song about Annabelle called Middle Child. There’s a line, “you clean your mess up almost every night”, and she does. It’s tough being a middle child – but she is my twin and I love her so much.

#I debated posting this I know it’s very personal #but then figured if he put it out there it must be ok #so here it is #taylor hawkins #about t #interviews & articles #alanis morissette #alanis days #foo fighters #alison hawkins #so sweet i love him and miss him so so so much

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cleoselene · 3 months

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watching the Eras Tour (Taylor's Version) with Mom

my mom absolutely loves the Eras Tour (Taylor's Version) but she cannot stop saying how much she hates Taylor's bangs lol

she's like "this girl is so pretty but I cannot get over those bangs!! I can barely see her eyes!"

it's the most mom-coded complaint rofl

Mom's favorite song is "Anti-Hero" but she has never been able to understand the lyrics to Taylor songs because Taylor's voice is too high in pitch for Mom's 74-year-old hearing, but watching the concert on D+ with the captions on has been very illuminating for her haha. She's like, "I don't know if I understand it now" after seeing the lyrics to "Anti-Hero" rofl. Lyrically she was most impressed by ATW10, hahaha, she was like "WHOA" at a few different points at the siq burns Taylor delivers on Jake G. She was familiar with a surprising number of songs but really only the more recent parts of the discography ("You Belong With Me" and "Love Story" were the exceptions, she'd heard those). Btw, when it comes to "Love Story": she was DELIGHTED by those lyrics too. My parents were big time Romeo & Juliet stans in the late '60s because of the Zefirelli adaptation (she was horrified when I informed her of the recent lawsuits and how those kids were underaged and nude - she said she didn't even remember the nudity, honestly, which goes to show how unnecessary it was). My parents were so into that adaptation that they almost named my brother "Montague Tybalt" until my grandmother vetoed it hard. But she was delighted at Taylor rewriting R + J to be happy.

She was not at all familiar with Speak Now or anything from Midnights besides Anti-Hero. She was pretty 50/50 on folkmore familiarity (she LOVED "marjorie" as I predicted she would) . She knew all of 1989 and reputation. She didn't know much of Red but she LOVED the songs from it, lol. She was coming off a bad breakup in 2012 and I think Red would have resonated hard with her. She was DELIGHTED by WANEGBT lol.

Anyway Mom loved it because it had subtitles. She's still a P!nk fan first and foremost, followed by Dua Lipa, but especially now that Republicans are targeting Taylor, shes getting on board with Taylor, but she really wants Taylor to do something about her bangs

#taylor swift

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sheikitoff · 7 months

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breath of the wild as evermore

if you’re up on your taylor swift lore, you know folklore and evermore are considered “sister albums” - both written and recorded during the pandemic, released five months apart, with a shared “cinematic universe” of sorts, and both characterized by taylor as getting lost in the woods (artistically) and staying there for a while. all of that is true, but if folklore is a lush forest in summer or high fall, evermore is a forest in late winter - the trees are bare, the world is quieter, and all around are signs of death and decay; yet even still, peeking out from the snow are hints of life returning, of nature in all its persistence gearing up to bloom again.

like MM, BOTW is a game about dealing with the apocalypse, but while in MM that apocalypse is imminent, in BOTW it’s a few generations past, still in living memory for some (like the zora) but for the most part the formative shadow under which the people of the world were raised and which society is just starting to emerge from. (this is a real sidebar, but i’ve always thought MM and BOTW were the zelda games most visibly influenced by ff7; in MM, with the moon hanging over the world, akin to meteor in disc 3; in BOTW, i see the final shot of midgar’s ruins overtaken by nature in every corner of hyrule.) but botw isn’t evermore just because it’s a sister to mm/folklore. evermore is an album of aching grief, not just for things lost but for potentials never realized, for “could-have-beens” that never were, for longing after that which was once in your reach but no longer is; “we could just ride around / and the road not taken looks real good now.” i think the champions’ fates are among the most haunting of any zelda characters; they were all brilliant and talented, in their primes, leaders in their communities, brave and true with full lives ahead of them, and they all died horribly, trapped and alone. whether or not mipha’s feelings for link were requited or not, she’ll never know, and link will never have the chance to respond one way or another; “i guess i’ll never know / and you’ll go on with the show”.

evermore is also an album about figuring out who you are (or are going to be) after a loss: “and in the disbelief / i can’t face reinvention/ i haven’t met the new me yet.” in botw, this theme is prevalent on both an individual and a societal level; link spends the game both learning who he was before and who he is now, through finding old memories and through making new ones, and likewise hyrule is rebuilding itself, trying to figure out what it’s going to become, but that future kingdom hasn’t quite taken shape yet (nor have it’s tears- sorry for the pun, i’ll stop now). “there is happiness / past the blood and bruise / past the curses and cries / beyond the terror in the nightfall.” yet people are relentless in their persistence, their determination to keep going, to create life out of a wasteland of death; and through the tarreytown quests the game makes you a party to this, makes you and link engage with the way humanity refuses to be stamped out. “oh, i can’t / stop you putting roots in my dreamland / my house of stone, your ivy grows / and now i’m covered in you.”

here’s the part where i say, full disclosure: i played BOTW in the weeks before and months after my grandmother’s death, and for me that game is inextricably tied to my grief. on evermore, taylor has a song grieving her grandmother (see “marjorie”, pack tissues). i don’t believe that’s why i think evermore is BOTW, and i think i’ve proven that here, but it’s be naive of me to think there’s no connection going on in my subconscious because of that.

another difference between MM/folklore and BOTW/evermore is in the pacing; even though both albums are roughly the same length, folklore feels very tightly paced, extremely sonically coherent, with one clear central vision. evermore is a bit more meandering, more experimental, more willing to sit in silence and sadness and watch the frozen landscape for a while. it still plays with different characters and fictional storylines (and like in MM, link/the player spends a lot of BOTW in the role of observer), but they’re not as interwoven as those on folklore; likewise, in BOTW the characters are spread far and wide across hyrule instead of largely gathered in clocktown, their lives are far less intertwined, and while the NPCs do all have scheduled trajectories of sorts they’re far less strict or significant than those of MM. (also of note; while in folklore, the “teenage love triangle” of songs - cardigan, august, and betty, each from the point of view of a different character from the same love triangle - has resolution, a degree of closure, and some real catharsis on “betty”, the evermore equivalent, ‘tis the damn season and dorothea, have no resolution or closure or catharsis of any kind. unfulfilled, just like the champions’ lives and potential.)

all of these themes and ideas are also summed up within one BOTW character: zelda. unfulfilled potential is the name of the game with her, as she’s constantly told she’s a failure for her inability to unlock her powers, while also being shut off from all her research, her potential as a scholar and any potential discoveries her passion could have led her to, and any lives that knowledge might have saved. (in age of calamity, we learn that zelda’s research into technology could and would have been able to save at least some lives, but the canon of that game is questionable, and regardless BOTW zelda doesn’t know any of that because it never happened; she’s just left with the possibility that maybe she could have uncovered something, but no certainty.) zelda’s grief goes without saying, as we see her breaking down in flashbacks, and her longing - for her powers, to be a scholar, to not be a princess, to be free of the burden of prophecy - is everywhere. (not to mention, the game opens with link hearing zelda’s voice but unable to reach her; whether you interpret their relationship as romantic or not, the whole game is framed with a longing for something you can’t reach). and the persistence of hyrule in surviving and rebuilding despite the calamity is reflected in zelda’s persistence in holding ganon at bay for a whole century; and, in the “true ending” scene you get for unlocking all the memories, we see her already making plans for hyrule, for where to go next and how to move forward.

there’s a lot more i could say, but i’ll end with the final track of evermore, fittingly named “evermore”, which i think sums up the themes of this game so well: “and i couldn’t be sure / but i had a feeling so peculiar / this pain wouldn’t be for / evermore.”

addendum: ah, crap, i meant to write something about the champion’s abilities as representation for still feeling the presence of loved ones after they’ve passed, and “if i didn’t know better / i’d think you were still around / i know better / but i still feel you all around”… ah well, it’s long enough as it is

#breath of the wild #botw #taylor swift #zelda #evermore #legend of zelda

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kazoosandfannypacks · 1 year

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I would like to know about March 30, The Admiral’s Daughter, and Always Remember, please ma’am!

you got it!

March 30

Basically the gist of this fic, based on a conversation I had with @silver-the-phoenix (a lot of my fics are based on discord conversations wih silver,) is that, even after he's well adjusted to his happy Storybrooke life, Killian still remembers the anniversary of Milah's passing, and when he can't shake the sorrow, he slips away to the Jolly Roger to reflect- and is followed by a somewhat snoopy teenager, who wants to hear a few stories about his paternal grandmother from the pirate who knew her best...

The Admiral's Daughter

aahhhhhh my beloved! this wip is the second original book that I've written at least a full draft of, and I'm so proud of it. The basic gist is our main character, Maristella Arrington, is, well, the admiral's daughter, and she loves being at sea. At a ball her father hosts, she meets a promising naval lieutenant, and they hit it off really well. After hearing about her enthusiasm for exploring the oceans, he suggests she join the navy, and she realizes this is a great idea- not just because the cute guy she just met suggested it, but because it genuinely feels right; it makes sense to her. So, she and her best friend, Verity join the navy together. While at the naval academy, they recieve word that the ship that the lieutenant was serving on was sunk, and that there were no survivors. Of course, Maristella's shaken by this, but she tries to brush it off and focus on her role in the navy.

that is, until she has a run-in with a young pirate captain who seems altogether too familiar...

Always Remember (the burning embers)

the title of this fic may be familiar to some- it's some of the lyrics to The Great War, a Taylor Swift song that I've always felt sums up Killian and Emma in the Dark Ones arc. This fic is a missing moment, in which Killian and Emma have a conversation about some careless words Killian said during that dark time in their story. (i don't wanna share too many details, though. I'll save that for when I post it on Saturday 😉)

thanks for the ask! I loved talking about these!

WIP game!

#kazzy writes #once upon a time #ouat #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #millian #captain cobra #once upon a time season 5 #milah ouat #henry mills #the admiral's daughter #kazzy's ocs #maristella arrington #verity sterling #admiral charles arrington #adrian alyward

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emometalhead · 10 months

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My Eras Tour Concert experience!! (7/28/23)

Let's start at the beginning! Immediately after we got through the gates, people approached my friend and I about trading bracelets! (We also gave bracelets to the parking lot attendants!!) The energy was so fun! On our walk from the parking lot, and the entire time we were in the stadium, I was complimenting people's outfits. Everyone looked gorgeous!!! I have never seen so much glitter and sequins!!! It was so cute!! Btw the first bracelet that someone chose to take from me was "Three Sad Virgins" lol.

We walked around the stadium for like an hour. We talked to quite a few people, and traded several bracelets. We met up with one of my dad's former co-workers too! She was super sweet, and I gave her a bracelet. We went to the Capital One booth to do the Taylor elevator video thing, and it turned out really cute!! It's posted on my Instagram if any mutuals want to see. Since we were walking around and stuff, we ended up not watching the openers. It wasn't a horrible loss for us, because none of us were familiar with their music.

We were shocked when we found our seats. Our view was incredible!! We were directly in front of the stage, and we were in the first row of our area. No one was in front of us. We literally could've sat through the whole thing and still would've had a perfect view. (That being said I stood the whole time lol.) I got so excited when I heard Misery Business and Immortals play btw!! I love that Taylor has Paramore and Fall Out Boy in her pre-show playlist! Also I hadn't seen the clock countdown before. The crowd energy was insane, and I was legit about to cry before she even came on stage.

I didn't cry when she came onto the stage, but I did scream a lot lol. As expected, it was super fun to sing along to Miss Americana and YNTCD. Also as expected, my dad sang along to YNTCD! He recorded lots of stuff for me throughout the concert too. Being able to yell "shade never made anybody less gay" was a great experience btw. I started crying during Lover, and I cried again during The Archer. I really wasn't sure which songs would make me cry, but I've got to say I didn't expect Lover lol.

Onto the Fearless era! That was my first time hearing the song Fearless! She didn't play it at my reputation tour concert. It was so much fun!!! I was jumping around and dancing through the whole era. I saw my dad singing along to YBWM! As excited as I was myself, I was also happy that my dad got to hear songs he was familiar with this time. I will always cherish the memory of doing heart hands with Taylor + everyone in the stadium.

You guys have no clue how loudly I screamed when I saw Haim come onto stage in their Bejeweled dresses!! I'm so obsessed with them! Hearing no body, no crime live was incredible. What surprised me most about this era was the fact that I sobbed through marjorie. (Very intense, ugly crying.) That song does make me cry often, but I failed to consider how hard it would hit live given I recently lost one of my grandmas. The song is a beautiful tribute, and I love that Taylor gets to honor her grandmother in such a special way. My dad hugged me through most of the song while I cried. champagne problems was exactly as cool live as I expected. The crowd energy was WILD!! I will always love the intensity in Taylor's eyes when she drops the f-bomb line lol. tolerate it live was also incredible. One of my favorite songs forever and ever!! Btw we cheered for over 3 and a half minutes after champagne problems. (That's a whole minute longer than night 2.)

I have no words for how hot reputation Taylor is. I ascended watching her. I can't believe I essentially got to see a second reputation era. I have the least to say here because I had already heard the songs from this era live, but I had so much fun dancing around and I am just so so gay.

Now for Speak Now!! I had entirely avoided spoilers of what the stage looked like for this era. I was in awe of how beautiful it was! I am so happy to have heard Enchanted live, and the fireworks were perfect!! (The fireworks were not part of the show, but still very cool. Levi Stadium is across a parking lot from Great America, so we experienced the amusement park's firework display during Speak Now and Red.) I cried again during Long Live! I thought I'd be safe since I heard it during the reputation era, but my love for Taylor got to me lol. I love her so much, and I am so glad she gets to be celebrated each weekend.

The transition into the Red era was fun! I hadn't seen anything about it online, so it was totally new to me. This is the era that I could tell my dad had the most fun in. He sang along to 3/4 songs. He didn't know the words to All Too Well, but he did record the entire song for me!! Also he sang the correct words to Trouble lol. This era was so fun to dance around during. I hadn't heard any songs from this era live previously, and my dad and I fueled each other's hype!

God the folklore era was amazing. I had so much fun screaming along to betty!! It's been one of my favorites since the album came out. My inner 2020 self was LIVING!! My jaw locked during illicit affairs, which really sucked, but beyond that it was a wonderful time during this era!! The stage setup was gorgeous!!!!!

Oh. My. God. The 1989 era!!!!!!!!! So damn fun!!! I was jumping around and dancing the whole time!!!! I don't have the words, but it was EVERYTHING!!!!! I was so hyped and also knew we were right around the corner from the surprise songs!!

The surprise songs were right where you left me and Castles Crumbling!! You guys don't understand how insane my friend and I went. We knew Aaron Dessner was at the show, and we jokingly were like "haha what if we get rwylm or peace". We had also been talking about those songs in the car prior to knowing Aaron was there, and my friend said that rwylm was one of her biggest hopes. (It was in my top 10 too!) So imagine how excited we were when Taylor brought Aaron on stage and the song started. We looked at each other, screamed, and hugged. It was such a good moment. Then after, we just had no clue what to expect from the next song. Taylor started playing the piano, and the crowd went silent. I screamed so loudly it hurt my throat when she sang the first line of Castles Crumbling. I had been intentionally avoiding speaking my surprise song hopes out loud, because I was scared of like jinxing it or something. It was everything to me to hear that song. I was completely not expecting it, but Taylor knew I'd go crazy for a Speak Now TV vault song and she delivered!!!! Those song choices were perfect. It was fun going on Twitter after the show and seeing all of the memes from people that weren't there. Usually I'm right there with them and Like everything, but I got to be like "yeah sorry I was actually there" lol. Btw now that the second night has happened, I'd just like to confirm that we won lol.

Last but not least, the Midnights era!!! So cool! Just so so cool! I made my dad record Vigilante Sh*t, because I was losing my goddamn mind. That was the sexiest thing I've seen in my life. Holy wow. No thoughts just gay. I was sad because I knew we were at the end of the show, but I was having too much fun to really think about it. Taylor is such a force. Her care for her fans is so evident, and I'm so grateful she broke curfew to be with us. My love for her is infinite, and I'm in awe that I got to see my favorite person irl for a second time.

Btw I got my favorite outfits for most of the eras, and I still can't get over that. I will never stop talking about this concert!!!! My dad is going to show me his videos on the TV today, and I'm looking forward to reliving everything!! Shoutout to the #1 Swiftie dad for taking so many photos and videos! I didn't take out my phone during the concert because he was totally on top of it all. He let me live in the moment, and I'm very appreciative. Also I know he recorded me a couple times, so I'm curious to see that footage lol.

Here's some photos that my dad sent me!!

#it was really just the best time #I'll never get over it #taylor swift #the eras tour #ashley overshares

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justwritedreams · 1 year

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maari maari maari!!!!!! i need an in-depth account of your grandparents' love story!!!!!!! 😍😍😍😍❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ how did they meet? was it love at first sight? 😆❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

This will be a long one, I guarantee it 🤣🤣🤣 I only know my parents' full story, but that's a conversation for another time. I will end up editing or adding other things later because I had to ask my mother and unfortunately she doesn't remember many things, she had a difficult childhood and her defense mechanism made her forget most things (also my grandparents wouldn't even talk to her about some details). So that's a conversation I'll have with my aunt, who lives in Japan, later.

My great-grandparents, on my grandfather's side, came from Japan fleeing the war as well as my grandmother's family, but they came from Italy. I'm pretty sure it was during the First World War, my grandfather was born here in Brazil and he was the youngest of 12 children. Well, at that time this was a good place for foreigners and they adapted very quickly to people who didn't speak the language and didn't even know the place. My mother believes that my grandmother worked as a maid at my grandfather's brother's wife's house (or it was next door) so they met through mutual friends. I believe it was love at first sight, I really need to confirm that part with my aunt or some relative of my grandfather, because as far as I know everything happened very quickly. I think it was customary at the time, you found someone interesting, fell in love and got married 🤣🤣 It was a different time than what we are used to today, so the Japanese family was very strict. At that time, my great-grandparents wanted their children to maintain the lineage, so marrying foreigners was out of the question. Although some of them did not follow this rule, because it was a new world, but what my mother says is that with my grandfather it was a little more difficult because my grandmother was older than him (nothing too exaggerated, I think it was just like 4 or 5 years). I really don't blame them because my grandfather was a great catch and my grandmother was a very elegant woman (I only have one picture of her younger and she was beautiful!). So my grandfather faced his family and married my grandmother. Of course, this angered the family, and my grandparents were forced to live as far away from them as possible. My mother says they lived with the little they had and they were very happy for a while, my grandparents had 4 children (unfortunately one of my mother's sisters did not survive many years) but my aunt and uncle are here to tell me the details I do not know. She and her siblings didn't have much contact with the Japanese family for a while, she always noticed the angry looks from her grandmother to my grandmother, which ended up creating a revolt between the three who were extremely devoted to my grandmother. Unfortunately, a few years later my grandparents ended up becoming alcoholics. I really wish it had been a happy ending story because all my mother says about my grandmother was that she was an extremely good person, and I think she deserved to have a good ending. My grandmother passed away a few years later and that was the turning point. My mother and her siblings had their lives, my mother built her own family, and my grandfather remarried later, but I always got the impression that he still missed my grandmother even after so many years. He never told me anything, of course, I was too young to understand. And after several years later he passed away. So if I could summarize their story it would be like taylor swift's song what a sad beautiful tragic love affair. I wanted to know more details because I've been very curious too, since I was little, but this was a "forbidden" subject until a while ago. I always knew only fragments of this story and because in a way we lived situations that reminded me of my grandparents' past so my mother commented, but she never felt confident enough to talk about it openly when I was younger. I think now, as I show more curiosity, she doesn't want to keep it a secret so she shares what little she knows. I'm sorry I said it would be long 🤣🤣🤣 but the most interesting thing is that I always really wanted to write a book about my grandparents', something similar like the book Kurt Seyit & Shura (a great one by the way), but i still need to know many details!

#I think now you understand why I love a forbidden love drama #when it doesn't happen to me obviously because it's horrible #my Mona Lisa 🖼️#maari's mutuals ♾️

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katiapostsss · 6 months

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𝐈𝐕𝐘 .. part II

🌿

ᵖᵃʳᵗ ²/³

ˢʸⁿᵒᵖˢⁱˢ: "ᵗʰⁱˢ ʷᵃʸ,

ⁱ'ˡˡ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵇᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ.."

ᶜʰᵃʳᵃᶜᵗᵉʳˢ: ᵗᵃʸˡᵒʳ ˢʷⁱᶠᵗ ˣ

ᶠᵉᵐ ! ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

16 years of age

〰️

"hi, it's me, your mom!" your voice barely met the silver lining of a whisper, bright and cheery in the languid night. darkness shrouded your figure, sat up, gripping the camera you were talking to, doing your very best to not wake taylor's sleeping silhouette beside you. "i thought i'd tell you about somethin' very important i'm doin' right now." briefly, your eyes checked on your girlfriend, a smile growing on your face.

taylor had always mentioned her yearn for kids around you. it was adorable, and quite exciting to say the least. the only problem was, was the boundaries between you. your genders simply wouldn't allow it, so you vowed on adopting or getting a donor. just for her. all for her. and what better way then to make videos for your future kids to watch?

"your mama is asleep, so i don't wanna wake her up, but she's comin' out with an album soon enough. crazy right?" you looked back at the camera, the awful quality of your reflection somehow making the scene ten times better. "im so proud of her, and so, im plannin' on surprisin' her with a party. she's real excited about all that song makin' jazz. im real excited for her."

taylor shifted slightly beside you, her hand falling on your lap. you looked down at her turned-up palm, shooting the camera a shocked look. carefully, you put a finger to your lips, as if to shush your future kids on the other side of the screen. clearing your throat, you continued.

"don't worry, im plannin' on gettin' my mom— your grandmother— to record it all. i just want to let you know that i won't be tolerating anythin' less than the best when you're up and dating like we are righ' now." you show a wink at the camera, giving it your best, toothy grin. "anyways, i'll get goin'. i don't wanna bore you. bye, kids, love ya!"

quietly, you shut the cameras' extended screen, resting it by your legs. taylor looked as peaceful as ever beside you, her chest rising and falling as she breathed in the stuffy air around you. using your hand, you pushed away some do the loose strands of hair falling into her eyes and pressed the gentle caress of a kiss against her forehead. she hummed somewhere deep inside her slumber, briefly gripping the cloth on your lap. you smiled, turning on your side and pulling her beneath your chin. there, you fell asleep, bodies, intertwined.

---

it was impossible to keep information from spreading within the corridors of the montgomery county, hence, how everyone knew you and taylor were dating. from holding hands in secret underneath the desks of your science class, to leaving lingering pecks when no one was watching, gossip was inevitable. and of course, brady stuart saw you kiss her cheek one day, and all hell broke loose.

questions on end flooded any room she or you walked into. they couldn't keep away, as if they were little gnats who would always loiter near a summer picnic. of course, both your parents were ecstatic, doing so much as to ask the principal personally for protection over their children. for the teachers to watch you or her more closely.

some of your peers were genuinely curious, some, you knew were asking for the sole purpose of getting on your nerves. some even went so far as to purposely stray away from you, shoot your dirty looks, or even openly—and quite boisterously—comment on it.

it wasn't easy for either of you, but, at the end of the day, alone in your room, when you got to kiss and hold hands without the consequences, it was worth it.

after missing the dance you two had been planning for so long, taylor made it known that it didn't matter to her. still, your own guilt drove you to set up your own prom in the corridors of your room, at that time, already out to your mom. there, you proposed the idea of a committed relationship, to which she rapidly agreed to. you would never get used to being able to kiss her cheek whenever, hug her for a second longer.

although your mom was so happy you were dating, implying she knew all along, your dad.. wasn't. fighting between your mother and him got more frequent, and in the end, you were the topic. sometimes, you were the one face-to-face with him, on the verge of tears, holding up your end of the argument as best as you could, and sometimes, it got to be too much.

taylor always helped you through it. anytime you collapsed onto your bed, sobbing into your pillows after your dad exploded on you, you knew the best escape was her. by her side, you quietly wet her shirt with your tears, curled into a ball on her lap with your parents fighting their asses off only two houses down. she promised you that once you two had the money, you would fly somewhere far from there, far from your bickering dad, far from your homophobic peers, and shaking, you nodded your head.

that was the reason this little party needed to be so perfect. you had decided on just the two of you celebrating. you'd set a camera up by your books and preside within your room. the cake was already laying on your desk and you were currently setting up the decorum.

you had practically sprinted home, rummaging through the bag of decorations you had bought at the local general store just the other day. your mom had helped you print out a giant picture of the album cover art, which you plastered—not without a struggle—to the wall. even halfway done, the room was coated in mint green. tinsel decorated every empty space, balloons floated aimlessly across the floors and bed.

hanging the very last of the colored paper rolls around the cover art, you stepped back, admiring the finished product of your work. you could only hope taylor would like it, but, then again, you could give her a cracker as celebration and she'd break into tears. you truly didn't deserve her.

in the very beginning of your relationship, practically the day of your proposal, she looked straight at you and told you that no matter what you did for her, she'd love you. underneath a starlit sky, she told you all about how she couldn't care less if you did things like this or not, that she didn't want you to waste any money on her or anything. of course, you wagered your part on this topic, telling her quite clearly that doing things to make her happy was not a waste, that it made you feel good. and it did.

seeing how giddy she'd get over small gestures or watching her face light up was worth it. it was worth anything. you would never get tired of her face. you loved it when you weren't dating, and when you were. the only change now was the shower of soft kisses she'd leave lingering on your face or the squeeze of your hand in hers. the only difference now was you could love her openly, and openly you did.

pushing your hair free from the sheen of sweat covering your forehead, you exhaled quite deeply. the clock standing atop your desk, beside the small but delectable position of the cake, read 2:23. you had very little leeway to relax, since taylor insisted on coming over as soon as possible when making plans. you lied about a make-up piano lesson for one you had "missed" last friday, which wasn't true at all, but she deemed it believable, and that was what mattered.

still, she refused coming any moment later than 2:30, so you had the next 7 minutes—most likely less—to prepare further. fervently, you sped to the bathroom connecting to your room, leaning over the counter to check your appearance. carefully, you drew the sticky texture of a lipgloss you just bought back onto your lips, being quick to brush your hair immediately after. knowing taylor, she'd be here before the designated time to come, so you had to be rapid when fixing up your face. you combed through the whole of your hair, clearing your throat.

as you sped through the length of your room, grabbing the shirt enveloped by taylor's cover art and attempting to throw it on, you heard the sound of the opening and your mother's voice, paired with the dainty tone of your girlfriend's as well. cursing the stars that hid beneath the blanket of warm sun, you ran your hands along the cloth atop your chest and studied the room around you. only one more accessory. the party hat. grabbing the cylinder of fluorescent mint green, you pulled the attached string below your chin and adjusted it atop your hair. by it's former spot, laid two party blowers, both green. gripping one in the hollow of your palm, you took the cake and balanced it on one hand.

the sound of soft footfalls reverberated louder than ever in your ears, that, and the sound of your racing pulse the only things audible to you. this had to go as perfect as ever. watching carefully for the shadow that danced beneath the door, you balanced the party blower between your two lips and two fingers, blowing hard and loud as soon as the door opened. taylor, on the other side, was quite obviously shocked. it took her a moment to register, but as soon as she realized what you had done for her, her lips parted ever so slightly in shock and her hands flew to cover her mouth.

a smile grew on your face, the giddy laugh that left your lips lilting into the plaster of the ceiling above. "congratulations, taylor!!" you shouted, the tone of your voice muffled by the plastic between your teeth. taylor, with tears in her eye, grabbed the cake and shuffled to set it atop your desk, turning on her heel and running into your arms.

"no—" she struggled to choke out between the soft sniffles she'd breathe. "no wa— y!" giggling, you watched her take the party blower out from between your lips and discard it absentmindedly on the hardwood flower below, grabbing your either side of your face and meeting your lips with hers. you were about the same height, as it had always been, so it was with ease that you kissed her back, smiling into the plush caress of her pecks. pulling away, you shook your head, thumb carefully brushing away the tears that were replaced with newer ones anyways. you resorted to kissing the salty liquid of her happiness as they fell.

"don't cry, tayy!" you laughed, inspecting the soft porcelain of her features. hearing your giggles, she struggled to stifle her own, shaking her head as she pulled away to look around at the room.

"this.." she breathed, choking on her sniffles. "this is crazy!" taylor's eyes flew everywhere, to every crack and crevice of your room, appreciating every piece of tinsel you took the time to hang, every mint green and clear balloon you exhaled air into. "thank you.." she whirled around on her heel, wiping away her tears. joy blossomed deep within the anatomy of your heart, running along your arms and legs, settling as a bashful feeling in your stomach. "thank you.. so much." you stepped forward, smile playing at your lips as you kissed her once more. taylor breathed soft giggles into the space of your mouth, intertwining her hands together.

"of course, taylor. anything for you," you spoke, your voice barely a whisper. the next moment you spent staring at each other brought the remembrance of the surroundings around you. eyes brightening, you stepped back and unboxed the cake, revealing the pastel mint green of it's icing. "they wouldn't do custom cake, unfortunately. i would've gotten your album plastered right on," you explained, staring down at the cake. "this was the only thing they had. i figured it was good enough because— well— it matches the aesthetic of—" the room broke out in taylor's laughter, a joyous, blithe sound that sparked something deep within you. meeting her eyes, you shot her a bemused, muddled look, to which she only smiled brighter at.

"this is perfect. the cake is perfect. the room is perfect. you're perfect," she exclaimed, struggling to keep the smile off her lips as she planted a soft kiss on your cheek. incredulously, you pulled away, grinning as you shuffled in your seat.

"why are you laughing?" you inquired, eyes bright. taylor looked back at you, gaining her composure before sitting atop the edge of your bed. she shook her head, looking at you through her eyelashes.

"i just— i think it's so cute how eager you are to make me happy with things like this." she took a moment to avert her attention around the room, craning her neck to see better.

fire set flame on your cheeks, heating your neck and ears as you turned away, hiding a smile and your obvious giddiness. a laugh escaped taylor's throat. you could feel her hot gaze on the back of your forehead as she shuffled to grab your chin and plant her lips on yours once again. "and i'm so grateful," she confirmed in the most sincerest of tones. "for someone like you."

you blew a breathy laugh out your nose, fluster igniting your entire face. taylor looked at you as if you were her everything, as if she knew she was yours. she was. bashfully, you bit your lip, her hand falling from your chin.

"thank you.." you whispered, your breath shallow as you struggled to maintain eye contact with her. taylor could sense your nervousness, and she lightly smiled. it had been two years and you were certain you'd never get over this rush feeling rising inside of you that enveloped your chest in a bashful feeling around her without fail. you were happy. she was happy. everything was perfect.

until.

---

it had been two nights since it happened. frightened and filled to the brim with concern was the look in taylor's eyes as you stumbled into her house, struggling to walk straight, eyes burdened with crying rashes and plentiful tears. tea was already brewing in the kitchen downstairs and andrea had struggled to leave the two of you alone in taylor's room. it took lots of bargaining as you sat and wept, even some rude remarks.

you swore you could hear the intrepid sobs and screams of protest only two houses down as taylor coaxed your limbs, numb from trudging through the inches of snow adjourning the streets. she sat and listened to you, her tiny gasps barely audible over the sound of your unsteady breathing. it had been only two months since taylor had came out with her album, and she'd stayed in pennsylvania. for you. all for you. and here you were, burdening her with your problems. she couldn't hear a word you slurred but still she rubbed your back and held you in her arms, whispered promising lies into your ear like "it'll be ok," and "we'll figure it out," when you both knew damn well it wouldn't be ok and there would be nothing to figure out.

for fucks sake, your father had just kicked you and your mother out of his rightfully owned house, left you for the streets all because you were lesbian, and no matter what you would believe, you knew you'd had to go. still, taylor stayed by you as you rambled incoherent words into her ear, kissed your forehead that a headache settled behind.

the car ride was silent. you knew full well you couldn't spend the rest of your life in taylor's house, sleeping in taylor's room, enveloped in silence. that thought scared you. the past nights had been spent cuddling, not speaking. she knew not to speak, you gave no effort to do so either. you laid and stared up at the ceiling in pure fear. you knew taylor wanted to cry. you knew she knew you'd leave. but still, the little hope she managed to hold in the palm of her hand gave her reason not to. that was until now.

on the way to the airport, she sobbed. uncontrollably. taylor's head on your lap and her legs splayed out on the unoccupied seat. she cried and cried the whole twenty minutes. the twenty minutes to the gateway leading to a shabby and cheap apartment your mother had promised she'd fix up for you as best as she could. you stared at the back of her head in the passenger seat. she was losing sleep. andrea was losing sleep. everyone was rattled to the bone. taylor had stayed home the last few days of school to spend your timed days in solitude. just the two of you with your parents sipping tea downstairs and discussing a new life solemnly. they promised to visit, but you knew that their visits to boston would be inconsistent with school and work.

with shaky hands, you pushed taylor's baby hairs from her face, damp with her tears. you were wrung out, dried of any motive to cry. numb. the hope to call every night and keep in touch with her was what you held onto, although you knew it wouldn't last. for her own sake and for yours. with singing, she'd be occupied from calling consistently. feeling the car lull to a stop was what nearly broke you. you bit hard on your lip as taylor lifted her body off you, looking around, realizing you were in the airport parking lot. andrea stared solemnly at you and her through the rearview mirror, watching taylor break even further, your mom stayed as silent as a stone.

it took about a minute for andrea to convince taylor to let go of you so you could get out of the car, but as soon as you were out, she was grabbing your hand and squeezing it, refusing to meet your eyes. carefully, you pulled her frail figure into a hug, letting her rest her head on your shoulder. she didn't seem to care that she tripped over her feet every two seconds in this position as you started walking inside, didn't seem to care she was bumping into people and things everywhere. you did her best to lead her, but she made zero effort to follow along, latching onto you like stapled paper.

finally, waiting at the gate, she let go, pulling away only to grab your hand in hers. you gave her the most reassuring of smiles, squeezing her palm and planting a kiss on her cheek. andrea and your mother sat across from you, in silence, staring out at the airplanes.

"i don't want you to go," taylor spoke, breath shallow and forced out. you bit your lip, brows upturning as her eyes glistened with restocked tears. you shook your head, placing your hands on either side of her face and pulling her as close as you could in the seats.

"don't be sad, tay.." you whispered, trying your hardest to reassure her into a better state. it didn't work. a moment of silent passed between the two of you, thick and palpable with sorrow. you couldn't let some of your last moments with her be enveloped in sadness, and so, standing up, you pulled her to her feet. "we'll be back!" you called to your mom, and hastily, you hauled taylor away before she could protest about how little time was left until the departure.

you and taylor always made friendship bracelets. it was something physical to tie you together no matter what, and so your eyes were set on some sort of crafty store. the best you could find was a pharmacy that sold charms in the very back. her questions prodded you as you walked inside, inspecting the shelves. "why are we here?" she inquired with a sniffle, but all you responded with was a small hum of satisfaction as you finally found the bracelet section. you grabbed a purple one and stretched it over her wrist, giving her a solemn smile.

taylor's face slightly brightened, eyes growing teary as she inspected the charm. it was made up of purple, white, and clear beads, all in order. carefully, she twisted it around her wrist a couple of times, rolling the individual beads between her fingers. she didn't even look up at you as her eyes suddenly scanned the shelves, hands picking up a cherry red one the color of blood and putting it on your wrist. you laughed slightly, but it sounded strained and solemn.

"this way, i'll always be with you.." you lifted your gaze to her eyes, but she was already looking at you, her face red and splotchy. pulling her in by her hand, you planted a kiss on her nose before leading her to the cash register, handing the clerk 5 dollars and not even looking over your shoulder as he tried to offer you your change. now, outside of the store, you pulled her over to an empty gateway, dropping her hand.

"i want to give you something," you spoke, and you were mere seconds away from reaching into your back pocket and pulling out the card that had all your video footage that was supposed to go to your future kids, when the sound of your group was being called out over the speakerphone. shifting your eyes onto taylor, a look of unadulterated fear grew on both your faces. turning, you immediately pulled her along as you nearly sprinted to your seating area.

your mother was already up, waiting for you at the door to the airplane's hallway when you and taylor stopped, gasping for air. you grabbed your bag and looked back at her, but she was crying. and just like that, you were crying. this. this was the last moment. you forgot all about the footage as you pulled her into a mess of kisses and strung your arms around her neck, but your gate was being called and you were supposed to leave. your mom was pulling your arm, ushering you in, struggling to say goodbye, but you couldn't stop violently sobbing, like another dam had broke behind your eyes.

you didn't know how many times you called her name, but then again, you didn't know how many times she called yours. she would've gotten right on that plane with you if it weren't for andrea, holding her back. "i'll visit, ___! i'll visit! don't forget me, please— i love you—" she sobbed and you were sobbing back, not understanding half your own words, when the door to the long hallway shut behind you and taylor's voice became more and more distant, until it was just a voice memo stored in the back of your head.

thank you for reading !!

< part 1 | part 3 >

#1989 taylor's version #evermore #swifties #taylor swift #speak now taylor’s version #red taylor’s version #i love you taylor #taylornation #taylors version #taylor stans #taylor swizzle

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fangirling-throughlife · 7 months

Text

I don't know if I've ever mentioned anything about this, but here it goes.

2 years and almost 2 months ago, a dear friend from my high school days passed away at 29. He was the pianist in my first ever legit piano trio in the conservatory. He was in uni while the other two of us were still in high school. We were the weirdest ever group. He was older, so he had a car and went to concerts, and he could play a great Beethoven and then a mainstream pop song. I was getting out there after my grandmother passed away and my mum (who's not a musician) encouraged me to listen to pop music kids my age enjoyed, and even arranged for me to go to meet the boyband I got into. I had modern interests like Eurovision with very specific people, one of them being the pianist in our group. The violinist had a very strict teacher, and strict parents, so she was less into mainstream and focused on classical music, but she inevitably got carried away by the two of us. Pair that with a teacher who just enjoyed that we were creative and proactive, and had very good chemistry, and we had a blast for a good year.

In 2018, our pianist called us to play at his aunt's wedding. One of the songs we played was Taylor Swift, because he was a massive fan. By that time, I liked Taylor, I knew all of her most famous songs, and I'd just spent months singing "Look what you made me do" (I had my reasons that aren't relevant here). He picked me up at home, and we spent the full ride talking about how talented she is, and what our favourite songs of hers were.

The only thing I can remember playing at the funeral is "august". And the only reason I remember it, is because someone in his family (cannot remember who) said that he loved Taylor so much (as if I didn't know that before) and that he adored that song, and that it would fit in a service. I also remember because I've been unable to listen to it for 2 years, because I start crying as my mind takes me back there.

Since then, all of the major release dates have been bittersweet for me. I think that, with the re-recordings, I figured he was just missing the new versions, and a couple of songs that matched the vibe. I really struggled the week Midnights was released, though, and I still think how fucking unfair it is that there's a whole album he'll never hear. But for some reason, 1989 hurt just as much. I'm not sure if it was because I was very obsessed with Wildest Dreams when we had that fangirling moment, but the moment it started playing, I lost it. And since I was already losing it, when the From the Vault songs started, there was no going back anymore.

As corny as it sounds, this is one of the cases where I really really hope there's a heaven where they can see and hear us, because it destroys my soul to think that the guy who made a "Love Story" arrangement to play because he knew the song so well that he found every single mistake in any online version, is missing all of this.

#life stuff #grief stuff #taylor swift #1989 #1989 taylor's version

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captainsimagines · 2 years

Text

dreaming in june || finale

Summary: At the request of an old friend who now happens to be the new Captain America, you move to a place that only vaguely feels peaceful, to secretly protect his best friend. There you meet Bucky Barnes, your next door neighbor, who has also lived countless lives, seen a lot of things, and lost the one he loved. You have more in common than you thought.

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x (F) POC Enhanced Reader

Based on the Song(s): Heat Waves by Glass Animals ; Coney Island by Taylor Swift and The National

Series / AO3 / Playlist

(15/15)

Warnings: angst; strong language

Word Count: 6,680+

Author’s Note: Just you wait... xxMoni

‘I think about him—and I am whole, and I am empty.’

"I didn't know if you would want to see my face again."

His voice is now a well-rendered reminder of the past. It hits you the same way it hit you all those weeks ago when he showed up unannounced, calling you Princess and sharing the outcome of your people. Who were still deep in the Amazon somewhere—you never asked where—and since you don’t quite feel like a Princess anymore, without a kingdom or a purpose, it just doesn’t feel right to look into the faces of those who came after the people you once knew. The people who sat around you during supper, who stitched your clothing, who grieved the death of both their Princess and Prince.

You had crawled out of bed this morning, shrugging some old tracksuit on to go into work. Barbara had verbally shared her distaste about how you took a week off work without warning. She complained about how bombarded she was with shipments, files, and transport times. But you had simply ignored her, flashing your middle finger as you walked past, and settled into the routine you’ve been conducting for the past six years. Stamping, googling, filing, unpackaging—until a certain Eternal walked through your office door and spoke.

“You pissed me off, but I won’t scorn you forever,” you reply, your eyes still on your computer.

Druig hesitates near the door frame, but he ultimately shuts it behind him. He’s dressed in all black, despite the summer heat outside.

“I truly am sorry.”

“You said that already.”

Druig even hesitates with sitting in the chair. As if you’d summon one of your giant, monstrous trees and pin him against his will again. You had never seen Druig so confused and surprised, like the very knowledge that you were a mutant wasn’t enough to fully measure your powerful capabilities. But one pointed glare from you and Druig sits obediently.

“I don’t blame you for how my life turned out. I doubt knowing about mutants would have changed anything. I probably would have just been more paranoid. But I did deserve to know that my grandmother cursed me and defied the Fates.”

Druig solemnly nods. No matter how many times he apologizes, the sting will always be there. So he doesn’t do it again. Instead he asks, “How is Samuel?”

“Last I heard he was healing.”

Druig startles, but quickly fixes his face. “You haven’t been to visit him?” The hiss you let out is almost inhuman, and Druig closes his mouth. You haven’t visited because what the fuck would you say?

He took claws for you, and you gave up your heart for him. Literally. You’ve tried to relax, kill every other sound besides the noises your body naturally makes, but it was no use. You couldn’t hear your heartbeat anymore. As if turning mortal wasn’t real. Mortals had beating hearts, and yours was…

Stone.

“I will visit him when I can. When I am ready.”

Druig slowly nods, eyes wary. If he’s dissecting you, he doesn’t do much to hide it. He studies your eyes, your hair, your lips, your hands, your bouncing foot. As if he too is searching for what is now making you mortal. And similarly, he finds nothing besides flesh and bone.

This is what Druig was afraid of—there is no trace of evil in your heartlessness, but it is obvious it’s making you empty. Like Ari filled such a great part of your chest that his leaving meant half of you shutting down.

Is this how Bucky felt when Steve left? That uncomfortable, raw hollowness in the chest that hurt whenever you moved the wrong way?

“Ari looked just as I remembered him.” And he says it so brokenly, memories in his irises, and guilt combined with the redness of his cheeks.

Your fingers freeze over the keyboard. Forcing yourself to look up at him, you whisper, “Yes. He did.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

Cursed to live half empty and searching for the other piece of your heart? Not likely. But you don’t want to get into the specifics, about how this feeling resembles the one five hundred years ago. That your screams had resembled the ones five hundred years ago. That your path feels as zig-zagged, if not more, than it ever did back then.

Answering truthfully, you say, “I will be. I’ve had five hundred years to grieve without closure. Perhaps my mourning will be the slightest bit more tolerable this time.”

Perhaps. Slightest bit. Tolerable. All carefully chosen words that held no promises, but were enough.

Druig leans forward, placing his palm on the desk, face up. You stare at the lines across his flesh, the veins visible through his pale skin, the rings adorning his three center fingers. An invitation.

You bottle up all your unspoken words, all of your questions, any resentment—and curl your fingers through his. He’s warm, ancient, real. A sliver of home, and not. “If you ever need anything—anything…”

You hold onto him tighter. “Go and keep my people’s descendants safe, Druig.”

The breath he releases is one he’s been holding in since he stepped into your office. One he’s probably been holding since finding out you were still alive. That weight off his shoulders, and the realization that although he fucked up and you don’t forgive him, you still trust him enough to do what he’s been doing for the last five hundred years. After he abandoned his friends, after he crossed that damn river without his Princess and Prince, after risking his life to fight a demon alongside you—you trust him to try. Try and make it up to you.

He walks slowly to the door, his posture letting you know that he wants to say a million more things. But he shouldn’t. And maybe sometime soon, or whenever you deem fit, he’ll be able to. “I’ll be seeing you, Princess.”

With a half-hearted smile, you nod. “In all the realms."

Of course Sam senses you outside his apartment door. He’s had that camera rigged with a sensor since he moved in. Well, Bucky rigged it. You purposely set yourself in its eyesight—not quite Redwing—but camera enough.

Sam didn’t knock on your door this morning when he returned from the compound, and you didn’t bother him. The funeral didn’t count—you hadn’t even spoken to him, or looked at him, when you put Ari in the ground. Sam was standing upright, and that was enough at the time.

Selfish, selfish, but also not. You’re not even taking care of yourself. How can you check on Sam?

But Sam Wilson is your best friend, and your own sanity isn’t worth more than knowing if he’s okay.

The door opens, and Sam leans his upper body against the doorframe as he smirks. “There’s my Shortcake.”

Your breath shudders. Just the sight of him, intact, overloads your body with emotion. “Hey, Sam.”

He moves to allow you in. Ducking your chin, you enter. Shielding yourself from him, from the conversation, from the guilt. “It’s been four days,” he says. “Why the visit now?”

The apartment looks the same. Alpine stretches lazily on the couch, knocking the remote to the ground as she does so. There’s a faint scent of bacon in the air, even though it’s late in the evening. Which confuses you, because Bucky is the ‘all-day breakfast’ type of guy, not Sam.

Then you realize you don’t feel Bucky here at all.

“Because I spent the first day in bed, and the second staring at the wall. The funeral was yesterday.”

Sam nods, his mouth twisting downward as sympathy floods his face. You look away fast, uncomfortable.

You’ve lived your whole life avoiding when people casted their emotions so blatantly. Only a select few knew of your true history, and yet you always twisted some of your truths. But the looks of sympathy were always the same. The downward droop of their eyes, their mouths twisting around supportive words, their shoulders crumbling. Sympathy is an emotion that one has to endure and receive, because it’s rude to ignore. And the turn of your head is the smallest act of rudeness you commit. Because that’s allowed of you. It has to be.

You’re tired of sympathy, even if Sam has the most honorable intentions.

“You healed fast.” Small talk. Gods, you want to die. The chair creaks as you sit on it. “Are you feeling okay?”

Sam nods and sits at the head of the table. Your knees brush against his, and it takes everything within you not to shatter.

“Feels like all the other times I’ve been kicked in the stomach and sent flying. I’m lucky it wasn’t worse.”

“It was worse.”

“Yeah, Shortcake. But that’s something we’re not going to talk about again. Traumatizing as it is.”

Fiddling your thumbs, you whimper, “Why the fuck would you step in front of me? I was still Immortal. I could have survived, Sam!”

He huffs loudly, “Easy for you to say! I saw what it did to the vibranium!”

“So? I would have come back! You nearly didn’t!”

“Shortcake.” Sam reaches over to clasp your hands. They look so small as he encases them. “I did what I did. But if it was you who was gutted, then that demon would have sucked up all your blood and dragged you in the portal, right? Am I right?”

“You can’t know that,” you say, shaking your head rapidly.

“But I can theorize. And I was not. Going. To. Let. That. Happen.”

“It was a stupid fucking call, Captain.”

Sam, through the pain and hollowness in his stomach, tugs you into his chest with extreme force. You tumble into him, smacking your cheek against his breast and tangling your arms. But Sam moves to the floor with you—an anchor as you finally stutter and fall, tears flowing freely. He holds you as you crushes you, and you let him.

“It’s okay,” he whispers into the top of your head, his hot breath soothing. “You saved me. You. Saved. Me.”

Countless more sobs break free, sounds that had felt extinct these past few days. But you’re able to form them, push them from your lungs and through your throat—you’re still able to cry.

Grieving is silent, but this—

This was grief given form. You are, and always have been, grief incarnate.

“Don’t you almost die on me again,” you say, and your words are muffled in the fabric of his shirt. But Sam hears, fully expecting it, and mumbles an equally desperate “I won’t, I promise. I promise.”

It feels like eternity as you kneel on the kitchen floor, Sam holding you with everything he has. Sam breaks the silence as he asks, “What broke inside of you?”

You pull away, not meeting his eyes. With a heavy sigh, you translate your pain into words. “It felt like someone clenched their fist around my heart and then tore it through my ribcage. And I was left with this gaping hole that allowed all that cold air in. My teeth hurt, my skin dried, my neck ached.”

Sam picks you up from the floor, walking the two of you to the couch. Alpine moves to make room. You rub your chin as you continue. “The concept of soulmates was folklore to me until now. I don’t think the rip in the multiverse did anything to this Earth besides open our eyes. Hell, demons, Immortals, vampires, mates?”

Sam might not know of the word, but he damn well knows what it means to lose someone worth everything and more.

“It hurt so much five hundred years ago. The exact same way. I lost my mate twice, and I don’t know how I’m still alive.”

How is it possible for a human being to endure so much heartbreak? People have literally died from broken heart syndrome, but what of those that suffer and suffer? Do they burn out? Do they have a limit? How often and for long can a person carry such overbearing misery before their shoulders can take no more? Before their knees give out and the floor cracks beneath them?

Are some human beings built stronger than others? Because you know for a damn fact that Bucky Barnes is one of those few. Anybody else would have crumbled under Hydra control, and yet, Bucky Barnes survived. And did not lose his soul.

But the pain he carries is still present, still relevant—Does Bucky have a limit?

You shouldn’t be alive but because of your grandmother’s wish, you are. If she would have simply let you live, let you have a choice, then you would have died with Ari. The Fates wouldn’t have cursed you.

“I do,” Sam declares, dipping his head slightly so his eyes meet yours. “I don’t think this world is done with you yet. This world, and all the others. You were sent to me for a reason. You were sent to Bucky for a reason. You are our friend. And after everything that happened with Steve, I didn’t think I knew what that word meant anymore.”

“Steve Rogers was your friend.”

“Yeah, Steve Rogers was my friend. But he was also a jackass. And I understand that he was hurting, and that he wanted out. Maybe he suppressed his pain the only way he knew how, which was to go back to something he knew. I can’t answer for him, but friends don’t leave friends behind.” Sam presses his lips together before he says, “I’d jump in front of you again. I’m gonna hold Bucky’s goddamn hand when he starts having withdrawals. A lot of my friends died or left, and I’m not letting that happen again.”

“Sam…”

“When I see a person in trouble, there's this innate feeling inside me. A responsibility. But with you and Buck I know you’ll be there until—”

“Until the end of the line.”

Sam chuckles around a sniff. “Until the end of the line. It doesn’t feel like responsibility. It’s just friendship.”

You embrace him again while Alpine climbs onto your lap for an impromptu nap.

Bucky doesn’t come home that night. Or the next.

Peter Parker has decided to take Sam up on his offer and move in with him and Bucky. They purchased the pull-out couch for guests, but a third roommate will work too. Besides, Sam couldn’t turn his back on the kid who quite literally held his guts in his abdomen.

You helped Peter carry his minimal belongings up the stairs and into the apartment. Peter did his best to keep conversation limited—asking simple yes or no questions, talking about his side jobs, picking what to eat for dinner. You did your best to respond, but forming words was still tiring. Peter didn’t take it personally. In fact, he even gifted you a new plant for your own apartment. Said it was your moving-in present considering three male neighbors were going to be overwhelming for little ol’ you.

Bucky didn’t return until the weekend. Sam had assured you he was okay and not dead in a ditch somewhere. And when his word wasn’t enough, the Earth let you know.

He is okay. He does a good thing.

Whatever that meant.

A soft knock on your door at two in the morning wakes you. Feeling the floor for your slippers, you slide into them and throw a robe around your body. Fuck brushing your hair.

Your chest constricts when you see him. “Hi.”

Bucky’s lips pull thin, but it’s obvious he’s also affected by the sight of you. “Hey. Is it okay that I’m here?”

A small nod in answer. Bucky points behind you, and you let him in.

There are dark circles around his eyes and his hair is the slightest bit oily. He shrugs off his sweater and places a plastic bag on your dining table. Hugging your robe closed, you continue studying him head-to-toe until he turns back around.

“I know there isn’t anything I can say that will make this right, or make you feel better.” A small smile. “But I need to say this, and I need you to listen.”

You blink. There is so much you want to say to him. I’m sorry my heart isn’t yours yet, you had told him in Iceland. Without a pulse, how are you going to offer it to Bucky now?

Bucky interrupts your overthinking with words that make your knees tremble. “I’m not giving up on you. I fell for you and I’m not giving up. And I respect that you most likely will not be ready yet, or ever, or maybe soon—but I will wait. Because Shortcake, you are everything I’ve ever wanted and more. You see me for who I am, who I was, and who I will be. I know how you look in the mornings. I know how you look when you dance, when you brush your hair, when you cook. My heart stops when you wear that beige cardigan. I anticipate you calling me James and that’s about the weirdest thing ever. And whenever you call me Bucky, I feel as though my heart will burst. Your voice is familiar even when I’m drunk out of my mind. Your voice—your question—helped me remember my sister’s name. And when we slept together…” Bucky uses this opportunity to breathe in deeply. “It felt right. My mind was calm, my body relaxed, and I felt safe. Safe.”

A solitary tear runs down your left cheek as Bucky concludes, “You make me feel safe, Shortcake.”

“Shortcake?”

Bucky huffs a short laugh. “Someday I’m going to run out of flowers. Figured I can use that name once in a while.”

Safe. Through superpowers, demons, cults, and death—Bucky Barnes feels safe around you. With you.

Elijah had felt safe with you until you scorched those slave owners alive. The softness in his eyes had hardened when you didn’t back down. And you accepted that, because it wasn’t going to work between you and him anyway. He deserved better than a mutant with vengeance on her mind.

Joshua had felt safe with you until you broke his heart in front of those he held dear. You rejected him because it was unfair to tie him to you until he realized you didn’t age. That you never would. And you ran away before hearing him out because he truly, truly, needed to hate you. He wouldn’t have hated you if you told him why, and you couldn’t risk that.

But now, Bucky Barnes says he feels safe with you. Even after all those near-death experiences, tragic backstory, and week without speaking—Bucky Barnes feels safe with you. Like you left a permanent mark. One that he’s too headstrong to ignore or erase. Your goddamned equal.

He isn’t going to let you go. Triple the demons, multiply the heartbreak—Bucky Barnes feels safe with you and he isn’t going to let you go.

“Everything you said—” You step closer, the silk of your robe cozy against your skin. “Ditto.”

Bucky throws his head back and laughter pours out in the most wonderful display you’ve ever witnessed. He roars with it. All crinkles by the eyes, adam’s apple bobbing, smile so wide it breaks your heart. And seeing it, seeing Bucky, you smile for the first time since losing Ari. A genuine smile.

“Oh,” Bucky starts, reaching into the plastic bag he previously set on the dining table. He pulls—

“You didn’t.”

Bucky chuckles and holds out a greasy, brown paper bag filled with french fries and a separate container of Vicks vapor rub. “You said these help you heal from anything.”

“I did say that.”

“It was good advice.”

You hold the greasy bag and the medicine in both hands, looking down at them with tears in your eyes. This is too…too considerate.

“And,” Bucky continues, whispering. He pulls the next item from inside his jacket pocket.

A jewelry box.

“What—”

Bucky pops open the lid before your mind could go crazy with ideas.

What sits in the box wasn’t one of your ideas at all. At all.

Ari’s bracelet. The bracelet that was trapped behind the glass in Iceland’s museum. The bracelet they said they wouldn’t part with if you claimed Ari’s remains. It was one or the other.

“Is that…?”

Bucky carefully lifts the jade bracelet from the box and holds it out for you. You set the other items down before holding your wrist out. “Where do you think I’ve been these past two days?”

“You stole it?”

Bucky gives a good-natured roll of his eyes. “Can you technically steal something that was stolen to begin with?” He rolls the bracelet onto your wrist, where it embraces you with Ari’s figurative weight.

“For me…”

“Who else?”

You can’t believe it. You feel like if you blink, it’ll disappear. That this added weight is a figment of your imagination—and it could be considering you’re so impossibly tired. But it’s there even after you blink. And although it’s been touched by several gloved hands, no one would have dared wear it. You press your lips together, willing yourself not to cry the tears that would most likely dry out your cheeks, and blink up at Bucky.

Bucky whispers, “His love came back to you.”

Bucky releases an oomph sound when you throw yourself on him, arms wrapped around his neck and bearing down. You hold him tightly, trying to mold yourself in the curve of his body. He wraps his arms around your waist, and helps you fit.

“You committed grand theft and risked a possible diplomatic dispute for me?”

Bucky shrugs the best he can in your tight grip. “It wasn’t that hard. Snuck in at night, incapacitated the security guards, destroyed the tapes, and snatched it. Margot sent me on a private jet so I didn’t have to go through customs.”

Of course she did. Your lip twitches with amusement. “Seriously?”

“Seriously, Shortcake.”

You pull away and cup his face in your hands. That simple touch has Bucky sighing. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready for you, Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky rests his forehead against yours, nudging the tip of his nose with yours. “I’ll be right here.”

And because it’s been gnawing at him—that question—he risks it. Because he knows you’ll always love Ari until the day you die, as he will Steve. He just wants to be sure you’re in the same boat.

“Are you always going to love him?”

You brush the pads of your thumbs across his cheekbones. Your bottom lip wobbles as you say, “Yes. Sometimes I think about him in the late nights in the middle of June. When the air is too hot and the water is warm. When I hear the beat of a drum or the sound of a child’s laugh. I think about him even when I’m not thinking about him specifically. I think about his favorite foods and how I haven't eaten them since. I think about him and waterfalls and the heat of the wind when it’s nearing dusk. I think about how I can’t remember if he snored or not. I think about him and I am whole, and I am empty. I miss him.”

Your words bring tears to his eyes. Tears that are grateful and understanding.

“You?” you ask.

Bucky vaguely remembers the little noises Steve would make when his ninety-pound body would stretch first thing in the morning. He remembers the sound of charcoal meeting paper and the belly laughs Steve blessed him with every day. He remembers the look of relief Steve had when Bucky first remembered his mother’s name and when he lucked out on the newspaper-shoe detail. He remembers the giddy attitude Steve had before he returned the stones and the gut wrenching pull he experienced when Steve actually did what he said he was going to do.

But now that he thinks of it, and it breaks his heart to admit, he can’t remember the feeling of Steve’s hand in his. Was Bucky’s hand bigger, or was Steve’s? Steve had an extra heartbeat when they were kids and Bucky can’t remember the rhythm of it anymore. Did Steve ever draw him? He wants to remember these little things, and he doesn’t know if it’s because he has blocked it out or because of his mashed brains, but Bucky mourns the loss nonetheless.

Bucky Barnes will always love Steve Rogers. Just as you will always love Ari. Because no one ever lets go of their first love—people don’t have to. They were the first for a reason, whether good or bad. First loves aren’t usually meant to last forever, but it’s damn magical when they do. They burrow deep into your chest, laying their claim, and won’t ever release their grip.

Second loves, however…

Second loves knock on the door to your chest. They peek their head through, glance at the surroundings, and decide to build a home.

First loves are quick to happen. Second loves take their time.

Yet, for Bucky, it’s a mute love. One that will never be cherished, reciprocated, experienced, or spoken of, again. But the knowledge that Bucky loved once, and he loved true, allows him the opportunity to love again.

Love came back to him, a different one, back from the dead.

So he answers truthfully, with that sleepless and numbing pain found in the cracks of his heart, and says, “I will always love him. But I won’t let it control me anymore.”

He believes it, too.

Bucky turns his face to peck small kisses against your left palm. A palm that fits perfectly against his face. A touch of reassurance. As if you’re holding him steady.

Six Months Later

Racing home from work, giddy and tripping over the stairs, you nearly rip your door from its hinges and fall in the shower. You washed yourself as quickly as you could, picked your most comfortable and warm outfit for winter in New York, and brushed your teeth twice.

Six months.

It’s been six months since everything happened, and every day has proven to be a new challenge. Sometimes you’ll wake up screaming, others nights silently. You’ve lost track of how many times Bucky, Sam, and Peter have barged into your apartment to make sure you weren’t being dragged to Hell. And even though it wasn’t literal Hell, it was a Hell nonetheless.

Ari’s voice, his touch, his love—all of it coaxed you in warmth during your deep sleeps, tricking you into believing you were still underneath your shared tent. Then you would wake, and the grief would slap you with enough force to bruise.

Suffering through it proved brutal. So you’ve decided to embrace it. Instead of waking up screaming, you try to wake up gradually. During these dreams, you attempt to break through and remind yourself, “This isn’t real. But Ari was. You’ll have tomorrow’s sleep to see him again. Wake.”

Then Bucky’s words follow: I will always love him. But I won’t let it control me anymore.

Ari loved you back. And you won’t let the pain of his loss control you anymore.

You’ve eaten so many french fries these past few months. It doesn’t matter the hour—Bucky always had a bag in hand. The same treatment worked for his withdrawal episodes. And Sam had done as he promised: On the worst nights, he holds Bucky’s hand as Bucky spills his guts into the toilet while you wipe the sweat from his forehead.

Besides the bouts of rough awakenings, these past few months have been calming. No aliens, no more demons, no surprise cults. Just the normal things: Peter applying to college, Sam visiting his sister and nephews more often, Bucky visiting you at the library to help with the big shipments.

And just last week, when you were lounging on the couch in your apartment, Bucky seated on the floor between your knees, you had felt it. Some gentle tug, a string of warmth connecting you to the moment. As weird as it was, you looked away from the television and ran your hand through Bucky’s longer hair and said, “I think I’m ready.”

Bucky had stilled—Winter Soldier still—then he looked over his shoulder, warily.

“You’re certain?”

You nodded. “Let’s go old-fashioned, James. Pick me up and let’s grab a cup of coffee.”

Bucky had controlled his breathing, all of his training coming to the surface. Instead of jumping up like an excited teenager, he had simply nodded and pressed his lips together.

“Am I allowed to bring you flowers?”

You had smiled, cheeks heating. “As many as you’d like.”

Everything had to be perfect. And when you finished rolling Ari’s bracelet on your wrist the second a soft knock sounded on your door, you knew it would be.

Patting your cheeks in the mirror, you smile and nod once. You’re ready, and so goddamn excited.

Bucky holds a bouquet of lilies, a sheepish grin spreading even wider as he takes in your appearance. His hair has grown longer these last six months, reaching his chin and curling at the tips. It frames his face so nicely that it nearly makes you swoon off your feet.

“You ready for breakfast at seven in the evening?”

Biting your lip and smiling wide, you grab the flowers from him. Bucky waits for you to grab your purse, put the lilies in their water vase, and lock your apartment door.

“I still can’t believe you want to eat at a fucking Denny’s for our first date.”

You shrug, giggling. “It’s simple, crowded, and different. I figured we’d keep it true to ourselves.”

Bucky laughs, but is interrupted by Sam and Peter pulling open their apartment door with Peter exclaiming, “Don’t be so loud like you were all those months ago when you guys return, alright?”

“Aren’t you heading out tonight?” you throw back at Peter. He sticks his tongue out, proving you right.

Mouth agape, you smack the air as if you're swatting his shoulder. Sam ignores the quip and says, “Buck, you sharing your location?”

Bucky groans, “Yes, Samuel. I’m sharing my location and I promise we won’t make any detours.”

Sam hums, unconvinced until he double-checks his phone. “Still. You two be careful, alright?”

A ball of delight ignites in the pit of your stomach. “I’ll protect him, Sam.” Bucky scoffs and pushes you forward, ignoring your giggling as he sticks his tongue out at Sam over his shoulder.

The atmosphere between you four is as comfortable as ever. Sam is still his overprotective self, Peter still likes to be in everybody’s business, Bucky is still his awkward self, and you’re still along for the ride. You haven't heard anything from Druig all these months—he really is keeping his side of the bargain: the unspoken decision that if you needed him, if you wanted to speak, you would be the one to seek him out.

At least he’s honoring that.

And Maxwell, the fucker, is nowhere to be found. Not a lick of a sarcastic drop-by or even evidence that he survived his trip to Hell. You figure he did considering nothing catastrophic happened afterward.

Everything, even the walk to the restaurant around the corner, is calm.

“Did you hear that?” Bucky asks as you’re walking through the glass doors he has held open.

You pause and look at him funny. “Hear what?”

Bucky looks past you, then to the ground.

“Bucky, what?”

He chuckles, “You’re too easy.”

Snorting, you check his shoulder on the way in.

There is no wait. Sam, funnily enough, called ahead to reserve you a table in the back. He pulled rank and reserved you a table. At a fucking Denny’s.

Bucky grumbles, “Remind me to pummel him later.”

“Offended he thought ahead?”

“It’s my date. I’m the guy. He just made me look bad.”

You giggle, “Never, James. Pay for the meal and you’ll be back to my number one spot.”

“Oh, so I’m number two currently?”

You smirk as you settle into the booth, Bucky directly across. “Let’s see how this date goes, James.”

Bucky, as much as tries to deter it, shudders from your tone. Because the last time he heard you speak this way, you were halfway across the world in Iceland. The one and only time you two shared a bed. Hearing it now curls something at the base of his spine.

He’s had nothing but his hands since—on him, inside him. His thoughts are always—always—of you. And in the mornings, he shies away for a few minutes as the thoughts creep back. He feels guilty, but he wonders if you also indulge in some alone time. That gets him going again.

He’s not expecting to get lucky tonight. So he knows damn well he’ll be enjoying his hands.

The restaurant is crowded, but not to the point where Bucky feels smothered. “So,” he starts, casual as ever as he opens his menu and pretends to read it. “Where did you grow up?”

You burst out laughing, the sound so loud that the tables beside you flinch. Bucky allows you to ride it out—waiting a whole minute before you finally settle.

“Sorry,” you pant, flipping open your menu absentmindedly.

“Too personal?”

You roll your eyes humorously. “At least you didn’t ask about my age.”

It’s Bucky’s turn to cackle. “Ditto.”

The calm before a storm should be familiar by now.

Before you could sip from your seven o’clock coffee, the floor beneath you shakes. Your eyes meet Bucky’s, and before either of you can draw a weapon, a bright flash of orange light blinds you and half the restaurant. People duck beneath their tables, waitresses cower in tight corners, Bucky lunges from his seat to stand in front of you—by the time the portal completely opens, you and Bucky are the only ones standing near.

A head of curly black hair peeks out first, then the most beautiful green eyes lock with yours.

Half-lies. Maxwell is possibly one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen.

“Glad to know you aren’t dead!” you call from behind Bucky’s shoulder, giving Maxwell an incredulous glare.

Maxwell smirks, but it feels forced. Not at all the confident cult leader who held you against your will and performed a 360 to capture a demon. His palms open and close. His clothes are…different—medieval?

“I would have called, but…”

Bucky blinks, mouth open as he stares at the flaming portal behind Maxwell. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

If Maxwell’s offended by Bucky’s tone, he doesn’t show it. He glances around the restaurant and at all the terrified faces like he’s weighing whether to speak so openly. But he concedes, his tongue unable to restrict the words.

“When you gave up your Immortality, there were consequences.”

No.

No, no, no. You’re tired. So, fucking tired. You and Bucky were finally ready. You were ready, and this cannot be happening—

“No one has ever defied the Fates. You changed your fate—Ari changed your fate. They weren’t expecting him or your bond.” Maxwell gulps. “They’ve never had a healthy relationship with Hades and this was the last straw.”

“So you decided to open the Portal to Hell in the middle of a fucking Denny’s?”

A few customers try and fail to hide their gasps, some even cowering farther into their booths. If you hadn’t encountered such horribleness this past year, your whole life, then you guess you’d probably react the same way.

“It would have appeared regardless of where you were. And besides. I was summoned—by Hades himself.”

Now the gasps are clearly audible.

“What does he want? What could the God of the Underworld possibly want?” Bucky demands. It’s fleeting, but you catch Bucky’s metal hand punch Sam’s contact for a phone call. It wouldn’t be much of a run from around the corner, but part of you prays Sam doesn’t make it.

If Hades is going to retaliate—if he’s going to step out of that damn portal—you pray Sam isn’t here when he does.

Maxwell groans, shutting his eyes for a long while before forcing them open again. The portal flickers, the darkness within giving a few short bursts of rainbow coloring.

“Hades cannot replace the Fates unless they die. But they’ve escaped. And because it was your twist of fate that caused it…” Maxwell rolls his neck, sweat dripping from his perfect eyebrows. “Hades summons you to Hell.”

Hell.

The place you had banished that demon. The place your grandmother supposedly had some otherworldly connection to. The place standing behind Maxwell, pulsing with such strange energy it’s making you dizzy.

“Fuck that,” Bucky says, giving a forced laugh. “Tell him he’ll have to find someone else. The Fates, whatever the fuck they are, are his problem. We don’t want anything to do with you again.”

Maxwell’s face contorts painfully. Slowly, he grinds out, “I wish you had a choice.”

The restaurant doors fly open as Sam Wilson, Captain America, runs in. Minus his Captain America gear, that is. He’s even forgotten the shield. Sam Wilson came to fight with his fists. Your eyes meet his, and no matter how much pleading you try to emit, he does not yield.

“It’s their first date, man. C’mon.” Sam holds up his arms between you and Maxwell, effectively shielding you from Maxwell’s line of sight. Or the portal’s. You can’t really tell.

The portal rumbles with a disgusting groan. Maxwell mutters something along the lines of ‘the one time I don’t leave Hell willingly.’

The chairs and tables in front of you are pushed to the side by some invisible force. Customers scream, some even rushing for the exit in a stampede. Maxwell steps into the portal, hesitating with the other foot.

A harsh gust of air spits in your face—then wraps around your waist, your shoulders, your legs—and drags you toward the dark mouth of Hell.

No. Not just you. Bucky and Sam, too.

Sam grabs onto the door handle, but the lack of gravity simply lifts him up. He dangles in the air, even as Bucky rushes to lower his legs. The trees from the sidewalk planters smash through the windows and wrap around your waist, pulling you back toward them.

You turn to Maxwell, demanding a better explanation with your stare, but he gives nothing. In fact, he just stares back with pity. Pity that makes your stomach churn.

The door handle snaps, and both Sam and Bucky are thrown across the floor and to the portal. The branches scramble to catch their wrists, but they miss Sam altogether. His palms smack against the floor, swiping without purchase, until the portal completely swallows him. Bucky yells, his metal fingers clawing at the floor in deep gashes. He barely catches your hand, his last rope to this realm.

But the portal is too strong. Stronger than anything you’ve ever encountered. The full wrath of an Immortal God. Their influence, their thread, their power.

Knowing full well you aren’t going to make it, you whip your head around to the customers who stayed—either from curiosity, morbidity, or because their insides watered—and scream, “Peter Parker! Tell him Hell has us. Peter Parker, Peter Parker, Peter Parker!”

Bucky uses his last remaining drop of strength to safely wrap you against his chest, shielding your head. The branches snap.

The portal closes.

Darkness lives.

Epilogue

She knows she should have left. Should have pushed people out of the way and scrambled onto the streets, sprinting to maximize the distance between her and that supposed portal to literal Hell. She should have done a lot of things—but ultimately, she’s glad she stayed.

Peter Parker! Tell him Hell has us! Peter Parker, Peter Parker, Peter Parker!

She knows that name. It may have only been a name she learned in passing, a face that only came around every other month or so, buying random pastries and coffee like all he wanted to do with strike up conversation with her.

What are the odds it’s the same guy she’s come to anticipate?

She knows that name.

Michelle Jones knows that name.

She’s really glad she stayed.

This story is for those who have loved too much and broken themselves because of it.

TAGLIST: @cloudyfeel @wintersgirl1917 @aquariusbarnes @fandoms-writings @shirukitsune @goldylions @real-jane @mannien @sentimental-for-maneskin @dezthegeek @avengershoney @ginger-swag-rapunzel @natbarnes1917 @cutechubbybunnyy @gabewerk @howlermonkey69

Author’s Note:

OH, YOU THOUGHT THAT WAS THE END? WHY WOULD I INTRODUCE ALL THIS FANTASY AND LEAVE IT UNTOUCHED?

MY BOYS DESERVE THEIR SWORD FIGHTING, MAGIC WIELDING, AND MEDIEVAL-LIKE ADVENTURES! WE DESERVE SEXY HADES!!! WOOOOO!!!!

The sequel, “Hunting The Fates” will start in July! It will have much more smut (like...a shit ton tbh), swordfighting, and inaccurate Greek Mythology lmao.

Thank you for taking this healing journey with me. I hope I did the characters some justice. xxMoni

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x poc!reader #dreaming in june series #dreaming in june #dreaming in june finale #captainsimagines #by Moni #marvel fanfiction #Bucky Barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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gointothevvater · 2 years

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Name:

St. Cecilia Jameson.

Name Meaning: “Blind,” named for St. Cecilia, the patron saint of music; “Son of James,” for the whiskey brand.

Birth name: Felicity Marie Robinson.

Birthday: December 15, 1966.

Star Sign: Sagittarius Sun, Aquarius Moon, Capricorn Rising.

Chinese Zodiac: Fire Horse.

Age: She's 39 during season one, but by Doomstar, she's 46.

Way, way more info under the cut!

Family: Elizabeth (Mother, estranged), Bryony (Older half-sister, beloved), Esme (Deceased grandmother, beloved), Arjun (Father, only met once she was an adult, but they've gotten close), Peter (Older half-brother, well-liked).

Family Dynamic: Only the women of the family live together, as Arjun raised Peter in London. St. Cecilia has a very formal, cold relationship with her mother, and she has no desire to change that. As far as she's concerned, her mother doesn't deserve to have a good relationship with her. She's fond of Arjun and Peter, who run a jewelry store in London. St. Cecilia adores Bryony more than anyone else. Though Elizabeth brags about her, Bryony remains modest and is very close with her sister because of it. Though there's seven years between them, they may as well be twins. Esme, who passed away in 1993, was more of a mother to St. Cecilia than Elizabeth ever was, and St. Cecilia still misses her terribly. She was a big part of getting SnB off the ground, and the boys even came to her funeral.

Upbringing: Like Bryony, St. Cecilia was sent to the family's exclusive girls-only boarding school as soon as she was old enough. This put serious strain on her relationship with her mother, who was the headmistress and treated her as coldly as she treated every other student. The resentment led to St. Cecilia's rebellious period, and she left home at fifteen with her grandmother's blessing and a not-insignificant amount of money.

Skills & Hobbies: St. Cecilia writes good poetry, great song lyrics, and terrible erotica. She's good with plants and is quite the chess player (Though she hasn't managed to beat Charles even once), which she learned during her school days. She also learned to fence, ride horses, and speak fluent Latin there. She paints, though she favors landscapes with teacups as her preferred canvas. She's a classically trained singer (When she was little, she was part of her church's choir), and she writes most of the song lyrics and some of the music for her band, Stiletto. In Snakes N' Barrels, she played lead guitar on a white Jackson Pro Series Rhoads RR3, but during their reunion concert, she plays a more modern Gibson Explorer '76 Reissue 2010 Cherry. She took piano lessons for several years as a child, and she's still pretty good. Nothing outstanding, but if Stiletto needs to incorporate a piano into a song, she's perfectly capable of playing it herself.

Current Residence: London, England.

Birthplace: Oxford, England.

Languages Known: English (Native), French (Fluent), Latin (Mostly fluent).

Profession: Singer for Stiletto.

Gender: Cis female.

Pronouns: She/Her.

Sexuality: Bisexual.

Romantic Identity: Biromantic.

Preferences: St. Cecilia seems to be attracted to fellow trainwrecks, and she has an extremely harmful fear of being alone. If she's not in a relationship, she feels worthless.

Experience: St. Cecilia has a great deal of sexual experience, but she's only had two serious relationships (Pickles and Magnus, neither of which ended well). She was exploited from a young age due to her fame, and it's left her feeling that sex is all she has to offer, which has gotten her into trouble more than a few times.

Nationality: English.

Race: Three-quarters English, one-quarter Punjabi.

Face Claim: Taylor Momsen.

Voice Claim: Lzzy Hale.

Religion: Lapsed Catholic.

Details: St. Cecilia attended a Catholic school when she was a child, but since she ran away from home at fifteen, she's only attended for major holidays and rare bouts of Catholic guilt, which are only intensified by the fact that her grandmother named her after a saint. In 1986, she gave up alcohol for Lent, but she got so shaky that Pickles and Sammy insisted on taking her to the hospital, where she ended up detoxing and being forced into rehab.

Appearance

Build: St. Cecilia is petit, with a small chest, a smaller waist, and wide hips. She carries her weight in her hips and thighs, and she's a little upset she doesn't have a thigh gap.

Height: Five foot one.

Skin (color, complexion, etc): She has olive skin decorated with a great many tattoos and piercings.

Handedness: Right.

Hair color: Platinum blonde, though it's naturally dark brown.

Hair texture: Thick with a slight wave.

Usual Hair Styling: She usually wears it in a high ponytail, though she twists it up when she's working in the Mordhaus basement in season four.

Facial Features: St. Cecilia has a soft face, a small nose, full lips with no cupid’s bow, and almond-shaped eyes.

Eye Color: Golden brown.

Miscellaneous: St. Cecilia has numerous tattoos and piercings. She has three white marigolds tattooed on each shoulder, a labret piercing, and a vertical collarbone piercing at the hollow of her throat. Her ears are pierced three times each, in which she wears two silver hoops and a silver stud on each side, and she has a small black star beneath each eye (Which are actually just makeup, though she's never seen in public without them). She has a Christina piercing, nipple piercings, and a belly button piercing. She has a No Time For Antivenom tattoo on her sternum, and a European robin tattoo at the back of her neck. She has a shitty stick-and-poke crown tattooed behind her right ear (Given to her by Tony) and a stick-and-poke diamond on the underside of her ring finger (Given to her by Pickles in place of a wedding ring, and he has the same one). Very, very high up on her right inner thigh, she has a tattoo of the words "love me". Her tongue is pierced with a simple silver stud.

Fashion Sense:

Clothes: St. Cecilia favors dark jeans or shorts with thigh-high stockings with heeled boots. If she isn't wearing boots, she's wearing stilettos. She isn't a fan of long skirts, but minis are acceptable. She tends to show a lot of skin, but she keeps her hands covered, though there's no deep reason for it, save her liking gloves.

Accessories: She almost never goes without her collar, which is black leather with silver spikes and a D-ring at the front. She often wears a pick necklace, too, both of which were gifts from Pickles. She wears silver earrings of several different styles over the course of the show.

Styling: Her style is one of two extremes: Black leather and denim rocker or gold and pink glam, with the former being her stage look and the latter being her more "casual" look, though it's hardly casual at all.

Personality

Personality Description: St. Cecilia is cocky, witty, and teasing, but ultimately good-natured. She's a bit selfish and stubborn, but she does everything with 110% effort, hoping to impress people, even if she winds up getting hurt in the process. She'll do literally anything for validation. To say she's vain would be an understatement. She's something of a coquette who flirts with both men and women, and she has a tendency to "think with her dick," as Tony once put it. She's slow to anger, but quick to jealousy, and she holds grudges for far too long. She's the playful type, but it's largely in a chill way. She's an obvious extrovert, and the role as frontman for Stiletto came very naturally.

Strengths: She's a go-getter who knows what she wants and won't stop until she gets it.

Weaknesses: She has a hard time trusting people, and she has very little sense of self-worth despite her cockiness.

Goals: Find love. She's achieved everything she's set out to do, but love is highly elusive for her.

Fears: Being abandoned and/or forgotten.

Secrets: She was madly in love with one of her classmates, and she confessed just before she ran away, only to be rejected. When Snakes first got big, she mailed this girl all kinds of proof of her success, just to be rejected again. They met during a reunion, and she's been married for years, and St. Cecilia has never felt as much a failure as she did then.

Timeline

-Childhood: St. Cecilia was an outspoken, bratty child, which she never grew out of, but she was musically inclined from the start. She was one of the popular girls during her school days, and when she hit thirteen, she decided that she was no longer a child and had a right to demand respect from her emotionally distant mother. When she was fourteen, she fell off a horse during an equestrian class and shattered her left collarbone. She quit the piano lessons she had been taking for several years and took up the guitar soon after, though it aggravated her injured collarbone and she developed a dependence on painkillers. This rebellious period stretched until she was fifteen and ran away with the help of her grandmother. She was only in LA for a few weeks before she met Sammy at a bar where the SnB prototype band was playing. Naturally, Snazz and Tony weren't thrilled with the idea of Sammy's kinda-sorta-girlfriend trying to become their lead guitarist, and when Snazz disparagingly referred to St. Cecilia as Yoko, she broke his nose (How could he have not expected violence when a Beatles-loving British girl was called such a horrible thing?). This earned their respect and is an event that they laugh about to this day.

-Snakes N' Barrels era: St. Cecilia stuck with the band until they found Pickles, and she was smitten with him the moment she heard him sing. The band made it big after not too long, and they all grew quite close. St. Cecilia ended up in an ill-fated off-and-on relationship with Pickles as time went on, and to this day she doesn't remember the first time she told him she loved him. It wasn't long after his first OD and his following stint in rehab that she told him, and they were both drunk in celebration of his release. His tolerance, even post-rehab, was far higher than hers, though, and he remembers, though he sometimes hates that he does. On a whim, St. Cecilia and Pickles got married, foregoing rings in favor of matching tattoos they gave each other during the honeymoon, as rings might affect their image. It didn't last long: It was only about nine months before it fell apart. Though there was genuine love between them, the stress of the band and both of their substance abuse problems drove a wedge between not only the couple, but also the entire band. Coupled with Pickles fucking groupies behind St. Cecilia's back and St. Cecilia's becoming a rather serious Vicodin addict to combat the pain in her injured shoulder, the band was doomed. Pickles came to see St. Cecilia off on her flight back to England, saying he would meet her there when his next residuals check came in, but he never made it, and they didn't speak to each other for years afterward.

-Preklok: After SnB broke up, St. Cecilia returned to Oxford, staying with Bryony in their mother's guest house as she tried to figure out her next move. Despite her gift for writing lyrics, she had no talent for writing books, and that idea quickly went down the drain. She still received a large amount of money in residuals, and at her mother's insistence, she attended a few classes at Oxford University. She absolutely loved it, and she came away with a BA in music. In 1992, Esme passed away. St. Cecilia only told Sammy about it, but he took the initiative and brought Pickles, Tony and Snazz with him to the funeral. St. Cecilia was initially pissed, but she really appreciated the support. That was the only time she saw Pickles between SnB's breakup and their reunion for the filming of the "Thunderhorse" music video. He was devastated when her parting words to him were "I love you with everything I am, but I never wanna see you again." In the mid-90s, she posed for an issue of Playboy, and Pickles has a copy of the issue tucked away somewhere. It wasn't until 1998, when she moved to a little flat in London, that St. Cecilia reunited with her school friend Niamh and the idea of Stiletto came about. They found Priyanka and Lex at an open mic night at one of the local clubs, and they hit it off, both as friends and as bandmates. They played at many clubs and pubs, and they were soon found by a scout at another open mic night. They signed with the UK branch of Crystal Mountain Records, and within three years, Stiletto was huge, due in part to St. Cecilia's residual fame from Snakes N' Barrels. Their first tour was through Europe, but the second came to America, where St. Cecilia met Magnus in a bar post-show. They got on really well, and she invited him to her hotel room for the night. They exchanged numbers and got quite close over time, with her even flying him out to London from time to time so they could hang out. Magnus knew who she was from the start, and while he planned to use her feelings for Pickles to get her on his side, that soon faded and he came to genuinely like her. She wouldn't learn who he was until later on. A few years before canon, she had a quickie with Nathan in a coat room at a singers-only party at Crystal Mountain records, and he used the fact that she couldn't fit her mouth around his dick as inspiration for Dethklok's infamous song "Glasgow Smile." He was the one who eventually called her in to be in the "Thunderhorse" music video. This was when she met Skwisgaar, and they hit it off almost immediately and have been good friends ever since.

-Season 1:

-St. Cecilia makes her initial appearance as Nathan's queen in the "Thunderhorse" video at the start of Dethwater.

-She's mentioned during Performance Klok, when Pickles says he hasn't been in a serious relationship since the '80s despite the fact that he would certainly thrive under such attention.

-She makes her first speaking appearance in Snakes N' Barrels, during the documentary the Dethklok is watching. Toki and Murderface are a little critical when they learn that part of SnB's downfall was due to Pickles's failed relationship with St. Cecilia. There's some comedic nonsense talk about fucking one's guitarist before Pickles goes to speak with Charles. Though St. Cecilia is working on an album with Stiletto when she's asked to go to the reunion, she manages to push through and finish in time, though she arrives nearly late. She finds Pickles backstage, and when he sweeps in to kiss her, she pulls away a bit, saying they can't do this, as she's spoken for. She lets him hold her close, though. The rest of Dethklok finds them like that, and St. Cecilia excuses herself to go find Sammy, Tony and Snazz. There's some talk about Pickles not leaving Dethklok, which he says he won't, but they're rather worried after catching him with St. Cecilia in his arms. Meanwhile, she manages to find the boys, and they meet with Pickles backstage. While the boys partake of the Totally Awesome Sweet Alabama Liquid Snake, St. Cecilia doesn't, as she once passed out onstage and doesn't wish to repeat the incident. She presses a kiss to Pickles's palm before they go on stage, an old ritual that they were never able to shake. What happens is far worse than someone just passing out, and she and Pickles leave the stage amidst the chaos while the medical Klokateers take care of the boys and see them off to the hospital. It's a disaster. She's embarrassed and angry, and she turns down Pickles's offer of a ride home and calls someone instead, as she didn't get her money converted and can't pay for a cab. This someone turns out to be the man who's claimed her, Magnus, and Pickles is none too happy about it. He tries to stop her from going with him, but it doesn't work.

-She isn't seen in Dethkids, but she is mentioned. When Pickles starts drinking harder than usual, he finally gives in to the urge to call her, to talk about how Sammy and Snazz and Tony are doing, and to tell her that she should steer clear of Magnus. He's so drunk, though, that she barely has even an idea of what he's talking about.

-Offscreen, sometime between the two SnB episodes, Magnus and St. Cecilia abruptly break up. She had a feeling something was going on with him, but his sudden disappearance really hurt her. They had been together off and on for years, after all. A few weeks before he left, he bought her a little pink knife and showed her how to use it, just in case he wasn't around to protect her. When he left, he left his guitar behind, and she still has it as of Doomstar.

-Season 2:

-She's mentioned by Seth in Dethwedding, though only as "that British chick" he thought Pickles would eventually have married. Pickles nearly decks him for even mentioning her.

-Offscreen, she's contacted by Rikki Kixx, who wants her to take part in the SOBERTOWN reunion. She tells him she's not sober and it's not right to reunite without Pickles, and he tells her off, banning her from even attending the concert. Sammy calls her later, and she tells him she'll be there to support them, even if she won't perform and she'll have to hide.

-St. Cecilia's next appearance is in Snakes N' Barrels II. In part one, during the advertisement for the SOBERTOWN USA concert, she's missing from the band lineup, and Pickles is both relieved and a little concerned by her absence.

-In SnB II part two, Nathan, Skwisgaar and Toki find her among the crowd at the SOBERTOWN USA concert. Nathan asks if she wasn't invited to play, but she says that she was: She just didn't think it was right to play without Pickles. She was banned from attending, and she's wearing a disguise. Realizing that Pickles is sneaking around backstage, she leaves to go find him and try to keep him from doing something he'll regret. She only finds him just as Tony, Snazz and Sammy start freaking out, and she only just manages to keep Pickles from killing Rikki Kixx, though she honestly doesn't mind the thought of him dead. She pulls Pickles away from the stage, where he calls the Klokateers to take care of Sammy, Snazz and Tony, and she sets to icing down his bruised knuckles. She tells him that she and Magnus broke up, and he's thoroughly pleased about it: She's too good for him, anyway. That irritates her a bit, but she tells him to call her sometime, though she insists he do it when he's not drunk off his ass.

-Season 3:

-Ironically, when Pickles calls her in Dethhealth to inform her that he's dying, he's in fact drunk again. She wants to go to Mordhaus to see him, but he tells her to stay where she is, as he doesn't want her seeing him like that, though she's seen him at rock bottom as it is. At the end of the episode, he's drunker and higher than ever, but he calls her again to let her know he's all right. She can't understand him, though, so he puts Nathan on to explain. She’s thoroughly relieved, but she’s still considering going to Mordhaus to see him. When Pickles is a bit less of a mess, he calls her back and agrees to hang out with her for a while.

-Offscreen, in the time between Dethhealth and Dethmas, Pickles goes to London for a while to appease St. Cecilia, and to their mutual surprise, it's not really all that different from how it was when they were actually together. There's lots of cuddling and kissing and great sex and just... Hanging out. It's easy for them to be together. They have their share of problems, but the old flame between them is still there after all these years. It never even went out. Pickles is honestly a little scared of that: What if he falls for her all over again just for her to break his heart like she did last time? The fact that she has Magnus's guitar makes him doubly suspicious. When he returns to Mordhaus, he starts drinking harder than ever to drown out the thoughts of her.

-In Rehabklok, when Pickles's drinking is brought to the attention of the band and he's sent to rehab, he tries for a while to blame it on St. Cecilia. She broke his heart, and he drinks to cope. It makes perfect sense, until he starts to really think about it and realizes that he's equally at fault for how their relationship (And also SnB) fell apart. He realizes, after many years, that he hurt her as badly as she hurt him. And that makes him feel even worse. He talks the doctor into letting him call her to apologize, but it doesn't go well: She's a little offended that he would even consider blaming her for his drinking, given he was a drunk long before they met. "Is that what I am to you now? An excuse to get drunk and act a fool?" Not long after that, Pickles realizes the real cause for his drinking.

-Just before Charles goes to speak to the UN in Doublebookedklok, he calls St. Cecilia and cryptically asks her if she speaks Latin. She owes him a favor for getting her out of some legal trouble, so she can't really refuse. Several months before, she punched a scummy paparazzo who called Magnus washed-up, and Charles used his reeducation program to keep those involved from pressing charges or damaging St. Cecilia's reputation.

-Season 4:

-In Fanklok, before Charles meets with the band to discuss Klokikon, he welcomes St. Cecilia to Mordhaus and presents her with an ancient-looking journal that belonged to Aurelius Isambard, one of the original prophets of the Church of the Black Klok. She's taken down to the basement, where she's introduced to Edgar Jomfru, and gets to work.

-In Diversityklok, after he's spoken to Edgar, Charles speaks to St. Cecilia. He finds her engrossed, but thoroughly worried. She asks if the Prophecy is real, and she's even more worried when he tells her it is.

-Offscreen, St. Cecilia has been hard at work translating the journal, and she's come to a passage that seems to describe the growing tension between the band. It also mentions an approaching star, and she takes to sitting on the roof at night to observe the sky.

-In Prankklok, when Pickles tells Nathan that he's not allowed to drink any tequila during their friender-bender, Nathan tells him he can't visit St. Cecilia when they stop in London. It's mostly a joke, and Pickles plays it off as such. Not long after, we see Pickles on his phone, though, debating on calling her just before he notices the storm warning.

-Offscreen, St. Cecilia approaches Charles about a phrase repeated over and over in the journal: Fata sidus oritur, the star of fate is born.

-After Charles breaks the news about the Ice Festival to Skwisgaar in Bookklok, he goes to speak with St. Cecilia and Edgar in the basement. She's tacked two star maps to the wall: One from the previous week and one from the previous night. There's a spot near the center of the first map that seems bigger on the second one. She looks like the world is ending when she tells him it's the Doomstar. It's real. It's coming? When? Soon, she says. Far too soon.

-When Charles tells the boys he's going out of town in Dethcamp, it's to take St. Cecilia to an observatory, where they meet with Ishnifus and spend a few days tracking the Doomstar's movements as it comes closer and closer to Earth, trying to figure out how long they have before it arrives.

-In Going Downklok, when Pickles shows up all decked out for his meeting with Abigail, Nathan is quick to ask, "Don't you have a girlfriend?" Pickles insists he doesn't; He and St. Cecilia were both hurt and angry the last time they spoke. On top of that, he believes she's all the way in London, and Abigail is right there. He's always been one to take the easy route.

-Offscreen, between Dethdinner and Breakup Klok, St. Cecilia is tagged in the video of Pickles quitting Dethklok by a drunken Toki. She's incredibly hurt. Pickles has nothing, he said. She, apparently, is nothing.

-In Breakup Klok, Pickles tries to call St. Cecilia to invite her to his wine tasting, but she refuses to answer and sends him straight to voicemail on several occasions. Towards the end of the episode, after the escape from Salacia, Charles requests a check-up on Edgar and St. Cecilia back at Mordhaus, and Pickles is stunned and angry to learn that she's been more or less within arm's reach for months. Had he known, he's certain things would have been different-- He wouldn't have tried to make a move on Abigail and he wouldn't have fucked up his chance to get back with St. Cecilia again.

-Offscreen, St. Cecilia speaks to Charles about staying at a hotel for a few days, just until Roy Cornickelson's funeral, after which she'll return to Mordhaus and her translation work. The day of the funeral, though, she receives a call from Magnus telling her she absolutely cannot attend, as he can't guarantee her safety. It's the last time she has contact with him before his death. We also see her watching the news about Dethklok's breakup and the insinuation that Abigail caused it, and St. Cecilia chucks a bottle at the TV, mirroring Pickles's actions in SnB II part one.

-In Church of the Black Klok, St. Cecilia is fetched from the hotel by Klokateers and taken to the Dethsub, where she meets with Charles, pointedly ignores Pickles, and goes to work with Edgar instead.

-The Doomstar Requiem:

-In "One of Us Must Die," St. Cecilia can be seen on one of the slides, staring up into the sky with Isambard's journal held to her chest. Towards the end of the song, reading from the book, she sings, "Dethklok, they must be rejoined/Evil, it must be destroyed/No more apathetic stoics/They can learn to be heroic/Write the song that will be our salvation..."

-In "Training," while carrying the journal, she sings the lyrics, "As the prophecy foretold, the Doomstar has been born/And you all will be endowed with a power known to none." Nathan, Skwisgaar and Murderface are looking at the art of the Prophecy, but Pickles is watching her. Ishnifus places a hand upon her shoulder, and they sing together, "The Dethlights are within you all waiting to be woken/And when the five are united, the evil will be broken," in a show of solidarity.

-In "En Antris et Stella Fatum Cruenti," just after Ishnifus is killed and the Doomstar goes red, we see a shot of Charles, Edgar and St. Cecilia at the Church, watching the sky.

-In "Morte Lumina," in a mirror to Nathan and Abigail's kiss, we see Pickles approach St. Cecilia, and she presses a kiss to his palm (Which is a really significant gesture between them) before he pulls her into his arms.

-Note: She has a potential song of her own in Halestorm's "Love/Hate Heartbreak," the lyrics of which could be addressed to Magnus or Pickles.

Symbology

Color: Baby pink.

Animal: Arctic fox.

Gemstone: Diamond.

The Alignment: Neutral good.

Favorites

Food: Chicken Tikka Masala (Though she has to have it extra mild because despite being a quarter Punjabi, she's still an English gal and can't handle spice. Peter often makes fun of her for it).

Least Favorite: Any sort of fish dish.

Drink: Bombay Sapphire gin.

Least Favorite: Coconut water.

Color: Baby pink, gold.

Least Favorite: Red.

Animal: Foxes.

Least Favorite: Seagulls or badgers.

-Abigail Remeltincdrinc: They became friends mostly due to the fact that they were both women in the music industry (And both working for Crystal Mountain), and supporting each other seemed like the right thing to do. Abigail getting involved with Dethklok and catching Pickles's attention quickly became a sore spot, and they drifted apart after that. After DSR, things got even worse. Abigail, naturally, is glad that Magnus is gone, while St. Cecilia is devastated by the loss. They had something of a falling-out over it, and they haven't really spoken since, and they're both totally okay with it.

Character Relationships

-Pickles the Drummer: Their relationship is a complicated one. They've known each other for ages, and they've been together through the highest highs and the lowest lows, all the way down to rock bottom. She partially blames him for her late teens and early twenties being the fiasco they were, and she cut off contact with him for a long time after the SnB breakup. During the run of the show itself, the two reconcile somewhat and even become more or less friends before Abigail shows up and things start to crumble again. They have a hard time admitting it, but there's love between them, and there has been for a long time. They're both afraid to try getting together again, though, as there's a mutual fear of the relationship ending as it did the first time, with them hating each other again. It nearly killed both of them the first time. They're unofficially back together at the end of Doomstar, but there's no way of telling if the love between them is enough to keep them together or if they'll just fall apart all over again.

-Magnus Hammersmith: They were more off-and-on than anything, but they were together for years, even though quite a bit of it was long-distance. It wasn't supposed to be a serious thing. It was just supposed to be a quick fuck. Then it was a performance to get back at Pickles, but Magnus quickly realized that St. Cecilia's feelings for Pickles were too strong for her to be of any use to him in his revenge plot. The basis of their bond formed because they understood each other on a level they've never known with anyone else: Former Snakes N' Barrels guitarist St. Cecilia Jameson and former Dethklok guitarist Magus Hammersmith both understand on a fundamental level what it's like to be left behind and forgotten. Magnus caught a bit of feelings himself, and when Roy Cornickelson's funeral came around, Magnus warned St. Cecilia not to attend. It was their last interaction, and it forever cast him in a positive light for her, even after she learned what he was doing with the Metal Masked Assassin. During Doomstar, she stuck with Charles and Dethklok solely to try and find Magnus. She was devastated by the loss.

-Charles Offdensen: St. Cecilia really likes Charles, actually. He's basically the only person on the show who's really "on her level" class-wise. He attended Harvard, and she attended Oxford, so they have a great deal to talk about. They play a lot of chess and fence on occasion, and if it weren't for her feelings for Pickles and his obligation to the Church, they just might have gotten together. A time or two, we catch him quietly watching her, or her shooting wanting looks his way. There's a very real spark between them.

-Skwisgaar Skwigelf: St. Cecilia is nothing short of enchanted by Skwisgaar. It's not a crush, exactly, but she has a huge amount of admiration for him. They've practiced together a time or two, but she's a little rusty and winds up with her fingers bleeding because her calluses have gone soft. He tends to tease her over her soft hands. A guitar god, he tells her, can't have hands like a princess. His calling her princess becomes a bit of a thing for them. The two of them often have brunch together, talking shit and drinking. She's good for him; He's never had a female friend before.

-Nathan Explosion: They get along pretty well. Their first meeting was at a singers-only Crystal Mountain party, and they ended the evening with a quickie in the coatroom. He wrote a song about the encounter, but Pickles never figured out that it was about St. Cecilia, which Nathan thinks is just the funniest thing. He mostly sees St. Cecilia as one of the guys once she meets with Dethklok again for the SnB reunion. It's a "been there, done that" kind of deal. She's not brutal, but she's funny and she's fun, and goddamn, is she pretty, and they would absolutely hang out if they could get their schedules to line up.

-William Murderface: St. Cecilia actually has a begrudging fondness for Murderface. He's awful, but he's also pretty funny, and she likes to hear him talk about knives and medieval weaponry, as her family home is full of such things. They also have the same car (Lamborghini Aventadors, hers in metallic rose gold and his matte black), and tend to race on occasion. They clash over things, of course, but she likes being around him more often than not.

-Toki Wartooth: Within the series itself, St. Cecilia hasn't given Toki much thought. He's cute, but he's just sorta there. His incident during the SOBERTOWN USA concert really scared her, and she more or less avoids him after that.

-Edgar Jomfru: Despite being very different people, St. Cecilia really enjoys Edgar's company. He merely tolerates her at first, but she grows on him, to the point where they're legitimately friends come Doomstar. The two of them often have lunch together on the roof of Mordhaus so they can get some fresh air. He's the smartest person she knows, and she lowkey enjoys the fact that she sometimes struggles to keep up with him. She feels safe knowing that if she can't figure something out, he's there to help.

-Snakes N' Barrels: Sammy is the only one of her bandmates she really kept in touch with after the breakup. He was her favorite long before Pickles joined. There was a pregnancy scare not long after the band took off that somehow, against all odds, brought the two of them even closer. Sammy was St. Cecilia's first love. Her relationships with Tony and Snazz were much more professional, though none of them were anywhere near professional. The crown tattoo behind her right ear was done by Tony on a drunken night in, and it was too good a night for her to even consider covering it or getting it removed. She and Tony slept together a few times, but there was never really any romantic connection between them. She and Snazz don't have much of a connection at all. They don't really get along.

#it was fun to go through all this again lol #st. cecilia jameson #pickles the drummer #magnus hammersmith #skwisgaar skwigelf #nathan explosion #my mtl

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