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yuletideblues · 1 year

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Corpse Groom: Corpse! Victor Van Dort x Female!Reader

Chapter IV: A Grave Mistake

The church remained unbearably mute for the next few moments.

All that could be heard was the shuffling of Pastor Galswells' things being rearranged, before they were promptly and neatly put away on the shelves above, and he disappeared into the shadows with clear distress on his face, without saying a word.

Vincent sighed, fiddling with his ring as he sat back down on the seat next to Frank, your father.

Frank passed him a supportive look, and patted him on the back, to which Vincent grinned slightly.

No words were exchanged for a good amount of time, only reflection. Vincent couldn't believe it had gone that badly, especially after he was so hopeful that everything would go smoothly.

It was much worse than anyone could have anticipated, and that's not even considering the fact that his mother's dress caught on fire in the middle of it all.

He was sure it was an accident, but he couldn't help but think this all could've been avoided, had they had more time to rehearse. Again, he had already been thinking this, but the incident that happened just confirmed it.

Continuing to look down on his lap, he thought of going after you, but figured you wanted space to clear your mind, so he decided against it. He would eventually go back to his Manor and wait for you there. He could definitely imagine the difficulty of presenting yourself so publicly like that, but he couldn't say he had ever been in a situation like this before. He couldn't empathize with you on a personal level.

"That scamp has got to be one of the clumsiest girls I know,"

Laura huffed dismissively, standing promptly to retrieve her bags. They were getting ready to leave, Vincent realized.

What kind of a mother called their own child a "scamp"?

Did she not just witness the imbroglio that had just occurred a few minutes ago? He thought that particular comment to be extremely inappropriate, given the circumstances. Not even his parents did that.

Strict and unfair they may be, but they never called him derogatory terms like your mother seemed to do. It was utterly despicable, and to be frank, quite disgusting.

A bitter taste was left in his mouth as he turned over to Frank, "She's not a scamp." He said bluntly.

It was almost like he was convincing your father of this, to confirm that you were nothing like what people interpreted you as. It was true that you were a bit unorganized in your thoughts and actions, but that could be easily fixed with practice.

Or at least, he assumed.

Alright, maybe you were a bit ill in the head, but one shouldn't be disowned just because they are different.

Yes, that's a much better way of putting it, Vincent thought to himself.

Frank raised an eyebrow at his insistence. Of course his girl wasn't a scamp, that was Laura just being....Laura.

Acting like a kind-hearted individual proved difficult for her.

The elderly man rubbed his temples in utter stress.

Honestly, he didn't think the end result of this performance would be so terrible.

He was not embarrassed by you; he was embarrassed FOR you.

Wherever you were going, he hoped you were alright. After all, it was dark out; and many wild animals roamed the forests at night. And who knows....you might encounter a mentally incompetent hobo.

Since it seemed like everyone was ready to depart, he prayed that you would be back in town by now, but knowing you, you most likely weren't.

He remembered very graphically how you used to wander off when you were younger.

Frank could especially recall a particular light-hearted time when you were four. It was the summer of 1881, a few months after Hamish was born.

The four of you went on a camping trip in the outskirts of Dawley, Shropshire. It was beautiful and majestic.

Him and Laura set up a tent in a forest, and ate lots of unhealthy snacks, cooked food with fire, and went on long walks in the wilderness. Occasionally, he and you would go the lake and catch fish to roast and eat. It was one of your favourite parts about camping; hunting.

Well, during the second day of your eight-day vacation, something both hilarious and unfortunate happened to you that Frank just couldn't help but tease you about every now and then.

It was well after supper, and Frank gave you a strawberry tart as a special treat. This proved to be a mistake, as you were really hyper for the next few hours following.

Frank decided, to burn off your energy, he would take you for a stroll in the woods. Laura would stay at the tent with baby Hamish, and you two would go on ahead on a wild adventure.

Somewhere down the trail, you let go of his hand, and started playfully spinning around in circles as you continued walking forward, laughing and snickering as if you were crocked out of your mind.

He was concerned, to say the least. You were too busy looking up at the darkened sky that you had no idea what was in front of or below you.

Soon, you two came across a trail that was surrounded by ditches on either sides.

You had effectively spun around so hard, that you practically threw yourself into the ditch with a loud thud.

Frank was sure he had been laughing all the way home, whilst carrying a crying four year old girl in his arms. It was a bad moment for you, but such a cute moment for him.

Your clumsiness had always been there. From the very day you were born, you were cursed with the burden of falling at every step. But even so, you managed to get through it. You always did.

"You presume I don't know that?"

Frank's accusatory tone caused Vincent to shrink in his seat slightly. He didn't mean to offend your father, but it was just an observation of parenting that seemed a bit concerning to him. He wanted to make sure his future wife was being treated decently.

He just couldn't help but think that marrying someone who had a similar level of awkwardness and anxiety would benefit you. That way, you would be able to understand and sympathize with each other, and therefore work to help each other through those tough social situations.

But alas, the world just doesn't play fair. At least, in his experience it didn't.

"I just hope she won't do anything hasty." Vincent mused nervously, never once taking his eye off of Frank.

The elderly man stood up and chuckled, grabbing the last of his bags.

"Y/N has never been a slow-thinker, I will tell you that much, boy."

On that note, he left Vincent in his own thoughts.

——————

The moonlight shimmered so brightly that you swore that even the blind would be unable to see the oblivion that was their vision; you could feel it glowing on your skin.

It was watching, speculating up in that darkened sky in partnership with the stars.

Your every move was being countered by nature itself.

Wind caressed your ears harshly, making them go from their original colour to cold and flushed.

You could hear the cries of wolves in the distance as the rainfall came to a complete halt; you just prayed that they were far enough that they wouldn't have you as a midnight snack.

You walked along the dirt trail of the forest, your boots muddier than a pig itself. You no longer has your rain napper, so if it started down pouring again, you wouldn't have any coverage.

Your cheeks felt as if they had ice cubes buried in them. They were solid and cold to the touch. It was a weird, yet uncomfortable feeling.

You took small steps as you pulled your coat closer to your chest. It may have stopped raining, but it was still too chilly to be without a cozy piece of clothing, despite your heavy dress.

As you walked further into the darkness, you noticed you breathed out frost every time you exhaled. My, you didn't realize it was that cold out.

As you continued your stroll through these mysterious forests, you evaluated the damage.

How could you be so foolish as to think that you would succeed in impressing those abhorrent aristocrats?

Your hatred ran deeper in the past few hours than ever before. It festered like a nasty wound; threatening to rip open once again like skin off someone's back.

Given, Lady Everglot got what she rightfully deserved when you set her dress to a flame.

Now that you thought about it, however....

Perhaps it was too much. You let your emotions get the better of you again; and it could've cost someone else's life, had Vincent not been there to put the fire out.

You sighed. Maybe you were too sensitive for your own good; and maybe they were right. You knew nothing about what marriage entailed, only of what others have told you. You were lacking in monogamous knowledge.

You remembered a simpler time where you used to pretend that a handsome prince would come swoop you up from the dragon's fiery breath. You remembered a time when you fantasized about kissing and dancing under the moonlight.

And most of all, you remembered envisioning a dream of two people, a man and a woman, hugging each other under bedsheets, and two hearts full of love, devotion, and passion for one another as you both laid there sprawled at the mercy of your bed, your chest warm, and your mind content.

Well, that's what 15 year old you wanted in a marriage.

Your expectations have dropped drastically since then, due to a massive wave of reality washing over you.

In the meantime, you realized it would be preferable if you practiced your vows, where no one was present to hear or judge you for any possible mistake.

Although you had no true love for Vincent, you were desperate to impress him with your capability. You wanted to show him that you were an adequate young woman that deserved his attention.

Whilst making your way to the forest, you came across a small clearing.

You blinked in utter curiosity as you continued to step forward.

There was a big, bent tree that sat in the middle of it, as if it were a decorative piece of some community centre.

It looked so old and decrepit; but despite all of its imperfections, it still held a certain type of natural beauty that enhanced the entire forest with brightness and life.

Stepping into the clearing itself, you began.

"With this hand, I will take your wine." You stopped after that, immediately. There was no way that was right. It wasn't poetic enough. Vows weren't made to be simple, after all.

You groaned, but you attempted it again.

"With this candle....I will.....I will!"

Your voice got caught in your throat as you thought about what you should say,

"I will set your mother on fire."

You finished quietly, sitting on the log beside the old father tree.

You were truly starting to regret burning that dress, though.

Although Maudeline was rude and disrespectful toward you, it did not mean she deserved to have her clothes, and possibly her skin, burnt to a crisp. My, you would be hanged for attempted murder if law enforcement found out!

All you hoped for was an ounce of respect, and perhaps even a bit more interactions with them before they began to inevitably judge you, just by that one performance.

Your mother must've been so disappointed. Yet again, she was always disappointed in you.

At least now, you were alone in your own thoughts, and could calm yourself enough to try and finish the vows correctly.

Whilst sitting on that log, you thought about what it took to get you to this clearing in the first place.

You had walked pass Blossfern Bridge.

You sighed sorrowfully. You weren't sure when you would take Vincent to go see that bridge and tell him about everything, and why it was so important to see it.

In order to show someone that bridge and to tell its tales, you needed someone that you trusted with all of your heart.

And although Vincent was a nice man, you did not trust him enough to tell him about your past trauma, involving your brother.

Now was not the time to think about that, however. It was time to think about the delivery of your vows.

You would not let anyone hold you down. Not this time.

Sometimes, privacy is the best policy.

Standing from the log, you held the ring you retrieved from Maudeline's burnt dress up into the air.

"With this hand, I will lift your sorrows," Confidence emitted from your voice as glistening eyes looked triumphantly to the left, as if Vincent were actually there.

The wind picked up, and the crows began talking as you continued on.

"Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine!"

You flung the ring in the air in a suave manner, before catching it with ease. You had no idea where your sudden positive attitude came from, all that you knew was that it was giving you the power to push forward through all obstacles.

Perhaps, it lied within your very soul.

You caught sight of a branch that had multiple twigs stemming from it, to which you immediately took to your advantage.

"Ah, Mr. Everglot. You look dapper, this evening,"

You cupped the branch with your hand, looking the tree stump in the eye with a lustful expression, before turning back, regaining your composure to continue your elegant chatter.

Catching sight of a tall, skinny tree on the side that seemed dead as a rock, you put your hand to your ear as you leaned over to it.

"What's that, Mrs. Everglot? Call you Mom? If you insist, Ma'am."

You patted the tree as if it were your friend, quickly retracting back.

You knew deep down in your heart that Lady Everglot would never accept you as a daughter; but with your gifted peppiness, you supposed it was alright to dream every once and a while, especially on occasions like this.

"With this candle," You snapped a twig off of a tree, smiling into it as you pretended to light it like a candlestick, "I will light your way in darkness!"

The atmosphere grew colder. Due to your amount of confidence and investment in this practice, you decided to ignore it. The goosebumps trickled down from your neck to your ankles, despite your dress having full-body coverage.

The crows' cries grew louder; but they fell on deaf ears as you were too focused. Wind picked up and you felt as if your ears were burning with ice; your skull felt sensitive due to the chilly weather.

The entire setting of the clearing went from a calm, moonlit, and self-reflecting location of sanctuary, to a cold, dull, dead, and evil place of a malevolent entity, one that we called loneliness and misery.

No alarms had set off in your brain just yet, as your excitement was burgeoning. Finally, you were going to get it right!

You were going to show everyone that you were more than a clumsy, incapable little girl.

You were a strong, independent young woman who had as much potential as the Queen herself.

"With this ring, I ask you to be mine!"

You knelt down, and placed the ring on a twig in front of you.

Finishing your charade, you shivered suddenly as the wind caught up nearly ten times more than before.

You stood up. A queasy feeling settled in your stomach, and your gut instinct was telling you to run and to never look back.

But although that feeling was strong, curiosity was stronger, and so you stayed.

Crows began circling you as you looked back to them.

Your breaths quivered.

Maybe this was a mistake, coming all the way out here where no one could help you if you needed it.

You heard a stick twitch, and snap. Your ear nearly perked up like a rabbit's, but you refused to look due to how utterly terrified you were.

It was only now you realized that the the twig you put the ringer on represented that of a finger.

You panicked.

In the blink of an eye, a cold, wooden thing engulfed your arm and pulled you to the ground, smacking your head on the dirt in the process.

You whimpered in pain, and pulled so desperately the other way that you were certain your arm was going to fall off from the force. You refused to look at what had you in its grasp.

Finally, after seconds of twisting, turning, and pulling, you were flung back onto thin ice with a loud thud, to which you groaned.

What you saw next was probably the most terrifying; and the most surreal thing, you had ever seen in your entire life.

A decomposing body pulled itself out from beneath the dead, hollow tree, blocking your view of the moonlight as it rose from the dead like Jesus himself.

You froze in utter fear.

The man that stood before you was not a man; it was a rotting carcass.

His hair glistened elegantly in the light of the night; it was a silky black, and it was so bright, you thought for sure it had about ten litres of Macassar Oil in it.

His skin was a winter blue; the type of shade that would show when you had a frostbite.

The skin also looked loose; you were a tiny bit tempted to peel at it like a banana to see if it would come off that easily.

But alas, you were too horrified to even think at the time.

His fingernails, you had noticed when the arm attached to you, were a deep purple, and the skin beneath them was retracted, making them look longer than they actually were.

Which is exactly what happens when you die.

When you pried the severed arm off of you, the skin felt hardened and cold, like metal. It was a bit unsettling, you could feel yourself becoming nauseated.

His outfit was hauntingly beautiful. His body was wrapped in a tight black coat, or suit, as it were, that was secured with a blue bow tie in the centre of his chest.

He had black and white striped pants; with equally black and polished shoes.

It was similar to what a groom would wear on his wedding day, only less gothic.

Perhaps the thing that caught your absorption the most was his eyes.

They were large and expressive; circular and wide in shape.

Not nearly as big as Vincent's, however.

Yet, they looked as if a bucket of sadness and despair was dumped into them.

The smell of roses and pine trees hit you like a horse; but there were neither of those things in sight.

It was a pleasant smell; if you hadn't been face to face with a monster, perhaps you would've indulged it a bit more.

Your dress was beginning to soak due to the ice; you felt colder than you ever did before.

You took a moment to look at the arm on the ground.

It was wearing your ring. The ring you purchased for Vincent.

That....disgusting thing was wearing YOUR piece of jewellery that was meant for the man you were supposed to marry.

It was easy to think that this creature was vile; but you wouldn't dare say it to its face.

A soft, sickly sweet, but timid voice interrupted your thoughts.

"I do."

Yelping at the sudden noise, you got up and ran.

Just ran.

Lifting your dress up, you continued down the path of which you just came.

You didn't look back. Not once. No.

Your breathing turned into panting, and your throat and mouth began to dry.

The chilly weather never ceased, and neither did the crows' cawing.

Evil was all around you; and possibly out to kill you, AND steal your jewels.

Well, this evening was going lovely, wasn't it?

Tripping on your own two feet, you were caught in branches, and desperately tried to break free of them, cutting off a major sleeve of your dress in the process.

You were foolish. Why did you decide, of all times of the day, to go out alone in the woods, at night away from town?

Your father always told you to never got out alone, especially as a young woman. Nasty people could take advantage of you.

The question remained, however. Would this dead person do what you were thinking? You weren't sure. After all, the dead were unpredictable.

Adrenaline rushed through your veins as you stopped for nothing, pushing through prickly bushes and scraping your knee off every piece of wood just to get back to civilization.

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, and once again, just like at the rehearsal, dread filled within you.

You thought you were going to die.

All because you couldn't correctly vow. All because you were so uneducated as a wealthy woman, that you thought you didn't have time for such trivial matters. All because of your selfish entitlement and pessimistic attitude, you were now being chased by the devil himself.

You were sure of it.

What would your mother say? She'd probably scold you. What would your father say? He would probably cry, but then move on.

What would the Everglots say? They would smile and just be happy that you were dead.

Why did no one love you?

Relief made its way to your brain as you ran across Blossfern Bridge, an entire sea of crows swerving over you in a synchronized melody.

You stopped just at the edge of town, desperately trying to catch your breath as you turned around to see if the monster was still chasing you.

Silence engulfed the area. You looked toward the dark, creepy forest, and no one was there. The Town Crier did not even speak; but there were no bells ringing.

It didn't seem as if anyone was present with you.

Sighing, you looked to your left shoulder to see that the entire puff on your sleeve was ripped off, leaving only your bare shoulder. That had been an expensive dress that was passed down from your late paternal grandmother; and you had permanently ruined it with filth and ripped edges.

You felt ashamed. What an atrocious excuse you were for a woman.

It was no one's fault but your own. You couldn't believe this was happening. You were not even certain if this was real life anymore, or if you had just gone mad.

Turning around to head back to home, hot flashes surrounded your body as you froze in utter fear.

The dapper corpse was right in front of you, staring at you with melancholic eyes. You didn't know what you were doing, all that you know was that you couldn't move.

The delightful smell of roses and pine trees wafted back into your face, stronger than ever before.

You felt two, cold hands on your shoulders, soft and welcoming, but cold all the same. You wondered for a moment if anyone would save you.

Save you from what you thought was impending death.

You would have never thought that something like this would occur in your entire life. Perhaps it was all a dream. Perhaps you still had your ring, and maybe you fell asleep in the church and had never left in the first place. Perhaps this monster wasn't real.

At least, you hoped.

Your mind felt hazy and suddenly, you felt tired. You were exhausted from panic and stress, but you were looking into the eyes of a dead man.

How inexplicably bizarre.

He leaned over to you slowly, and in a velvety English voice, he said,

"You may kiss the groom."

All consciousness had left you by the time he uttered those words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

So sorry this came out 2 days late! I got caught up with a lot more stuff than I thought. You know how life is. :)

This is less descriptive than previous chapters, but it's somehow longer? LOL. Don't know how that works.

So sorry if this chapter unsatisfied you! Believe me, I was not too proud of this one either. :(

Soundtrack: Into The Forest (By Danny Elfman).

The next update for this story will be less specific, ranging between the 15th of November to the 18th, depending on how busy I am.

Until then,

YuletideBlues

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astro-rain · 3 years

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delicate; b.barnes

chapter six - “lake, the sequel”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.7k

synopsis: reader seeks out bucky after his dramatic exit and they find themselves earnestly conversing... back at the lake

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: this story is available on my wattpad as a bucky x OC fic @ / typicaldaze :)

He didn't like this feeling. No, he didn't like this feeling at all. He hated it, in fact. It was betrayal, bodily betrayal. He just could not sit in that room any longer or he would've peeled his skin off. His lungs felt as if they were bound with barbed wire and the state of his stomach had him worried he was going to throw up. Most of all he felt guilty. How could he have just stormed out of the room like that? She was going to hate him now. How could he let this happen?

He was thinking this over whilst sitting at the lake, hands in the grass, trying to distract the physical body from the mental cacophony he had just endured. He had somehow found his way there after leaving Y/N. These extremely unpleasant sensations were unfamiliar. Was he sick? Could he have been drugged? He was so confused. Bucky realized he seemed to be confused most of the time. Following that realization, he became mildly pissed off.

The super soldier stared out at the lake. It was a calm day, the water tranquil and clear. It was a stark contrast against his stress. He leaned forward and looked into the water at his reflection.

"Damn," he said out loud.

Is that really what I look like now?

His eyes traced over the long shaggy hair, dark under eyes, and the subtle but noticeable worry lines. This sight reminded him of when he broke the mirror at his old place in Bucharest. Now he remembered why. God, he looked as fucked up as he was. He leaned back and tossed a stone at where his reflection had been.

A deep sigh left his lungs, which were now conveniently working properly.

"Fuckers," he muttered, referring to the mercurial organs.

He had spent nearly two years alone in Bucharest, and he had grown accustomed to living in this new body. He was always on edge, that much he could tell. However, he was never too introspective; he never thought about his feelings or his behavior. All he was focused on was surviving. When there is more to life than survival, that's when things get complicated... not that they weren't complicated before. God, he was running in circles inside his own mind. His scarred and ruined and manipulated mind that resided in this body that was used as a tool for destruction and violence and death-

"Hey."

His head whipped around, startled out of his thought frenzy. Always on edge. Mentally, he shook his head in disappointment.

"Oh! (Y/N)!"

He stood up immediately. "Listen, I'm so sorry about before, I don't know what-"

"It's okay," she said quickly, holding up her hands. "Bucky, you do not need to apologize, everything is totally fine."

He was taken aback. Words didn't seem to work.

"I'm not mad if that's what you were thinking," she said.

"You're not?"

"No, of course not. If anything I was worried."

"I- Worried?"

"Yes, you were clearly in distress, and that room was the last place you wanted to be. I'm glad you found your way back here because you look much better now," (Y/N) explained with earnest eyes.

She could tell he was freaked out? She probably thinks he's insane.

"Yeah, I... I think I'm better now."

He was far from okay, but definitely better than before.

The psychologist sat down next to where he was standing. He didn't move, but looked down at her.

"I don't think it'd be wise to leave you alone here considering you're supposed to be in a session with me right now and you can't go anywhere without an escort. It would most likely lead to suspicion and then trouble you don't need. I'm going to stay with you. We can continue the session if you'd like, but if not we can just sit."

She said this all while looking straight forward at the water.

In all honesty he wasn't sure what to say, so he settled with a breathy, "Okay," before sitting down next to her.

"I'm getting the vibe that this is more of a just sit situation..."

"Yeah... I think I'm all therapy-ed out for today," Bucky said in a meek attempt at a joke.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a wide smile. He then realized that she didn't know he could see it, and that's why this smile seemed different. Most differents in Bucky's life hadn't been outstandingly pleasant. But this was a welcome different. This was a good different. It was genuine and unbridled. That was the most open he'd ever seen her.

Every now and then he forgot that he was a literal trained super spy. He may not have any PhD's, but he had his own way of reading behavior, cues, and subtleties. Perhaps he'd make an effort to be more observant. Perhaps he wanted to learn a little more about what else was behind this new different.

A few beats of comfortable silence passed before he heard the word again.

"Hey," (Y/N) started softly. "I'm sorry if I went a little too far today. I know I said our first session wouldn't be much, but I realize I was pushing too far."

"Oh, it's okay," Bucky replied, looking down at the grass between his knees. "I think it's more my fault anyway. It's not like the questions were super intense."

He let out a loaded sigh. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Bucky it's really okay. If it's anyone's fault it's mine. This whole process is supposed to be based on your comfort levels and at your own pace. And there's nothing wrong with you. Your reaction was completely normal given the circumstances."

Bucky wasn't terribly familiar with reassurance. He turned his head, looking at her dead on. She was so genuine, like she knew all of what she was saying was the all encompassing truth.

Echoes of different combinations of "there's nothing wrong with you" and "completely normal" and "your own pace" flitted around inside him until they melted into a feeling he hadn't felt in so long: hope. It was horrifying... yet it gave him a kind of relief he didn't know he could feel.

The super soldier then realized that (Y/N) was looking right back at him dead on. He was about to stumble through some sort of apology for staring or thankful expression for her kindness, but he noticed that she didn't look like she was necessarily waiting for a response. She was just... looking.

Bucky tried to say something, anything. But he just couldn't seem to pull his eyes away. In this brief moment, he felt crystallized. His conscious, logical brain was somewhere far away, hypnotized by the stillness of the moment. It was only a few seconds, but somehow felt longer. These very few seconds of mental sedation were soon over.

Speak, idiot.

He snapped back to reality, suddenly finding himself inspecting at the grass below him.

"Thank you."

"Of course," she replied without missing a beat. Her tone of voice was water soft.

"(Y/N), do you... do you know what happened with me earlier?" he asked, cautiously. "Like, what was wrong- I mean, not wrong but why I-"

He sighed frustratingly, cutting himself off.

Her face was patient, but she was waiting for a description of something he didn't know how to describe.

"I know I said we were done for today, but I-I don't know how to explain it, and I want to know what it is," he confessed.

"I think you had an anxiety attack."

Anxiety? That couldn't be right. There's no way that could've been from being nervous.

"What?" he asked incredulously.

"Anxiety. It seemed as though you were experiencing high amounts of anxiety. Most people get nervous at times, but those tiny amounts are normal. But, some other people are a lot more nervous a lot more of the time. Sometimes, these peoples' anxiety can get particularly high and be so overwhelming that their body kinda takes over, and they can experience really uncomfortable physical symptoms, and this can turn into an anxiety attack."

"I thought I was... sick or... or drugged or something."

"Well, I'm almost certain you weren't drugged, and I'm pretty sure you can't even get sick."

"Oh."

He honestly didn't know what to say.

"Bucky," she looked straight at him again and he almost felt himself slipping. "In terms of psychology, a lot has progressed since the 40's. I'm not sure how anxiety was presented or studied then, but there's really a lot more to it than people think. And honestly, given your situation, it would be strange if you didn't develop an anxiety disorder."

Anxiety disorder?

"Anxiety disorder? I have that?"

"Well, again, I think we have to do more work to confirm, but that's what it seems like."

"I thought you said I had PTSD?"

"I do. I think you have both."

Christ.

"Wow, I'm a whole sack 'a problems, aren't I?" he chuckled, giving up on trying to internally oppose his short comings.

"You're not a problem, Buck. You had to deal with a whole sack of problems, though," she smiled.

The nickname didn't miss his radar. Was that the first time she's called him that? He ignored how he liked it.

"That's for damn sure."

They conversed for a while after that, and didn't seem to notice how late it was until the sun began to set. The ending day's reflection on the water created an aura so relaxing Bucky didn't want to move. But alas, reality calls.

(Y/N) stood up. "If you're not back soon, they'll start looking for you. We should probably get going."

Bucky stood up, too, following her request.

"I'll walk you back to your quarters," she offered.

And so they went, conversation continuing naturally, as if they were old friends. Bucky found it strange that someone he knew so little was so easy to talk to. He brushed it off as some inherent therapist quality.

He still found her hard to read although he knew her more with each passing word between them.

Despite all of this, the walk back, with cool air, a melting sky, and languid steps, was the best thing he had experienced since coming out of cryo. His memory may be spotty, and his mind may be rough, but this, this he was sure of.

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buddha-in-disguise · 4 years

Text

A full of fucking swearing long post about the shitstain that is Dominic Cummings. Plus where I can find them, at the end I will link fucking sources, just in case anyone wants to try and say otherwise.

Also, if you do start @ me over him, I'm blocking your fucking cunt of an arse. Clear enough?

Good. Then let's begin.

As a nation, we can be a fairly mild mannered lot. At least collectively. But as of now, the majority of Britons are a mass of anger. So much so, I've even agreed with pundits like Piers Fucking Morgan! That alone is distressing enough, but Dominic Cummings has pissed off just about everyone.

But first a little background on this heaping pile of shit.

Dominic Cummings was one of the main instigators of Leave Campaign in regards Brexit. Now for those who don't know or haven't cared until now, not only were they found to be in breach of the electoral law, Dominic himself was also found in contempt of Parliament when they tried to find out if Vote Leave used fake news to help achieve their goal.

To add to this, he took around 200k of subsidies from the EU for his properties. So a known lying fucking hypocrite.

Even before that, he was advisor to Gove, that spineless fucking weasel who has been out today spouting even more fucking bollocks over this. Funny that.

Don't think for a minute being Gove's Special Advisor meant Cummings was liked by others in the Tory Party. Cummings was pretty much despised by a lot in Government at the time. David 'Pig fucker' Cameron called him a career psychopath.

Fast forward to 2019. Cummings is now Special Advisor to another spineless fucking cunt known as the Prime Minister Boris Johnson. BJ was never in control. Anyone watching what was going on knew that the moment Cummings had Javid's one aide uncermoniously marched out of her job, using armed police no less.

Only problem was, he had no authority to do that.

But never fear, BJ decided to change the rules, so lo and behold, he didn't break any rules (seeing a pattern here yet?)

So fast forward to the last few days. Now newspapers were reporting that Dominic Cummings drove his COVID-19 symptomatic wife, with a 4 year old in the same enclosed vehicle, some 260 miles to his parents location in Durham.

Oh now comes the fun part, and why as a nation we are all beyond extremely miffed, and fucking pissed off!

The offical guidance was anyone in a household with someone displaying symptoms (tested or not) was to stay the fuck at home. There was one exception to this rule. One. Extreme risk to life.

So Cummings took the decision to go and drive for fucking childcare reasons.

A man with his wealth, privilege and even with family in fucking London, couldn't do it at his home, but had to drive (thus risking his own child because of viral load you're going to get in an enclosed vehicle), himself and others (because he had to stop. Tell me of anyone with a 4 year old in the car they wouldn't be stopping anywhere?)

So anyway, they take a fucking jolly jaunt up to his parents.

But hold on, a Minister recently resigned for breaking lockdown rules. So why in the ever loving fuck was Cummings not resigning or being fired?

I don't know what Cummings has on BJ, but I suspect it makes wanting to fuck a dead pig seem like child play. Because not only isn't he fired, good old Jolly BJ comes out and fully defends and supports his senior advisor (who is unelected as well, just to add salt to that wound).

So by following his fatherly instincts (the fucking laughable defence given, when BJ couldn't even say how many fucking kids he has) and acting with integrity, (someone please give these fucking morons a dictionary), Cummings was given a free pass.

And then a load of fucking MP's including cabinet ministers all piled in saying how great a father he is, how it was exceptional circumstances that made him do it, you're all overreacting you terrible ingrate you, blah, blah, more horse shit, blah!

So, now all of those families who actually followed the fucking rules, and did what the government said are now being told, oh sure. You could've attended the funeral of your loved ones. Gone halfway across country to get child care for your kids, and so on and so fucking forth.

So basically saying, hah the jokes on you.

A few grumbles came out from the odd Tory, who might not have grown a spine, but were looking less like jelly (jello) being nailed to the wall, and more like thick fucking custard. A little more substance to them, but still slopping around with no spine.

We have a bank holiday coming up, and unusually good weather forecast, because as every Brit knows, Bank Holidays are normally shit weather wise. And a lot of people saying, fuck me if Cummings can do this, so can we. And all pile into cars for days out as if nothing had changed! No masks, no social distancing. Zilch. Great innit.

No it fucking isn't! The virus doesn't take a holiday you fucking morons!

So back to the other mess. Cummings now gives a press conference in the fucking rose garden of No.10. Also likely in breach of the rules, but as we know, he really doesn't give a flying fuck about rules now does he.

First of all he was 30 minutes late (you would've been sanctioned , therefore getting no money, for weeks, probably months if on benefits and did the same thing thanks to this government). But he eventually rolls up, looking slightly less like he's been dragged through a hedge backwards, but still looking like a dogs arse. Actually sorry dogs, you don't deserve that comparison. I'm really sorry!!

Anyway, here he is, about to fill us with more bullshit.

The shit now isn't just hitting the fan. In the immortal words of Terry Pratchett, The Midden has now hit the Windmill.

Cummings is trying to explain why he did what he did, oh and now we have the added delight of him being caught going out to a location some 30 miles from the family home, which is another breach of the law!

He sat there, and said, the public aren't angry at me, they're angry because of how the media have reported it. Woe is me, they're making me out to be the bad guy in all this .... blah fucking boo hoo blah.

This was supposed to calm us down.

Dear reader.

It. Did. Not.

So journalist after journalist (Beth Rigby gave a fucking masterclass) actually didn't let him get away with it.

These weren't just questions or accusations. They threw proof at him! Despite the collective rage, it was glorious to see them do it. If this was when stocks were still in use in the town square, Cummings would've been covered in excrement and anything else to hand. That shit was blown back so fast, it was hard to keep up.

Anyway, without going into too much here, his excuses ranged from he didn't feel safe because of demos outside his home (unverified and strangely enough, no neighbours reporting any disturbances either. Funny that),

Then, having gone to great lengths to say he drove up to his parents to keep his kid safe, he explains the additional trip he got caught out on was taken to test his eyesight, which had been affected because of being unwell with Covid19.

So not only is it highly fucking illegal to drive while impaired (including if eyesight is impaired) in this country, you decided to take your wife and kid, who you wanted to protect, not for a little jaunt down the road, but on a 60 mile fucking round trip.

Oh, and he hadn't stopped on the 260 mile trip up there, but his kid needed a stop on the way home, so a less than 60 mile trip required a stop. Yeah. Strange how that works.

He still kept blaming the media. Still kept up the woe is me, it was exceptional circumstances, and so on. Must get sore lips there Cummings, with the amount of smoke you try to blow up peoples arses.

So, to end it all, he has flatly refused to resign. No need to even consider it. The public will be jolly good chaps in all of this and see my side of things.

No we won't, you motherfucking cunt!

So this morning, various people including Gove are still making excuses for this fucking shitstain.

I now wish Cummings is fired, but better yet, thrown out of our universe, so he can never ever be seen again. But I've seen more spine on a fucking snake that I have Boris Johnson, who is just as much to blame in all this.

Before I end, we also had an infamous Tweet from someone in the Civil Service, who knew they were torpedoing their career. I'm including a screen shot. It was taken down, but it was genuine. Whoever they were, you deserve all the applause and a fucking medal!

Oh and a few sources for this and the cuntface Cummings. But you know, just Google the fucker. You can find this and much more.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-44856992

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-47712040

https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2019/aug/10/dominic-cummings-owns-farm-got-eu-subsidy

https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2014/jun/18/david-cameron-dominic-cummings-career-psychopath

https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/politics/dominic-cummings-boris-johnson-cabinet-minister-aides-civil-service-sajid-javid-a9109836.html

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-52782913

[https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-52553229

https://www.bbc.com/news/amp/uk-52792200

https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-52793991

https://www.chroniclelive.co.uk/news/north-east-news/dominic-cummings-trip-county-durham-18306147

https://www.gov.uk/driving-eyesight-rules

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