#I have brain thoughts about how ghost ended up a blood child but I’m not getting into it here

[isthatafuckinggayangel]

This man had to be too brave for his own good, Ghost thought. That, or too stupid.

Simply walking up to a blood child, of all things, had to be the most reckless thing he’d seen anyone do in his very long lifetime. Being the son of a wraith meant he was always regarded as a thing to be feared. Your average person always seemed to sense death on him, even when he was actively hiding any trace of his power. Here though? Here, he didn’t hide anything. He let people feel it. Let people see the dark wisps that seemed to float directly off of his skin and into the surrounding air. It was good for intimidation, keeping people out of his space and keeping them aware of what he could do to them if they stepped out of line. He was a man who kept to the shadows, only emerging for basic necessities and to complete his work.

This particular situation was no different. He was in the midst of working a job with the newest FNG in the 141, just the two of them, when he’d had to actually ‘show out’.

They had gotten shitty intel and were ambushed. Had Ghost not been what he was, they would have died in seconds. But luckily for them, his abilities came in handy. He normally kept his so-called “blood-rage” tamped down, but this situation called for using it to his advantage at full capacity (he didn’t particularly like the term, but it was what was most common amongst the people he’d been around).

Those dark wisps fully materialized, surrounding him, pouring out of his mouth, nose, and seemingly his very pores only to solidify, sharpen, and shoot through every enemy Ghost could sense. It was a horrifying scene, one no human should ever have to witness. And yet, when the carnage was done, when all was silent except for the breathing of Ghost and his partner on this mission, he acted nonchalant about it.

As Ghost was preparing himself to have to call in a separate evac or safe house for himself so the other man could go back to base without panicking and running off, he heard the man sigh and start approaching him.

New.

Odd.

Soap, as they called him, walked toward him like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just looked like a creature out of people’s nightmares. Like he wasn’t something to fear.

“So, Lt, what’s the plan from here?”

Ghost stared at him like he’d grown a second head. There was no way he was just asking about the plan. Not after all of that.

“What? Did I do something?” Soap tilted his head in his confusion.

Cute.

NO, NOT CUTE, VERY NOT CUTE.

He kept a straight face beneath the mask. “Surprised you’re not running away screaming is all.”

Soap laughed, a grin remaining on his face as he spoke. “Ye act like I haven’t seen a wraith before. They’re more common in Scotland than people seem to give ‘em credit for. Nothing I’m nae used to.”

Ghost raised his brow from under the mask, but decided to let it go for another time. They had a mission to finish, after all.

A monster is used to people running, screaming, frozen in fear begging etc. But someone sighing cracking their neck, rolling up their sleeves, and walking towards them is new.

[wordsandrobots]

I just wanted to say I have so much respect for the incredible essays and fic you write for IBO, and I’m so grateful you’re in this fandom.

I was wondering, have you talked previously about McGillis’ line of “Is there such thing as true happiness and fake happiness?” especially when considered alongside his line of wanting to make Almiria happy? If not, what do you make of that?

It’s been floating around in my head ever since I watched the show, but I haven’t been able to figure out exactly what to make of it and haven’t had the time to rewatch the show yet.

Thank you! My brain has been set to overdrive on the subject of Iron-Blooded Orphans for more than three years now (please send help) so I'm not sure I could have stopped if I tried.

Anyway. Oh boy. That line. No, I haven't written commentary on it previously, at least not directly. But it underpins literally everything I've done in terms of fanfic spiralling out of McGillis' actions, so I have thought about it quite a lot.

For me -- apart from being the moment Gaelio realises precisely how far he's fucked everything up -- that question is the distillation of McGillis as a character. And as much as he says it about his treatment of Almira, it also serves as an excellent vector for examining McGillis and Gaelio's changing relationship throughout the entire show, specifically with regard to why Gaelio is Always Wrong (TM) about his best-friend-turned-mortal-enemy.

The context here is important, since this final scene is the one point in the entire show where we can uncomplicatedly say McGillis is being completely open. He's lost. He's dying. Everything he hoped to achieve has fallen to pieces. Visually, he's been stripped back to his child self, hair fallen wild and expression dulled. This is McGillis undone. It no longer matters what he does or how he presents, so he's finally able to be honest with Gaelio. All the masks are off.

Gaelio, of course, is in full avenger mode, demanding McGillis stay alive long enough to look directly at the consequences of his actions and face his crimes. And McGillis finally admits that all the jumping up and down and masked-ghost shenanigans was unnecessary: he'd *always* seen Gaelio and always held affection for him. He wasn't some cold traitor, saying all the right things to get close enough to stab everyone in the back. Gaelio and Carta were his friends, and though that was anathema to his desire for power, it wasn't a fraud. He even promised to make Gaelio's sister happy for the sake of their friendship.

The English dub script adds the phrase 'no matter the cost' to the end of this statement and I think that's a very acute sentiment, given McGillis nearly dies sooner due to the wound he suffered stopping Almiria from killing herself. His own actions prove he means what he says: even at the cost of harm to himself, he was determined to honour his word on at least this point.

Predictably, Gaelio responds by reiterating the accusation of McGillis spreading delusions. Any happiness McGillis gave to Almiria could only be fake (due to the scheming, backstabbing, brother-murdering and so on). Which leads McGillis to asking, does it matter?

Are there such things as true and fake happiness?

I mentioned masks. For Gaelio, that's a literal object, a disguise to conceal his survival (from anybody who doesn't have the official height chart to hand, at least), that is literally discarded at this point. But for McGillis, the masks always run deeper. Indeed, if there's one thing we can say about his Montag persona and the attendant jester's visage, it's that it allows him to act more like he really wants to, to the point he starts getting a little giddy.

No, for him, masking is performance. Acting. The construction of a surface persona to meet the demands of the situation he's in. Gaelio draws attention to this when describing how McGillis changed as they grew into teenagers, opting to actively fit in with the social scene around them and only seeming to share his 'true' feelings when the two were alone. As the audience, though, we can trace his chameleonic nature back further. In the montage of McGillis' past, we see him adapting to the various situations he is forced into, first by teaching himself to commit violence to establish dominance, then by cultivating studiousness. It seems unlikely McGillis being chosen as Iznario's heir was disconnected from how hard he worked on building himself up in order to survive. Learning how to navigate social and political environments is a natural progression of these efforts.

That this *is* conscious construction is key. Because McGillis also sets out to transform himself into the ideal Agnika Kaieru represents. Ultimately this culminates in physically altering his body so he can use Gundam Bael, but it's far more than that. He trains himself in the two-sword fighting style Agnika used, long before he's anywhere near achieving his goal. He immerses himself in Gjallarhorn's hierarchy and assists skilled, lower-class officers like Isurugi. He dispenses with his childhood sombreness in favour of an authoritative, rigorous, charismatic professional persona. All of this serves his goal of achieving absolute power, yes. It's also about shaping himself into what he thinks he should be -- the embodiment of the characteristics he attributes to Agnika.

There are a few positive aspects to this. Gaelio, operating on the assumption McGillis is a cynical back-stabber, thinks he goes to Mars to survey the mobile armour situation for personal gain. But in truth McGillis goes to ensure Hashmal doesn't awaken. It's the kind of move someone in Gjallarhorn *should* make, so he does. That he is later inspired to go after the Order of the Seven Stars as Gaelio originally imagined he intended is a reaction to things spiralling out of control and exciting him with the world's most ill-advised historical re-enactment; it's not where he comes into the situation. Likewise, he seems to have been a fairly good inspector, exposing corrupt officers like Coral and later doing due diligence on pulling the Outer Earth Orbit Regulatory Joint Fleet (oh cripes I can write than from memory) into proper fighting shape.

At the same time, it means McGillis is always dishonest with other people. He's always got an angle, is always holding something back, always tries to fit everyone into his plans, somehow. Even when he is truthful (such as saying he's admired Carta for treating him as an equal when they were kids or sharing his faith in Agnika's principles with Almiria), there are other factors to consider. His scheme to gain power inside Gjallarhorn, his need to keep things running smoothly, his obsession with being the individual who can transform the world -- these are in play right up until he is bleeding out on the floor.

It's natural, given this, to ask 'who is the true McGillis?' What really exists underneath the layers of performance? However, I think doing so is to repeat a lot of Gaelio's mistakes because, as we eventually find out, McGillis himself fails to draw a meaningful boundary between 'real' and 'fake'.

He promised Gaelio he'd take care of Almiria while in the act of killing him. It was politically prudent to maintain the engagement and he also considered Gaelio a true friend, so there's good reason to honour the promise. On top of that, Almiria is someone he appears to care greatly for, perhaps out of fellow-feeling since she is as much a pawn in others' games as he once was. Thus, her happiness becomes one of his chief goals. To this end, he accommodates her wishes to be seen as a grown-up lady (as imagined by a nine-year-old) and explains how what he is doing will benefit them both. He goes so far as to stop her from harming herself once his deception is exposed, promising that one day, she will be truly happy despite everything.

And the next time he refers to Almiria in any way -- the last time, prior to his final confrontation with Gaelio -- it is to internally chide her for being so troublesome as to leave him with a wound that negatively affects his battlefield performance. Placed alongside his earlier lines to her and the act of putting his hand in the way of the dagger she aimed at her throat, it's an *incredibly* dismissive reaction. It would be easy to read this as him having only pretended to care about Almiria all along, concealing a real disdain. Except, again -- he put his hand in the way of that dagger, without hesitation.

What's going on here?

Well, McGillis presents in whichever way he needs to in order to navigate his circumstances, saying whatever he thinks is most likely to get the outcome he wants. That's his base state for interacting with the world, as a consequence of growing up the way he did. Seeing no distinction in the veracity of happiness speaks to a very outcome-focused view on human interaction. What difference does it make if a positive reaction is prompted by sincerity or by moulding oneself into a form best suiting the other person? They're still happy. Or giving the appearance of it. That's enough, right?

We eventually see this approach fail with Tekkadan, owing to McGillis' misunderstandings about them. Towards the end of the show, stripped of material superiority, his appeals to their fighting spirit fall flat. He tries to sway them on the level he thinks they operate (pride, desire for power, strength of will) rather than the shared loyalty and familial bonds that actually drive them forward. He simply doesn't realise the things they have pursued were always a means to an end -- each other's safety -- rather than the end itself.

That failure highlights both how important it is to engage with the reality of what you're trying to manipulate (the critical distinction separating him from Rustal) and how genuine McGillis is about his stated goals. He really does want to become the all-powerful leader of Gjallarhorn and believes that will allow him to make the world better. He'd do anything to achieve it. Just like he really means to ensure Almiria's happiness, however much he needs to cover up and present differently -- or even suffer physical harm -- to do so.

That right there is the fundamental problem with how Gaelio sees him throughout Season 2. He doesn't get that McGillis' performances are not strictly falsehoods but tools used to obtain the outcome he's proclaiming to anyone who'll listen. The act may be pieced together from truth or lies or force of strength; what matters is that it *works*.

I spent my essay about Agnika focusing on McGillis' ideology. What the true/false happiness line exemplifies is his methodology or, more strictly, the survival strategy he adapted into a generalised approach. It's the Tekkadan strategy error -- applying the same methods over and over in situations where they are increasingly counter-productive -- writ on a subtler scale. A compulsive need to treat every interpersonal encounter as having a specific outcome, where the actual content, the human connection, and the emotional impact lose any significance beyond 'if X then Y'.

The kicker being that, when McGillis does have to deal with genuine emotions on their own terms, he shoves them as far away from himself as he can. Carta and Gaelio should have been his closest allies and loyalist supporters, not to mention a positive impact on his wellbeing due to, you know, actually caring about him as a person. Instead, he kills/tries to kill them, not just because their deaths serve his ambitions but because they gave him something other than his ambitions -- full stop. Something else. And he couldn't have both.

McGillis could not build himself into the perfect embodiment of individualism while keeping his friends close. He couldn't continue to persist on an outcome-focused approach with unprompted, un-targeted happiness just happening to him. From everything else about his character, I'm not sure he could ever have trusted the feelings Carta and Gaelio induced in him. Far better to construct the happiness he thought he wanted. Far safer. Far more natural, for someone under no illusions about the world's hypocrisies, or what people do in order to survive.

The tragedy is that this is an inescapable problem. McGillis was always going to chose the constructed ideal future over the reality that lay within touching distance. The damage, for that's what this is, was done long before anyone who cared was in a position to intervene. This is somebody who'd execute the people he cares for and who cannot understand his best friend crying over his dying admission of affection, any more than he can grasp why being willing to do anything to ensure a little girl's happiness isn't necessarily laudable. Where would you even begin trying to unpick that?

Which of course is exactly what makes him so effective within this story. There's a paradox at the heart of McGillis, which is part of why I've never tried to write his perspective in my fic, where he manages to be profoundly honest and chronically self-deluding, the signifiers of a manipulative bastard twisted around into . . . I don't really want to call it pathology because I think that undersells the active choice to be who he is. But we see how he got there, the trauma that went into making him, how different aspects of it meshed together, shaping him one after the other. It's not just the homelessness, or the sexual assault, or being trafficked, or being made a pawn in a political game, or fixating on a historical figure. It's all of them put together, and I think it's a fantastic bit of character work.

There simply isn't a solution. Just an inescapable arc towards disaster, and the devastation of a pair of siblings who each loved him more dearly than he could possibly conceptualise.

-----

That's more or less where I land on things, anyway. Hopefully this was mostly coherent, as rambles go? Like with everything to do with McGillis, I can never just pull one thread. The man's a living rats-nest, which I love about him but does make it difficult to be succinct!

Thank you very much for the ask, and for your kind words. I will admit to feeling a degree of 'if there's no active fandom for this show, I'll damn well do it myself' when I started writing the fic and the essays, so it delights me no end to know there are people getting a kick out of them. :)

[dankdefrank]

Sleepless

Since she entered the building, the quiet has been ringing in her ears – although the hospital hasn’t been a silent place itself. Between noises, conversations, laughs and cries she can hear it crawling behind her, whispering, no matter how senseless it seems to be. Everything blurs into the one yet she wasn’t alone and maybe she wished she was, as it was the constant reminder that now there’s nothing to fill that void.

It is with her and it's going to stick with her til the very end.

It's early – the sun is about to rise, dark skies still. The world outside is just waking up, still in its sleepy, slow course, only to rush with the full force soon. It doesn’t matter to her, she hasn’t closed her eyes peacefully in years. Nightmares have made her sleepless as well as the thought that she shouldn't rest, determined to protect. But to protect who? And exactly in this quiet, she would realize that they were their own people. And her? An abandoned guardian, you could say, who just has understood – “I’m not a part of their lives anymore.”

Yet, Boonchuys had called her. As she was laying restless, fully awake, in an empty, dark room, it immediately alarmed her, when she saw the familiar “Anne” on the screen, and she picked up, concerned. It concerned her even more when she didn’t hear Anne's voice, instead meeting the voice of tired Ms. Boonchuy. And she had left the house as quickly as she could, not caring if the other house residents could hear her. It was the last thing in the world she would be worried about.

She barely notices Boonchuys standing in the hallway. To be honest, they notice her before she does and in the same second they rush toward her to hug her tightly. It surprises her, as her body tenses – why, she can’t exactly tell. 

Her body is working automatically, while her mind isn’t even registering what’s happening – from one point to another, to suddenly find herself in a new place – and she can't even tell how and when she got here. Very specific type of brain fog that she used to have all the time during her time in Amphibia – endless fights and she wasn’t even able to say how the blood was dripping from her blades. Her therapist said it was her coping mechanism – the answer to the trauma, the only way she still didn’t fall apart.

Or maybe – she had fallen apart a long time ago and now there were no pieces to pick up and put together.

Then, they stand back and she sees how similar they are to her, which chills her. They look like ghosts. The same pale faces with bags under their puffy eyes and distant look, like they aren’t here. They’re still in their pajamas, with jackets thrown on. But, somehow, they fit into the scenery around three of them – but the hospital is cold, emotionless, while they’re openly grieving. 

The war never was over, she thinks, it keeps coming back.

“I am so sorry,” Mrs. Boonchuy finally says. Her voice shakes a little. Mr. Boonchuy gently squeezes her shoulder.

And Sasha just knows. 

“She was…” Mr. Boonchuy speaks hoarsely, gulping. “She was healthy. She even had a check-up not so long ago, everything seemed fine.” Sasha just stares numbly, any word from him barely reaches her. “No one from our family had– had left like that. They have to run a few more tests but they said it could be something like sudden cardiac arrest– SADS, they said. I don’t know, it just happens–” He hides his face in his hands and takes a few deep, shaky breaths. “I’m sorry.”

“Can I see her?” She asks.

Hesitation crosses their faces, but in the end – they’re not surprised. Though, to be honest, they may think about her question as bold but they have to know, right? It’s difficult for her as for them – they have lost their only child and she has lost the person who helped her find herself again, in so many various ways. It still sounds impossible. Maybe that’s why she has to completely make sure it’s not her brain fooling her, not a fever dream, but a harsh reality.

Reality without her.

Eventually, Mrs. Boonchuy nods.

“Just– Let me get someone from the staff,” she says, before she leaves her husband and Sasha alone.

For some reason the clean, awfully sterile hallways of the hospital make Sasha incredibly overwhelmed.

She sits down in one of the plastic chairs that are so common for any public institution. She considers that maybe – this whole surrealistic situation she has found herself in – is not that rare in life and it could have happened to anybody.

Mr. Boonchuy sits next to her, leaning forward and sighs heavily. Side-eyeing him, she notices how in a few hours he seems to have gotten older by at least ten years. Boonchuys don’t deserve that. Anne doesn’t deserve that. They lost her once, and got back, now she’s not here anymore. It thrills her.

“What exactly happened?” She asks, breaking the silence between them. She doesn’t want it being so palpable. She knows the overall situation – in the chaotic, short call that she received, Boonchuys told her that their daughter had stopped breathing but no one knew why. And Sasha had to know to get another proof that was real.

“She knew it would happen,” she says, understanding that Anne accepted it coming, “she had to.”

Her heart failed. The Heart is gone. What an irony.

The realization hits her like a truck, as she remembers that weird, sad look in Anne’s eyes when they won the war. She never asked what this was about. She wishes she did, though. 

Mr. Boonchuy smiles sadly. “Thank you, Sasha. For being in her life.”

Sasha wants to tell him she wasn’t that great part of Anne’s life – in fact, she caused her more pain than a friend should. Maybe, if she wasn’t present in her life, she still would be alive. Sasha probably would still be the same manipulative, egocentric girl she used to be at age thirteen but at least – her actions wouldn’t have such consequences. That probably doesn’t make so much sense, but right now her brain just falls in the trap of guilt and she cannot stop it whenever she wants it or not.

Before she can say more, Mrs. Boonchuy is back with some kind of morgue technician, Sasha doesn’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway.

“You’re Sasha, right?” Assistant asks and when she confirms, he nods. “Come with me.”

Sasha gets up from the chair and glances at Boonchuys before she walks away. They comfort each other and she realizes that they have only themselves now. How long will it take them to fill that void which appeared when Anne left? And she can’t join them – she’s not a part of their family, going through the kind of grief known only to them.

She still refuses to fully believe that Anne is gone.

Now, she’s just a sixteen year old, who just has lost her best friend and who has to learn to live with this. Now she just has to believe that one day she will be okay, she will be alright and she will be complete. Now, she allows herself to cry and be a hurt child that she never has shown to the world. 

Assistant leads her to the morgue. Sasha isn’t afraid – she has seen death and dead bodies before, she was even a part of it. As time passed by it has made her immune due to constant exposition. No one leaves the war without scars on the body and soul. It doesn’t mean that she doesn’t feel anything at all, instead her emotions turn into one feeling that she can’t identify.

Finally, they enter the room. It’s not that big, it’s more similar to all the morgues she has seen in movies. White, square-patterned piles, cold lights, empty walls and in the back of the room – silver fridges where in one of them her friend is laying.

The assistant comes up to one of the fridges and opens it, sliding out the body tray. Sasha’s stomach curls up as she sees the familiar white sheet and the shape under it, which is, without any doubt, a body.

“Before we start,” the assistant says, “try to not touch it, okay? I’ll give you a while alone, if you want.”

She nods, so does he. He slowly pulls the sheet down, revealing the face of the girl that she knew so well.

At first, she looks like she’s sleeping. But her skin is too pale, purplish-red in some spots, her limbs are stiff, and Sasha doesn’t need to touch her to know that her body is coldly lifeless. In the air she can feel that specific smell, not similar to anything else. And she just stares, scanning every detail, absorbing the stillness as though to take it into herself. She doesn’t even notice the assistant quietly sneaking out from the room – death never has been pretty, she knows it perfectly. Yet, that body once has been her hero, her villain, her savior, her downfall – with whom she grew up, laughed, fought and changed as a person – it was the girl that she has loved.

She just stares mindlessly and it feels so unreal. Anne had died once and she came back, she always does, so wouldn’t she do it again? She can’t wrap her head around the concept that, if Anne was dead, her body actually was here. She wanted to see the proof but when she does, now she can’t understand it. This girl spent months in another dimension, destroyed the moon and saved two worlds, so, how come she could die in such a… ordinary way?

How come the only person in the reach that could understand her pain and truly comfort her – even if they stopped talking as often as they used to – is supposed to be buried six feet underground? How come is she supposed to get rid of hope that maybe one day things between them will heal and will be brighter? Coming back, they made an unsaid promise, they were closer and more distant, but, in fact, they never have let go of each other. Now, Sasha realizes – that for the rest of her life she will be the one who’s restless every night.

“Wake up,” she finally lets out, “we were supposed to be sleepless together.”

The morgue keeps silent and eventually Sasha has to acknowledge that Anne will never, never ever again answer back.

In the future, she won’t be able to remember how exactly she left the room. Her mind never registers the last memory when she sees Anne and maybe – she’s thankful for that. She just knows that in one moment, she’s choking on her own tears, the next, the assistant is walking her to the Boonchuys. Everything blurs into one and they hug her so close as if she was their own child. 

It’s like hours but it’s also like seconds – when her breath calms down a little, they sit her down on the chair in the hallway. At this point, Sasha barely knows what’s happening, but she’s still here, whether she likes it or not. She hears something about funeral services and transplantation – God, there will be a funeral – but her mind just wanders in already lost thoughts. Then, it finds an actual realization.

“Marcy doesn’t know, does she?” Sasha asks with a hoarse voice. She doesn’t look at Boonchuys, staring at the floor instead.

“No,” Mr. Boonchuy says gently after a short while, “we haven’t called her yet.”

“I’ll do it.” Sasha slowly raises her head and she quickly wipes tears with her shaking hand. 

They can’t refuse, so they agree with a heavy heart.

Mrs. Boonchuy looks at her, somewhat hurt. “You don’t have to–”

“I want to do it,” she cuts in firmly, “please.”

The quiet is getting even louder. Walls seem to be closer than before. And Marcy is unaware that their world just has ended. Sasha wishes she could protect her from more pain, but it’s also her job as a friend – to be truthful. This all makes her leave the building. 

“Hey Mars,” she chuckles painfully, “do you have a while? We– We need to talk.”

She stands in front of the entrance and chooses Marcy’s number and waits in the dark, watching her breath in the cold air. Massachusetts is a few hours than from California, but it doesn’t matter. Sasha knows Marcy is up. It’s not like she can sleep as well, anyway. Finally, Marcy picks up.

“Hey Sash.” Familiar voice answers. Although Marcy is thousands of miles away, for a little while Sasha feels her right next to her. It’s bittersweet. “A bit early.”

[turnpage]

send me a ✐ for a random sentence starter from my muse (1-1500) — tw: profanity, mild nsfw, long list

generator here quotes compiled from here inspired by

feel free to change to fit your preferences as need.

❨1❩ ❛ They are dreams, but I’m too out of control, I lose myself in them, and I’ve already lost too much to let them take over. ❜
 ❨2❩ ❛ Sometimes human places create inhuman monsters. ❜ ❨3❩ ❛ I'm not gonna hurt ya. I'm just going to bash your brains in. ❜ ❨4❩ ❛ Monsters are real. Ghosts are too. They live inside of us, and sometimes, they win. ❜ ❨5❩ ❛ The world's a hard place. It doesn't care. It doesn't hate you and me, but it doesn't love us, either. ❜ ❨6❩ ❛ The tears that heal are also the tears that scald and scourge. ❜ ❨7❩ ❛ Pull your act together and just go on. ❜ ❨8❩ ❛ I had never dreamed there could be so much pain in a life when there is nothing physically wrong. I hurt all the time. ❜ ❨9❩ ❛ Tough old world, baby. If you're not bolted together tightly, you're gonna shake, rattle, and roll before you turn thirty. ❜ ❨10❩ ❛ Are you sure self-pity is a luxury you can afford? ❜ ❨11❩ ❛ Truth comes out. In the end it always comes out. ❜ ❨12❩ ❛ Living by your wits is always knowing where the wasps are. ❜ ❨13❩ ❛ No matter where you go, the same asshole gets off the plane. ❜ ❨14❩ ❛ We sometimes need to create unreal monsters and bogies to stand in for all the things we fear in our real lives. ❜ ❨15❩ ❛ That’s your job in this hard world, to keep your love alive and see that you get on, no matter what. ❜ ❨16❩ ❛ Human nature, baby. Grab it and growl. ❜ ❨17❩ ❛ God wiped snot out of his nose and that was you. ❜ ❨18❩ ❛ Run away. Quick. And remember how much I love you. ❜ ❨19❩ ❛ How many times, over how many years, have I—a grown adult—asked for the mercy of another chance? ❜ ❨20❩ ❛ I was suddenly so sick of myself, so revolted. ❜ ❨21❩ ❛ You listen to me. I’m going to talk to you about it this once and never again this same way. ❜ ❨22❩ ❛ But those pieces, they’ll never fit just the same way again. Never in this world. ❜ ❨23❩ ❛ Dying is a part of living. You have to keep tuning in to that if you expect to be a whole person. ❜ ❨24❩ ❛ Officious little prick. ❜ ❨25❩ ❛ I’ve been sleepwalking again, my dear. — The plants are moving under the rug. ❜ ❨26❩ ❛ How I wish you were fear. ❜ ❨27❩ ❛ But it was a dreadful kind of curiosity, the kind that makes you peek through your fingers during the scariest parts of a scary movie. ❜ ❨28❩ ❛ All we have is time, you know. An eternity of time. Or shall we end it? Might as well. After all, we're missing the party. ❜ ❨29❩ ❛ We all remember our pleasant dreams more clearly than the scary ones. ❜ ❨30❩ ❛ The way things should be and the way things are hardly ever get together. ❜ ❨31❩ ❛ Got to be regular if you want to be happy. ❜ ❨32❩ ❛ But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. ❜ ❨33❩ ❛ He showed me his scars, and in return he let me pretend that I had none. ❜ ❨34❩ ❛ Humbling women seems to me a chief pastime of poets. As if there can be no story unless we crawl and weep. ❜ ❨35❩ ❛ It is a common saying that women are delicate creatures, flowers, eggs, anything that may be crushed in a moment's carelessness.  ❜ ❨36❩ ❛ If I had ever believed it, I no longer do. ❜ ❨37❩ ❛ I thought once that gods are the opposite of death, but I see now they are more dead than anything, for they are unchanging, and can hold nothing in their hands. ❜ ❨38❩ ❛ I cannot bear this world a moment longer. ❜ ❨39❩ ❛ I have a better idea. I will do as I please. ❜ ❨40❩ ❛ All my life has been murk and depths, but I am not a part of that dark water. I am a creature within it. ❜ ❨41❩ ❛ You cannot know how frightened gods are of pain. There is nothing more foreign to them, and so nothing they ache more deeply to see. ❜ ❨42❩ ❛ When we are young, we think ourselves the first to have each feeling in the world. ❜ ❨43❩ ❛ When I was born, the word for what I was did not exist. ❜ ❨44❩ ❛ But perhaps no parent can truly see their child. When we look we see only the mirror of our own faults. ❜ ❨45❩ ❛ I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. ❜ ❨46❩ ❛ This is what it means to swim in the tide, to walk the earth and feel it touch your feet. This is what it means to be alive. ❜ ❨47❩ ❛ You threw me to the crows, but it turns out I prefer them to you. ❜ ❨48❩ ❛ Yet because I knew nothing, nothing was beneath me. ❜ ❨49❩ ❛ If now I am wise, it is only because I have been fool enough for a hundred lifetimes. ❜ ❨50❩ ❛ You can teach a viper to eat from your hands, but you cannot take away how much it likes to bite. ❜ ❨51❩ ❛ Give me the blade. Some things are worth spilling blood for. ❜ ❨52❩ ❛ I have been old and stern for so long, carved with regrets and years like a monolith. But that is only a shape I’ve been poured into. I do not have to keep it. ❜ ❨53❩ ❛ I wake sometimes in the dark terrified by my life's precariousness, its thready breath. ❜ ❨54❩ ❛ Understanding the world is a matter of keeping very still and showing no emotions, leaving room for others to reveal themselves. ❜ ❨55❩ ❛ Beneath the smooth, familiar face of things is another that waits to tear the world in two. ❜ ❨56❩ ❛ The truth is, men make terrible pigs. ❜ ❨57❩ ❛ My father has never been able to imagine the world without himself in it. ❜ ❨58❩ ❛ This is the grief that makes our kind choose to be stones and trees rather than flesh. ❜ ❨59❩ ❛ Witches are not so delicate. ❜ ❨60❩ ❛ Those who fight against prophecy only draw it more tightly around their throats. ❜ ❨61❩ ❛ I learned that I could bend the world to my will, as a bow is bent for an arrow. I would have done that toil a thousand times to keep such power in my hands. ❜ ❨62❩ ❛ There's the story, then there's the real story, then there's the story of how the story came to be told. Then there's what you leave out of the story. Which is part of the story too. ❜ ❨63❩ ❛ The best way of being kind to bears is not to be very close to them. ❜ ❨64❩ ❛ Life is warped. I'm just in sync. ❜ ❨65❩ ❛ Now it's a whisper from the past. ❜ ❨66❩ ❛ But hatred and viciousness are addictive. You can get high on them. Once you've had a little, you start shaking if you don't get more. ❜ ❨67❩ ❛ Why is it always such a surprise? The moon. Even though we know it's coming. Every time we see it, it makes us pause, and hush. ❜ ❨68❩ ❛ Perfection exacts a price, but it's the imperfect who pay it. ❜ ❨69❩ ❛ What is 'belief' but a willingness to suspend the negatives?  ❜ ❨70❩ ❛ I have scars, inside me. ❜ ❨71❩ ❛ The dead are not entirely dead but are alive in a different way; a paler way admittedly, and somewhat darker. ❜ ❨72❩ ❛ However dark, a darkness with voices in it is better than a silent void. ❜ ❨73❩ ❛ Amazing how quickly the past becomes idyllic. ❜ ❨74❩ ❛ It is another way of saying tough luck. To people you aren’t going to help out. ❜ ❨75❩ ❛ I'm waiting, far off in the future. ❜ ❨76❩ ❛ The only sure camouflage is unpredictability. ❜ ❨77❩ ❛ There are so many of them, and each one of them is doing part of the killing, whether they know it or not. ❜ ❨78❩ ❛ First rule: limit bloodshed by making sure that none of your own gets spilled. ❜ ❨79❩ ❛ I long to swim in liquid moonlight. ❜ ❨80❩ ❛ That's right, I don’t like to be summoned on trivial matters. ❜ ❨81❩ ❛ The part that really made me happy was that you wanted me to be happy. ❜ ❨82❩ ❛ Cut that part out of us: the grinning, elemental malice. Begin us anew. ❜ ❨83❩ ❛ Where there are wars, there will be crows, the carrion-fanciers. And ravens too, the warbirds, the eyeball gourmands. And vultures, the holy birds of yore, old connoisseurs of rot. ❜ ❨84❩ ❛ At last. It's you. ❜ ❨85❩ ❛ No, you will not be cooked on a fire when you die. Because you are not a fish. ❜ ❨86❩ ❛ Take what the moment offers. Don’t close doors. Be thankful. ❜ ❨87❩ ❛ How many others have stood in this place? Left behind, with all gone, all swept away. ❜ ❨88❩ ❛ Is it disapproval or extreme lust? With some men it’s hard to tell the difference. ❜ ❨89❩ ❛ My hair was driving me crazy, but then … I died. ❜ ❨90❩ ❛ Seek and ye shall find, eventually. And you found. You’re right, I don’t dispute that. Sorry. ❜ ❨91❩ ❛ Everything digests, and is digested. ❜ ❨92❩ ❛ My head was once a filing cabinet. Now it’s a flurry of papers, floating on a draft. ❜ ❨93❩ ❛ You cannot keep bumping your head against reality and saying it is not there. ❜ ❨94❩ ❛ I have a feeling that inside you somewhere, there’s something nobody knows about. ❜ ❨95❩ ❛ And if I don’t want to die, I’ve got to start living. ❜ ❨96❩ ❛ The world is a beautiful place. Don’t forget that. And don’t miss it. ❜ ❨97❩ ❛ I was fighting for my life. So I must not want to die. ❜ ❨98❩ ❛ Something’s happening to me, through me, something dangerous and new. ❜ ❨99❩ ❛ It’s taken root, a poison tree; it’s grown, fanning out, vines winding round my gut, my lungs, my heart. ❜ ❨100❩ ❛ We’re interpreters. We’re translators. ❜ ❨101❩ ❛ You’ll notice I’m not asking what made you this way. ❜ ❨102❩ ❛ No family, happy or unhappy, is quite like any other. Tolstoy was chock-fullo’shit. Remember that. ❜ ❨103❩ ❛ We lived in monochrome those nights. ❜ ❨104❩ ❛ You live in a dream. You’re a sleepwalker, blind. How do you know what the world is like? ❜ ❨105❩ ❛ Do you know, if you rip off the fronts of houses, you’d find swine? ❜ ❨106❩ ❛ I stand here in the dark: cold, utterly alone, full of fear and something that feels like longing. ❜ ❨107❩ ❛ The definition of insanity is doing the same thing again and again and expecting different results. ❜ ❨108❩ ❛ Not to warm the flesh, but solely to please the eye. ❜ ❨109❩ ❛ Selective emotional detachment. ❜ ❨110❩ ❛ Not for me, or at least not today. ❜ ❨111❩ ❛ Dead but not gone, watching life surge forward around me, powerless to intervene. ❜ ❨112❩ ❛ Do I sound like a hillbilly saying that? ❜ ❨113❩ ❛ Remember, you’ve got your secret weapon. ❜ ❨114❩ ❛ The dream drains away like water. The memory, really. I try to scoop it up in my palms, but it’s gone. ❜ ❨115❩ ❛ My shadow stretches along the carpet, as though trying to detach itself from me. ❜ ❨116❩ ❛ It curls away from me, like blood in water. ❜ ❨117❩ ❛ It’s been so long since I felt the rain. Or wind—the caress of wind. ❜ ❨118❩ ❛ But snow I never want to feel again. ❜ ❨119❩ ❛ Through adversity to the stars. ❜ ❨120❩ ❛ No hero. No sleuth. I am locked in. I am locked out. ❜ ❨121❩ ❛ Thinking hasn't gotten me anywhere so far. ❜ ❨122❩ ❛ The face you give the world tells the world how to treat you. ❜ ❨123❩ ❛ Sometimes I think illness sits inside every woman, waiting for the right moment to bloom. ❜ ❨124❩ ❛ Women get consumed. ❜ ❨125❩ ❛ Sometimes if you let people do things to you, you're really doing it to them. ❜ ❨126❩ ❛ A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort. ❜ ❨127❩ ❛ Safer to be feared than loved. ❜ ❨128❩ ❛ I ached once, hard, like a period typed at the end of a sentence. ❜ ❨129❩ ❛ It's impossible to compete with the dead. I wish I could stop trying. ❜ ❨130❩ ❛ I always feel sad for the girl that I was. ❜ ❨131❩ ❛ Every time people said I was pretty, I thought of everything ugly swarming beneath my clothes. ❜ ❨132❩ ❛ How do you keep safe when your whole day is as wide and empty as the sky? Anything could happen. ❜ ❨133❩ ❛ See, there I am. I told you I lived. I told you I was. ❜ ❨134❩ ❛ Sometimes I think I won't ever feel safe until I can count my last days on one hand. ❜ ❨135❩ ❛ To refuse has so many more consequences than submitting. ❜ ❨136❩ ❛ I'm here. I don't usually feel that I am. ❜ ❨137❩ ❛ I'm tired of dying. ❜ ❨138❩ ❛ What if you hurt because it feels so good? ❜ ❨139❩ ❛ How confusing to live in the shadow of a shadow. ❜ ❨140❩ ❛ Do you ever feel like bad things are going to happen, and you can’t stop them? You can’t do anything, you just have to wait? ❜ ❨141❩ ❛ Sometimes my scars have a mind of their own. ❜ ❨142❩ ❛ Everyone has their own version of a memory. ❜ ❨143❩ ❛ Isn’t a smile a girl’s best weapon? ❜ ❨144❩ ❛ My sense of weightlessness, I think, comes from the fact that I know so little about my past. ❜ ❨145❩ ❛ Do what I want; I might like you. ❜ ❨146❩ ❛ I feel sorry for Persephone because even when she’s back with the living, people are afraid of her because of where’s she’s been. ❜ ❨147❩ ❛ She has never told me she loved me, and I never assumed she did. ❜ ❨148❩ ❛ The sight of it actually does something to you, makes you less human. ❜ ❨149❩ ❛ It infects you. It ruined me. ❜ ❨150❩ ❛ Your health is not a debt you just cancel. The body collects. ❜ ❨151❩ ❛ Men love to put things inside women, don’t they? ❜ ❨152❩ ❛ We can know only that we know nothing. And that is the highest degree of human wisdom. ❜ ❨153❩ ❛ Nothing is so necessary for a young man as the company of intelligent women. ❜ ❨154❩ ❛ The strongest of all warriors are these two — time and patience. ❜ ❨155❩ ❛ If everyone fought for their own convictions there would be no war. ❜ ❨156❩ ❛ There is no greatness where there is not simplicity, goodness, and truth. ❜ ❨157❩ ❛ The whole world is divided for me into two parts: one is she, and there is all happiness, hope, light; the other is where she is not, and there is dejection and darkness. ❜ ❨158❩ ❛ Let the dead bury the dead, but while I'm alive, I must live and be happy. ❜ ❨159❩ ❛ It's not given to people to judge what's right or wrong. People have eternally been mistaken and will be mistaken, and in nothing more than in what they consider right and wrong. ❜ ❨160❩ ❛ You can love a person dear to you with a human love, but an enemy can only be loved with divine love. ❜ ❨161❩ ❛ If we admit that human life can be ruled by reason, then all possibility of life is destroyed. ❜ ❨162❩ ❛ We are asleep until we fall in love! ❜ ❨163❩ ❛ I simply want to live; to cause no evil to anyone but myself. ❜ ❨164❩ ❛ Everything I know, I know because of love. ❜ ❨165❩ ❛ Man cannot possess anything as long as he fears death. But to him who does not fear it, everything belongs. ❜ ❨166❩ ❛ If there was no suffering, man would not know his limits, would not know himself. ❜ ❨167❩ ❛ Yes, love, but not the love that loves for something, to gain something, or because of something, but that love that I felt for the first time, when dying, I saw my enemy and yet loved him. ❜ ❨168❩ ❛ How can one be well...when one suffers morally? ❜ ❨169❩ ❛ Kings are the slaves of history. ❜ ❨170❩ ❛ God is the same everywhere. ❜ ❨171❩ ❛ Pure and complete sorrow is as impossible as pure and complete joy. ❜ ❨172❩ ❛ One must be cunning and wicked in this world. ❜ ❨173❩ ❛ We love people not so much for the good they've done us, as for the good we've done them. ❜ ❨174❩ ❛ When one's head is gone one doesn't weep over one's hair! ❜ ❨175❩ ❛ For what, for whom, must I kill and be killed? ❜ ❨176❩ ❛ He did what heroes do after their work is accomplished; he died. ❜ ❨177❩ ❛ Life is too long to say anything definitely; always say perhaps. ❜ ❨178❩ ❛ Everything ends in death, everything. Death is terrible. ❜ ❨179❩ ❛ The distant and impossible suddenly became near, possible, and inevitable. ❜ ❨180❩ ❛ How often we sin, how much we deceive, and all for what? ❜ ❨181❩ ❛ The wolves should be fed and the sheep kept safe. ❜ ❨182❩ ❛ When I was a child, adults would tell me not to make things up, warning me of what would happen if I did. ❜ ❨183❩ ❛ My memory is a patchwork of occurrences, of discontinuous events roughly sewn together: the parts I remember, I remember precisely, whilst other sections seem to have vanished completely. ❜ ❨184❩ ❛ Would it be worse to love someone who is no longer there, or not to love someone who is? ❜ ❨185❩ ❛ Like mirrors stories prepare us for the day to come. They distract us from the things in darkness. ❜ ❨186❩ ❛ It is not that I was credulous, simply that I believed in all things dark and dangerous. ❜ ❨187❩ ❛ Sometimes you do things you regret, but there's nothing you can do about them. Times change. Doors close behind you. You move on. ❜ ❨188❩ ❛ Love will be an impulse that will inspire and ruin in equal measure. ❜ ❨189❩ ❛ He died alone. It don't matter a rat's ass whether there was anyone with him or not. He died alone. ❜ ❨190❩ ❛ It was love, I knew, and it tasted like champagne in my mind. ❜ ❨191❩ ❛ The end of the world is a strange concept. The world is always ending, and the end is always being averted, by love or foolishness or just plain old dumb luck. ❜ ❨192❩ ❛ She was my dream; and if you touch a dream it vanishes, like a soap bubble. ❜ ❨193❩ ❛ Daylight is always safe. ❜ ❨194❩ ❛ If not for death, they'd be content to simply exist, but with death, well, their lives will have meaning. ❜ ❨195❩ ❛ You want to know the future, love? Then wait. ❜ ❨196❩ ❛ There are things in the darkness beneath us that wish us harm. ❜ ❨197❩ ❛ Fairy tales are more than true. Not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be defeated ❜ ❨198❩ ❛ But sometimes you leave blood on your instruments. ❜ ❨199❩ ❛ I'd like to be a wolf. Not all the time. Just sometimes. In the dark. I would run through the forests. ❜ ❨200❩ ❛ You've seen them. They have mouths that twitch, and eyes that stare, and they babble and they mewl and they whimper. ❜ ❨201❩ ❛ They are not mad, or rather, the loss of their sanity is the lesser of their problems. ❜ ❨202❩ ❛ Good a reason for writing as I know: releasing demons, letting them fly. ❜ ❨203❩ ❛ That miserable state in which everything seems flat and of equal importance; when nothing matters, and in which reality seems scraped thin and threadbare. ❜ ❨204❩ ❛ Someone had scrawled graffiti in black marker on the metal: JUST DIE, it said. Like it is easy. ❜ ❨205❩ ❛ Winter started today. The sky turned grey and the snow began to fall and it did not stop falling until well after dark. ❜ ❨206❩ ❛ Memory is the great deceiver. ❜ ❨207❩ ❛ Silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way. ❜ ❨208❩ ❛ I may have lost my heart, but not my self-control.  ❜ ❨209❩ ❛ If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. ❜ ❨210❩ ❛ I always deserve the best treatment because I never put up with any other. ❜ ❨211❩ ❛ But you know what I am. You hear nothing but truth from me. ❜ ❨212❩ ❛ I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other would have borne it. ❜ ❨213❩ ❛ There are people, who the more you do for them, the less they will do for themselves. ❜ ❨214❩ ❛ One half of the world cannot understand the pleasures of the other. ❜ ❨215❩ ❛ Better be without sense than misapply it as you do. ❜ ❨216❩ ❛ You must be the best judge of your own happiness. ❜ ❨217❩ ❛ Were I to fall in love, indeed, it would be a different thing ; but I have never been in love ; it is not my way, or my nature ; and I do not think I ever shall. ❜ ❨218❩ ❛ Indeed, I am very sorry to be right in this instance. I would much rather have been merry than wise. ❜ ❨219❩ ❛ If I have not spoken, it is because I am afraid I will awaken myself from this dream. ❜ ❨220❩ ❛ If a woman doubts as to whether she should accept a man or not, she certainly ought to refuse him. ❜ ❨221❩ ❛ Faultless in spite of all her faults. ❜ ❨222❩ ❛ A heroine whom no one but myself will much like. ❜ ❨223❩ ❛ There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart. ❜ ❨224❩ ❛ Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, and waste its fragrance on the desert air. ❜ ❨225❩ ❛ I pity you. I thought you cleverer. ❜ ❨226❩ ❛ Evil to some is always good to others. ❜ ❨227❩ ❛ I certainly will not persuade myself to feel more than I do. ❜ ❨228❩ ❛ She is loveliness itself. ❜ ❨229❩ ❛ Time does not compose me. ❜ ❨230❩ ❛ A man always imagines a woman to be ready for anybody who asks her. ❜ ❨231❩ ❛ I do not find myself making any use of the word sacrifice. ❜ ❨232❩ ❛ I am quite enough in love. I should be sorry to be any more. ❜ ❨233❩ ❛ I must tell you what you will not ask, though I may wish it unsaid the next moment. ❜ ❨234❩ ❛ I examined my own heart. And there you were. Never, I fear, to be removed. ❜ ❨235❩ ❛ With all your little faults, you are an excellent creature. ❜ ❨236❩ ❛ You have another long walk before you. ❜ ❨237❩ ❛ The child's laughter is pure until he first laughs at a clown. ❜ ❨238❩ ❛ What is marriage but prostitution to one man instead of many? ❜ ❨239❩ ❛ Out of the frying pan into the fire! ❜ ❨240❩ ❛ We must all make do with the rags of love we find flapping on the scarecrow of humanity. ❜ ❨241❩ ❛ She sleeps. And now she wakes each day a little less. ❜ ❨242❩ ❛ And, oh, God . . . how frequently I weep! ❜ ❨243❩ ❛ From the coffin of your madness there is no escape. ❜ ❨244❩ ❛ I am feeling supernatural tonight. I want to eat diamonds. ❜ ❨245❩ ❛ All the same there is a chance that if we keep on shaking our chains, one day, some day, the clasps upon the shackles will part. ❜ ❨246❩ ❛ It was sad music fit to make you cut your throat. ❜ ❨247❩ ❛ Nothing is more boring than being forced to play. ❜ ❨248❩ ❛ Amongst the monsters, I am well hidden; who looks for a leaf in a forest? ❜ ❨249❩ ❛ Wherein does a woman’s honour reside? In her vagina or in her spirit? ❜ ❨250❩ ❛ Perhaps...I could not be content with mere contentment! ❜ ❨251❩ ❛ Have you ever stared stark failure in the face? The trick is to outstare it. ❜ ❨252❩ ❛ Sometimes it seems that the faces exist of themselves, in a disembodied somewhere, waiting for the one who will wear them, who will bring them to life. ❜ ❨253❩ ❛ I have the febrile gaiety of a being without a past, without a present, yet I exist. ❜ ❨254❩ ❛ I felt myself turning, willy-nilly, from a woman into an idea. ❜ ❨255❩ ❛ She looks wonderful, but she doesn't look right. ❜ ❨256❩ ❛ The one-eyed man will be King in the country of the blind. ❜ ❨257❩ ❛ I raised you up to fly to the heavens, not to brood over a clutch of eggs! ❜ ❨258❩ ❛ I love to hear my bones rattle. That’s how I know I’m alive. ❜ ❨259❩ ❛ I learnt, first, as the birds do, from the birds. ❜ ❨260❩ ❛ Inside and outside match exactly, but both are badly wrong. ❜ ❨261❩ ❛ During the less-than-blink of time it took the last chime to die, there came a vertiginous sensation. ❜ ❨262❩ ❛ I fear a wound not of the body but the soul, an irreconcilable division between myself and the rest of humankind. ❜ ❨263❩ ❛ I fear the proof of my own singularity. ❜ ❨264❩ ❛ Still nothing could calm the fearful storm in my erupting skin. ❜ ❨265❩ ❛ Petersburg, loveliest of all hallucinations. ❜ ❨266❩ ❛ A breathless second between black forest and the frozen sea. ❜ ❨267❩ ❛ I'm beginning to feel totally cut off from the world. ❜ ❨268❩ ❛ What does this all mean? Where are we? ❜ ❨269❩ ❛ Sometimes I bleed. ❜ ❨270❩ ❛ If you see a ghost, you say "hello". ❜ ❨271❩ ❛ The war is not over. ❜ ❨272❩ ❛ You're not going. You left us once already. ❜ ❨273❩ ❛ You can’t go! ❜ ❨274❩ ❛ I loved you, but that wasn't enough, was it? ❜ ❨275❩ ❛ If you're dead, then leave me in peace. ❜ ❨276❩ ❛ The only thing that moves here is the light, but it changes everything. ❜ ❨277❩ ❛ I won't ask for forgiveness for something I didn't do! ❜ ❨278❩ ❛ Sometimes the world of the living gets mixed up with the world of the dead. ❜ ❨279❩ ❛ Death of a loved one can lead people to do the strangest things. ❜ ❨280❩ ❛ Sooner or later, they will find you. ❜ ❨281❩ ❛ They're everywhere - they say this house is theirs. ❜ ❨282❩ ❛ You're always teasing me, and telling lies. I'm sick of it. ❜ ❨283❩ ❛ Others will come. Sometimes we'll sense them. Other times, we won't. ❜ ❨284❩ ❛ No crying now. No crying. Stop that. Here. Look what an awful face you've got when you cry. ❜ ❨285❩ ❛ You listen to me. I've seen them too. ❜ ❨286❩ ❛ You'll see. There are going to be some big surprises. There are going to be... changes. ❜ ❨287❩ ❛ Why did you go and fight that stupid war that had nothing to do with us? Why didn't you stay like the others did? ❜ ❨288❩ ❛ Your place was here with your family. ❜ ❨289❩ ❛ So you say you know this house well? ❜ ❨290❩ ❛ I wasn't expecting you so soon. ❜ ❨291❩ ❛ What's the matter? Has the cat got your tongue? ❜ ❨292❩ ❛ You mean they just vanished? Into thin air? ❜ ❨293❩ ❛ No door must be opened without the previous one being closed first. ❜ ❨294❩ ❛ Here, most of the time, you can hardly see your way. ❜ ❨295❩ ❛ Whatever you do, don't open the curtains. ❜ ❨296❩ ❛ Now, come on. Eyes closed. ❜ ❨297❩ ❛ We start off with high hopes, then we bottle it. We realise that we’re all going to die, without really finding out the big answers. ❜ ❨298❩ ❛ By definition, you have to live until you die. Better to make that life as complete and enjoyable an experience as possible, in case death is shite, which I suspect it will be. ❜ ❨299❩ ❛ I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. ❜ ❨300❩ ❛ And the reasons? There are no reasons. ❜ ❨301❩ ❛ Love does not exist, it's like religion, made to control you. ❜ ❨302❩ ❛ After all, we're not fucking stupid. At least, we're not that fucking stupid. ❜ ❨303❩ ❛ You fucking knew that fucking cunt would fuck some cunt. ❜ ❨304❩ ❛ Everything in the street today seems soft focus. ❜ ❨305❩ ❛ What does that make us? The lowest of the low. ❜ ❨306❩ ❛ Take your best orgasm, multiply the feeling by twenty, and you're still fuckin’ miles off the pace. ❜ ❨307❩ ❛ It’s as if everything is a copy of what you knew before, similar, yet somehow lacking in its usual qualities, a bit like the way things are in a dream. ❜ ❨308❩ ❛ It’s all okay, it’s all beautiful; but I fear that this internal sea is going to subside soon, leaving this poisonous shite washed up, stranded up in my body. ❜ ❨309❩ ❛ It cuts me up. It confuses me. ❜ ❨310❩ ❛ It's not funny laughter. This is lynch mob laughter. ❜ ❨311❩ ❛ Protect me from those who wish to help us. ❜ ❨312❩ ❛ They mean well, and they mean well to me, but there's no way under the sun that they can appreciate what I feel, what I need. ❜ ❨313❩ ❛ The pit of melancholy is a bottomless one, and I am descending fast. ❜ ❨314❩ ❛ Living like this is a full-time business. ❜ ❨315❩ ❛ I’ll stand or fall alone. ❜ ❨316❩ ❛ We are no wiser now than at the start. ❜ ❨317❩ ❛ This is pathetic, and fucking boring. ❜ ❨318❩ ❛ Death is usually a process, rather than an event. ❜ ❨319❩ ❛ We're ruled by effete arseholes. What does that make us? ❜ ❨320❩ ❛ We are all acquaintances now. ❜ ❨321❩ ❛ The problem is that this beautiful ocean carries with it loads of poisonous flotsam and jetsam. ❜ ❨322❩ ❛ Life is beautiful. I'm going to enjoy it, and I'm going to have a long life. ❜ ❨323❩ ❛ The grim reality of impending death can be talked away by trying to invest in the present reality of life. ❜ ❨324❩ ❛ There must be more to life than this. ❜ ❨325❩ ❛ We all see what we want to see. ❜ ❨326❩ ❛ Statistically speaking, you're more likely to be killed by a member of your own family or a close friend, than by anyone else. ❜ ❨327❩ ❛ What am I living for and what am I dying for are the same question. ❜ ❨328❩ ❛ Maybe that's what love is: it's being pissed off. ❜ ❨329❩ ❛ You can forget who you are if you're alone too much. ❜ ❨330❩ ❛ Any religion is a shadow of God. But the shadows of God are not God. ❜ ❨331❩ ❛ Human understanding is fallible, and we see through a glass, darkly.  ❜ ❨332❩ ❛ We must be a beacon of hope, because if you tell people there's nothing they can do, they will do worse than nothing. ❜ ❨333❩ ❛ Everyone wants to feel like a princess, and princesses are selfish and overbearing. ❜ ❨334❩ ❛ We shouldn't have been so scornful; we should have had compassion. But compassion takes work, and we were young. ❜ ❨335❩ ❛ How easy it is, treachery. You just slide into it. ❜ ❨336❩ ❛ Amazing how the heart clutches at anything familiar, whimpering: Mine! Mine! ❜ ❨337❩ ❛ All creatures know that some must die ; that all the rest may take and eat. ❜ ❨338❩ ❛ Is this the image of a god? My tooth for yours, your eye for mine? ❜ ❨339❩ ❛ Without the light, no chance; without the dark, no dance. ❜ ❨340❩ ❛ Why are we designed to see the world as supremely beautiful just as we're about to be snuffed? Do rabbits feel the same as the fox teeth bite down on their necks? Is it mercy? ❜ ❨341❩ ❛ Love is useless, it leads you into dumb exchanges in which you give too much away, and then you get bitter and mean. ❜ ❨342❩ ❛ Maybe sadness is a kind of hunger. Maybe the two go together. ❜ ❨343❩ ❛ Now I can see how that can happen. You can fall in love with anybody -- a fool, a criminal, a nothing. There are no good rules. ❜ ❨344❩ ❛ If you really want to stay the same age you are now forever and ever, try jumping off the roof: death's a sure-fire method for stopping time. ❜ ❨345❩ ❛ You couldn’t leave words lying around where our enemies might find them. ❜ ❨346❩ ❛ I'm fine, for the moment. And the moment is the only time we can be fine in. ❜ ❨347❩ ❛ Because if you can't wish, why bother? ❜ ❨348❩ ❛ It's better to hope than mope! ❜ ❨349❩ ❛ Reality has too much darkness in it. Too many crows. ❜ ❨350❩ ❛ In any case, time is not a thing that passes, it’s a sea on which you float. ❜ ❨351❩ ❛ I know I’m deceiving myself, but I prefer to deceive myself. I desperately need to believe such pure joy is still possible. ❜ ❨352❩ ❛ Too much God and you overdose. God needs to be filtered. ❜ ❨353❩ ❛ Behind my eyelids I saw an animal. It was golden colour, with gentle green eyes and canine teeth, and curly wool instead of fur. It opened its mouth, but it did not speak. Instead, it yawned. ❜ ❨354❩ ❛ ‘Why can't I believe?’ I asked the darkness. ❜ ❨355❩ ❛ Everyone’s too sad for everything. ❜ ❨356❩ ❛ If you can’t stop the waves, go sailing. ❜ ❨357❩ ❛ I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary. ❜ ❨358❩ ❛ Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them. ❜ ❨359❩ ❛ In the end, we'll all become stories. ❜ ❨360❩ ❛ I am inadequate and stupid, without worth. I might as well be dead. ❜ ❨361❩ ❛ If you knew what was going to happen, if you knew everything that was going to happen next—if you knew in advance the consequences of your own actions—you'd be doomed. You'd be ruined as God. ❜ ❨362❩ ❛ If you can't go through an obstacle, go around it. ❜ ❨363❩ ❛ Stupidity is the same as evil if you judge by the results. ❜ ❨364❩ ❛ Time in dreams is frozen. You can never get away from where you've been. ❜ ❨365❩ ❛ Male fantasies, male fantasies, is everything run by male fantasies? ❜ ❨366❩ ❛ We still think of a powerful man as a born leader and a powerful woman as an anomaly. ❜ ❨367❩ ❛ If I love you, is that a fact or a weapon? ❜ ❨368❩ ❛ You fit into me like a hook into an eye. ❜ ❨369❩ ❛ Knowing too much about other people puts you in their power, they have a claim on you, you are forced to understand their reasons for doing things and then you are weakened. ❜ ❨370❩ ❛ Farewells can be shattering, but returns are surely worse. ❜ ❨371❩ ❛ Women have curious ways of hurting someone else. ❜ ❨372❩ ❛ This is the one song everyone would like to learn: the song that is irresistible: the song that forces men to leap overboard in squadrons. ❜ ❨373❩ ❛ Get rid of death. Make it be spring. ❜ ❨374❩ ❛ You are innocent as a bathtub full of bullets. ❜ ❨375❩ ❛ I am the space you desecrate as you pass through. ❜ ❨376❩ ❛ Favour me and give me riches, destroy my enemies. Save me from death. ❜ ❨377❩ ❛ She is a raw voice loose in the rooms beneath me. ❜ ❨378❩ ❛ Isn't the moon warm enough for you, why do you need the blanket of another body? ❜ ❨379❩ ❛ This is a torch song. Touch me and you'll burn. ❜ ❨380❩ ❛ If you look long enough eventually you will see me. ❜ ❨381❩ ❛ I would like to sleep with you, to enter your sleep as its smooth dark wave slides over my head. ❜ ❨382❩ ❛ I would like to give you the silver branch, the small white flower, the one word that will protect you from the grief. ❜ ❨383❩ ❛ But some people can't tell where it hurts. They can't calm down. They can't ever stop howling. ❜ ❨384❩ ❛ How else can we live, these days, except in the midst of ruin? ❜ ❨385❩ ❛ What am I living for and what am I dying for are the same question. ❜ ❨386❩ ❛ Gods always come in handy, they justify almost anything. ❜ ❨387❩ ❛ We loved with a love that was more than love. ❜ ❨388❩ ❛ Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. ❜ ❨389❩ ❛ The boundaries which divide life from death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins? ❜ ❨390❩ ❛ There is no exquisite beauty without some strangeness in the proportion. ❜ ❨391❩ ❛ Never to suffer would never to have been blessed. ❜ ❨392❩ ❛ Believe only half of what you see and nothing that you hear. ❜ ❨393❩ ❛ And all I loved, I loved alone. ❜ ❨394❩ ❛ Years of love have been forgot, in the hatred of a minute. ❜ ❨395❩ ❛ The best things in life make you sweaty. ❜ ❨396❩ ❛ There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told. ❜ ❨397❩ ❛ Anything is better than this agony. ❜ ❨398❩ ❛ You fancy me mad. ❜ ❨399❩ ❛ I hear all things in the heaven and in the earth. ❜ ❨400❩ ❛ Who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? ❜ ❨401❩ ❛ Leave my loneliness unbroken! ❜ ❨402❩ ❛ A more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrills every fibre of my frame. ❜ ❨403❩ ❛ The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. ❜ ❨404❩ ❛ Let my heart be still a moment. ❜ ❨405❩ ❛ You call it hope —  It is but agony of desire. ❜ ❨406❩ ❛ Who has not, a hundred times, found himself committing a vile or silly action for no other reason than because he knows he should not? ❜ ❨407❩ ❛ To die laughing must be the most glorious of all glorious deaths! ❜ ❨408❩ ❛ The beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage. ❜ ❨409❩ ❛ Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive. ❜ ❨410❩ ❛ I have been happy, though in a dream. ❜ ❨411❩ ❛ Nevermore. ❜ ❨412❩ ❛ The truth is, I am heartily sick of this life. ❜ ❨413❩ ❛ I am convinced that every thing is going wrong. ❜ ❨414❩ ❛ The scariest monsters are the ones that lurk within our souls. ❜ ❨415❩ ❛ And if I died, at least I will have died for you! ❜ ❨416❩ ❛ It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. ❜ ❨417❩ ❛ Hurt and humiliation — But this, I can not take. ❜ ❨418❩ ❛ The walls in there have ears. ❜ ❨419❩ ❛ This is for your ears only. ❜ ❨420❩ ❛ What is it? You have me scared. ❜ ❨421❩ ❛ Whoever isn’t for us, is against us. ❜ ❨422❩ ❛ You are just a body; to be dumped, disposed of like a carcass, left out for the birds to feed on. ❜ ❨423❩ ❛ The dead will have to forgive me. ❜ ❨424❩ ❛ From now on and no matter how your mind may I change, I will not accept your help. ❜ ❨425❩ ❛ If death comes, so be it. There will be glory in it. ❜ ❨426❩ ❛ Live, then; and live with your choice. ❜ ❨427❩ ❛ I am doing what has to be done. ❜ ❨428❩ ❛ Nothing is going to stop the ones that love you from keeping on loving you. ❜ ❨429❩ ❛ Worst is the man who has all the good advice, and then because his nerve fails, fails to act in accordance with it, as a leader should. ❜ ❨430❩ ❛ Only a loony would walk himself into this. ❜ ❨431❩ ❛ Why do you need such fences and defences? ❜ ❨432❩ ❛ Enough. Do not anger me. ❜ ❨433❩ ❛ The gods, you think, will side with the likes of him? ❜ ❨434❩ ❛ Watch it. You are over stepping. ❜ ❨435❩ ❛ I warn you. You should keep a civil tongue. ❜ ❨436❩ ❛ There is no such thing as an oath the can not be broken. ❜ ❨437❩ ❛ Every now and then, the things you’d hardly let yourself imagine, actually happen. ❜ ❨438❩ ❛ And you stand over this? This is the truth? ❜ ❨439❩ ❛ The bigger the resistance, the bigger the collapse. ❜ ❨440❩ ❛ Iron that’s forged the hardest, snaps the quickest. ❜ ❨441❩ ❛ Even the wildest horses come to heel when they are reined & bitted right. ❜ ❨442❩ ❛ That’s how guilt affects some people. They break and everything comes out. ❜ ❨443❩ ❛ Will it be enough for you? To see me executed? ❜ ❨444❩ ❛ So you know something no one else knows? ❜ ❨445❩ ❛ They know it too. They are just too afraid to say it. ❜ ❨446❩ ❛ If you die, how will I keep on living? ❜ ❨447❩ ❛ There was a star riding through clouds one night, & I said to the star, 'Consume me'. ❜ ❨448❩ ❛ How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake. ❜ ❨449❩ ❛ Alone, I often fall down into nothingness. I have to bang my head against some hard door to call myself back to the body. ❜ ❨450❩ ❛ I am made and remade continually. Different people draw different words from me. ❜ ❨451❩ ❛ For this moment, this one moment, we are together.  ❜ ❨452❩ ❛ Come, pain, feed on me. Bury your fangs in my flesh. Tear me asunder. ❜ ❨453❩ ❛ I am as neat as a cat in my habits. ❜ ❨454❩ ❛ Everything falls in a tremendous shower, dissolving me. ❜ ❨455❩ ❛ I am the foam that sweeps and fills the uttermost rims of the rocks with whiteness; I am also a girl, here in this room. ❜ ❨456❩ ❛ We are cut, we are fallen. We are become part of that unfeeling universe ❨457❩ that sleeps when we are at our quickest and burns red when we lie ❨458❩ asleep. ❜ ❨459❩ ❛ These moments of escape are not to be despised. They come too seldom. ❜ ❨460❩ ❛ Up here my eyes are green leaves, unseeing. ❜ ❨461❩ ❛ The moment is all; the moment is enough. ❜ ❨462❩ ❛ I do not want to be admired. I want to give, to be given. ❜ ❨463❩ ❛ I am not one and simple, but complex and many. ❜ ❨464❩ ❛ And if you are dead, I shall weep. ❜ ❨465❩ ❛ But beauty must be broken daily to remain beautiful. ❜ ❨466❩ ❛ But our hatred is almost indistinguishable from our love. ❜ ❨467❩ ❛ I desired always to stretch the night and fill it fuller and fuller with dreams. ❜ ❨468❩ ❛ Life is a dream surely. ❜ ❨469❩ ❛ I think sometimes I am not a woman, but the light that falls on this gate, on this ground. I am the seasons, I think sometimes, January, May, November; the mud, the mist, the dawn. ❜ ❨470❩ ❛ Oh, I am in love with life! ❜ ❨471❩ ❛ I have been knotted; I have been torn apart. ❜ ❨472❩ ❛ There was no freedom in life, and certainly there was none in death. ❜ ❨473❩ ❛ I do not know. I do not know myself sometimes, or how to measure and name and count out the grains that make me what I am. ❜ ❨474❩ ❛ I ride rough waters, and shall sink with no one to save me. ❜ ❨475❩ ❛ I am above the earth now. I am no longer upright, to be knocked against and damaged. ❜ ❨476❩ ❛ I see it all. I feel it all. ❜ ❨477❩ ❛ Death is woven in with the violets. Death and again death. ❜ ❨478❩ ❛ We have been walking for hours it seems. But where? I cannot remember. ❜ ❨479❩ ❛ If we were all on trial for our thoughts, we would all be hanged. ❜ ❨480❩ ❛ When you are in the middle of a story it isn't a story at all, but only a confusion; a dark roaring, a blindness, a wreckage of shattered glass. ❜ ❨481❩ ❛ Murderess is a strong word to have attached to you. It has a smell to it, that word; - musky and oppressive, like dead flowers in a vase.  ❜ ❨482❩ ❛ Sometimes at night I whisper it over to myself: Murderess, murderess. It rustles, like a taffeta skirt across the floor. ❜ ❨483❩ ❛ If the world treats you well, you come to believe you are deserving of it. ❜ ❨484❩ ❛ If I am good enough and quiet enough, perhaps after all they will let me go. ❜ ❨485❩ ❛ It’s not easy being quiet and good, it’s like hanging on to the edge of a bridge when you’ve already fallen over; you don’t seem to be moving, just dangling there, and yet it is taking all your strength. ❜ ❨486❩ ❛ There is no fool like an educated fool. ❜ ❨487❩ ❛ There are many dangerous things that may take place in a bed. ❜ ❨488❩ ❛ I am afraid of falling into hopeless despair, over my wasted life, and I am still not sure how it happened. ❜ ❨489❩ ❛ Underneath it all is another feeling, a feeling of being wide-eyed awake and watchful. ❜ ❨490❩ ❛ And underneath all that is another feeling still, a feeling like being torn open; not like a body of flesh, it is not painful as such, but like a peach; and not even torn open, but ripe and splitting open of its own accord.  ❜ ❨491❩ ❛ The small details of life often hide a great significance. ❜ ❨492❩ ❛ Guilt comes to you not from the things you've done, but from the things that others have done to you. ❜ ❨493❩ ❛ I wonder, how can I be all of these different things at once? ❜ ❨494❩ ❛ It is always a mistake to curse back openly at those who are stronger than you unless there is a fence between. ❜ ❨495❩ ❛ Some call this "Eve's curse," but I think that is stupid because the real curse of Eve was having to put up with the nonsense of Adam. ❜ ❨496❩ ❛ I don't know why they are all so eager to be remembered. What good will it do them? There are some things that should be forgotten by everyone, and never spoken of again. ❜ ❨497❩ ❛ I would never blame a human creature for feeling lonely. ❜ ❨498❩ ❛ If they want a monster so badly they ought to be provided by one. ❜ ❨499❩ ❛ It’s as if I never existed, because no trace of me remains, I have left no marks. And that way I cannot be followed. It is almost the same as being innocent. ❜ ❨500❩ ❛ Today you wear your habitual expression of strained anxiety; you smell of violets. ❜ ❨501❩ ❛ Of course you have always been an idealist, and filled with your optimistic dreams; but reality must at some time obtrude. ❜ ❨502❩ ❛ I wonder what would become of me, and comfort myself that in a hundred years I will be dead and at peace. ❜ ❨503❩ ❛ For it is not always the one that strikes the blow that is the actual murderer. ❜ ❨504❩ ❛ There is a “do this” or “do that” with God, but not any “because”. ❜ ❨505❩ ❛ If you have a need and they find it out, they will use it against you. The best way is to stop from wanting anything. ❜ ❨506❩ ❛ They say, why don’t you ever smile or laugh, we never see you smiling, and I say I suppose I have gotten out of the way of it, my face won’t bend in that direction any more. ❜ ❨507❩ ❛ I was shut up inside that doll of myself, and my true voice could not get out. ❜ ❨508❩ ❛ I see what you’re after. You are a collector. You think all you have to do is give me an apple, and then you can collect me. ❜ ❨509❩ ❛ If you want to be an asshole, it's a free country. Millions before you have made the same life choice. ❜ ❨510❩ ❛ Then there's the future. Sheer vertigo. ❜ ❨511❩ ❛ Nature is to zoos as God is to churches. ❜ ❨512❩ ❛ After everything that's happened, how can the world still be so beautiful? ❜ ❨513❩ ❛ There's something to be said for hunger: at least it lets you know you're still alive. ❜ ❨514❩ ❛ These things sneak up on me for no reason, these flashes of irrational happiness. It's probably a vitamin deficiency. ❜ ❨515❩ ❛ Toast cannot be explained by any rational means. Toast is me. I am toast. ❜ ❨516❩ ❛ You can’t buy it, but it has a price. Everything has a price. ❜ ❨517❩ ❛ As a species were doomed by hope, then? You could call it hope. That, or desperation. ❜ ❨518❩ ❛ I am not my childhood. ❜ ❨519❩ ❛ Human beings hope they can stick their souls into someone else and live on forever. ❜ ❨520❩ ❛ “I'll make you mine”, lovers said in old books. They never said, “I'll make you me.” ❜ ❨521❩ ❛ How much is too much, how far is too far? ❜ ❨522❩ ❛ Expectation isn't the same as desire. ❜ ❨523❩ ❛ Why not cut to the chase? ❜ ❨524❩ ❛ Maybe there aren't any solutions. Human society, corpses and rubble. ❜ ❨525❩ ❛ I thought you didn’t believe in God. ❜ ❨526❩ ❛ I need at least the illusion of being understood. ❜ ❨527❩ ❛ What change would have altered the course of events? In the big picture, nothing. In the small picture, so much. ❜ ❨528❩ ❛ You are only looking at the dirt under your feet. It's not good for you. ❜ ❨529❩ ❛ I like to keep only the bright side of myself turned towards you.  ❜ ❨530❩ ❛ Grief in the face of inevitable death. The wish to stop time. The human condition. ❜ ❨531❩ ❛ So many crucial events take place behind people’s backs, when they aren’t in a position to watch: birth and death, for instance. ❜ ❨532❩ ❛ Would you kill someone you loved to spare them pain? ❜ ❨533❩ ❛ When the water’s moving faster than the boat, you can’t control a thing. ❜ ❨534❩ ❛ Don't be so fucking sentimental. ❜ ❨535❩ ❛ Wrong, as usual. ❜ ❨536❩ ❛ Why do you want to talk about ugly things? ❜ ❨537❩ ❛ I understand why serial killers send helpful clues to the police. ❜ ❨538❩ ❛ Take your time, leave mine alone. ❜ ❨539❩ ❛ You will hear thunder and remember me. ❜ ❨540❩ ❛ If you were music, I would listen to you ceaselessly. ❜ ❨541❩ ❛ I seem to myself an accidental guest in this dreadful body. ❜ ❨542❩ ❛ Call me a sinner, mock me maliciously. ❜ ❨543❩ ❛ I, from the very beginning, seemed to myself like someone's dream or delirium. Or a reflection in someone else's mirror. Without flesh, without meaning, without a name. ❜ ❨544❩ ❛ I knew the list of crimes that I was destined to commit. ❜ ❨545❩ ❛ The future ripens in the past, so the past rots in the future. ❜ ❨546❩ ❛ You are untranslatable into any one tongue. ❜ ❨547❩ ❛ I was hoping my silence would fit yours. ❜ ❨548❩ ❛ See, we were never about butterflies. All about us is unearthly and radiant. ❜ ❨549❩ ❛ You do not know just what you've been forgiven. ❜ ❨550❩ ❛ I need to slaughter my memory.  ❜ ❨551❩ ❛ Forgive me that I appeared to you in waking dreams. ❜ ❨552❩ ❛ I will condemn, I will forget, I will give comfort to the enemy. ❜ ❨553❩ ❛ I know beginnings, I know endings too, and life-in-death. ❜ ❨554❩ ❛ Wild honey smells of freedom. But gold smells of nothing. ❜ ❨555❩ ❛ You are three times more beautiful than angels. ❜ ❨556❩ ❛ I will kill you without spilling your blood on the ground, not touching you with my hand, not giving you one glance. ❜ ❨557❩ ❛ You invented me. There is no such earthly being. ❜ ❨558❩ ❛ You’re late. Way too late. I’m glad to see you, nonetheless. ❜ ❨559❩ ❛ Forgive me that I felt forsaken. Forgive me that I kept mistaking too many others for you. ❜ ❨560❩ ❛ Real tenderness can’t be confused, it’s quiet and can’t be heard. ❜ ❨561❩ ❛ What else lived in that house besides us? ❜ ❨562❩ ❛ How unhappy we are together! ❜ ❨563❩ ❛ I defend not my voice, but my silence. ❜ ❨564❩ ❛ Without love, I'm more at ease, I'm sure. ❜ ❨565❩ ❛ I've got no more tears or explanations. ❜ ❨566❩ ❛ I’m not complaining. Happiness is not for me. ❜ ❨567❩ ❛ Are you not the only tie between good and evil, earthly pits and paradise? ❜ ❨568❩ ❛ In the morning we shall find out who has died in the night. ❜ ❨569❩ ❛ I was not a lovable child, and I've grown into a deeply unlovable adult. ❜ ❨570❩ ❛ The truly frightening flaw in humanity is our capacity for cruelty - we all have it. ❜ ❨571❩ ❛ I have a meanness inside me, real as an organ. Slit me at my belly and it might slide out, meaty and dark. ❜ ❨572❩ ❛ I am not angry or sad or happy to see you. I could not give a shit. You don't even ripple. ❜ ❨573❩ ❛ I was raised feral, and I mostly stayed that way. ❜ ❨574❩ ❛ I can feel a better version of me somewhere in there - hidden behind a liver or attached to a bit of spleen. But the meanness usually wins out. ❜ ❨575❩ ❛ I felt something loosen in me, that shouldn't have loosened. A stitch come undone. ❜ ❨576❩ ❛ Everyone who keeps a secret, itches to tell it. ❜ ❨577❩ ❛ Coffee goes great with sudden death. ❜ ❨578❩ ❛ I should just listen to my gut and then do the opposite. ❜ ❨579❩ ❛ “Smile, it can't be that bad!” Yeah, actually, it can, jackwad. ❜ ❨580❩ ❛ Everything bad in the world already did happen. ❜ ❨581❩ ❛ You’re going to find peace? Like knowing is somehow going to fix you? ❜ ❨582❩ ❛ Instead of asking yourself what happened, just accept that it happened. ❜ ❨583❩ ❛ Homesick for a place I've never been. ❜ ❨584❩ ❛ Worries find you easily enough without inviting them. ❜ ❨585❩ ❛ It is always consoling to think of suicide. It's what gets one through many a bad night. ❜ ❨586❩ ❛ Do you understand this is serious? ❜ ❨587❩ ❛ Sometimes it feels good to fuck with something. Instead of always being fucked with. ❜ ❨588❩ ❛ How could you kill something you cared enough to name? ❜ ❨589❩ ❛ Draw a picture of my soul, and it’d be a scribble with fangs. ❜ ❨590❩ ❛ We have the same chemicals in our blood: shame, anger, greed. Unjustified nostalgia. ❜ ❨591❩ ❛ I appreciate a straightforward apology the way a tone-deaf person enjoys a fine piece of music. ❜ ❨592❩ ❛ The phrase fuck you may not rest on the tip of my tongue, but it’s near. Midtongue. ❜ ❨593❩ ❛ Nothing to it but to do it. ❜ ❨594❩ ❛ There are a lot of people who deserve a lesson, deserve to really understand, that nothing comes easy, that most things are going to go sour. ❜ ❨595❩ ❛ If ifs and buts were candies and nuts we’d all have a very Merry Christmas. ❜ ❨596❩ ❛ Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. ❜ ❨597❩ ❛ What does it do to a girl who knows her mother is a murderer? ❜ ❨598❩ ❛ That mean old bitch across the street bit it. ❜ ❨599❩ ❛ Survival is a talent. ❜ ❨600❩ ❛ Crazy isn't being broken or swallowing a dark secret. It’s you or me amplified. If you ever told a lie and enjoyed it. If you ever wished you could be a child forever. ❜ ❨601❩ ❛ Who has the courage to burn themselves? ❜ ❨602❩ ❛ Is insanity just a matter of dropping the act? ❜ ❨603❩ ❛ Have you ever confused a dream with life? Or stolen something when you have the cash? Have you ever been blue? Or thought your train moving while sitting still? ❜ ❨604❩ ❛ You need to be well fed, clothed, and housed to have time for this much self-pity. ❜ ❨605❩ ❛ When I am supposed to be awake, I am asleep; when I am supposed to speak, I am silent. When a pleasure offers itself to me, I avoid it. ❜ ❨606❩ ❛ There is thought, and then there is thinking about thoughts, and they don't feel the same. ❜ ❨607❩ ❛ In a strange way we are free. We've reached the end of the line. We have nothing more to lose. ❜ ❨608❩ ❛ The world won’t stop because we aren’t in it anymore. ❜ ❨609❩ ❛ I can't answer the real question. All I can tell you is, it's easy. ❜ ❨610❩ ❛ I am lighter, airier than I’ve been in years. ❜ ❨611❩ ❛ I am not dead, yet something in me definitely is. ❜ ❨612❩ ❛ You meant that as an insult but I am taking it as a compliment. ❜ ❨613❩ ❛ What life can recover from that? ❜ ❨614❩ ❛ It's a fairly accurate portrait of me. It's accurate but it isn't profound. ❜ ❨615❩ ❛ Pull yourself together! There's nothing wrong with you. ❜ ❨616❩ ❛ It's quiet. It's like― I don't know. It's like falling off a cliff. ❜ ❨617❩ ❛ Once you start parsing a face, it's a peculiar item: squishy, pointy, with lots of air vents and wet spots. ❜ ❨618❩ ❛ I lost him. I did it on purpose. ❜ ❨619❩ ❛ It’s a mean world. There’s nobody to take care of you out there. ❜ ❨620❩ ❛ Reality is getting too dense. ❜ ❨621❩ ❛ I'm ambivalent. In fact that's my new favourite word. ❜ ❨622❩ ❛ I can't come up with reassuring answers to the terrible questions you raise. ❜ ❨623❩ ❛ A spring day, the sort that gives people hope: all soft winds and delicate smells of warm earth. Suicide weather. ❜ ❨624❩ ❛ Twenty-five chocolate chip cookies would be the perfect dinner. ❜ ❨625❩ ❛ A thought is a hard thing to control. ❜ ❨626❩ ❛ Life demands skills I don’t have. ❜ ❨627❩ ❛ Light like this does not exist, but we wish it did. We wish the sun could make us young and beautiful. Most of all, we wish that everyone we knew could be brightened simply by our looking at them. ❜ ❨628❩ ❛ It never stops, even at night, it’s my lullaby. ❜ ❨629❩ ❛ Love blurs your vision; but after it recedes, you can see more clearly than ever. ❜ ❨630❩ ❛ This is the kind of thing you see if you sit in the darkness with open eyes. ❜ ❨631❩ ❛ I have done something wrong, something so huge I can't even see it, something that's drowning me. ❜ ❨632❩ ❛ Whatever is happening to me is my own fault. ❜ ❨633❩ ❛ Hatred is easier. Hatred is clear, metallic, one-handed, unwavering; unlike love. ❜ ❨634❩ ❛ Potential has a shelf life. ❜ ❨635❩ ❛ Don’t move. Stay like that, let me have that. ❜ ❨636❩ ❛ I have come to the edge, of the land. I could get pushed over. ❜ ❨637❩ ❛ Never pray for justice, because you might get some. ❜ ❨638❩ ❛ It disturbs me to learn I have hurt someone unintentionally. I want all my hurts to be intentional. ❜ ❨639❩ ❛ We have been shark to one another, but also lifeboat. That counts for something. ❜ ❨640❩ ❛ This is what I miss, not something that’s gone, but something that will never happen. ❜ ❨641❩ ❛ I am not good. I know too much to be good. I know myself. I know myself to be vengeful, greedy, secretive and sly. ❜ ❨642❩ ❛ You are amazing. Amazing and agonising and almost lethal. ❜ ❨643❩ ❛ In my dreams of this city I am always lost. ❜ ❨644❩ ❛ I don't know where these feelings have come from, I don’t know what I've done. ❜ ❨645❩ ❛ I am not the centre of your story, you are.  ❜ ❨646❩ ❛ I’m mad because you’re an asshole. ❜ ❨647❩ ❛ It's enormously pleasing to me, walking away. It's like being able to make people appear and vanish, at will. ❜ ❨648❩ ❛ There is never only one of anyone. ❜ ❨649❩ ❛ I can't do this without feeling I'm acting. ❜ ❨650❩ ❛ I am prepared for almost anything; except absence, except silence. ❜ ❨651❩ ❛ I’m losing my appetite for strangers. ❜ ❨652❩ ❛ You wear your cravings on the outside, like the suckers on a squid. You want it all. ❜ ❨653❩ ❛ Knowing too much about other people weakens you. You are forced to understand their reasons for doing things. ❜ ❨654❩ ❛ I have lost confidence: perhaps all I will ever be is what I am now. ❜ ❨655❩ ❛ Echoes of light, shining out of the midst of nothing. It's old light, and there's not much of it. But it's enough to see by. ❜ ❨656❩ ❛ Whoever cares the most will lose. ❜ ❨657❩ ❛ Young women need unfairness, it’s one of their few defences.  ❜ ❨658❩ ❛ Time has gone on without you. ❜ ❨659❩ ❛ Don't let the bastards grind you down. ❜ ❨660❩ ❛ Who can remember pain, once it’s over? Pain marks you, but too deep to see. Out of sight, out of mind. ❜ ❨661❩ ❛ Better never means better for everyone. It always means worse, for some. ❜ ❨662❩ ❛ There is more than one kind of freedom. Freedom to and freedom from. ❜ ❨663❩ ❛ Remember that forgiveness too is a power. ❜ ❨664❩ ❛ I am not your justification for existence. ❜ ❨665❩ ❛ I want to be valued, in ways that I am not; I want to be more than valuable. ❜ ❨666❩ ❛ If it's a story I'm telling, then I have control over the ending. ❜ ❨667❩ ❛ All you have to do is keep your mouth shut and look stupid. It shouldn't be that hard. ❜ ❨668❩ ❛ Truly amazing, what people can get used to, as long as there are a few compensations. ❜ ❨669❩ ❛ I want everything back, the way it was. ❜ ❨670❩ ❛ You can't help what you feel, but you can help how you behave. ❜ ❨671❩ ❛ Nothing changes instantaneously: in a gradually heating bathtub you'd be boiled to death before you knew it. ❜ ❨672❩ ❛ To want is to have a weakness. ❜ ❨673❩ ❛ There isn't even an enemy you could put your finger on. ❜ ❨674❩ ❛ The past is a great darkness, filled with echoes. ❜ ❨675❩ ❛ Ordinary is what you are used to. This may not seem ordinary to you now, but after a time it will. It will become ordinary. ❜ ❨676❩ ❛ I wish this story were different. I wish it were more civilised. I wish it showed me in a better light. ❜ ❨677❩ ❛ The night is mine, my own time, to do with it as I will, as long as I am quiet. As long as I don't move. As long as I lie still. ❜ ❨678❩ ❛ By telling you anything at all I'm at least believing in you. ❜ ❨679❩ ❛ Whatever is silenced will clamour to be heard. ❜ ❨680❩ ❛ Don't worry about forgiving me right now. There are more important things. ❜ ❨681❩ ❛ Keep the others safe. Don't let them suffer too much. If they have to die, let it be fast. ❜ ❨682❩ ❛ The body is so easily damaged, so easily disposed of, water and chemicals is all it is, hardly more to it than a jellyfish, drying on sand. ❜ ❨683❩ ❛ The world is full of weapons if you're looking for them. ❜ ❨684❩ ❛ Nobody's heart is perfect. ❜ ❨685❩ ❛ One false move and I'm dead. ❜ ❨686❩ ❛ Watch out. I've got my eye on you. ❜ ❨687❩ ❛ Fear is a powerful stimulant. ❜ ❨688❩ ❛ I couldn't afford to lose you. ❜ ❨689❩ ❛ Name one hero who was happy. ---- You can’t. ❜ ❨690❩ ❛ I feel like I could eat the world raw. ❜ ❨691❩ ❛ We are like gods at the dawning of the world. ❜ ❨692❩ ❛ I could recognise him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world. ❜ ❨693❩ ❛ There are no bargains between lion and men. I will kill you and eat you raw. ❜ ❨694❩ ❛ You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature. ❜ ❨695❩ ❛ He is a weapon, a killer. Do not forget it. ❜ ❨696❩ ❛ Some men gain glory after they die, others fade. ❜ ❨697❩ ❛ I am made of memories. ❜ ❨698❩ ❛ Will you come with me? ❜ ❨699❩ ❛ I wish I had let you all die. ❜ ❨700❩ ❛ It is right to seek peace for the dead. You and I both know there is no peace for those who live after. ❜ ❨701❩ ❛ Bury us. Let us be free. ❜ ❨702❩ ❛ Go. He waits for you. ❜ ❨703❩ ❛ Nothing could eclipse the stain of this dirty, mortal mediocrity. ❜ ❨704❩ ❛ I know I have told you of this. ❜ ❨705❩ ❛ I don't know how you remember them all. I swear they look the same to me. ❜ ❨706❩ ❛ Perhaps you should get some new stories, so I don’t fucking kill myself of boredom. ❜ ❨707❩ ❛ I yearn for the darkness and silence of the underworld, where I can rest. ❜ ❨708❩ ❛ There is no honour in betraying your friends. ❜ ❨709❩ ❛ There is no answer. Whichever you choose, you are wrong. ❜ ❨710❩ ❛ Divine blood flows differently. ❜ ❨711❩ ❛ How is there glory in taking life? We die so easily. ❜ ❨712❩ ❛ This is what I will miss, I think. I will kill myself rather than miss it. ❜ ❨713❩ ❛ How long do we have? ❜ ❨714❩ ❛ Do you think we fight hopeless wars? ❜ ❨715❩ ❛ There is no law that gods must be fair. ❜ ❨716❩ ❛ I do not fear ridicule. I never have. ❜ ❨717❩ ❛ You were always better with words than I. ❜ ❨718❩ ❛ Who can be ashamed to lose to such beauty? ❜ ❨719❩ ❛ When you see beauty in desolation it changes something inside you. ❜ ❨720❩ ❛ That's how the madness of the world tries to colonise you: from the outside in, forcing you to live in its reality. ❜ ❨721❩ ❛ The shadows of the abyss are like the petals of a monstrous flower that shall blossom within the skull and expand the mind beyond what any man can bear. ❜ ❨722❩ ❛ Silence creates violence. ❜ ❨723❩ ❛ Some questions will ruin you if you are denied the answer long enough. ❜ ❨724❩ ❛ There are certain kinds of connections that are so deep that when broken you feel the snap of it inside you. ❜ ❨725❩ ❛ Nothing that ever lived and breathed was truly objective—even in a vacuum, even if all that possessed the brain was a self-immolating desire for the truth. ❜ ❨726❩ ❛ We all live in a kind of continuous dream. ❜ ❨727❩ ❛ You can either waste time worrying about a death that might not come or concentrate on what’s left to you. ❜ ❨728❩ ❛ What can you do when your five senses are not enough? ❜ ❨729❩ ❛ We will neither be what we had been nor what we would become once we reach our destination. ❜ ❨730❩ ❛ Perhaps my only real expertise, my only talent, is to endure beyond the endurable. ❜ ❨731❩ ❛ When you are too close to the centre of a mystery there is no way to pull back. ❜ ❨732❩ ❛ I long ago stopped believing in promises. Biological imperatives, yes. Environmental factors, yes. Promises, no. ❜ ❨733❩ ❛ I look not for shooting stars but for fixed ones, and I try to imagine what kind of life lives in those celestial tidal pools so far from us. ❜ ❨734❩ ❛ I hesitated for just a moment. Some part of me wanted to see the creature, I think. If so, it was a very small part. I ran. ❜ ❨735❩ ❛ I don’t require any of this to have a deeper meaning. ❜ ❨736❩ ❛ All of this speculation is incomplete, inexact, inaccurate, useless. ❜ ❨737❩ ❛ We don’t have real answers, because we still don’t know what questions to ask. Our instruments are useless, our methodology broken, our motivations selfish. ❜ ❨738❩ ❛ This part I will do alone. Don’t follow. ❜ ❨739❩ ❛ People my entire life have told me I am too much in control, but that has never been the case. I have never truly been in control. ❜ ❨740❩ ❛ Has there always been someone like me to bury the bodies, to have regrets, to carry on after everyone else was dead? ❜ ❨741❩ ❛ I loved them, but I didn’t need them, and I thought that was the way it was supposed to be. ❜ ❨742❩ ❛ Places can impress themselves upon me, and I can become part of them with ease. ❜ ❨743❩ ❛ There is no one with me. I am all by myself. ❜ ❨744❩ ❛ Pretending often leads to becoming a reasonable facsimile of what you mimic. ❜ ❨745❩ ❛ I think you're confusing suicide with self-destruction, and they're very different. Almost none of us commit suicide, whereas almost all of us self-destruct. ❜ ❨746❩ ❛ What did you eat? You had rations for only two weeks. You were there for nearly four months. ❜ ❨747❩ ❛ Something here is making giant waves in the gene pool. ❜ ❨748❩ ❛ I need to know what’s inside. ❜ ❨749❩ ❛ These aren't decisions. They're impulses ❜ ❨750❩ ❛ What do you think I do when you’re away? Do you think I’m out in the garden pinning, looking up at the sky? ❜ ❨751❩ ❛ If I know what’s happened I can save their life. ❜ ❨752❩ ❛ They either went crazy or something in here killed them. ❜ ❨753❩ ❛ Something is coming through the fence! ❜ ❨754❩ ❛ Nothing is written in the stars. Not these stars, nor any others. No one controls your destiny. ❜ ❨755❩ ❛ People who claim that they're evil are usually no worse than the rest of us. ❜ ❨756❩ ❛ Happy endings are still endings. ❜ ❨757❩ ❛ We believe in all sorts of things that aren't true; -- we call it history. ❜ ❨758❩ ❛ Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil? ❜ ❨759❩ ❛ In the lives of children, pumpkins turn into coaches, mice and rats turn into men. When we grow up, we realise it is far more common for men to turn into rats. ❜ ❨760❩ ❛ Girls need cold anger. They need the cold simmer, the ceaseless grudge, the talent to avoid forgiveness, the side stepping of compromise.  ❜ ❨761❩ ❛ Love makes hunters of us all. ❜ ❨762❩ ❛ There is much to hate in this world and way too much to love. ❜ ❨763❩ ❛ You confuse not speaking with not listening. ❜ ❨764❩ ❛ As long as people are going to call you a lunatic anyway, why not get the benefit of it? It liberates you from convention. ❜ ❨765❩ ❛ The eye is always caught by light, but shadows have more to say. ❜ ❨766❩ ❛ Not everyone is born a witch or a saint. Not everyone is born talented, or crooked, or blessed; some are born definite in no particular at all. ❜ ❨767❩ ❛ We are a fountain of shimmering contradictions, most of us. ❜ ❨768❩ ❛ The wickedness of men is that their power breeds stupidity and blindness. ❜ ❨769❩ ❛ I know you don't want to hear this but someone has to say it! You are out of control! ❜ ❨770❩ ❛ Even at the very worst - there is always choice. ❜ ❨771❩ ❛ Maybe the definition of home is the place where you are never forgiven. So you may always belong there, bound by guilt. And maybe the cost of belonging is worth it. ❜ ❨772❩ ❛ Cross a man and you struggle, one of you wins, you adjust and go on -- or you lie there dead. Cross a woman and the entire universe is changed. ❜ ❨773❩ ❛ That was such a wonderful time, even in its strangeness and sadness. Life isn't the same now. It's wonderful, but it isn't the same. ❜ ❨774❩ ❛ I don't care for approval, and I don't mind doing without. ❜ ❨775❩ ❛ It's where I live. A permanent state of bereavement. This is nothing new. ❜ ❨776❩ ❛ Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Always the godfather, never the god. ❜ ❨777❩ ❛ The world unwraps itself to you, again and again as soon as you are ready to see it anew. ❜ ❨778❩ ❛ Evil is an act, not an appetite. Everyone has the appetite. If you give in to it, that act is evil. The appetite is normal. ❜ ❨779❩ ❛ How many haven't wanted to slash the throat of some boor across the dining room table?  ❜ ❨780❩ ❛ Even God used silence as a strategy. ❜ ❨781❩ ❛ I learned failure early and mastered it. ❜ ❨782❩ ❛ It isn't whether you do it well or ill, it's that you do it all. ❜ ❨783❩ ❛ This is why you shouldn't fall in love, it blinds you. Love is a very wicked distraction. ❜ ❨784❩ ❛ Wisdom is not the understanding of mystery. Wisdom is accepting that mystery is beyond understanding. That's what makes it mystery. ❜ ❨785❩ ❛ Wrong takes an awful long time to be proven, in my experience. ❜ ❨786❩ ❛ Such brightness, as you know, decays brilliantly. ❜ ❨787❩ ❛ I take responsibility only for the future, not the past. The past can't hurt you the way the future can. ❜ ❨788❩ ❛ Tell me to mind my own business, tell me to go fuck myself, to piss off, go on, say it, but don’t tell me nothing’s wrong. ❜ ❨789❩ ❛ The truth isn't a thing of fact or reason. It is simply what everyone agrees on. ❜ ❨790❩ ❛ One can't make peace with another by force. ❜ ❨791❩ ❛ I am a forgettable leaf on a tree. ❜ ❨792❩ ❛ That's all I want; --- to do no harm. ❜ ❨793❩ ❛ I only believe in the opposite of luck, whatever that is. ❜ ❨794❩ ❛ Human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves. ❜ ❨795❩ ❛ You’re too young to know that the heart's memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good, and thanks to that we manage to endure the burden of the past. ❜ ❨796❩ ❛ Love, no matter what else it might be, is a natural talent. You are either born knowing how, or you never know. ❜ ❨797❩ ❛ Whatever you do, you will be sorry all the rest of your life. ❜ ❨798❩ ❛ There is no God worth worrying about. ❜ ❨799❩ ❛ The only regret I will have in dying is if it is not for love. ❜ ❨800❩ ❛ Wisdom comes to us when it can no longer do any good. ❜ ❨801❩ ❛ Think of love as a state of grace, not the means to anything, but the very end in itself. ❜ ❨802❩ ❛ Only God knows how much I love you. ❜ ❨803❩ ❛ There is no greater glory than to die for love. ❜ ❨804❩ ❛ Nothing resembles a person as much as the way he dies. ❜ ❨805❩ ❛ Take advantage of it now, while you are young, and suffer all you can, because these things don't last your whole life. ❜ ❨806❩ ❛ Today, when I saw you, I realised that what is between us is nothing more than an illusion. ❜ ❨807❩ ❛ I have waited for this opportunity for more than half a century. ❜ ❨808❩ ❛ I want to be myself again, to recover all that I was obliged to give up. ❜ ❨809❩ ❛ The only thing worse than bad health is a bad name. ❜ ❨810❩ ❛ This soup tastes like windows. ❜ ❨811❩ ❛ Why do you insist on talking about what does not exist? ❜ ❨812❩ ❛ One has to live a long time to know a man's true nature. ❜ ❨813❩ ❛ No, not rich, I am a poor man with money, which is not the same thing. ❜ ❨814❩ ❛ My heart has more rooms than a whorehouse. ❜ ❨815❩ ❛ That may be the reason he does so many things, so that he will not have to think. ❜ ❨816❩ ❛ Love if it exists, is something separate: another life. ❜ ❨817❩ ❛ Things did not go as badly for me as they would for you. ❜ ❨818❩ ❛ There are things you do only for love. ❜ ❨819❩ ❛ I’ll have plenty of time to rest when I die. ❜ ❨820❩ ❛ There is no innocence more dangerous than the innocence of age. ❜ ❨821❩ ❛ You treat me as if I were just anybody. ❜ ❨822❩ ❛ The symptoms of love are the same as those of cholera. ❜ ❨823❩ ❛ There is no law, human or divine, that you have not ignored. ❜ ❨824❩ ❛ Why is it that I feel I've known you so many years? ❜ ❨825❩ ❛ Stuff your eyes with wonder, live as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories. ❜ ❨826❩ ❛ It doesn't matter what you do, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away. ❜ ❨827❩ ❛ We need to be really bothered once in a while. How long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, about something real? ❜ ❨828❩ ❛ There must be something, something we can’t imagine, to make a woman stay in a burning house; there must be something there. You don’t stay for nothing. ❜ ❨829❩ ❛ If you hide your ignorance, no one will hit you and you'll never learn. ❜ ❨830❩ ❛ If you drown, at least die knowing you were heading for shore. ❜ ❨831❩ ❛ You can't make people listen. They have to come round in their own time, wondering what happened and why the world blew up around them. ❜ ❨832❩ ❛ It was a pleasure to burn. ❜ ❨833❩ ❛ I'm antisocial, they say. I don't mix. It's so strange. I'm very social indeed. It all depends on what you mean by social, doesn't it? ❜ ❨834❩ ❛ Being with people is nice. But I don't think it's social to get a bunch of people together and then not let them talk, do you? ❜ ❨835❩ ❛ Do you notice how people hurt each other nowadays? ❜ ❨836❩ ❛ Who knows who might be the target of the well-read man? ❜ ❨837❩ ❛ I don't talk things. I talk the meaning of things. ❜ ❨838❩ ❛ I'll hold on to the world tight some day. I've got one finger on it now; that's a beginning. ❜ ❨839❩ ❛ I just want someone to hear what I have to say. And maybe if I talk long enough it'll make sense. ❜ ❨840❩ ❛ That's the good part of dying; when you've nothing to lose, you run any risk you want. ❜ ❨841❩ ❛ Someday we'll build the biggest goddamn steamshovel in history and dig the biggest grave of all time and shove war in it and cover it up. ❜ ❨842❩ ❛ You're not like the others. I've seen a few; I know. When I talk, you look at me. ❜ ❨843❩ ❛ You're afraid of making mistakes. Don't be. Mistakes can be profited by. ❜ ❨844❩ ❛ When they give you lined paper, write the other way. ❜ ❨845❩ ❛ The sun burnt every day. It burnt time. ❜ ❨846❩ ❛ We have everything we need to be happy but we aren't happy. Something is missing. ❜ ❨847❩ ❛ I feel I'm doing what I should've done a lifetime ago. ❜ ❨848❩ ❛ I'm not afraid. Maybe it's because I'm doing the right thing at last. Maybe it's because I've done a rash thing and don't want to look the coward to you. ❜ ❨849❩ ❛ Good God, who were those men? I never saw them before in my life! ❜ ❨850❩ ❛ How do you get so empty? Who takes it out of you? ❜ ❨851❩ ❛ It must be right. It seems so right. ❜ ❨852❩ ❛ To everything there is a season. Yes. A time to break down, and a time to build up. A time to keep silence and a time to speak. ❜ ❨853❩ ❛ It's my game. And no one can help me. Not even you. ❜ ❨854❩ ❛ What makes earth feel like hell is our expectation that it should feel like heaven. Earth is earth. Dead is dead. You’ll find out for yourself soon enough. ❜ ❨855❩ ❛ Death is a long process. Your body is just the first part of you that croaks. Beyond that, your dreams have to die. Then your expectations. Your anger and memories must die. Your ego. Your pride and shame and ambition and hope. ❜ ❨856❩ ❛ Help me give up my addiction to hope. ❜ ❨857❩ ❛ Life is short, death is forever. ❜ ❨858❩ ❛ Hope is something really tough and tenacious you have to give up. It’s an addiction to break. ❜ ❨859❩ ❛ If the living are haunted by the dead, then the dead are haunted by their own mistakes. ❜ ❨860❩ ❛ We all wish to be pursued. We all long to be desired. ❜ ❨861❩ ❛ All the demons of hell formerly reigned as gods in previous cultures. No it's not fair, but one man's god is another man's devil. ❜ ❨862❩ ❛ I can become someone else, not out of pressure and desperation, but merely because a new life sounds fun or interesting or joyful. ❜ ❨863❩ ❛ It's my petty fear of personal rejection that allows so many true evils to exist. My cowardice enables atrocities. ❜ ❨864❩ ❛ You fucked up. Game over. So just relax. ❜ ❨865❩ ❛ The greatest weapon any warrior can carry into battle is absolute certainty of her eternal soul. ❜ ❨866❩ ❛ If killing you will end my existence as well, be it. Small loss. Such a life, as your puppet, is not worth living. ❜ ❨867❩ ❛ I might be a touch of a sadist and a little bit jejune but at least I'm not a victim, not any longer. I hope. ❜ ❨868❩ ❛ Dying seems like the greatest weakness, and in a world where people say you're lazy for not shaving your legs, then being dead seems like the ultimate character flaw. ❜ ❨869❩ ❛ Any concept of right versus wrong, is merely a cultural construct relative to one specific time and place. ❜ ❨870❩ ❛ To prove that I exist I must kill you. ❜ ❨871❩ ❛ I'd say that my life has been a way-too-long case history of chasing rainbows. ❜ ❨872❩ ❛ The world is a battle for attention, a war to be heard. ❜ ❨873❩ ❛ Every garden looks beautiful in May. ❜ ❨874❩ ❛ When we neglect to fear such brittle monstrosity, we render it powerless. ❜ ❨875❩ ❛ My taste for power continues to grow, as does my ability to accrue it. ❜ ❨876❩ ❛ Such language! Why don't you just take a dump in my ears? ❜ ❨877❩ ❛ You’d be foolish to count on people displaying high standards of honesty. ❜ ❨878❩ ❛ Depending on her mood, she can be more frightening than any demon or devil you might ever run across. ❜ ❨879❩ ❛ Cross your fingers! Maybe death won't happen to you. ❜ ❨880❩ ❛ Do not die while wearing cheap shoes. ❜ ❨881❩ ❛ Old habits die hard. ❜ ❨882❩ ❛ It's our attachments to a fixed identity that torture us. ❜ ❨883❩ ❛ What do I think I am? In a thousand words; I don't have a clue. ❨884❩ ❛ If I am to be saved it is because your love redeems me. ❜ ❨885❩ ❛ All I wanted was to be loved for myself. ❜ ❨886❩ ❛ I have tasted all the happiness the world can offer. ❜ ❨887❩ ❛ Shall we pity him? Shall we curse him? ❜ ❨888❩ ❛ You have a heart that can hold the entire empire of the world. ❜ ❨889❩ ❛ Look, I am not laughing now, crying, crying for you. ❜ ❨890❩ ❛ Tonight I gave you my soul, and I am dead. ❜ ❨891❩ ❛ You are afraid of me! And yet I am not really wicked. Love me and you shall see! ❜ ❨892❩ ❛ Are people so unhappy when they love? --- Yes, when they love and are not sure of being loved. ❜ ❨893❩ ❛ Your soul is a beautiful thing. No emperor received so fair a gift. The angels wept tonight. ❜ ❨894❩ ❛ Blood!...Blood!... That's a good thing! ❜ ❨895❩ ❛ Now I want to live like everybody else. I want to have a life like everybody else. ❜ ❨896❩ ❛ You will be the happiest of women. And we will sing, all by ourselves, till we swoon away with delight. ❜ ❨897❩ ❛ I should be as gentle as a lamb; and you could do anything with me that you pleased. ❜ ❨898❩ ❛ I am going to die of love, I am dying of love. That's how it is. I loved you so. I still love you so. ❜ ❨899❩ ❛ I am dying of love for her, I tell you! If only you knew how beautiful she was when she let me kiss her. ❜ ❨900❩ ❛ He fills me with horror but I do not hate him. How can I hate him? ❜ ❨901❩ ❛ Holy angel, in Heaven blessed, my spirit longs with thee to rest. ❜ ❨902❩ ❛ Nothing is colder or more dead than my heart. ❜ ❨903❩ ❛ I had loved an angel and now I despise a woman. ❜ ❨904❩ ❛ Our lives are one masked ball. ❜ ❨905❩ ❛ Why do you condemn a man whom you have never met, whom no one knows and about whom even you yourself know nothing? ❜ ❨906❩ ❛ He would commit murder for me. ❜ ❨907❩ ❛ If I don't save her from the hands of that humbug, she is lost. But I shall save her. ❜ ❨908❩ ❛ We will go from here together or die together. ❜ ❨909❩ ❛ Your fear, your terror, all of that is just love and love of the most exquisite kind, the kind which people do not admit even to themselves. The kind that gives you a thrill, when you think of it. ❜ ❨910❩ ❛ Destiny has chained you to me forever. ❜ ❨911❩ ❛ You must never ask me that. ❜ ❨912❩ ❛ Are you afraid that you will change your mind? ❜ ❨913❩ ❛ You must come and fetch me in my dressing room at midnight exactly. ❜ ❨914❩ ❛ The holes in your life are permanent. You have to grow around them, like tree roots around concrete; you mould yourself through the gaps. ❜ ❨915❩ ❛ I have never understood how people can blithely disregard the damage they do by following their hearts. ❜ ❨916❩ ❛ There’s something comforting about the sight of strangers safe at home. ❜ ❨917❩ ❛ I have lost control over everything, even the places in my head. ❜ ❨918❩ ❛ It’s possible to miss what you’ve never had, to even mourn for it. ❜ ❨919❩ ❛ There’s nothing so painful, so corrosive, as suspicion. ❜ ❨920❩ ❛ When did you become so weak? ❜ ❨921❩ ❛ I don’t know where that strength went, I don’t remember losing it. I think that over time it got chipped away, bit by bit, by life, by the living of it. ❜ ❨922❩ ❛ Let’s be honest: women are still only really valued for two things—their looks and their role as mothers. ❜ ❨923❩ ❛ Sadness gets boring after a while, for the sad person and for everyone around them. ❜ ❨924❩ ❛ I’m playing at real life instead of actually living it. ❜ ❨925❩ ❛ I’ve just got to let myself feel the pain, because if I don’t, if I keep numbing it, it’ll never really go away. ❜ ❨926❩ ❛ I am not the girl I used to be. I am no longer desirable, I’m off-putting in some way. It’s as if people can see the damage written all over me, can see it in my face, the way I hold myself, the way I move. ❜ ❨927❩ ❛ Who was it that said following your heart is a good thing? It is pure egotism, a selfishness to conquer all. ❜ ❨928❩ ❛ It’s impossible to resist the kindness of strangers. ❜ ❨929❩ ❛ Sometimes I catch myself trying to remember the last time I had meaningful physical contact with another person, just a hug or a heartfelt squeeze of my hand, and my heart twitches. ❜ ❨930❩ ❛ I have to find a way of making myself happy, I have to stop looking for happiness elsewhere. ❜ ❨931❩ ❛ How did I find myself here? I wonder where it started, my decline; I wonder at what point I could have halted it. Where did I take the wrong turn? ❜ ❨932❩ ❛ Now look -- Now look what you made me do. ❜ ❨933❩ ❛ It’s okay, whatever you did, whatever you’ve done: you suffered, you hurt, you deserve forgiveness. ❜ ❨934❩ ❛ They’re what I lost, they’re everything I want to be. ❜ ❨935❩ ❛ You broke me and I broke us. ❜ ❨936❩ ❛ I’ve been the fool. If he does it with you, he’ll do it to you. ❜ ❨937❩ ❛ I’d never realised, not until now, how shameful it is to be pitied. ❜ ❨938❩ ❛ Sometimes, I don’t want to go anywhere, I think I’ll be happy if I never have to set foot outside the house again. ❜ ❨939❩ ❛ I don’t believe in soul mates, but there’s an understanding between us that I just haven’t felt before, or at least, not for a long time. ❜ ❨940❩ ❛ There can be no greater agony, nothing can be more painful than the not knowing, which will never end. ❜ ❨941❩ ❛ Being the other woman is a huge turn-on, there’s no point in denying it: you’re the one he can’t help but betray his wife for, even though he loves her. That’s just how irresistible you are. ❜ ❨942❩ ❛ I feel a rush of gratitude so strong, it feels almost like love. ❜ ❨943❩ ❛ You don’t know how determined I can be. Once I’ve made my mind up, I’m a force to be reckoned with. ❜ ❨944❩ ❛ The more I want to be oblivious, the less I can be. Life and light will not let me be. ❜ ❨945❩ ❛ You don’t have to be afraid of being alone. It’s not the worst thing, is it? ❜ ❨946❩ ❛ I have felt this way before. On a larger scale, to a more intense degree, of course, but I remember the quality of the pain. You don’t forget it. ❜ ❨947❩ ❛ If he thinks I’m going to sit around crying, he’s got another thing coming. ❜ ❨948❩ ❛ I don’t like to lose. It’s not like me. None of this is like me. I don’t get rejected. I’m the one who walks away. ❜ ❨949❩ ❛ I don’t remember anger, raging fury. I remember fear. ❜ ❨950❩ ❛ I can’t sleep. I haven’t slept in days. I hate it, hate insomnia more than anything, just lying there, brain going round, tick, tick, tick, tick. ❜ ❨951❩ ❛ Maybe the courage I need has nothing to do with telling the truth and everything to do with walking away. ❜ ❨952❩ ❛ I’m not beautiful, and I can’t have kids, so what does that make me? Worthless. ❜ ❨953❩ ❛ Failure cloaked me like a mantle, it overwhelmed me, dragged me under and I gave up hope. ❜ ❨954❩ ❛ It’s an odd thing to say, but I think this all the time; I don’t feel bad enough. ❜ ❨955❩ ❛ Some battles aren’t worth fighting. ❜ ❨956❩ ❛ I never felt guilty. I pretended I did. I had to. ❜ ❨957❩ ❛ I never meant for any of this to happen, we fell in love, what could we do? ❜ ❨958❩ ❛ What bothers me most is that I haven’t got to the end of my story, and I can’t start over with someone else, it’s too hard. ❜ ❨959❩ ❛ A person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended. ❜ ❨960❩ ❛ It isn’t only wickedness and scheming that make people unhappy, it is confusion and misunderstanding. ❜ ❨961❩ ❛ Falling in love can be achieved in a single word—a glance. ❜ ❨962❩ ❛ Though you think the world is at your feet, it can rise up and tread on you. ❜ ❨963❩ ❛ I’ve never had a moment’s doubt. I love you. I believe in you completely. You are my dearest one. My reason for life. ❜ ❨964❩ ❛ It might hurt, it is horribly inconvenient, no good might come of it, but it is what it is to be in love. ❜ ❨965❩ ❛ It was always an impossible task, and that was precisely the point. ❜ ❨966❩ ❛ Come back, come back to me. ❜ ❨967❩ ❛ In my thoughts I make love to you all day long. ❜ ❨968❩ ❛ The truth is I feel rather light headed and foolish in your presence and I don’t think I can blame the heat. ❜ ❨969❩ ❛ Beauty occupies a narrow band. Ugliness, on the other hand, has infinite variation. ❜ ❨970❩ ❛ Is there any meaning in my life that the inevitable death awaiting me does not destroy? ❜ ❨971❩ ❛ However, withered, I still feel myself to be exactly the same person I’ve always been. ❜ ❨972❩ ❛ Hate is a feeling as pure as love, but dispassionate and icily rational. ❜ ❨973❩ ❛ I’m going mad. Let me not be mad. ❜ ❨974❩ ❛ Is everyone really as alive as I am? ❜ ❨975❩ ❛ Every now and then, quite unintentionally, someone teaches you something about yourself. ❜ ❨976❩ ❛ Something has happened, hasn’t it? ❜ ❨977❩ ❛ I like to think that it isn’t weakness or evasion, but a final act of kindness. ❜ ❨978❩ ❛ Is it possible that I am, in the modern term, in denial? ❜ ❨979❩ ❛ How could anyone presume to know the world through the eyes of an insect? ❜ ❨980❩ ❛ Not everything has a cause. Some things are simply so. ❜ ❨981❩ ❛ I’ll be quite honest with you. I’m torn between breaking your neck here and throwing you down the stairs. ❜ ❨982❩ ❛ How old do you have to be before you know the difference between right and wrong? ❜ ❨983❩ ❛ It was never meant to be read. ❜ ❨984❩ ❛ If I fell in the river, would you save me? ❜ ❨985❩ ❛ That was an incredibly bloody stupid thing to do. ❜ ❨986❩ ❛ I want to thank you for saving my life. I’ll be eternally grateful to you. ❜ ❨987❩ ❛ I’m very, very sorry for the terrible distress that I have caused. I’m very, very sorry. ❜ ❨988❩ ❛ Don’t call me that! – Please don’t call me that. ❜ ❨989❩ ❛ It may be the wrong decision, but fuck it, it’s mine. ❜ ❨990❩ ❛ Like patience, passion comes from the same Latin root: pati. It does not mean to flow with exuberance. It means to suffer. ❜ ❨991❩ ❛ No one ever really gets used to nightmares. ❜ ❨992❩ ❛ I still get nightmares. In fact, I get them so often I should be used to them by now. I’m not. ❜ ❨993❩ ❛ Sublime is something you choke on after a shot of tequila. ❜ ❨994❩ ❛ Some people reflect light, some deflect it, you by some miracle, seem to collect it. ❜ ❨995❩ ❛ Beautiful women are always drawn to men they think will keep them beautiful. ❜ ❨996❩ ❛ The ruminations are mine, let the world be yours. ❜ ❨997❩ ❛ You will fulfil a promise I made years ago but failed to keep. ❜ ❨998❩ ❛ Darkness never satisfies. Especially if it takes something away which it almost always invariably does. ❜ ❨999❩ ❛ I want something else. I’m not even sure what to call it anymore. ❜ ❨1000❩ ❛ What can I say, I’m a sucker for abandoned stuff, misplaced stuff, forgotten stuff, any old stuff. ❜ ❨1001❩ ❛ Is it possible to love something so much, you imagine it wants to destroy you only because it has denied you? ❜ ❨1002❩ ❛ It’s just silent, no sound at all. It’s like something’s waiting. ❜ ❨1003❩ ❛ I guess I’m hoping the weapons will make me feel better, grant me some kind of fucking control. ❜ ❨1004❩ ❛ Oh and something else: – Fuck you. ❜ ❨1005❩ ❛ God I’ve never been afraid like this. ❜ ❨1006❩ ❛ I miss you. I love you. There’s no second I’ve lived that you can’t call your own. ❜ ❨1007❩ ❛ I’m so tired. Sleep’s been stalking me for too long to remember. Inevitable I suppose. ❜ ❨1008❩ ❛ Not seeing the rip doesn’t mean you automatically get to keep clear of the Hey-I’m-Bleeding part. ❜ ❨1009❩ ❛ These days fantasies flourish and die like summer flies. ❜ ❨1010❩ ❛ Yeah I know, I know. This shit’s getting ridiculous. ❜ ❨1011❩ ❛ ‘Fuck’ and 'fall for’ have very different meanings. The first one you do as much as you can. The second one you never ever, ever do. ❜ ❨1012❩ ❛ It’s a nice idea but it reeks of hope. False hope. ❜ ❨1013❩ ❛ It’s, well…one thing in two words: fucked up…very fucked up. Okay three words, four words, who the hell cares…very very fucked up. ❜ ❨1014❩ ❛ Do you think I could spend the night at your place?  ❜ ❨1015❩ ❛ Any fool can pray. ❜ ❨1016❩ ❛ I feel like I haven’t slept in months. My neighbours are scared of me. ❜ ❨1017❩ ❛ I’ve lost my mind? Maybe, maybe, maybe. Maybe I’m just really drunk. ❜ ❨1018❩ ❛ Perhaps by cleaning out my system I’ll come to a clearing where I can ease myself into peace. ❜ ❨1019❩ ❛ I should be dead. Why am I still here? ❜ ❨1020❩ ❛ Fuck if I know. Your guess is as good as mine. ❜ ❨1021❩ ❛ You are my flesh. You are my bones. I know you too well. I read you too perfectly. ❜ ❨1022❩ ❛ Not all complex problems have easy solutions. ❜ ❨1023❩ ❛ Do you believe in God? I don’t think I ever asked you that one. ❜ ❨1024❩ ❛ We all create stories to protect ourselves. ❜ ❨1025❩ ❛ Are you kidding me? This place is scary. ❜ ❨1026❩ ❛ These days the only thing that gets me outside is when I say: Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck you. Fuck me. Fuck this. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. ❜ ❨1027❩ ❛ You like that crap because it reminds you of you. ❜ ❨1028❩ ❛ You may suddenly realise things are not how you perceived them to be at all. ❜ ❨1029❩ ❛ The two hardest tests are the patience to wait for the right moment and the courage not to be disappointed with what we encounter. ❜ ❨1030❩ ❛ People never learn anything by being told, they have to find out for themselves. ❜ ❨1031❩ ❛ Be crazy! But learn how to be crazy without being the center of attention. Be brave enough to live different. ❜ ❨1032❩ ❛ You are someone who is different, but who wants to be the same as everyone else. And that in my view is a serious illness. ❜ ❨1033❩ ❛ God chose you to be different. ❜ ❨1034❩ ❛ Why are you disappointing God with this kind of attitude? ❜ ❨1035❩ ❛ You have two choices, to control your mind or to let your mind control you. ❜ ❨1036❩ ❛ Everyone is indeed crazy, but the craziest are the ones who don't know they're crazy; they just keep repeating what others tell them to. ❜ ❨1037❩ ❛ Haven't you learned anything, not even with the approach of death?  ❜ ❨1038❩ ❛ If people don't like it, they can complain. And if they don't have the courage to complain, that's their problem. ❜ ❨1039❩ ❛ Nothing in this world happens by chance. ❜ ❨1040❩ ❛ I want to continue living my life the way I dream it, and not the way the other people want it to be. ❜ ❨1041❩ ❛ Be like the fountain that overflows, not like the cistern that merely contains. ❜ ❨1042❩ ❛ Collective madness is called sanity. ❜ ❨1043❩ ❛ Consider each day a miracle - which indeed it is, when you consider the number of unexpected things that could happen in each second of our fragile existences. ❜ ❨1044❩ ❛ You say they create their own reality, but what is reality? ❜ ❨1045❩ ❛ Many people don't allow themselves to love because there are a lot of things at risk. A lot of future and a lot of past. ❜ ❨1046❩ ❛ Death frees from the fear of dying. ❜ ❨1047❩ ❛ The danger of an adventure is worth a thousand days of ease and comfort. ❜ ❨1048❩ ❛ The happier people can be, the unhappier they are. ❜ ❨1049❩ ❛ Life is always a matter of waiting for the right moment to act. ❜ ❨1050❩ ❛ It's best to accept life as it really is and not as you imagined it to be. ❜ ❨1051❩ ❛ You don't seem mad at all. ❜ ❨1052❩ ❛ We’re allowed to make a lot of mistakes in our lives, except the mistake that destroys us. ❜ ❨1053❩ ❛ You’re what you are, not what others make of you. ❜ ❨1054❩ ❛ Am I cured? ❜ ❨1055❩ ❛ Real love changes and grows with time and discovers new ways of expressing itself. ❜ ❨1056❩ ❛ A lot of people think something is right, and so that thing becomes right. Is that it? ❜ ❨1057❩ ❛ They think they're normal, because they all do the same thing. ❜ ❨1058❩ ❛ I didn't know that other ‘me’s existed inside me, ‘Me’s that I could love. ❜ ❨1059❩ ❛ I have no idea what's awaiting me. ❜ ❨1060❩ ❛ What will happen when this all ends? ❜ ❨1061❩ ❛ I know that you are capable of great deeds. ❜ ❨1062❩ ❛ A loveless world is a dead world, and always there comes an hour when one is weary of prisons, of one's work, and of devotion to duty, and all one craves for is a loved face, the warmth and wonder of a loving heart. ❜ ❨1063❩ ❛ The truth is that everyone is bored. ❜ ❨1064❩ ❛ I feel more fellowship with the defeated than with saints. Heroism and sanctity don't really appeal to me, I imagine. ❜ ❨1065❩ ❛ If there is one thing one can always yearn for, and sometimes attain, it is human love. ❜ ❨1066❩ ❛ Who would dare to assert that eternal happiness can compensate for even a single moment's suffering? ❜ ❨1067❩ ❛ It's not easy. I've been thinking it over for years. ❜ ❨1068❩ ❛ While we loved each other we didn't need words to make ourselves understood. ❜ ❨1069❩ ❛ People are more often bad than good. ❜ ❨1070❩ ❛ I don't believe in heroism; I know it's easy and I've learned that it can be murderous. ❜ ❨1071❩ ❛ What interests me is living and dying for what one loves. ❜ ❨1072❩ ❛ In fact, nobody is capable of really thinking about anyone, even in the worst calamity. ❜ ❨1073❩ ❛ Nothing in the world is worth turning one's back on what one loves. ❜ ❨1074❩ ❛ Again and again there comes a time in history when the man who dares to say that two and two make four is punished with death. ❜ ❨1075❩ ❛ There are more things to admire in men then to despise. ❜ ❨1076❩ ❛ It is in the thick of calamity that one gets hardened to the truth - in other words, to silence. ❜ ❨1077❩ ❛ What on earth prompted you to take a hand in this? ❜ ❨1078❩ ❛ Your code of morals? What code, if I may ask? ❜ ❨1079❩ ❛ I'm fumbling in the dark, struggling to make something out. But I've long ceased finding anything. ❜ ❨1080❩ ❛ No doubt our love is still there, but quite simply it is unusable, heavy to carry, inert inside of us, sterile as crime or condemnation. ❜ ❨1081❩ ❛ I’m not happy to go, but one needn't be happy to make another start. ❜ ❨1082❩ ❛ I am incapable of suffering for a long time, or being happy for a long time. Which means that I am incapable of anything really worth while. ❜ ❨1083❩ ❛ I should have found the words to keep her with me. ❜ ❨1084❩ ❛ We can't stir a finger in this world without the risk of bringing death to somebody. ❜ ❨1085❩ ❛ The evil that is in the world comes out of ignorance, and good intentions may do as much harm as malevolence, if they lack understanding. ❜ ❨1086❩ ❛ There are always flies and itches. That’s why life is difficult to live. ❜ ❨1087❩ ❛ The best protection against anything is a good bottle of wine. ❜ ❨1088❩ ❛ There is no peace without hope. ❜ ❨1089❩ ❛ It's enough for me to be sure that you and I exist at this moment. ❜ ❨1090❩ ❛ There is always something left to love. ❜ ❨1091❩ ❛ A person doesn’t die when he should but when he can. ❜ ❨1092❩ ❛ Things have a life of their own. It's simply a matter of waking up their souls. ❜ ❨1093❩ ❛ Tell me something: why are you fighting? ❜ ❨1094❩ ❛ I've come to realise only just now that I'm fighting because of pride. ❜ ❨1095❩ ❛ One minute of reconciliation is worth more than a whole life of friendship. ❜ ❨1096❩ ❛ It's better than not knowing why you're fighting. Or fighting, like you, for something that doesn't have any meaning for anyone. ❜ ❨1097❩ ❛ Holy Mother of God! ❜ ❨1098❩ ❛ A person does not belong to a place until there is someone dead under the ground. ❜ ❨1099❩ ❛ I was born a son of a bitch and I'm going to die a son of a bitch. ❜ ❨1100❩ ❛ Bad luck doesn't have any chinks in it. ❜ ❨1101❩ ❛ I plead youth as a mitigating circumstance. ❜ ❨1102❩ ❛ Get those bad thoughts out of your head. You're going to be happy. ❜ ❨1103❩ ❛ Children inherit their parents' madness. ❜ ❨1104❩ ❛ I'll turn to ashes in here but I won't give this miserable town the pleasure of seeing me weep. ❜ ❨1105❩ ❛ You would be good in a war. Where you put your eye, you put your bullet. ❜ ❨1106❩ ❛ Men demand much more than you think. ❜ ❨1107❩ ❛ Even the craziest and most persistent love is just a temporary truth. ❜ ❨1108❩ ❛ If we’re alone you can whisper in my ear any crap you can think of. ❜ ❨1109❩ ❛ You have taken this horrible game very seriously and you have done well because you are doing your duty. ❜ ❨1110❩ ❛ We have the right to pull down your pants and give you a whipping at the first sign of disrespect. ❜ ❨1111❩ ❛ What worries me is not your shooting me, because after all, for people like us it's a natural death. ❜ ❨1112❩ ❛ What worries me is that you've ended up as bad as they are. ❜ ❨1113❩ ❛ It is characteristic of men to deny hunger once their appetites are satisfied. ❜ ❨1114❩ ❛ Dying is much more difficult than one imagines. ❜ ❨1115❩ ❛ If you have to go crazy, please go crazy all by yourself! ❜ ❨1116❩ ❛ We have still not had a death. ❜ ❨1117❩ ❛ How awful, the way time passes. ❜ ❨1118❩ ❛ You may be in command of your war, but I'm in command of my house. ❜ ❨1119❩ ❛ I missed you every hour. ❜ ❨1120❩ ❛ You know what the worst part was? It caught me completely by surprise. ❜ ❨1121❩ ❛ I’ve risked my life for you. ❜ ❨1122❩ ❛ The problem with wanting is that it makes us weak. ❜ ❨1123❩ ❛ I love you, even the part of you that loved him. ❜ ❨1124❩ ❛ I’m sorry it took me so long to see you. ❜ ❨1125❩ ❛ I never really belonged anywhere. ❜ ❨1126❩ ❛ Thanks for being my best friend and making my life bearable.  ❜ ❨1127❩ ❛ Thanks for finding me. ❜ ❨1128❩ ❛ You and I are going to change the world. ❜ ❨1129❩ ❛ I’ve been waiting for you a long time. ❜ ❨1130❩ ❛ I’m not used to people trying to kill me. ❜ ❨1131❩ ❛ You’re shaking. ❜ ❨1132❩ ❛ There's nothing wrong with being a lizard. Unless you were born to be a hawk. ❜ ❨1133❩ ❛ Make me your villain. ❜ ❨1134❩ ❛ Just you and me. It’s always just you and me. ❜ ❨1135❩ ❛ Do you blame me for every mistake I made? For every dumb thing I’ve said? ❜ ❨1136❩ ❛ Well, if it gets too bad, give me a signal. ❜ ❨1137❩ ❛ Did you tell him what I showed you in the dark? ❜ ❨1138❩ ❛ Did you miss me when you were gone? ❜ ❨1139❩ ❛ What is infinite? The universe and the greed of men. ❜ ❨1140❩ ❛ You’re interfering with my plan. ❜ ❨1141❩ ❛ Too much champagne? ❜ ❨1142❩ ❛ I hope you don’t expect fairness from me. It isn’t one of my specialties. ❜ ❨1143❩ ❛ There is something more powerful than any army. Something strong enough to topple kings. Faith. ❜ ❨1144❩ ❛ All you said was that I had to kill you. You didn’t say how. ❜ ❨1145❩ ❛ What is she? She’s everything, you dumb son of a bitch. ❜ ❨1146❩ ❛ She’s an ugly little thing. No child should look like that. Pale and sour, like a glass of milk that’s turned. ❜ ❨1147❩ ❛ I wouldn’t make that mistake again. ❜ ❨1148❩ ❛ It’s a great honor, to save a life. You saved many. ❜ ❨1149❩ ❛ In this world, there are things you can only do alone. ❜ ❨1150❩ ❛ What seems like a reasonable distance to one person might feel too far to somebody else. ❜ ❨1151❩ ❛ If you really want to know something, you have to be willing to pay the price. ❜ ❨1152❩ ❛ Why should you be interested in me? ❜ ❨1153❩ ❛ I have been told I've got a darkish personality. A few times. ❜ ❨1154❩ ❛ It's not as if our lives are divided simply into light and dark. There's shadowy middle ground. ❜ ❨1155❩ ❛ I'll write to you. A super-long letter, like in an old-fashioned novel. ❜ ❨1156❩ ❛ The spotlight doesn't suit me. I'm more of a side dish. ❜ ❨1157❩ ❛ The ground we stand on looks solid enough, but if something happens it can drop right out from under you.  ❜ ❨1158❩ ❛ So once you're dead there's just nothing? ❜ ❨1159❩ ❛ If only I could fall sound asleep and wake up in my old reality. ❜ ❨1160❩ ❛ Is action merely the incidental product of thought, or is thought the consequential product of action? ❜ ❨1161❩ ❛ Nobody can shake off their own shadow. ❜ ❨1162❩ ❛ The silence is so deep it hurts. ❜ ❨1163❩ ❛ I may not look it, but I can be a very patient guy. ❜ ❨1164❩ ❛ Killing time is one of my specialities. ❜ ❨1165❩ ❛ You can't fight it. ❜ ❨1166❩ ❛ Tell me something,—do you believe in reincarnation? ❜ ❨1167❩ ❛ I can’t understand nothingness. I can’t understand it and I can’t imagine it. ❜ ❨1168❩ ❛ I can hardly breathe, and my whole body wants to shrink into a corner.  ❜ ❨1169❩ ❛ I do have a few things wrong with me, but those are strictly problems I keep inside. ❜ ❨1170❩ ❛ I can't take it any more, I can't go on any more. ❜ ❨1171❩ ❛ You don't really have it together. ❜ ❨1172❩ ❛ Is it against the law for me to know it? ❜ ❨1173❩ ❛ I keep having the same dream. ❜ ❨1174❩ ❛ Are you asking because you really want an answer? ❜ ❨1175❩ ❛ I hate this! I don't want to be changed this way! ❜ ❨1176❩ ❛ No contradictions, no irony. They do everything according to numerical formulas. ❜ ❨1177❩ ❛ Want to hear the rest? If you’re not interested, I can stop. ❜ ❨1178❩ ❛ If I didn’t have these memories inside me, I would’ve snapped a long time ago. I would’ve curled up in a ditch somewhere and died. ❜ ❨1179❩ ❛ I don’t know what you’re feeling. I won’t even pretend. ❜ ❨1180❩ ❛ What are you doing here, honey? ❜ ❨1181❩ ❛ You're not even old enough to know how bad life gets. ❜ ❨1182❩ ❛ You don't understand me. ❜ ❨1183❩ ❛ All wisdom ends in paradox. ❜ ❨1184❩ ❛ It is love that overthrows empire. Love that binds two hearts together, come hellfire & brimstone. ❜ ❨1185❩ ❛ I have lost my gift. ❜ ❨1186❩ ❛ Winter is the season of alcoholism and despair. ❜ ❨1187❩ ❛ The seeds of death get lost in the mess that God made us. ❜ ❨1188❩ ❛ They're just memories now. It’s time to forget. ❜ ❨1189❩ ❛ The time has to be right and the heart willing. ❜ ❨1190❩ ❛ The world, a tired performer, offers us another half-assed season. ❜ ❨1191❩ ❛ Capitalism has resulted in material well-being but spiritual bankruptcy. ❜ ❨1192❩ ❛ Grief is natural, overcoming it is a matter of choice. ❜ ❨1193❩ ❛ I want out of that decorating scheme. ❜ ❨1194❩ ❛ With most people suicide is like Russian roulette. Only one chamber has a bullet. ❜ ❨1195❩ ❛ You never get over it but you get where it doesn't bother you so much. ❜ ❨1196❩ ❛ Don't waste your time on life. ❜ ❨1197❩ ❛ I'm a teenager. I've got problems! ❜ ❨1198❩ ❛ Adolescents tend to seek love where they can find it. ❜ ❨1199❩ ❛ Obviously, you've never been a thirteen-year-old girl. ❜ ❨1200❩ ❛ It was a mistake. ❜ ❨1201❩ ❛ It seemed like we were supposed to feel sorry for everything that ever happened, ever. ❜ ❨1202❩ ❛ Buffeted but not broken. ❜ ❨1203❩ ❛ Shit. What have kids got to be worried about now? ❜ ❨1204❩ ❛ If they want trouble, they should go live in Bangladesh. ❜ ❨1205❩ ❛ I can't wait until I get out of here. ❜ ❨1206❩ ❛ When she jumped she probably thought she’d fly. ❜ ❨1207❩ ❛ I do not think the patient truly meant to end her life. Her act was a cry for help. ❜ ❨1208❩ ❛ You're a stone fox. ❜ ❨1209❩ ❛ It was love at first sight, at last sight, at ever and ever sight. ❜ ❨1210❩ ❛ Light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. ❜ ❨1211❩ ❛ He broke my heart. You merely broke my life. ❜ ❨1212❩ ❛ I'm sorry to have deceived you so much, but that's how life is. ❜ ❨1213❩ ❛ Words without experience are meaningless. ❜ ❨1214❩ ❛ I loved you. I was a monster, but I loved you. ❜ ❨1215❩ ❛ Come just as you are. ❜ ❨1216❩ ❛ If a violin string could ache, i would be that string. ❜ ❨1217❩ ❛ Perhaps, somewhere, some day, at a less miserable time, we may see each other again. ❜ ❨1218❩ ❛ What's so dreadful about dying is that you are completely on your own. ❜ ❨1219❩ ❛ Don't touch me; I'll die if you touch me. ❜ ❨1220❩ ❛ You took advantage of my disadvantage. ❜ ❨1221❩ ❛ I walk in a maze I cannot get out of. ❜ ❨1222❩ ❛ Life is just one small piece of light between two eternal darknesses. ❜ ❨1223❩ ❛ Imagine me; I shall not exist if you do not imagine me. ❜ ❨1224❩ ❛ There is no harm in smiling. ❜ ❨1225❩ ❛ There is no point in staying here. There is no point in staying anywhere. ❜ ❨1226❩ ❛ There is nothing more atrociously cruel than an adored child. ❜ ❨1227❩ ❛ I am so tired of being cynical. ❜ ❨1228❩ ❛ Come to live with me, and die with me, and everything with me. ❜ ❨1229❩ ❛ This is the only immortality that you and I may share. ❜ ❨1230❩ ❛ I loved her more than anything I had ever seen or imagined on earth, or hoped for anywhere else. ❜ ❨1231❩ ❛ I was despicable and brutal, and turpid, and everything, mais je t’aimais, je t’aimais! ❜ ❨1232❩ ❛ Years of secret suffering has taught me superhuman self-control. ❜ ❨1233❩ ❛ Solitude is corrupting me. I need company and care. ❜ ❨1234❩ ❛ I've missed you terribly. ❜ ❨1235❩ ❛ I've been revoltingly unfaithful to you. ❜ ❨1236❩ ❛ It doesn't matter a bit, because you've stopped caring anyway. ❜ ❨1237❩ ❛ What makes you say I've stopped caring for you? ❜ ❨1238❩ ❛ Nowadays you have to be a scientist if you want to be a killer. ❜ ❨1239❩ ❛ The sun climbs high in the sky, then starts down. People come, then go. ❜ ❨1240❩ ❛ Tell me, have you ever thought of killing me? ❜ ❨1241❩ ❛ I can not believe you are the same human being. ❜ ❨1242❩ ❛ Just how urgent is it? ❜ ❨1243❩ ❛ It is time for you to be going. ❜ ❨1244❩ ❛ How is it you know something like that? ❜ ❨1245❩ ❛ I don’t mind. Your mess is my mess. ❜ ❨1246❩ ❛ Everybody has one thing they do not want to lose. ❜ ❨1247❩ ❛ I’ll be late tonight, so don’t wait up for me. ❜ ❨1248❩ ❛ Nothing I’ve tried to do by myself has ever come off. ❜ ❨1249❩ ❛ I am not catching you in the middle of anything important, am I? ❜ ❨1250❩ ❛ Some things are forgotten, some things disappear, some things die. ❜ ❨1251❩ ❛ My biggest fault is that the faults I was born with grow bigger each year. ❜ ❨1252❩ ❛ To get irritated is to lose our way in life. ❜ ❨1253❩ ❛ A friend to kill time is a friend sublime. ❜ ❨1254❩ ❛ I don't really know if it's the right thing to do. ❜ ❨1255❩ ❛ Faster cars and more cats run over? Who needs it? ❜ ❨1256❩ ❛ Most of everything you think you know about me is nothing more than memories. ❜ ❨1257❩ ❛ Your fate is and will always be the fate of a dreamer. ❜ ❨1258❩ ❛ You’re loads better than you think you are. ❜ ❨1259❩ ❛ You’re only half-living, the other half is still untapped somewhere. ❜ ❨1260❩ ❛ The song is over. But the melody lingers on. ❜ ❨1261❩ ❛ You are extraordinary. ❜ ❨1262❩ ❛ We tend to fool ourselves into thinking that time is our size, but it really goes on and on. ❜ ❨1263❩ ❛ It could be five years or ten years or one month. It's all the same. ❜ ❨1264❩ ❛ I’m forever realising things too late. ❜ ❨1265❩ ❛ I’m not complaining when I say my life is boring. ❜ ❨1266❩ ❛ Weakness is something that rots in the body. ❜ ❨1267❩ ❛ Coming from your mouth, it has the ring of truth, but I doubt anyone would believe me if I told them. ❜ ❨1268❩ ❛ You can't expect something unreal to last anyway, can you? ❜ ❨1269❩ ❛ A wise man does not step betwixt the beast and his meat. ❜ ❨1270❩ ❛ So, kill me. Tell the others I attacked you so you killed me. ❜ ❨1271❩ ❛ Should never have come here. ❜ ❨1272❩ ❛ Hard to guess my tastes. ❜ ❨1273❩ ❛ Can’t it wait until the morning? ❜ ❨1274❩ ❛ You’ll find temper tantrums won’t help you here. ❜ ❨1275❩ ❛ It must have taken courage to return. ❜ ❨1276❩ ❛ It all sounds grimly dystopian. ❜ ❨1277❩ ❛ I am not afraid of you! ❜ ❨1278❩ ❛ All this could be avoided! ❜ ❨1279❩ ❛ You consider me a murderer? ❜ ❨1280❩ ❛ Gross way to die. ❜ ❨1281❩ ❛ What sparks wars? The will to power, the backbone of human nature. ❜ ❨1282❩ ❛ My life amounts to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean. Yet what is any ocean, but a multitude of drops? ❜ ❨1283❩ ❛ Our lives are not our own. We are bound to others. ❜ ❨1284❩ ❛ I believe there is another world waiting for us. A better world. And I'll be waiting for you there. ❜ ❨1285❩ ❛ You are allowed to feel messed up and inside out. It doesn't mean you're defective - it just means you're human. ❜ ❨1286❩ ❛ Power, time, gravity, love. The forces that really kick ass are all invisible. ❜ ❨1287❩ ❛ Unlimited power in the hands of limited people always leads to cruelty. ❜ ❨1288❩ ❛ Truth is singular. Its 'versions' are mistruths. ❜ ❨1289❩ ❛ Dreams are all I have ever truly owned. ❜ ❨1290❩ ❛ Your version of the truth is the only thing that matters. ❜ ❨1291❩ ❛ I believe death is only a door. One closes, and another opens. ❜ ❨1292❩ ❛ By each crime and every kindness, we birth our future. ❜ ❨1293❩ ❛ The healthy can't understand the emptied, the broken. ❜ ❨1294❩ ❛ Lying's wrong, but when the world spins backwards, a small wrong may be a big right. ❜ ❨1295❩ ❛ The weak are meat the strong do eat. ❜ ❨1296❩ ❛ Do whatever you can't not do. ❜ ❨1297❩ ❛ What precipitates outcomes? Vicious acts & virtuous acts. ❜ ❨1298❩ ❛ I remain thankful to God for all his mercies. ❜ ❨1299❩ ❛ You can maintain power over people, as long as you give them something. Rob a man of everything, and that man will no longer be in your power. ❜ ❨1300❩ ❛ Power. The ability to determine another man's luck. ❜ ❨1301❩ ❛ Pain is strong, aye - but friends' eyes, more strong. ❜ ❨1302❩ ❛ Perhaps those deprived of beauty perceive it most instinctively. ❜ ❨1303❩ ❛ Why ask a question whose answer would demand ten more questions? ❜ ❨1304❩ ❛ You can’t lie to your soul. ❜ ❨1305❩ ❛ Why would I want to do a thing like that? ❜ ❨1306❩ ❛ We start off with high hopes, then we bottle it. ❜ ❨1307❩ ❛ Better to make life as complete and enjoyable an experience as possible, in case death is shite, which I suspect it will be. ❜ ❨1308❩ ❛ I’m not running away, I’m moving on. ❜ ❨1309❩ ❛ The reasons? There are no reasons. ❜ ❨1310❩ ❛ Some people are easier to love when you don’t have to be around them. ❜ ❨1311❩ ❛ Love does not exist. ❜ ❨1312❩ ❛ Fuck that ‘regrets’ bullshit. ❜ ❨1313❩ ❛ How does it make you feel? ❜ ❨1314❩ ❛ It’s horrible how we always die alone, but no worse than living alone. ❜ ❨1315❩ ❛ Choose us. Choose life. ❜ ❨1316❩ ❛ You fucking knew that fucking cunt would fuck some cunt. ❜ ❨1317❩ ❛ I’m more of a warrior than you’ll ever be. ❜ ❨1318❩ ❛ What does that make us? The lowest of the low, the scum of the earth. ❜ ❨1319❩ ❛ You don’t have to run away.  ❜ ❨1320❩ ❛ I tried to stop because it was only causing pain. I couldn’t. ❜ ❨1321❩ ❛ I’m not going to get crushed. ❜ ❨1322❩ ❛ I love doubt in a woman. It’s nearly as sexy as determination. ❜ ❨1323❩ ❛ Take your best orgasm, multiply the feeling by twenty. ❜ ❨1324❩ ❛ You’re a mess. ❜ ❨1325❩ ❛ I know that it’s never left you alone. ❜ ❨1326❩ ❛ Are you asking me or telling me? ❜ ❨1327❩ ❛ You just get used to all the shit. ❜ ❨1328❩ ❛ You can’t afford a conscience in this life. ❜ ❨1329❩ ❛ None of us are saints and scapegoats are always handy. ❜ ❨1330❩ ❛ Doing things doesn’t hurt you; you get hurt by avoiding them. ❜ ❨1331❩ ❛ What was that? ❜ ❨1332❩ ❛ Protect me from those who wish to help us. ❜ ❨1333❩ ❛ You can’t love yourself if you want to hurt things like that. ❜ ❨1334❩ ❛ What happens when people open their hearts? ❜ ❨1335❩ ❛ Nobody likes being alone that much. ❜ ❨1336❩ ❛ I don’t go out of my way to make friends, that’s all. It just leads to disappointment.” ❨1337❩ ❛ Don’t feel sorry for yourself. Only assholes do that. ❜ ❨1338❩ ❛ You need to grab whatever chance you have of happiness where you find it, and not worry about other people too much. ❜ ❨1339❩ ❛ I want you always to remember me. ❜ ❨1340❩ ❛ Despite your best efforts, people are going to be hurt when it’s time for them to be hurt. ❜ ❨1341❩ ❛ What stays in your heart will stay; keep them, and what vanishes will vanish. ❜ ❨1342❩ ❛ All I want in this world is you. ❜ ❨1343❩ ❛ I want the two of us to begin everything from the beginning. ❜ ❨1344❩ ❛ No truth can cure the sorrow we feel from losing a loved one. ❜ ❨1345❩ ❛ What a terrible thing it is to wound someone you really care for and to do it so unconsciously. ❜ ❨1346❩ ❛ If you’re in pitch blackness, all you can do is sit tight until your eyes get used to the dark. ❜ ❨1347❩ ❛ I’ve had enough hurt already in my life. More than enough. Now I want to be happy. ❜ ❨1348❩ ❛ People leave strange little memories of themselves behind when they die. ❜ ❨1349❩ ❛ Stop eating yourself up alive. Things will go where they’re supposed to go if you just let them take their natural course. ❜ ❨1350❩ ❛ When your feelings build up and harden and die inside, then you’re in big trouble. ❜ ❨1351❩ ❛ When you fall in love, the natural thing to do is give yourself to it. ❜ ❨1352❩ ❛ If I have left a wound inside you, it is not just your wound but mine as well. ❜ ❨1353❩ ❛ Hey, what is it with you? Why are you so spaced out? You still haven’t answered me. ❜ ❨1354❩ ❛ People are strange when you’re a stranger. ❜ ❨1355❩ ❛ The dead will always be dead, but we have to go on living. ❜ ❨1356❩ ❛ You don’t get it, do you? ❜ ❨1357❩ ❛ I am a flawed human being - a far more flawed human being than you ❨1358❩ realise. ❜ ❨1359❩ ❛ At least let me know whether or not I hurt you. ❜ ❨1360❩ ❛ All of us are imperfect human beings living in an imperfect world. ❜ ❨1361❩ ❛ I’ve never once thought about how I was going to die. ❜ ❨1362❩ ❛ So I’m not crazy after all! ❜ ❨1363❩ ❛ I miss you terribly sometimes, but in general I go on living with all the energy I can muster. ❜ ❨1364❩ ❛ Will you wait for me forever? ❜ ❨1365❩ ❛ I don’t want our relationship to end like this. ❜ ❨1366❩ ❛ When am I going to be able to talk to you? I want you to tell me that much, at least. ❜ ❨1367❩ ❛ It hurts not being able to see you. ❜ ❨1368❩ ❛ I’m not totally mad at you. I’m just sad. ❜ ❨1369❩ ❛ The world is an inherently unfair place. ❜ ❨1370❩ ❛ Life frightens me sometimes. I don’t happen to take that as the premise for everything else though. ❜ ❨1371❩ ❛ I’m a real bargain, don’t you think? If you don’t take me, I’ll end up going somewhere else. ❜ ❨1372❩ ❛ We’re all kind of weird and twisted and drowning. ❜ ❨1373❩ ❛ Don’t you think it would be wonderful to get rid of everything and everybody and just go some place where you don’t know a soul? ❜ ❨1374❩ ❛ You’re not telling me anything I don’t know already. ❜ ❨1375❩ ❛ He who controls the past controls the future. He who controls the present controls the past. ❜ ❨1376❩ ❛ If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself. ❜ ❨1377❩ ❛ We shall meet in the place where there is no darkness. ❜ ❨1378❩ ❛ Until they become conscious they will never rebel. ❜ ❨1379❩ ❛ Power is not a means; it is an end. ❜ ❨1380❩ ❛ They are not interested in the good of others; they are interested solely in power, pure power. ❜ ❨1381❩ ❛ Now you begin to understand me. ❜ ❨1382❩ ❛ In the face of pain there are no heroes. ❜ ❨1383❩ ❛ Big Brother is watching you. ❜ ❨1384❩ ❛ Power is tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of your own choosing. ❜ ❨1385❩ ❛ It’s a beautiful thing, the destruction of words. ❜ ❨1386❩ ❛ The choice for mankind lies between freedom and happiness and for the great bulk of mankind, happiness is better. ❜ ❨1387❩ ❛ Your mind appeals to me. It resembles my own mind. ❜ ❨1388❩ ❛ Reality exists in the human mind, and nowhere else. ❜ ❨1389❩ ❛ We do not merely destroy our enemies; we change them. ❜ ❨1390❩ ❛ How can I help it? How can I help but see what is in front of my eyes? ❜ ❨1391❩ ❛ You must try harder. ❜ ❨1392❩ ❛ Confession is not betrayal. ❜ ❨1393❩ ❛ What you say or do doesn’t matter; only feelings matter. ❜ ❨1394❩ ❛ If they could make me stop loving you —- that would be the real betrayal. ❜ ❨1395❩ ❛ Of pain you can wish only one thing: that it should stop. ❜ ❨1396❩ ❛ To die hating them, that will be freedom. ❜ ❨1397❩ ❛ No one ever seizes power with the intention of relinquishing it. ❜ ❨1398❩ ❛ What can you do against the lunatic who is more intelligent than yourself? ❜ ❨1399❩ ❛ To keep them in control is not difficult. ❜ ❨1400❩ ❛ So long as they are not permitted to have standards of comparison, they never even become aware that they are oppressed. ❜ ❨1401❩ ❛ The consequences of every act are included in the act itself. ❜ ❨1402❩ ❛ The essential act of war is destruction, not necessarily of human lives, but of the products of human labour. ❜ ❨1403❩ ❛ Stupidity is as necessary as intelligence, and as difficult to attain. ❜ ❨1404❩ ❛ I hate purity, I hate goodness! I don’t want virtue to exist anywhere. I want everyone to be corrupt to the bones. ❜ ❨1405❩ ❛ The past is dead, the future is unimaginable. ❜ ❨1406❩ ❛ You know the answer already. Everyone knows it. ❜ ❨1407❩ ❛ You don’t give a damn what they suffer. All you care is yourself. ❜ ❨1408❩ ❛ It is not easy to become sane. ❜ ❨1409❩ ❛ No emotion is pure anymore, because everything is mixed up with fear and hatred. ❜ ❨1410❩ ❛ They say that time heals all things —- they say you can always forget. ❜ ❨1411❩ ❛ The object of waging a war is always to be in a better position in which to wage another war. ❜ ❨1412❩ ❛ I sold you and you sold me. ❜ ❨1413❩ ❛ You do not exist. ❜ ❨1414❩ ❛ How does one man assert his power over another? By making him suffer. ❜ ❨1415❩ ❛ Obedience is not enough. Unless he is suffering, how can you be sure that he is obeying your will and not his own? ❜ ❨1416❩ ❛ Everything else we shall destroy – everything. ❜ ❨1417❩ ❛ Two and two makes five. ❜ ❨1418❩ ❛ Facts, at any rate, can not be kept hidden. ❜ ❨1419❩ ❛ The past is whatever the records and the memories agree upon. ❜ ❨1420❩ ❛ So long as human beings stay human, death and life are the same thing. ❜ ❨1421❩ ❛ If both the past and the external world exist only in the mind, and if the mind itself is controllable—what then? ❜ ❨1422❩ ❛ The lie became the truth. ❜ ❨1423❩ ❛ It is like swimming against a current that sweeps you backwards however hard you struggle. ❜ ❨1424❩ ❛ Turn round and go with the current instead of opposing it. ❜ ❨1425❩ ❛ It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything. ❜ ❨1426❩ ❛ I don’t want to die without any scars. ❜ ❨1427❩ ❛ This is your life and it’s ending one moment at a time. ❜ ❨1428❩ ❛ You know how they say you only hurt the ones you love? Well, it works both ways. ❜ ❨1429❩ ❛ You are not your job, you’re not how much money you have in the bank. You are not the car you drive. You’re not the contents of your wallet. ❜ ❨1430❩ ❛ You are not special. ❜ ❨1431❩ ❛ You’re not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You’re the same decaying organic matter as everything else. ❜ ❨1432❩ ❛ The things you used to own, now they own you. ❜ ❨1433❩ ❛ Today is the sort of day where the sun only comes up to humiliate you. ❜ ❨1434❩ ❛ Maybe we have to break everything to make something better out of ourselves. ❜ ❨1435❩ ❛ Only after disaster can we be resurrected. ❜ ❨1436❩ ❛ Everything is evolving, everything is falling apart. ❜ ❨1437❩ ❛ We’ve all been raised believe that one day we’d all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won’t. ❜ ❨1438❩ ❛ Don’t you have other things to do? ❜ ❨1439❩ ❛ Prove you’re alive. If you don’t claim your humanity you will become a statistic. ❜ ❨1440❩ ❛ You have been warned. ❜ ❨1441❩ ❛ If you don’t know what you want, you end up with a lot you don’t. ❜ ❨1442❩ ❛ It’s not love or anything, but I think I like you, too. ❜ ❨1443❩ ❛ If I could wake up in a different place, at a different time, could I wake up as a different person? ❜ ❨1444❩ ❛ Why did I cause so much pain? ❜ ❨1445❩ ❛ The lower you fall, the higher you’ll fly. ❜ ❨1446❩ ❛ Maybe self-improvement isn’t the answer, maybe self-destruction is the answer. ❜ ❨1447❩ ❛ May I never be complete. May I never be content. May I never be perfect. ❜ ❨1448❩ ❛ Everyone smiles with that invisible gun to their head. ❜ ❨1449❩ ❛ We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens. ❜ ❨1450❩ ❛ The girl is infectious human waste. ❜ ❨1451❩ ❛ I want to destroy everything beautiful I’ll never have. ❜ ❨1452❩ ❛ On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero. ❜ ❨1453❩ ❛ If you could be either God’s worst enemy or nothing, which would you choose? ❜ ❨1454❩ ❛ It is like you’re never really awake; but you’re never really asleep. ❜ ❨1455❩ ❛ Worker bees can leave. Even drones can fly away. The Queen is their slave. ❜ ❨1456❩ ❛ A moment is the most you could ever expect from perfection. ❜ ❨1457❩ ❛ The people you’re trying to step on, we’re everyone you depend on. ❜ ❨1458❩ ❛ You have to give up! ❜ ❨1459❩ ❛ Reject the basic assumptions of civilisation, especially the importance of material possessions. ❜ ❨1460❩ ❛ Without pain, without sacrifice we would have nothing. ❜ ❨1461❩ ❛ You have to realise that someday you will die, Until you know that, you are useless. ❜ ❨1462❩ ❛ A tiger can smile. A snake will say it loves you. ❜ ❨1463❩ ❛ Lies make us evil. ❜ ❨1464❩ ❛ If you died right now, how would you feel about your life? ❜ ❨1465❩ ❛ You always kill the one you love. ❜ ❨1466❩ ❛ Maybe we should always assume the worst. ❜ ❨1467❩ ❛ Put a gun to my head and paint the wall with my brains. ❜ ❨1468❩ ❛ Which is worse? Hell or nothing? ❜ ❨1469❩ ❛ A minute of perfection is worth the effort. ❜ ❨1470❩ ❛ You’re going to die, tonight. You might die in one second or in one hour, you decide. ❜ ❨1471❩ ❛ Lie to me. Tell me the first thing off the top of your head. Make something up. ❜ ❨1472❩ ❛ I don’t give a shit. I have a gun. ❜ ❨1473❩ ❛ I know who you are. I know where you live. ❜ ❨1474❩ ❛ Tomorrow will be the most beautiful day of your life. ❜ ❨1475❩ ❛ My philosophy of life is that I can die at any moment. And the tragedy of my life is that I do not. ❜ ❨1476❩ ❛ Everything is so far away, a copy of a copy of a copy. You can’t touch anything and nothing can touch you. ❜ ❨1477❩ ❛ There are a lot of things we don’t want to know about the people we love. ❜ ❨1478❩ ❛ We just had a near-life experience. ❜ ❨1479❩ ❛ If people think you are dying, they give you their full attention. They listen instead of just waiting for their turn to speak. ❜ ❨1480❩ ❛ I am nothing, and not even that. ❜ ❨1481❩ ❛ This isn’t really death. —- We’ll be legends. We won’t grow old. ❜ ❨1482❩ ❛ Stop trying to control everything and just let go. Let go. ❜ ❨1483❩ ❛ The amazing miracle of death, when one second you’re walking and talking, and the next second you’re an object. ❜ ❨1484❩ ❛ Only if we’re caught and punished can we be saved. ❜ ❨1485❩ ❛ I never thought about how important the sky was until I didn't have one. ❜ ❨1486❩ ❛ Dreams are like that: they go in and out of memories and scenes, but they're never real. They're never real, and I hate them because they aren't. ❜ ❨1487❩ ❛ Power isn’t control at all — power is strength, and giving that strength to others. ❜ ❨1488❩ ❛ A leader isn’t someone who forces others to make him stronger. ❜ ❨1489❩ ❛ A leader is someone willing to give his strength to others that they may have the strength to stand on their own. ❜ ❨1490❩ ❛ In the end, we are alone. ❜ ❨1491❩ ❛ It is like a piece of my soul is lost, empty. ❜ ❨1492❩ ❛ If my life on Earth must end, let it end with a promise. Let it end with hope. ❜ ❨1493❩ ❛ Sorry? Sorry isn't enough. ❜ ❨1494❩ ❛ Every single thing I ever loved is beyond my reach now. Everything I ever wanted. Everything I ever was. ❜ ❨1495❩ ❛ Will you stay with me? ❜ ❨1496❩ ❛ A leader doesn't make pawns - he makes people. ❜ ❨1497❩ ❛ Do you hear that? The pulse of life from your heart, the slow in-and-out from your lungs? Even when you are silent, even when you block out all noise, your body is still a cacophony of life. Mine is not. ❜ ❨1498❩ ❛ It is the silence that drives me mad. The silence that drives the nightmares to me. ❜ ❨1499❩ ❛ There is nothing between us but rain. There is nothing between us at all. ❜ ❨1500❩ ❛ I like a little chaos. ❜

[kallikrein]

IN GOOD GRACES

— in which bonten!takeomi has some frustrations to let out.

genre. smut, fluff towards the end. MDNI.

contains. fem!reader, portrayed as wakasa’s younger sister, timeskip characters, explicit content, profanities, probably ooc, and bad writing as per usual.

word count. 4.3k lmfao.

note. i kinda imagined reader would be similar with waka in terms of appearance, if anyone’s concerned about that hehe. i didn't know how to end this, so lmk your thoughts!

requested.

He was damned.

Takeomi knew he was ever since he got into this notorious lifestyle. It’s the kind of life where one wrong move could lead to his blood dripping to the floor, or maybe from going southwards to his very much eager… appendage.

His jaw clenched. Once he narrowed his eyes, he sent a handful of death daggers to the person standing in front of him he could only label as the fucking bane of his existence.

“Akashi-san, I’m not a child,” you hissed.

He scoffed. Was it Akashi-san now and not Take-nii?

Right. Now that he had a chance to look at you — really look at you, his eyes fell down to your white blouse that seemed delicate enough to appear professional, yet to him it’s flimsy enough he could see the dainty lace embroidering your bra. 

His gaze traveled lower to the black skirt that hugged your hips, and his mind immediately betrayed him. Those waist and thighs, hidden by a fabric he’s certain would feel immaculate underneath his palms, were a vise he would gladly have his neck choked with.

It reached just above your knees. Your calves that were sinfully exposed and weren’t hindered by some branded stockings had looked so smooth, and Takeomi wondered if you shaved them or if it was naturally that way. He silently cursed and averted his gaze, and they somehow settled on your high-end brand-covered feet.

You had worn black and pointy stilettos today. Deadly as those things were, and painfully sexy. They suited you and your annoying, looking-for-a-death-wish thing you’ve got going on at that moment.

“I didn’t say you are one,” he gruffed, voice strained. “I said you shouldn’t wander in these halls like you aren’t worried about these men looking at you like you’re a piece of meat.”

“And you aren’t looking at me like one right now?”

His glare shot up to your face, his jaw ticked from being caught ogling. You looked so much like your brother — lazy eyelids and thin lips, but at the same time, different. There was more emotion in your face than Wakasa’s usual laidback one: more fire, more grit, more taunting.

And Takeomi swore, if you open that mouth of yours again, those lips which were coated with a light sheen of gloss, he wouldn’t hesitate to lock you up in this room until it’s time for you to go home.

“I don’t look at you that way,” he argued. But who was he fooling? As he had pointed out, you were the fucking bane of his existence. The ghost of his wet dreams as though he was a premature teen who hasn't tasted a woman’s pleasure yet. 

He knew he wasn’t supposed to look nor think of you like he did, and yet, he fucking did. 

Goddamn.

“How long are you gonna treat me like this?” You almost hurled a stapler at him when he didn’t answer. Perhaps immerse yourself all the more with his you’re-still-a-kid-in-my-eyes perspective. “I’m a 30-year old woman, for fuck’s sake! I can do whatever I want!”

“Not when you’re wearing those clothes.”

The appalment on your face could have shook him off from his stance. To be fair, there was nothing wrong with your clothes. It seemed prim and proper and respectable enough. It’s just his brain was thinking of many dishonorable things with it.

He didn’t know you would come to the Bonten headquarters today. He had his schedule planned out, meeting after meeting — your usual routine for a crime syndicate advisor. He was walking to the elevator to his office peacefully as one could imagine in a hotel full of rageful bastards when he saw a bunch of men snickering nearby the metal doors and heard your name slip up from one of their disgusting lips.

“Would absolutely fuck her until she’s raw and begging for mercy,” they snickered. It didn’t sit well in his gut. It immediately fired up a possessiveness he didn’t know he had, but he blamed it for the reason that you’re his close friend’s younger sister which was why he felt the urge to protect you.

But now that you’re standing in front of him, looking like the wild and passionate sex yourself they made obscene statements with, maybe what you really needed was to be protected from him.

Hell, he had to get out of here. Away from you.

“I’m gonna take you home and you’re gonna change out of those clothes,” he demanded. He stepped towards the door, not waiting at all for your sure as hell snarky response, “And you’re gonna stay at home until I tell you to.”

You crossed your arms at him. “No.” 

“Yes.”

“No.”

“And you’re really telling me you’re not a kid?”

“I’m not,” you ground out, face twisting into irritation. 

Takeomi paused by the doorway, hand clasping the knob before giving your tense form a well-heated look. Your breath hitched. “Then be a good girl instead and follow my orders.”

You found out moments later, much to your disdain, that he drove his car like the perfect gentleman. One hand on the wheel and the other under his chin. The song in his speakers played a slow beat, the singer’s voice raspy and suggestive — it’s stimulating. 

Maybe it was because this was the first time he drove you to your house. Usually, it would be his driver or any one of his men taking you home. And even if you did sit in a single car, it wouldn’t be the two of you alone. There would always be someone accompanying you two.

God, you couldn’t think straight at all. The words ‘good girl’ and the way he had said it made you immediately compliant. And the scent — his scent — was everywhere. From the very lush, constricting space of his car to the man himself sitting beside you. It was deep. Manly. Musky. As if somebody had sex prior.

The abrupt thought grated your nerves.

Once you entered the garage of your luxurious apartment, you breathed a tired sigh that may as well be ten years worth of exhaustion. “You could’ve just dropped me upfront,” you grumbled.

“I could,” was all he replied. He parked on a VIP spot — a spot named after him making you wonder why he did such a thing, and turned off the car. He unlocked the doors and got up from his seat. 

You already knew what he’s going to do.

Cursing him underneath your breath, you opened your car door and followed him to the elevator. You put your floor number as he waited patiently behind you, and you could feel his stare burning holes at the back of your head. 

You fought the urge to shiver from its intensity.

Entering the empty cabin once it arrived, he stepped in, pressing the door button to close. Once more, you were crowded by his deliciously suffocating aura, and you nervously shifted your heels.

He tensed.

Your mouth parted.

You swallowed, as if the air was thick with unsaid tension. The simple knowledge he’s on edge around you sizzled under your skin, gripping your chest with force making you breathless.

The whole way up to your floor, he was silent. If it was all the more possible, he became more brooding, more ominous — which didn’t help the nerves you have to instinctively attune to him when he’s around.

You reached your apartment door, entered the passcode and wrenched it open. If you thought he would go away now to leave you alone like a kid being sent to a corner, you were wrong. He entered the room as if he owned it, and gracious heavens, he had fitted so perfectly at a standstill in your doorway. 

Like a husband arriving home to his sweet wife.

“What?” You managed to croak out.

“What the fuck is that?”

“What the fuck is what?”

He brisk-walked from your doorway to the adjacent living room, and lifted what appeared to be a men’s shirt from the armrest of the couch.

Uh-oh.

“Whose is this?”

You fixed him a look. “No one you should care about.”

Takeomi’s face hardened. He bit his lip from lashing out his anger, and your eyes followed the gesture. He sneered your name, irritation laced in its letters, “Whose the fuck is this?”

But you only raised your brow, crossed your arms, and leaned onto one sexy hip. I don’t need to tell you.

“You can leave now, Akashi-san,” you ordered instead.

Well, fuck. Aren’t you the most frustrating woman he had ever encountered?

He stormed across the room and stood in front of you, clutching the dirty rag that was the stranger’s shirt in his hand. “Does your brother know about this?” He fumed.

You held his angry eyes with your unbothered ones, “Onii-san knows.”

Fucking hell.

“Don’t invite him again,” he growled.

“Who? Wakasa-nii-san?” You asked. Takeomi’s short patience was wearing thin. Which was why he threw the filthy material to the floor and gripped your shoulders with his large hands before he could even stop himself. 

“This boy you’re fucking,” he spat out. Your slender shoulders felt so soft, he couldn’t willingly pull away. Like a magnet, he was drawn to you. So he moved closer. “You are done with him.”

You stood, proud; challenging him with a look that called out to his primal instincts. He could feel a stirring in his pants, that was very much instinctual. Oh, how he wanted to debauch those rousing glare.

His hold on you tightened.

“Or what?” You haughtily asked. “I need to be pleased like you men need to be pleased.”

You really were testing him.

Takeomi’s angry expression became a smolder, and he pushed you towards a wall, his chest laying flat on your torso. Its warmth and massiveness felt so delicious you couldn’t form a coherent thought.

“And did he please you?” He drawled. His face hovered over yours, breath fanning your rapidly warming cheeks. The rush of desire brought by his closeness was immediate. You shivered. “Answer me.”

You opened your mouth to say something when you felt his leg slowly pushing itself in between your thighs. It robbed you of your speech, the bitchy sentiment you ought to respond died on the tip of your tongue as the organ inside your ribcage skipped a beat.

His knowing eyes glimmered, and you helplessly fought for your snarkiness to come back. Your arms hung limply by your sides, and your neck somehow arched in order to reach his lips. 

Your breaths were mingled, becoming one. They tangled in the very air you take, and you swore, you could moan just by it alone.

His soft lips glided over yours when you squirmed from the thick anticipation, and you gasped. You couldn’t help it, not when his eyes had looked darker with more thirst than ever. He let out a shaky breath and pressed his body closer and harsher to you.

“You’re a fucking menace,” he ground out before his mouth took yours in a wet, sloppy kiss. Groaning from the back of his throat, he let go of your shoulders to trail them to your wrists to pull them up above your head, and you moaned in an instant — albeit helplessly. 

His thigh that was steadily fixated between your legs started to move, rubbing your core so delectably your back arched. Your breasts swelled and heaved, and you knew he could feel the tingling sensation flooding through them only he could satisfy.

One of his hands removed their grip on your wrists, holding them with one large palm as the other roughly felt your tit, focusing his fingers where your pert nipple should be.

“Akashi-san,” you cried out. He continued his torture with his lips on your ear, on your jaw down to your neck — all messy kisses, nips and bites, and you felt powerful from the laborous breathing he casually let out. You wiggled out of his hold which froze Takeomi in his place, although you were quick to say, “Clothes. Too expensive.”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he rasped before he’s on you again. He undid the back zipper of your flimsy blouse with his free hand. The heat of his palm seared you as he spanned your back, making you tremble and you keened his name once more. 

He fisted the obstructive fabric, yanked it down and now you’re left with a piece of your lingerie as your blouse fell softly to the floor. “You wear this to work?” He observed the racy underwear you had worn that day to which you breathlessly nodded. “Every day?”

You whispered on his lips, “It makes me feel sexy.”

With renewed vigor, he invaded your mouth again you were absolutely sure they’d bruise. You couldn’t — wouldn’t complain, though. You’ve been waiting to be kissed by this man for years. From the time you’ve become a legal adult to the time you’ve worked under the same organization as him — it was everything you wanted, and all the more needed.

And now that you have, you wouldn’t waste a single moment not to.

You couldn’t exactly remember what happened. All you had noticed was the sudden softness on your back. His masculine weight pushed you down to the mattress. His coat and button shirt had come off, and now you’re skin to skin with your nipple getting sucked so rakishly into his mouth.

He rolled, tweaked and lavished one with his tongue as his long fingers did the same to the other. His heated gaze was on you, and you had the audacity to feel embarrassed. 

My god, he looked as if he was a man starved.

Takeomi’s mouth trailed across your feverish skin, uncouthly passing by your stomach and navel while he rolled your skirt downwards off your legs. He licked his lips once he saw the thin material hiding your womanhood, and before you could slip your heels off your feet, he abruptly grabbed your ankle. “Keep them on,” he demanded as he left an open kiss to your lower leg, tasting your skin with his tongue.

“I didn’t peg you for someone who fucks a woman still with their shoes on,” you breathed, teasing him. But that was only because he’s dragging you to the edge of the bed, the flat portion of your heels sat on his shoulders while he parted your legs and his handsome, scarred face awaiting in between.

What a sensual sight.

Your pussy tingled with excitement. It throbbed and pulsed as if your heartbeat was now between your legs and not in your chest. God, this man was about to bury his face in the place where you need him the most. “Please,” you found yourself begging.

He didn’t answer, however. Instead, he eagerly swooped in, mouth latching onto your engorged clit as his tongue flicked it every now and then. He moved his jaw as if you’re the one telling him to do it, but his eyes — those eyes that were now a molten pool of heavy desire — locked in on yours, and you knew he had his mind in ruining you for another man.

As if he didn’t already when you first saw him.

He ate you out, endlessly. Using his fingers when his tongue felt strained, but it wasn’t enough for him to stop giving you pleasure. Even when you begged him to do so because something felt like coming out, he didn’t. He kept going at it, on and on, and you came and came until you’re arching your back and crying afterwards, your own sweat sticking to your skin, you thought how he’s such an absolute meanie in bed.

“Oh my god,” you panted. “You’re a jackass.”

“I would rather accept thank you, but you’re welcome,” he devilishly grinned. 

His erection was still the same — hard and huge. You haven’t even touched him yet, and here you were, accusing him of being a jackass. Surely, you could return him the favor?

You grabbed him by his nape, pulling him up to your face to kiss him, tasting your own self on his mouth. The tanginess of your own essence in between your lips was something you knew you could get addicted to. It was that salaciously sweet and liberating.

You kissed him until you didn’t know how to breathe oxygen but him. Your fingers fumbled for his belt, and the sound of it unbuckling made you whimper a ‘Hurry’ as he struggled to get naked himself.

You pulled away out of a sudden which confused him, before inelegantly tugging his arm pushing him to his back to your pillows.

He flopped down, mouth parted and eyes hooded. 

“My turn,” you greedily said. You straddled him, using his wide shoulders as your leverage. One of your hands held his cock right by the opening of your pussy, slobbering his tip with your wetness as you teased him by moving your hips back and forth, not totally taking him all the way in.

He smacked your ass, “Don’t play with it.”

You chuckled, gaze leering. “Oh, I’m not gonna play with it.” You held his stare as you slowly sunk down on him, too hung up on the need to feel him to ask if he even wanted a condom. Your eyelids fluttered as the pain and pleasure shot right in your womb from feeling so full — full of him that you jerked on instinct, inciting a gasp and groan from your throats.

“Move,” he grunted. “Fucking move, or I swear I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk.”

The thought made your pussy clench.

And Takeomi felt it around his dick.

He breathed to pace himself, scared that he might hurt you from the intensity of his lechery. Although, the look in your eyes was clear as if you’re deeply asking for it. 

Try me.

His eyes narrowed, and you smiled. Throwing your hair to the side, you moved — slow and painstakingly agonizing, as your hips leisurely rolled on his pelvis. He threw his head back.

Your walls were snug, so warm and tight, and Takeomi thought he must have done something good in his previous life to have a splendid pussy riding him so ardently.

“Faster,” he grunted after letting you have your fun. He caressed your lower back, tenderly, before giving your body a forceful push that clearly said what and how he wanted it. “Go wild,” he moaned.

His moan was enough for you to lose your composure, but when he said those words exactly the way he did, your pussy yearned to obey him. You settled your palms on the milky skin of his shoulders as you rode him for all that you have, for all that you would be, throwing the smallest reservations you still had to the wind.

He wrapped his strong arms around you, and you fell forward with your tits bouncing heavily up and down his face. He kissed the valley between them as he met your lewd pace worthy of his own. “Fuck,” he cursed.

Your arms snaked around his head, nails scraping his scalp as a muffled groan could be heard from where he’s burying himself in your chest. You could care less if you were all sweaty from his earlier attacks, you would make sure he got imprinted under your skin no one else could really come close with.

“Akashi-san,” you cried out. “Akashi-san…”

You said his name over and over, similar to the way he panted your name, as if doing so would hold the two of you back from saying something that shouldn’t be spoken out loud. It brought the emotion you’ve been hiding away for years from him to slowly come to the surface.

It was apparent in your eyes, you knew. When he flipped you to your back and drove his cock so deep it earned him a grateful whimper, yet the tender way you had grasped his face with your hands and kissed him so softly, you knew that it was there in your eyes.

He stuttered your name. The jerky motion of his hips paused for a moment before getting rougher. He kissed you then, languidly on the lips then delicately with his tongue, reaching all the places that he could all the while branding you as his with his harsh hips.

The contrasting sensations he was unleashing over your body were consistently piling up to push you over that edge, you clawed at his chest, “Akashi-san…”

“Cum,” you heard him command, and just like a puppet being strung by her puppeteer, you obeyed. 

You came — hard and fast. Your legs quivered from the shock of having an intense orgasm, but he only kept pounding into you that you could feel again the build up of another one, “Ah, fuck…”

It was simultaneous. When you climaxed for the second time, his cock throbbed and swelled from how tighter you’ve gotten, and suddenly he’s pulling out his shaft to spurt thick white ropes of cum to your chest and stomach. 

He groaned.

The scene before him was enough to last him a lifetime of jack-off material.

Your skin was shining with sweat, chest heaving to catch your shaky breath. There were his strings of cum painted on your torso, and Takeomi swore, out of all the things he could list for this jack-off material of his, it was your face that got him suddenly aware of what he did.

He had fucked you.

“What?”

“I have somewhere else to be,” he coughed out. He stood up from his kneeling between your legs, and limply walked to his forgotten pieces of clothes.

“Oh, fuck you, Takeomi.”

The venom in your words was enough to halt him from his steps. You’ve never called him Takeomi before. It used to be Take-nii, and then Akashi-san. Never Takeomi.

Not even when he had his tongue wolfishly lapping up your juices.

Not even when he had his dick sheathed in by your heavenly pussy.

You sat completely naked in the center of your bed. Your bare, cum-covered tits were a free view for him to ogle and admire. But it was your lavender eyes that had him frozen in his place.

They looked so angry, so hurt. He could only swallow the large amount of guilt forming in his chest.

“You know, don’t you?” Your voice was cold, silent. Accusation seeping through. “You’ve always known.”

Takeomi turned his back around, but didn’t make a step forward to exit the room. He simply didn’t want to see you all vulnerable and exposed like you did with him with your body just then.

“I do.”

“Then why did you?” 

He knew you were pertaining to what had just happened. But, he was a coward. He never liked confrontations. So, he gruffed out instead, “Don’t go back to the office today.” 

Anger flared across your cheeks. “Why did you do it?”

“What do you want me to say?” He spun around. His expression darkened once more when he was gifted by your naked body, but was immediately shaken off by the blatant pain in your expression. “Your brother said you’re off-limits.”

“I think it’s a little too late for that.”

“What do you want from me?” He stood there in the middle of your room downright in his birthday suit. He never felt ashamed being naked in front of a beautiful woman before, but when it came to the matters of the heart — his heart, he couldn’t help but feel too exposed. “I can’t love you,” he added, hoping you would just push him away.

“You’re just telling yourself that,” you whispered. You turned away from him and eyed the drawn curtains of your window. Your meek actions rattled something inside his chest. “Well, aren’t you in a hurry?”

If he stepped even an inch outside your door, Takeomi felt he would really lose you then. He had always known how you feel about him all these years. They were usually followed by your brother’s listless stare on the side of his face whenever you would dare come close to him. So what if he moronically thought Wakasa didn’t approve? 

But now that he thought about it, how true was that, really? Did he ever hear Wakasa saying you couldn’t be taken by someone like him?

Was it all on his mind, then?

With a frustrated sigh, he sat back down on the bed near your bedside table to pull out some clean tissues. “Let me clean you up,” he grumbled.

“Don’t have to. Gonna take a shower after you leave,” you mumbled. Takeomi’s initial thought right then was how annoyingly confusing you and your brother were — how the two of you could drive him into madness with just your evasiveness. 

“Listen,” he started. “I don’t think Waka would approve of me touching you, uhh, inappropriately.”

“He already knows.”

“What do you mean he already knows?” Stupefied, he turned to you but you only shrugged.

“We made a bet.”

A bet? A fucking bet? “On what grounds?” He gritted out.

You rolled your eyes at him, amusement slowly lighting up your face. “On whether you would ask me out or fuck me first.”

What the actual hell. 

“He said you’re too much of a horndog to get into my pants first, so I think he won.”

He shook his head, not entirely surprised something like this would happen at all. The two of you have always been… remarkable. “You two are the craziest siblings,” he remarked.

You lifted one shoulder and beam at him. “We’re a tad bit shy if we’re compared to yours.”

“True,” he agreed, slowly crawling back to sit beside you, “but you love me for it.”

He was testing the waters, he knew.

And he wasn’t at all disappointed.

“I do,” you sighed, weary but honest. “Do you?”

Your brows were furrowed in concern, seeming so lost and hopeless, and he almost asked you to punch some long-awaited sense at him. 

“Unfortunately,” he murmured. With that, he kissed you on your lips before pulling away to ask, “How much did you bet Wakasa?”

“It’s a secret.”

taglist. @baji-san and @gwynsapphire.

[siriusmydeer]

Sirius x twin!reader where he runs away and doesn't say goodbye or anything, and they've always had a bad relationship because reader is like regulus and sirius is, well, sirius. baso angst where the reader is now ignoring sirius at hogwarts and sirius is trying to talk to her which is strange because before it was the other way round. she snaps and tells sirius how he knew what would happen if she ran away, and it was that she would get twice as many bad things to make up for sirius not (1)

the forgotten sister

sirius black x fem!twin!slytherin!reader

summary: sirius leaves you with aching despair the the faults that comes with being a black heir.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: child abuse, arranged marriage, angst, mentions of being imprisoned, mentions of death, mentions of violence, being disowned, mentions of death eaters, bad mental health, insinuation of depression, insinuation of a panic attack and bad sibling relationships

a/n: rate this cuz idk how to write angst but this has been sitting in my inbox for so long i’m so sorry

despair.

dejection.

guilt.

it was clear as day in your thought-stricken mind, without a second thought it ran thickly through your families veins for generations. every single heir of the noble house of black had the one ranging emotion of anything in a malicious, loathsome, vile and horrid context.

brothers, they were suppose to protect their siblings, love and nurture them above anyone else. they were suppose to kiss your forehead when you were sad, play with your barbies till they wanted to rip out their eyes because you had nobody else to play with, they were suppose to show another emotion than trepidation.

twins, the bond shared between them in unmatchable to any other sibling, they shared a womb for nine months, a direct bond, no seperation for nine months, thirty nine weeks, two hundred and seventy three days, a total of six hundred, five thousand and seventy hours together. a bond that should last a lifetime, of happiness, absentminded chuckles, homeliness, and love.

that’s what it should have, that’s how it should look in the peering eyes of anyone who had looked upon the similar featured siblings.

sixteen years, the only thing you had receiving in attempts of happiness, absentminded chuckles, homeliness, and love; but not everybody got what they wanted, in return you had received the raw sickly end of despair, dejection and guilt. what could such a young girl do to upset her brother from the very second her life begun? since the first weep that left sirius’ mouth, it almost felt like a duty ringing through your brain like a recurrent lullaby rather than a curse to be ignored by your family, and to only serve them when they deemed necessary for your forgotten presence.

rather than the lullaby on how a spider ran up a web, the only word familiar words in your brain since the ripe age of six was ‘crucio.’ the red tinging flare that sped across your living room like a jolt of lightening from the sky had just become a familiar sight to see at while your panic stricken figure strided through your house for just a few seconds more of peace.

dense words could be shared with your twin, not even a ‘good morning’ on most days. maybe a subtle nod when he first saw you as you both woke from your slumber if you were lucky, maybe even a sparing glance once or twice throughout the day. the first and last born female at the hands of walburga and orion black was simply ignored, a nobody, absolutely and completely nothing.

atleast sirius was there, he may not have spoke to you, or even looked in your direction but his presence in the dreadful household could’ve been enough, enough to put your blearing mind at ease for the night. that you had survived another day, that the next passing day his presence still comforted you because he was still there, that even though he didn’t protect you; he could protect regulus when he deemed fit, and as much as it put you in a absentminded agony, you appreciated his efforts to your youngest brother.

the following morning you woke up, his presence was diminished. his aura had vanished, the pungent smell of nicotine had left no trace on the stygian walls, the husk smell of expensive leather no longer enveloped in your ventilation and the irritating scent of his nose itching cologne was in absentia.

twin-tuition the muggles muttered, when two siblings who shared a whom could know almost everything and anything about each other without a second blip of thought. the walk to his room was excruciating, because in your heart his comforting presence had fled. the pink floyd and beatles posters had been torn from the walls, the mahogany wood from his drawers had been completely dismembered and his closet had been utterly ransacked.

he had left; he had left you.

that was the feeling of despair.

not even a note in his absence, not an explanation, not a second thought, sirius was gone; and sirius was not ever coming back.

the duration of the winter ‘holidays’ had seemingly passed slower than usual with the absence of your brother, the dismembering two weeks had finally been put on hold on your mind. finally finding the will to get out of your bed and put your mental health back to where it could’ve functioned at a less than normal way, the usual way. except you were sent back onto the hogwarts express only clinging onto the younger brother you had left, mind you he would’ve went off the second he stepped aboard but three seconds with your brother could’ve put you off for nine hours.

there was no will to try, no persuasive black ‘i get what i want’ attitude left churning in your system, the feeling of disgust trembling through your veins that your family would never accept you as long as you remained ‘y/n’ and not ‘y/n black,’ so you had to do what was right to protect regulus. because even though his nurturing feelings were inattentive, you would still do what was necessary to protect him.

if you weren’t the keen resemblance of your family you could’ve believed that you were adopted, having no will to become a follower of the dark lord, and no will to produce dark magic.

yet, you did what you had to do, an action that in no way would have been thought about for you; but you had what the other noble heirs lacked, compassion.

every corner you turned you had no will to search for the gryffindor brunette, your eyes didn’t erratically search for his searing silver irises, you didn’t attempt to decipher the red and gold colours from the green and silver that could’ve been crowded amongst the library, or the great hall. any will you had left for the receiving end of love from your family had utterly vanished.

that was the feeling of dejection.

sirius knew that prior years to hogwarts that you had rapidly searched for him in every single corner, mind you even there was a possibility he wasn’t there; you never faltered, you still gaped intently. it gave him the slight aching pain that he carried with himself, but the viridescent green you wore had him believing that you were simply no better than lucius malfoy or evan rosier.

it began to itch at his neck that you no longer had the need to know if he cared, if he was in the same room as you, if you even had the decree to call him your brother anymore. seemingly, you were always in between the walls of the library, a vermillion, maybe amber hued book sturdy between your hands in your grasp as you flipped the pages.

if you hadn’t shared the infamous last name, people would have never believed the two of you were what you called siblings, twin brother and sister. the epitome prankster, outgoing, and womanizer of hogwarts, the timid, skittish, quiet pureblood slytherin; and they just happened to share the same blood.

the female twin adorned reading, not because each book had different words carved upon its ivory paper, and not because there were hidden messages upon the words she so happen to enjoy deciphering but she loved reading partially because it allowed her to cry over someone else’s sadness when she could no longer identify her own.

her heart left sunken, submerged into somebody else’s misery because her own feelings enough weren’t able to bare.

he was silent for once, his mouth not barking up a laugh with his mates, he wasn’t sauntering around like he owned hogwarts himself, he was timidly walking into the depths of the library that were hidden from students. he was suddenly thoughtless, but his mind was not clear, and now face to face with the ghost of his sister; someone whom he had no intention to know, but now the wave of empathy ridden into his bloodstream as he saw the sudden tears glaze her eyes.

“you— you don’t look for me anymore. i noticed that, you don’t try and, try and look.” he started almost rudely, the first sentence he had ever uttered to his sibling was assumably how she didn’t care for his presence anymore. he was unable to produce many words at his shock, his nimble fingers anxiously shoving themselves into the grey slacks he had boughten for this years semester.

“i tried, at first. but you’re not worth a look anymore, sirius, because everywhere i go, the shadow of you is all i see.” as you contributed your words they only continued to be more broken, and stammered. the whimper in your tone clear as day as you spoke to someone you once called family, and now a sudden stranger.

“you left sirius, you left your sister, you left your brother. you left the people that needed you most because you’re selfish, you were thinking of you, not of us. so you don’t fucking deserve to be considered anymore, you don’t earn my respect on being thought about, sirius,” you were tired, achingly tired of fighting. you were tremendously exhausted of trying to fight for just a tinge of acknowledgments from your family members.

“you knew if you ran and you didn’t take us with you it would get worse, and you did it anyway. that makes you a coward, i guess the sorting hat does make mistakes after all.” you concluded, now wearied from your brother suddenly giving you the time of day when you don’t care to yearn for it anymore. his decisions affecting you single-handedly the most, your emotions no longer considering his aching feelings as his sister dismissed him at the similar treatment you had recurrently received.

“now i’ve got this penetrating, life altering ink on my wrist, because of your foolish actions. i have to pay for it, and a husband awaiting me. so now that you’re going all cry baby on me because i don’t try and find you anymore, you can stick your dreary where it came from because your damage is done.”

he had no thoughts, no words, completely ambushed. his older twin sister, someone whomst he adorned as his role model as a young boy, something he would never admit to as a child due to his stubborn nature, was now a death eater and profused in an arranged marriage because he couldn’t give a thought about his despairing twin. but now sirius had finally revived the raw end of the final emotion,

he had felt the emotion of guilt.

because even though he was trying to scoundrel some effort of empathy towards you the only thing displayed in front of him was the way your eyes spoke a thousand words but no one ever took the time to read them.

he never took time to read them.

“you need to leave— you need to run! w—why are you still there?” he started to hastily question as he peered at you erratically. his mind suddenly starting to boggle with questions as to why you would keep yourself in such a harmful situation, why you wouldn’t just run like he did.

it was simple to you, you weren’t selfish, you weren’t sirius.

“because i cannot leave regulus in that god forsaken house, the dark lord and his pesky followers would find me, and our parents would torture me, and murder me without remorse.” you finished, saying it too him like you had scribbled it upon a paper and practiced reading it every night like you were preparing for an exam, as if you would be questioned and persuaded to leave under the hands of your parents.

“i heard you— with regulus, you wanted to take him but not me. you almost brought him with you to the potters,” you revealed to the gryffindor, finally having the will to tell him clearly, on how he had wronged you in life and that there was absolutely nothing he could do to fix his actions.

“why do you never pick me sirius? why do you not want me as your sister? ‘ve always tried to protect you, why haven’t you done the same?!” at first your tone was monotone, almost dead but as your words continued your patience grew shorter and your rage grew larger.

your hand further having to clasp over your mouth by the end of your sentence before your classmates would’ve have gotten curious, and nosy at the altercation that was happening between the death eater and the disowned behind the shelves.

“i don’t— i don’t know, i just, s’different.” he was left thinking in confusion as to why he treated you differently, maybe it’s because you were the eldest, maybe you were female and in his eyes you possibly resembled his mother, maybe he had absolutely no idea as to why he treated you different.

“you dont— you don’t know? suddenly when i don’t give a shit about you, your yearning for your older sisters love. well guess what sirius, you’re not going to get it. your damage is done and there’s nothing to reverse it; so bugger off with your gryffindor mates, and your new family. if you want regulus to have a decent life from what he can live left, take him now before they take him too.” you concluded,

your first and last conversation occurring with your brother, several words left unsaid as you left him dumbfounded in the library, feeling the shoulder on shoulder collision as you left.

breathe in, breathe out. simple, again, again, again. the valley of tears were almost screaming at your waterline to let loose, to cry, to scream, to do something, anything. perhaps instead, you stood astonishingly still inside the girls lavatory, thinking, just thinking.

‘what did i do in my past life to deserve this now’ it was a simple and clear question, one that could never be answered, one without an explanation.

but yet you yearned for such a simple, yet complicated answer, maybe in another life sirius had the will to know you, your parents had the decree to love you, and maybe you weren’t sent down a path of affliction.

but that was another life, it wasn’t yours.

time went by, seconds, minutes, hours, weeks and years. they flew by, and now you were no longer that sixteen year old girl. you were eighteen, dressed in ivory with a small train at your feet, makeup painted on your eyelids, a small veil placed onto your head and your hands throughly squeezed in another’s; with the dreadful matching injected ink into your inner left fore-arms.

as the years had flew to that moment, lost was a lovely place to find yourself, but it simply wasn’t enough; it would never be enough. you had to wear the mask, ever noble heir of black had their own personal one, the one that covered every detailed flaw of you.

because after watching both of your brother’s, your supposed nurturers, your protectors, the ones that were suppose to love each and every bit of your aching soul left, you never realized how strong you had to be until being strong was your only choice that remained.

because in essence happiness is just blissful delusion, that esentially wouldn’t last forever no matter how exceedingly much you pleaded to merlin for it too last a second, maybe a minute if you were lucky.

but noble heirs of black weren’t lucky, they were cursed. and now you were finally brought upon to carry the tradition your children would be barred with, now carrying the last name of ‘dolohov.’

still remembering clear as day, like the sun was beaming into your viewpoint that one conversation you had shared with sirius in the library. the despairing love still left in your heart for your brother, your brother who stood up for regulus.

no matter how much they dismissed you as their protector, as their sister, as someone who loved them, you would always carry love for them in your trembling heart. after the amount of curses you took in their place, the screaming threats, the weeps from both of your brothers that stained your clothes, the times you had to face your parents in their absence.

you still had love for them, even if it wasn’t returned.

perhaps someday when you found the courage you crawl back home, beaten, defeated, maybe half dead. but not as long as you could remember the mark of family embedded into your heart, and your arm.

the noble heir’s of black, imprisoned, dead, and married off.

taglist: @fific7 @wisedreamcatcher @kittykylax @ronbrokemyheart @aspiringsloth20 @georgeswh0re @amourtentiaa @msmb @fangouria @five-cups-of-coffee @dracofknmalfoy @emmaev @serenitywilderness @artemis1orion @sirius-animagus @famdomhideout @hufflepogue @kirascottage @luvvninaz @miraclesoflove @black-like-my-soul

[pan-ick]

Golden Child Pt. 1

I literally can't remember where I found it but I read a headcannon for an angsty SBI +Reader and I loved it so much that I had to write something similar to it but I think I might have forgotten to like it, so if you know what the original is please tell me so I can credit them I was partially inspired by@helliontherapscallion's "Adrenaline Junkie" series, simply for the fact that because of them i haven't stopped thinking of inventor reader. Also let's just pretend that uh my human biology degree isn't going to waste by me writing blindness incorrectly ha ha. This is a purely fictional way that blindness works.

(REMINDER YOU IDIOT, FOR THE PURPOSES OF THIS STORY: Wilbur is 26, Techno is 20, Tommy is 16, Phil is 32, SO READER IS 22, GET IT RIGHT AND STOP MESSING UP)

As soon as Y/N's wings started developing, they were instantly the favorite child. Philza still showed his love to Wilbur, but nowhere near as much as he did to his winged child. If he had to choose between spending time with them or Wilbur, he'd pick them in a heartbeat. Wilbur was usually upset when this happened, but he had gotten used to it and had learned ways to cope with it.

This was until Techno showed up. On their doorstep. Next to a freezing Philza who had sacrificed most his warmth to the young piglin. Wilbur had his thoughts on this, yhough he kept them to himself. But Y/N couldn't be happier! This meant a new friend, AND they were right when they said that Phil was just a nice person, there wasn't a favorite child! Right?

They quickly realized that Techno wasn't their friend, as the first interaction they had together was them getting a claw to the face by the piglin. Philza just simply sighed and made sure the wound would stop bleeding before tending back to the scared pig.

Y/N was only eight at the time, they didn't know what they were feeling. But whatever it was didn't feel good.

Since that day, Y/N was the new Wilbur and 'Technoblade' was the golden child. Y/N wanted the spotlight back, so they tried hard at everything. Nothing ever worked. Nothing was better than what Techno could do. Nothing was more amazing than Techno's knowledge, or his skills in fighting, or his odd way of speaking, or those stupid things that he did, or the fact that he'd always blame it on some 'voices' in his head. That he had a God complex. That he was better than Wilbur. He was better than Tommy. He was better than you...

He was always better than you. Of course. Thats what you felt when you first met. Not amazement, not the happiness of having another friend. Of course not. It was overwhelming jealousy. But he was your brother, so you had to suck it up just like Wilbur did.

But soon enough, they came to peace with this. They moved on and worked on what they actually enjoyed, not what Philza enjoyed. Mechanics. Phil would have killed you if he learned of all the dangers that you put yourself through to consider yourself an inventor. Or.... Would he?

One day your older brother approached you with his idea to create "L'manburg". At first you couldn't help but laugh. But when it was realized that Wilbur wasn't joking and that he had already recruited Tommy, they agreed to join the fight for freedom. It was a way to pay Wilbur back for being there for them, afterall.

Y/N never imagined the true horrors that they would have to go through so they could say a 'thank you' to Wilbur. They never even truly said it to him, L'manburg was already exploded and he was killed before they could say it to him. Not even saying it to Ghostbur was good enough.

Y/N was forced to suffer through watching her loved ones go mad. Sometimes, they would try coming up with inventions that could help her friends out, and some that could help some regular problems in the world for other people. Most of them didn't work, they were only able to produce goggles that could just barely help fully blind people see. But it was a step in the right direction.

Then doomsday came. Y/N didn't want to be part of it, they didn't want to even try hurting their father and younger brother. They aren't even sure how they came to that point.

Before they knew it, they were begging the man who once gave them anything in the world for him to stop. The whole server was one big family especially everyone in the homes he was about to destroy. But what they wanted didn't matter anymore. It's what Technoblade wanted, and he wanted blood.

At the last moment, Y/N remembered Friend. Ghostbur would be devastated if Friend died.

Falling down to the ground from the small warning of TNT, Friend flooded their mind.

If they couldn't save L'Manburg, they needed to save Friend. Ghostbur wasn't the same, but Ghostbur is Wilbur. They still never said thank you. They have to show their gratitude through the miracle of Friend surviving.

And so that's what they set off to do. With no mind to their own self-preservation, Y/N got up and flew as fast as they could to save Friend. But before they could reach the sheep, a large pile of rubble fell on one of their wings, almost snapping it right off. Y/N tried to get it off but to no avail, and their whole body wasn't safe. As they saw more rubble they crouched down while covering their head with their hands and covering the undamaged wing with their body, they prepared for impact.

The last thing they could speak out was almost incomprehensible.

"Wil..... Will...... Ghosbu.............. Tommy.......... Dad............."

And then everything went black. Y/N couldn't see or feel anything. Not even after her youngest brother, the ghost of her older brother, and the three fiances of the SMP untrapped them. There was nothing.

After what felt like years for the brothers, there was finally a glimpse of Y/N waking up. But they continued to drift in and out of consciousness and whenever someone tried communicating they were completely unresponsive.

During this amount of time, it was agreed that it was in their best interest for their wings to be removed. They were both utterly useless now after being crushed and would just be extra weight with unnecessary pain that can be avoided the sooner their wings get removed. Just in case Y/N was still aware of everything going on, they were put under amnesia to lower the chance of them feeling the agony of a wing removal surgery.

Slowly Y/N began more responsive to people, but never to the same amount. Everyone that took care of them were absolutely heartbroken when they figured out part of the rock that fell on them damaged a vital organ that allowed a person to see. Luck was in fact on their side for damaging their eyesight instead of the brain, however most people didn't see it that way.

Ghostbur took it upon himself to become Y/N's seeing-eye dog. He missed having Friend nearby and Y/N was the thing he connected to the most after Friend's death.

After a few months of trying to get used to no longer having sight or wings Y/N was finally allowed back in their lab with a large amount of supervision from Ghostbur. While carefully running their hands across some unfinished inventions, Y/N comes across the goggles that they made at least a year ago. It immediately smarked a memory deep within their brain, the closest thing they had felt to seeing something ever since doomsday.

"Ghostbur, what color are these?" "Oh, they're blue. Blue's a really nice color, it reminds me of Friend. Do you remember Frien- Why are you looking down at those like that? Would you like some blue, it takes your sadness away! Wait dont put them on, the glass has cracks!" Y/N snickers as the ghost tries to take them away from them without being super forceful, "I'm already blind, what's the worst it can do?"

"Dont say that!" Ghostbur gasps, "We will find a way to get your vision back, those goggles might make it impossible!"

"I made these around the time you first showed up. I ran multiple tests with them and I was able to help a blind person see the world again. Sure, it was very blurry, hard to distinguish a lot of colors from each other, we have a different kind of blindness, and its been more that a year since I last tested them, but they might still work." Y/N explains, then they turn their back to Ghostbur and put the goggles on. This time, Ghostbut only makes a sound in protest.

Blinking, Y/N could feel the stimulation in their brain that they lost along with their eyesight come back. They moved their hands from the position they were in to put the invention on to Y/N's line of sight, and they could see their hands again. Fuzzy, shapeless, hands with a few bandaids and many scars on them.

"So, are they working?"

The voice of your brother brings Y/N back to reality and they turn to look at him. They had completely forgotten what Ghostbur looked like, only remembering vaguely what child Wilbur looked liked and a brief description of how Ghostbur's appearance differed for Wilbur's.

Y/N wraps their arms around the Ghost, not actually hugging but just doing the motion to where they would hug a person they could actually touch, as they tried to not cry in front of him.

(WOOOOOO THIS ENDED UP A LOT LONGER THAN I EXPECTED AND I'M NOT EVEN DONE YET, SO I SEPARATED IT INTO TWO PARTS)

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 25

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 25 - This Venerable One Hates Him So Much!

Chu Wanning couldn't force a "go away" to leave his throat. There was a long sombre pause before he changed his answer to: "Come in."

"Huh? Your door isn't locked?" They had been giving each other the silent treatment all day. But now, Mo Ran had the intention of reconciling with him, so he pushed open the door as he spoke like nothing had ever happened. Chu Wanning, on the other hand, sat expressionlessly at the table. He raised his eyes and glanced at him faintly.

In all fairness, Mo Ran was incredibly beautiful, and the whole room seemed to brighten as soon as he walked in the door. He was indeed very young. His skin was tight and seemed to exude a faint glow. The corners of his mouth were naturally slightly curled, and he seemed to be smiling even when he wasn't showing any emotion.

Chu Wanning didn't move his eyes off of Mo Ran. His slender eyelashes drooped and raised his hand to pinch out the incense burning on the table. He coldly asked:

"What are you doing here?"

"I came. . . to check your injury." Mo Ran awkwardly coughed. His eyes fell on Chu Wanning's shoulder and he froze. "You dressed it already?"

Chu Wanning faintly said: "Yes."

Mo Ran didn't know what to say: ". . ."

He really hated Chu Wanning, and he was furious that Chu Wanning had hurt Shi Mei. But, after calming down, Mo Ran wasn't completely without a conscience. Yeah, he hated him, but he didn't forget that Chu Wanning's shoulder was injured.

In the claustrophobic coffin, Chu Wanning had tightly guarded him in his arms, blocking the Master of Ceremonies Ghost's claws with his own body. His body had trembled in pain but he didn't let go. . .

To Chu Wanning, Mo Ran was disgusting.

But in addition to disgust, some very complicated emotions were always mixed in with it for some reason.

He was a rude person. He didn't read books when he was a child. Although he obtained some literary knowledge later, he still couldn't grasp many concepts easily when it came to many delicate things, especially when it came to feelings.

For example, when it came to Chu Wanning, Mo Ran rubbed his head and pondered. The back of his head was going to go bald, but he still couldn't figure out what this feeling was.

He can only identify certain kinds of feelings: love, hate, detest, happiness and unhappiness.

If all these emotions were mixed together, the wise and powerful cultivation emperor would get crossed-eyed and really dizzy.

He didn't understand. He couldn't understand. He didn't know. Help, my head hurts.

So Mo Ran didn't bother to dwell on it. Besides, he didn't have time to focus on any details other than Shi Mei.

He didn't hold good feelings for Chu Wanning in his heart, and while secretly plotting when he might have an opportunity in the future, he would make him pay with double the ferocity. On the other hand, he felt guilty. After an internal battle with himself, he finally knocked on Chu Wanning's door.

He didn't want to owe Chu Wanning.

But Chu Wanning was more stubborn and ruthless than he thought.

Mo Ran stared at the pile of blood-stained cotton gauze on the table, the bowl of hot water stained red with blood, and the sharp knife that was thrown haphazardly thrown aside. The tip of the knife was still coated with flesh and blood. His head was spinning.

How did he manage to heal himself?

Had he really cut off the festering flesh without so much as blinking? Just imagining it sent a chill down his spine. Was this guy even human?

He thought about when he had cleaned up Shi Mei's wound. Shi Mei had groaned softly in pain with tears in the corners of his eyes. Even though Mo Ran didn’t like Chu Wanning, he couldn’t help but silently give him credit——

Elder Yuheng was truly a domineering and righteous man, no arguments there.

After standing in place for a while, Mo Ran was the first to break the silence. He coughed, tapping his toes against the floor, and awkwardly said: "What happened in the Chen house. . . Shizun, I'm sorry."

Chu Wanning didn't say anything.

Mo Ran stole a glance at him: "I shouldn't have yelled at you."

Chu Wanning still ignored him. His face was still. As always, he had no reaction, but that didn't mean he wasn't aggravated and just not saying anything.

Mo Ran walked over. When he got closer, he saw the mess of bandages on Chu Wanning's shoulder. The cotton gauze was tied in several different ways. It looked like a group of crabs that were stuck together.

". . ."

Also, for a person who doesn't know how to wash his own clothes, can he really be trusted to treat himself?

Mo Ran sighed: "Shizun, don't be angry."

"Do I look angry?" Chu Wanning angrily responded.

Mo Ran: ". ."

After a long pause.

"Shizun, that's not how you wrap a bandage. . ."

He retorted unceremoniously: "You want you to teach me?"

Mo Ran: ". . ."

He raised his hand. He wanted to help Chu Wanning untie the gauze and wrap it again, but he was observant and felt that if he dared to touch him, he might end up with a lashing, so he hesitated.

He raised his hand then lowered it, and then raised it again, repeating the action several times. Chu Wanning was getting annoyed. He squinted at him: "What are you doing? Do you still want to fight me?"

". . ." He really wanted to fight him, but now wasn't a good time.

Mo Ran smiled sheepishly. Throwing caution to the wind, he suddenly reached over and grabbed his shoulders, dimples appearing at the corners of his mouth: "Shizun, let me help you re-bandage it."

Chu Wanning wanted to refuse, but Mo Ran's warm fingers had already wrapped around the bandage. His mouth felt dry and stiff. He couldn't speak, so his lips moved slightly but nothing came out.

The gauze was peeled off layer by layer. Blood had soaked through it, and when it was all torn back, the five holes were piercingly obvious and hideous.

Just looking at it, he shuddered. It was many times more serious than the would on Shi Mei's face.

Mo Ran didn't know what he was looking at. He was stunned, then suddenly asked softly: "Does it hurt?"

Chu Wanning lowered his long and slender eyelashes, and simply said lightly: "It's fine."

Mo Ran said: "I'll be gentle."

Chu Wanning didn't know what he was thinking, and suddenly his ear flushed a little red. As a result, he got angry with himself again. He thought he was going crazy. All day he had been thinking up such nonsensical thoughts. His expression grew stiff. His temper worsened, and he said dryly, "It's up to you."

The candlelight in the guest room flickered. In the dim light, he could see that he had completely missed some spots with the ointment. Mo Ran was honestly speechless. He thought it was a miracle that Chu Wanning was still alive and healthy today.

"Shizun."

"Hmm?"

"What happened to you today at the Chen house? Why did you suddenly lash out and hit someone?" He asked while applying some ointment.

Chu Wanning was silent for a while, then replied: "I was angry."

Mo Ran asked: "Why were you so angry?"

Chu Wanning didn't want to trouble his disciple, so he told Mo Ran a brief and concise version of Luo Xianxian's story. After Mo Ran listened to the story, he shook his head: "You're stupid. In this kind of situation, even if you're angry, you shouldn't confront them about it to their face. If it were me, I would've made a mess of things and lie to them that the ghost had been removed, and then pat their asses and leave, letting them fend for themselves. Just look at you making a scene over such a rotten man. You knew you probably wouldn't get through to him, and then you missed and wounded Shi Mei--"

Halfway through the sentence, Mo Ran abruptly stopped. He stared silently at Chu Wanning.

He tied the bandage carefully. He was a little forgetful and he was talking to Chu Wanning like he had when he was 32, pretty cheekily.

Chu Wanning obviously noticed. He squinted his eyes, looking coldly at Mo Ran. That look resembled a very familiar phrase - "See if I don't whip you to death."

"Uh. . ."

Before his brain had thought up a response, Chu Wanning has already begun speaking.

He said indifferently: "Is Shi Mingjing the one I wanted to fight?"

When Shi Mei was mentioned, Mo Ran's originally calm mental state started to shift and his tone hardened: "Isn't he the person you hit?"

Chu Wanning did regret hitting him, but he couldn't admit it. At this moment, his face was sullen and he didn't say a word.

Chu Wanning was the stubborn type. Mo Ran was the lovesick type. Their eyes meet and sparks crackled. The atmosphere that had just eased a little became hopelessly stagnant again.

Mo Ran said: "Shi Mei didn't do anything wrong. Shizun, you hurt him by accident. Don't you want to say that you're sorry?"

Chu Wanning narrowed his eyes dangerously: "Are you questioning me?"

". . . I'm not." Mo Ran paused. "I just feel bad that he got hurt but never got an apology from Shizun."

Under the candlelight, the handsome and youthful teenager finished wrapping the last bandage on Chu Wanning's wound and carefully tied a knot. It may have looked like the scene was quite warm, but the mood between them had changed. Especially Chu Wanning; his chest felt like a jar of vinegar had exploded in it. The feeling of sourness was overwhelming and he felt angry and annoyed.

Apologize?

How do you even spell that word? Who'll teach him how to write?

Mo Ran said: "It'll take half a year for the wound on his face to heal. When I gave him some medicine just now, he still told me not to blame you. Shizun, he doesn't blame you, but do you think that justifies what you did?"

This sentence was tantamount to adding fuel to the fire.

Chu Wanning had been enduring it but he finally couldn't hold it back. He suppressed his voice and muttered: "Get out."

Mo Ran: ". . ."

Chu Wanning exploded: "Get out!"

Mo Ran was forced out and the door slammed shut in his face, almost clamping his fingers. Mo Ran was furious. Just look at this! What kind of person was this? All this just to avoid apologizing? Such cherished and treasured pride. What was so difficult about saying sorry? All he needs to do is move his mouth. This Venerable One was the Emperor TaXian, yet this Venerable One didn't hesitate to apologize to others. As for the Beidou Immortal, half of his words were inexplicable, as if he had swallowed them. What a ridiculous temper!

No wonder no one cared about such a handsome face!

It was a waste of time. He deserved to stay single for the rest of his life!

Since Chu Wanning would rather ignore him and give him a closed-door to talk to, then of course the high and mighty cultivation emperor, the emperor of the human world, wouldn't lose any sleep over this. Although he was tenacious and as hard to get rid of as a piece of sticky candy, he stuck to Shi Mei, not his shizun.

He immediately left without a care and went to join Shi Mei.

"Why are you back so soon?" Shi Mei was in the midst of lying down to rest when he saw Mo Yan come in. He froze and sat up, long strands of ink hair hanging all over the place. "How's Shizun?"

"Very good. His temper is as strong as usual."

Shi Mei: ". . ."

Mo Ran brought over a chair and sat on it backwards. His hand rested on the back of the Taishi chair, a lazy smile hanging on the corner of his mouth. His gaze flicked across the appearance of Shi Mei's soft and long hair.

Shi Mei said: "Why don't I go and see him. . ."

"Don't think too much about it." Mo Ran rolled his eyes. "He's terrible."

"Did you make him angry again?"

"He needs someone to provoke him? He makes himself angry. I think he's made of wood considering he's so flammable."

Shi Mei shook his head, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

Mo Ran said: "Get some rest. I'll borrow the kitchen downstairs and make you some food."

Shi Mei said: "What's the fuss? You haven't closed your eyes all night. Aren't you going to sleep?"

"Haha, I am in good spirits." Mo Ran laughed. "But if you can't bear me leaving, I can stay with you for a while until you fall asleep."

Shi Mei hurriedly waved his hand and said warmly: "No, if you have to look at me like this, I won't be able to sleep either. You should go to bed early. Don't exhaust yourself."

The curvature in the corners of his mouth stiffened slightly. Mo Ran was a little sad.

Although Shi Mei treated him kindly, he always maintained such a distant attitude. It was the attitude of someone who was obviously close at hand, but as the moon in the mirror and the flower in the water, he could be seen but not obtained.

". . . Okay." In the end, he just tried to cheer up and laughed. Mo Ran's smile was very bright. When he wasn't completely evil, he was actually pretty silly and cute. "Call me if you need anything. I'm either right next door or downstairs."

"Okay."

Mo Ran raised his hand, wanting to touch his hair, but he held back. He spun his hand around in the air and scratched his head.

"I'm leaving."

Outside of the room, Mo Ran couldn't help but sneeze.

He sniffed.

Because Caidie Town produced incense, the price of all the different kinds of incense wasn't as expensive, so the inn wasn't stingy with it. Each room was lit with a long branch of special incense; one can ward off evil spirits, another can dehumidify, the last one can give the room a nice fragrance.

But as soon as Mo Ran smelled the incense, it made him uncomfortable. But if Shi Mei liked it, he would endure it.

Coming downstairs, Mo Yan wandered over to the innkeeper, slipped him a silver ingot. He squinted his eyes and said with a smile: "Innkeeper, do me a favour."

The innkeeper looked at the silver ingot and smiled more politely at Mo Ran: "What is this immortal gentleman's request?"

Mo Ran said: "I see that not many people come here to eat breakfast. I wanted to discuss that with you. I want to use the kitchen this morning. Please let the other guests know."

How much money would breakfast make him? It would probably be impossible to earn a silver ingot in half a month. The innkeeper immediately smiled and agreed, leading the swaggering Mo Weiyu into the kitchen of the inn.

"You want to cook by yourself? It's better to let the chef in our inn do it. He's very talented."

"No need." Mo Ran smiled. "Have you heard of the Jade Wine Building in Xiangtan?"

"Ah. . . Is that the famous music performance building that started getting popular more than a year ago?"

Mo Ran: "Yeah."

The boss took a peek outside and confirmed that his wife was busy and couldn't overhear. He snickered and said, "Who hasn't heard of it? It's the most famous restaurant on the Xiangjiang River. It used to have a lead musician there. It’s a pity it's so far away, otherwise, I'd want to listen to her play a song."

Mo Ran laughed: "Thank you for the compliment. I'll pass it onto her."

"Pass it on?" The innkeeper was puzzled. "Do you know her?"

Mo Ran said: "More than just know."

"Wow. . .You don't say? But you cultivators can be. . . well. . ."

Mo Ran interrupted him with a smile: "Other than the lead musician, do you know anything else?"

"Hmm. . . Their food was said to be a must."

The corners of Mo Ran's mouth curled higher and he smiled brighter. He skillfully picked up the kitchen knife and said: "Before I took up cultivation, I was a cook in the kitchen in the Jade Wine Building for several years. You said that your chefs make delicious dishes. Whose is better, theirs or mine?"

The innkeeper was even more shocked, and stammered out: "You're really. . . really. . ."

He couldn't get the words out.

Mo Ran gazed at him with narrowed eyes. His smile was barely holding back his smug and cocky demeanour: "You can leave. This chef is going to cook something."

The innkeeper didn’t know that he was talking to the former Lord of Darkness, and he put on a cheeky expression: “I've heard a lot about Jade Wine House's exquisite desserts. I wonder if you would let me have a bite once they're ready?"

He didn't think this was too high of a request. Mo Ran would definitely agree.

Who would've expected Mo Ran to squint his eyes and say with a smirk: "You want some?"

"Hmph!"

"Really?" Mo Ran snorted. He was bursting with pride. He scoffed: "You think I would cook for just anyone? This Venerable One is doing this just for Shi Mei. If not for him, I wouldn't even be lighting a fire to cook. . ."

He flipped a radish over and started to slice it, muttering.

". . ." The innkeeper slumped defeatedly. He rubbed his hands and stood there awkwardly. He halfheartedly chuckled at him then left.

He was also muttering to himself.

This Venerable One? For someone this young, his spiritual core hasn't even fully formed yet. He thought about his chatter and how he was probably referring to his elder sister disciple, but there was no female cultivator among the group who walked with him today.

The innkeeper rolled his eyes.

This person must be deluded.

Mo Ran stayed busy in the kitchen for several hours. It was almost noon when the work was finished, and he rushed upstairs to wake Shi Mei up.

When passing by Chu Wanning's room, he slowly came to a stop.

Should he ask if he wanted to eat together. . .

Thinking of Chu Wanning's harsh temperament, Mo Ran's heart skipped a beat, his face full of contempt.

No, no, no. He only had a few portions. There wasn't enough to share with him!

[redrobin-detective]

handknit sweater, never worn

How did Valerie end up in these kinds of situations? Of course there had to be a large scale ghost attack at her school. Val had gotten rid of most of the ghosts, weak mindless things when part of the auditorium collapsed, trapping her inside. Normally she’d blast her way out but the old building was creaking ominously from who know how many fights. Her rockets might collapse the whole south side of the school, meaning she was stuck here while the Fentons cleaned up the rest of the small fry. And to make matters worse, Danny’s dad had had the brilliant idea to put up a portable ghost shield around parts of the school to contain the ghosts. Meaning Phantom and the spooky vampire ghost were stuck with her too.

“Ugh this sucks,” Phantom whined, leaning petulantly against the ghost shield. His arms were crossed and his eyes lidded with annoyance, he almost could have passed for a normal, annoyed high schooler if you ignored his unnatural glow. “They really increased the power on these shields, I hope they’re okay out there by themselves. I think most of the students were evacuated already.” He glanced subtlety over at her which only increased her irritation. It was so aggravating he knew everything about her while she knew nothing about him.

“Madeline’s handiwork no doubt,” The vampire guy, Plasmius, commented flippantly. “I don’t believe Jack could assemble a sandwich without her assistance.” Phantom bristled a bit at the comment but just turned to glare at empty air. While she’d once mistaken them for friends, it was clear there was serious bad blood between Plasmius and Phantom. 

“What are you even doing here, Plasmius?” Phantom hissed, crossing his arms closer to his chest in aggravation. “I’ve told you a million times to stay out of Amity.”

“Or you’ll do what, dear boy?” Plasmius grinned, flashing his fangs, like Phantom had told a particularly funny joke. Val privately considered the ghost boy to be one of the strongest ghosts she’d ever fought so if this guy was treating him like an annoying fly... Valerie kept her weapons up just in case but otherwise stayed away from the two volatile ghosts. She could take them down if she had to but there might be collateral. Right, that’s what she was going to go with.

“Actually,” Plasmius said, his cruel red eyes twinkling with smug glee. “I popped into town to check in on some of my old college friends. See what they’d been up to while I’d been busy with my various projects.”

Phantom kept his casual posture but went rigid, he did a quick glance over at her before moving back over to the ghost. “Now? You’re doing this now?”

“It’s always a good time to hurt you and besides,” another throaty chuckle, “I thought Ms. Grey might be interested.” Ok, was there any ghost that didn’t know her identity?

“Anyway, the wife was out but I found my fat, stupid old friend,” another twitch from Phantom, “back at his old favorite past time of knitting. It looked like he was making a sweater.”

“You’re a real bastard, you know that?” Phantom hissed, his form looking more and more defensive by the minute. Valerie had no idea what they were talking about but it clearly was upsetting the Ghost Kid. Usually she’d be pleased but it was kind of uncomfortable to watch.

“Hmm,” the vampire ghost hummed, still radiating cruel satisfaction. “I’m sure you’ve seen it too considering how often you’re in that house. He was working so hard on it, so furiously. No doubt trying to get it done in time for Christmas. A beautiful, handmade sweater for his wayward son who’s never going to get the chance to wear it.”

Oh shit, Plasmius was talking about Phantom’s dad. She’d assumed the beef between them started once they’d become ghosts but clearly there was history that extended to when they’d both been alive. Imagining Phantom alive, with parents... it was too weird.

“Shut up, I’m going to wear the sweater,” Phantom muttered weakly, curling in on himself. He’d scooted as far away from Plasmius as he could get. 

“Oh but he’s not making it for you, Danny Phantom,” Plasmius lilted with a smirk causing Phantom to wince. “He’s making it for his normal, human son who he doesn’t even have the brains to realize doesn’t exist anymore. Would he bother to spend so much time and energy on a sweater that could only be worn by a ghost? To see proof of his own failure as a father?”

“Hey, it was my fault,” Phantom defended, finally snapping out of his sad and guilty funk. He balled his fists and glared at Plasmius with all he had. “I don’t blame them for what happened, I love them and they love me and nothing you say will ever change that!”

“Then why don’t you tell them, Daniel,” Plasmius asked with a raised eyebrow. “If you’re so confident in their love, then tell them. Tell them the sweater is pointless because you thrive in the cold. Tell them that their mistakes and negligence led to you becoming an unnatural abomination not fit to exist in either world.”

“Only-” Phantom’s voice caught and he cleared his throat and tried again. “Only if you tell them first. You may have been their friend at one point a long time ago but all you’ve done since then is hurt people, hurt me. For all their flaws, I don’t think they’ll ever forgive you for that.”

“Touché, son,” Plasmius scoffed. “Now then, I’m afraid our discussion will have to continue another time. I believe the power on the ghosts shield should be fading right about...” a low whine and the green wall surrounding them disappeared. “Ta ta for now you petulant child. Ms. Grey, a pleasure as always. Be careful with this one, he’s an experienced cheat and a liar.” With those parting words, Plasmius disappeared in a swirl of pink.

Valerie thought Phantom would leave too but instead he let out a long breath and ran his gloved fingers through his hair. After a moment he straightened himself up and looked as cool and confident as he ever did. 

“The Fentons have probably rounded up the rest of the ghost but we might as well check, you check by the cafeteria and I’ll go through the classrooms.”

“Why?” Valerie found herself asking, not sure what she meant. Why did Phantom die? Why was he so afraid to let his apparently still living parents know what happened? Why did he try so hard to help people when everyone, including her, was so against him?

“It’s the right thing I guess,” Phantom shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck. “My uh my parents raised me that way and if it lost that after everything, well, then the person I was before really will be gone.” He floated over to her, gently phasing them both through the wreckage connecting them to the rest of the school and, for a second Valerie saw a scared, human kid in over his head. Then the illusion was gone and it was just Phantom, annoying as always.

“Check the classrooms and if there’s no ghosts then I’m gunning for you,” Val said instead, activating her hoverboard and speeding off before he could answer. She readied her weapons and didn’t think of childless parents living in ignorance of what they’d lost or lonely sons who were too afraid to ask if their parents would love them even as a monster. 

She just wanted to get the ghost scum out of her school and move on with her life. But still, she couldn’t help but think that, come Christmas time, she’d find Phantom in a handknit sweater intended to ward off a chill he could not longer feel. 

[ragingbookdragon]

Don't Bleed Me Then Push Me Away

Kyle Rayner x Batbrother One-Shot

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: Based off this ask about Batbro being a Lantern! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

He burst through the door leading out to the roof, one arm wrapped around the man’s back, the other slamming the door shut. Huffing, he set him against one of the overhead vents before hurrying back to the door, yanking something from his belt. He shoved it against the door frame, just at face height and clicked a button, watching a red-light flicker on.

Sprinting back over, he knelt in front of the man who was moaning lowly, pawing at his side; he grabbed the hand. “Kyle, babe, don’t.”

“It hurts,” he moaned, dropping his head; he tugged the jacket away from his side, eyes widening at the crimson blooming larger and larger. “Oh God, I’m gonna bleed out.” He looked up, meeting his eyes. “(Y/N), I’m bleeding out.”

(Y/N) shook his head. “You’re gonna be okay.” Pressing a finger to his ear, he shoved the other against Kyle’s side. “Black Ops to Batman, come in.”

I read you, Black Ops. What’s your status?

“Not good. Green Lantern’s down and I’m not looking too hot either.” A blast sounded from below, on one of the floors beneath them. “We’ve got incoming enemies from the lower floors.” (Y/N) craned his neck, peeking over the side of the building before ducking again. “Tanks are in the courtyard.”

I’m sending the Batplane to your position.

“Negative Batman, anti-aircraft missiles were spotted earlier.” He breathed heavily, mind working in overdrive as he tried to think of a plan, but nothing was coming to him. Kyle’s blood was warm underneath his fingers and with how wounded the Lantern was, not even his ring could heal his injury.

—ack Ops. Black Ops. (Y/N)!

He shook himself from his stupor. “I’m here.”

I’m sending the Batplane.

“You can’t!” he yelled. “It’ll get shot down!”

I’m willing to take that chance if I get you and Kyle out.

“Dad I—” another blast sounded, this time from the rooftop door and he spun, listening to the screams of the men who’d taken a C4 charge straight to the face. (Y/N) yanked out his side arm, dropping the few who managed to survive and come out. He pulled the trigger one more time but all it did was click. Empty. He started hyperventilating, unable to decide if Kyle needed his attention more or if he should worry about getting them to safety.

But where could he take them? They were on the rooftop surrounded by tanks and soldiers. There was nowhere to run. They were at the end of the line.

(Y/N) looked back at Kyle. Sweat dripped down his face, his black hair clinging to his forehead; he looked clammy and ready to pass out. He glanced down at their hands pressed together, Kyle’s atop (Y/N)’s, and his eyes widened. The power ring.

He grabbed Kyle’s hand. “Kyle, gimme your ring.”

“What?” the Lantern moaned weakly. “My ring?”

(Y/N) nodded, slipping it off; he put his hand to his mouth, yanking the strap with his teeth before biting the tip of the middle finger, tugging it off. He slipped the ring on his finger and waited. He swallowed thickly, muttering, “Come on. Come on. Come on.”

“(Y/N),” Kyle whispered, and he looked at his lover. “It’s not working.”

“It has to,” he retorted, tears stinging the corner of his eyes. “I don’t wanna die here.” He leaned forward, one hand coming up to clasp the side of Kyle’s neck, his thumb brushing his cheek as he pressed his forehead to the man’s. “I don’t want us to die here.”

Kyle swallowed, a ghost of a grin on his lips. “I love you, (Y/N).”

He shook his head. “No. Don’t say that now.”

“I don’t know if we’ll get another chance,” he countered, nosing the soldier. “If we die here, then I want you to know that I love you.”

(Y/N)’s jaw tightened. “We’re not dying. Not now. Not today.” A wave of power surged through him, crashing against his soul like a tidal wave. “I refuse to give in. I won’t.” he shut his eyes, focusing on the feeling of Kyle’s skin against his own. “I’ll get us to the other side.”

A flash of green light burst across the sky, followed by an other worldly voice. (Y/N) Wayne of Earth. You have the ability to protect the ones you care for without fear. Welcome to The Green Lantern Corps.

He opened his eyes, the suit of green flooding his vision; a breathless laugh passed his lips and he gazed at Kyle. “I told you.”

Kyle snorted pitifully. “Yeah, yeah.”

(Y/N) grinned. “How do I work this thing?”

“Anything you can think of. If you can will it, it’ll come to life.”

He stood, looking down at the soldiers in the distance. “Any qualms against killing?”

Kyle shook his head. “Rules have been rewritten. Lethal force against enemies of the Green Lanterns has been authorized.” He gasped, leaning down to the ground and (Y/N) held out his arms.

“You need medical attention.”

“I’ll be fine,” he wheezed, shaking his head. “Go.”

(Y/N) knelt. “I’m not taking any chances.” He looked around. “I know who to call.”

“Who?”

He leaned forward, pulling Kyle into his arms. “Try not to move.” (Y/N) stood to his feet, eyes directed to the sky as he shouted, “Supergirl!”

A rush of wind gusted over them, almost knocking him off his feet and he looked over, seeing her red cape billowing above them. “(Y/N)?” she questioned. “You’re a Green Lantern?”

“For the moment,” he answered, holding Kyle up. “I need you to get Kyle to the Batcave back in Gotham City. Now.”

She glanced at the wounded man. “Oh my God, what happened?”

“Mission gone bad,” (Y/N) said. “Kara, please. Hurry.”

Kara nodded, lowering down to take Kyle from (Y/N); he grasped at (Y/N)’s shoulders. “I’m not leaving you.”

He shook his head. “You need to get to a hospital, or you’ll die.” He smiled. “I can take care of this.” (Y/N) met Kara’s gaze. “Go.”

She took off, ignoring how Kyle screamed at her to take him back.

(Y/N) flew to the ledge, standing atop it, and a gun went off; he raised a hand, imagining an aegis and sparks flew when the bullet ricochet off the bright green shield. He felt a renewed sense of strength and took a single step off the ledge, raising his hands high above his head; and the soldiers along the ground all gaped in terror as thousands of glowing arrows appeared in the sky, all the sudden coming down in a fury of green hellfire.

***

Kyle came to with wide eyes, sitting straight up on the med bay bed, though it proved to be a terrible decision as pain swelled through his side and ebbed outwards every which way. He gripped his abdomen, hissing with displeasure.

“Hey, take it easy,” someone commanded, pressing a hand to his shoulder and he cocked his head up, Jason coming into focus beside him.

“(Y/N),” he blurted out. “Where’s (Y/N)?”

Jason shook his head. “He hasn’t come back yet.” Kyle’s face dropped and Jason was quick to reassure, “But he didn’t send the code-word, so we know he isn’t dead yet.”

“What?”

“We’ve got a code-word we’re only allowed to use if we know for certain we’re not going to make it.” Jason leveled Kyle with a firm stare. “(Y/N)’s still out there somewhere.”

Kyle shoved his arm off. “Then I need to be up helping.”

“With what? He’s got your ring.” Jason put his hand back on the other’s shoulder and this time pushed him back on the bed. “You just lay right here and recover. We’ll do everything.”

“I can’t just lie here, Jay,” he retorted, though he made no move to get up. “I need to help you.”

“(Y/N) would want you to rest,” Jason shot back, and Kyle scowled.

“Screw you for using him against me.”

He snickered. “I’m just saying what you know you should be doing.” Jason reached over, pressing a button, and Kyle felt the world slow down, his vision growing dark as sleep washed over him. “There you go. Let the morphine lull you back to sleep.”

“Gonna…kick your…ass,” Kyle slurred before his head dropped down, eyes slipping shut as his consciousness faded, Jason’s amused hum echoing in his ears.

***

Kyle liked to be touched. He found physical measures of affection just as important as verbal ones. And (Y/N) liked to touch. A hand on a thigh, a kiss on a temple, a finger looped through a belt-loop, a toe brushing an ankle, digits carding through hair; he was content to simply be in contact. His favorite way was to touch was when he and Kyle were laying in bed, the latter’s back pressed to (Y/N)’s chest, one of the soldier’s arms wrapped around the Lantern’s waist, the other arm under Kyle’s head, folded back so he could brush through his lover’s hair.

It was uniquely intimate and sweet at the same time, and (Y/N) would simply lie there, breathing in the scent of Kyle’s minty shampoo, brushing the dark strands until they felt like silk beneath his fingers. And Kyle would hum contently like a cat, grunting if (Y/N) stopped. On the rare cases that he did, the Lantern would pout like a child and turn over in (Y/N)’s arms, burying his face in the soldier’s throat, nose brushing his lover’s Adam’s apple, breath warm against his skin. (Y/N) would chuckle, the vibrations rumbling through Kyle as the soldier’s arms twisted, cocooning the Lantern to his chest, legs tangling like ribbon.

It’s the feeling that Kyle had at the very moment, and he blinked blearily, inhaling deeply as he forced his mind to rise above the sleep clouding his brain. The comforting scent of cedarwood and gun metal wafted up his nose, a hint of tobacco hidden within. Warmth spread across his body, hot air puffing against his temple, as he finally felt the pressure over the left side of his body.

He opened his eyes, seeing a familiar set of dog tags and he tried to jerk up when someone’s hand rested on his chest, a comforting deep voice murmuring, “Easy, babe.”

Tears stung Kyle’s eyes and he fumbled for the hand over his heart, clenching the fingers through his own as he whispered, “Fuck you.”

“Hmm,” (Y/N) chuckled lowly. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“You sent me away,” he hissed, barely restraining the tears. “I thought you were going to die.”

“Not yet.” He retorted, kissing Kyle’s temple. “Go back to sleep.”

“No. I’m mad.”

“Mmm, no, you’re actually relived I’m back alive and spooning you on a crappy med bay bed.”

“Don’t try to change my mind,” Kyle shot back, trying to wiggle, but (Y/N) had him in a tight grip. “I want to yell at you.”

(Y/N) sighed and pulled away, gazing at the Lantern; Kyle opened his mouth to start berating him and he merely leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lover’s lips. Kyle’s eyes went wide as he made a noise of complaint, but it quickly faded as heat flooded his system.

They pulled away and (Y/N) patted his cheek. “You can yell at me in the morning. Go to sleep.”

Kyle glared at him, though he let his head fall to (Y/N)’s shoulder. “I’m going to kick you in the crotch.”

“Yep.”

“And yell at you for leaving me.”

“Uh huh.”

“Mock me at your own peril, Wayne. I’ll fight you.”

“Ooo, I’m so scared of the green space ranger with fancy boots.”

“You are a major douche.”

(Y/N) nuzzled his head. “I know. You love me though.”

Kyle swallowed the lump in his throat, and he turned, burying his face in (Y/N)’s throat as he whispered, “Don’t ever send me away from you like that ever again.”

He smiled, carding his hand through the Lantern’s hair. “Never again.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.” (Y/N) kissed Kyle’s head. “Go to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

[thefanficmonster]

Strictly Professional

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: HUMOR, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: A slip of the tongue leads Corpse to make an unexpected confession which leads to him getting lectured by his best friend. That’s all you need to know, the rest shall unfold before your eyes.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your lovely request! I’m so sorry it’s been so long overdue but here it finally is and I really hope you come across it and read it. If so I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

I’ve buried my head under my arms, resting it on my desk as my ears are still violated by the hollering coming from my headset. I don’t know what in me snapped out of nowhere or what caused the slip-up, but what matters is that it happened and now I’m in some hot water. I’m practically the soup everyone in this Discord call at the moment will be eating for dinner tonight, getting a real kick at my expense - some even having the audacity to be mad at me over it - ahem, Rae, ahem - but bottom line: I won’t live this down easily.

“Hey everyone! What did I miss?“ Sykkuno, who was running late and missed this entire debacle makes an appearance. If it were any other occasion, I’d be overjoyed to hear he’s finally joining us, but his question of what he had missed renders me only able to cringe and wait for my friends’ next move.

“Sykkuno!“ Rae exclaims ecstatically, “Oh, strap in, imma tell you what you missed...“

“No, you won’t tell him, Rae.“ Toast cuts her off, sounding uncharacteristically serious, especially when taken into account how hard he was laughing just a moment ago, “This is Corpse’s tale to tell, don’t spare him the shame of telling it one more time.“

And just when I thought this fucker would prove himself to be a true friend...

“Oof, this sounds serious...“ Sykkuno says to fill the silence I purposely let linger just so I don’t give these bullies the satisfaction of hearing my embarrassment all over again even though they inevitably will.

“It is...“ I sigh with a heavy heart, hiding my face in the palm of my hand, “It’s really bad and embarrassing and...I’d rather not retell it at all let alone for a second time, but here it goes...“ I inhale as much air as I can as a method of gaining confidence before I start talking, “So you know MGK and I made a song. Yeah well, we’re gonna be making a music video for it and I asked Rae to be in it. Thing is, I wanted to ask Y/N first. Buckle up, this is where it starts going downhill: ok so I went over to their place so we could just chit chat an marathon a few movies like we usually do over the weekends but I also wanted to bring up the whole ‘hey, wanna be in my music video’ thing but didn’t know how. Mind you, we were drinking beers this whole time, might’ve had a few too many actually. Ok, we definitely had a few too many, but back on track: as I was blabbering and stumbling over my words, nervous as all hell and unable to string the simple question inside my head, all Y/N did was tilt their head and smile at me. You know, the odd thing is it was a genuine smile, not a drunken grin like you’d expect from someone on their fourth beer bottle. And then, out of the blue, they had the audacity to hit me with: ‘You’re so cute’ and I just sat there frozen for a few seconds. I mean, my reaction was on point - who wouldn’t react like that if their crush told them they found them cute. Anyway - I was like ‘what?’ and then, out of an even bluer blue, they freaking kissed me. I nearly had a heart attack damn it!“

“And he never asked them to be in the DAYWALKER music video!“ Rae clearly couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“I didn’t get the time! I was out of there in the blink of an eye!“ I bark, feeling my face heating up with embarrassment and regret. God, I should never ask how stupid I can get because I keep surprising myself in the end with just how far my stupidity goes. It’s fucking insane.

“Oh God, poor Y/N.“ Sykkuno sighs, sounding only a tiny bit as though he’s about to laugh. I appreciate his self-control honestly, the rest of these fuckers were dying laughing as though our friends and my crush kissing me and me responding like I had an allergic reaction was the best joke to ever be told.

“Poor Y/N?“ I snap a little, “What about me?“

“Yeah, poor Y/N!“ Rae backs Sykkuno up, “Poor Y/N and poor me for the missed opportunity to me in a music video for a song of one of my best friends with another one of my best friends. Corpse, you better fix this!!“

“How?!“ I’m aware I sound desperate but I seriously wanna fix it just have no idea how to go about it. I mean, if this looney group of nine people over here don’t come up with a plan no one will so not all hope for me is dead just yet. Even if we all had only one braincell we’d still be able to figure it out - I mean, ten braincells ain’t as bad as it sounds. Truth be told, Y/N’s the real brain of the group and they’d most definitely be able to help me - so fuck the irony.

“Call them.“ Sykkuno suggests so casually as though it’s a no-brainer. I’d go as far as to say his nonchalance almost made me laugh. Has he forgotten who he’s talking to? 

“No way.“ I turn that down real quick, unable to even imagine the course of that phone call without cringing.

“No, Sykkuno’s right, call them right here right now. Ask them to star in the music video and then swerve the conversation to that kiss.“ Charlie’s suddenly decided to join the torturing being preformed upon me over here.

“What will I even say? I have no idea what to tell them!“ I complain, aware that I sound like a tantrum-throwing toddler but it’s really not my fault.

“Corpse. Corpse dear, listen to me, follow each word I say really carefully, ok?“ Rae asks, her voice now pitched as though she’s addressing an actual child. Yeah, that’s her well-known way of mocking me. “How about you say the actual fucking words. You know: ‘Hey Y/N, MGK and I are making a music video for DAYWALKER, wanna be in it?’“

I sigh, clearly defeated.

I pull out my phone, muttering to the crowd I’m about to speak in front of to be quiet as I put the ringing call on speaker, sweating like a pig the whole time. The room has risen in temperature and this hoodie has thickened, providing more warmth that’s more suffocating than comforting when it’s a hundred degrees outside. Or when I’m about to talk to my crush after THAT incident.

“Hello?“ Y/N’s voice on the other side rips me from my thoughts’ grasp, reminding me I’m on a mission.

“Hey Y/N, what’s up?“ I reply a little too quickly. Not giving them the time to reply with anything, I continue: “Hey Y/N, MGK and I are making a music video for DAYWALKER, wanna be in it?“

DAMN IT WHY DID YOU HAVE TO SAY IT WORD FOR WORD?!?!

“Oh....“ They sound confused - and rightfully so - but then regain their composure finally, “I-I’d love to. Thanks for the opportunity, Corpse. I’m so happy you’ve made it so far. I’d be honored to be in the music video.“

Ok, that’s partial relief. Now - time for the second phase of this plan

“Uh....“ and there goes my whole vocabulary out the window, “You’re welcome.“

“Cool...cool...“ they mutter awkwardly, clearly looking for a way to end the call, “Um, by the way...this is strictly professional, right?“

No! No it’s not! Of course it isn’t! I’ve been head over heels for you for a year now, damn it!

“Of course, o-of course it is. No worries.“ I reply, once again, a little too quickly. Faster than I could’ve prevented it.

“Ok cool...well, text me the details....“ They once again trail off, hoping I’ll catch the hint.

And so I succumb.

“Will do.“ I sigh, “See ya.“

“See ya.“ They reply and hang up.

I’m left there staring at my phone screen with utter self-disappointment and frustration that’s so intense I cannot even express it in any way.

The whole lobby is at a loss of words too - all nine of them astonished by my stupidity. Fortunately though, Charlie is quick to pull himself together and speak up because God forbid Charlie ever falls speechless, then we’d be SERIOUSLY in danger.

“Corpse. You. Are. The. Biggest. Fucking. Idiot.“

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[peachiimilquetea]

something angsty with tenya leaving fem reader for the event? ty! prompt: “you can’t leave me. i don’t know how to survive without you.”

“𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞. 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮.” + tenya iida

a/n: bro… i don’t really like angst without the potential for a somewhat happy ending so i hope you’re ok with the fact that it’s not completely sad. i did pull on the heartstrings quite a bit tho, i hope you enjoy! check out the event here

contains: angst (obviously), iida being heavily influenced by his family, tensei to the rescue lowkey, crying, insecurities, mentions of alcohol, ambiguous ending, miscommunication

length: 2.0k

at first things had started off small.

iida worked long hours as the work of his brother’s hero agency fell on his shoulders. he tried his best to make time for you, but it always felt like your schedules could never line up just right.

you tried to work something out, quick calls on break times and cute messages around the house to remind you of one another, but most efforts fell flat.

then things started to get worse.

long and empty nights were spent building up resentment towards the man you had married. he was always doing something, something that took precedence over the vows you made when you walked down the isle no more than three years ago.

you knew his family didn’t like you that much, feeling that a marriage for love was a waste of such a powerful commitment. a commitment that could built them an empire, and boost the rank of their hero agency, solidifying a legacy for them.

tenya defied them for you, boldly declaring that he would marry whoever he wanted and that you were in it for the long haul. you were the girl of his dreams, he said, and anything that got in the way of his happiness was not something he would subscribe to. that only made them hate you more.

so when his texts of encouragement grew shorter and more sparse, and he began to have more special responsibilities bestowed upon him by none other than his father, you knew it was on purpose.

unfortunately, it was an effective strategy to chip away at a young and unseasoned marriage.

“tenya can you please just check your schedule? i really want to spend more time with you.”

he sighed and rubbed his temples as he sat in his office. why were you bothering him with something so insignificant? you knew how important this transition of power was for the iida family, for the legacy of ingenium, but you still persisted.

he could feel the anger beginning to build until he looked in your eyes and saw the sadness brimming in them. his heart squeezed in his chest as he watched you, his wife, plead with him to spend time together. when had things come to this?

“i’ll try my best, but i cant promise anything.”

at this point, that was better than anything you could’ve hoped for.

with a kiss to his forehead you left him alone to get the heaps of paperwork he had to do, spirits lifted at the prospect of spending time with him again. just like the way it used to be.

you checked the time on the microwave for the 9th time. fifty-seven minutes had passed and your husband was officially late.

you should have seen it coming really, empty promises were becoming more and more common amongst the two of you. he would promise to try harder and you would promise to cut him more slack, the constant push and pull never being enough for either party.

getting up from the barstool at your kitchen island you made your way to the wine cooler to get a drink. not even bothering to pick up a glass you slumped on the couch, kicking off your shoes and splaying yourself out, just wanting the cushions to swallow you whole and dull the aching in your heart.

he wasn’t coming.

he was never coming.

you laid passed out on the couch when iida finally came home 2 hours later. he was only stopping by for a quick break, then going back out on patrol and he completely forgot about the things he said, smiling through tired eyes as he thought, this time i’ll make it up to her.

at the very least he could clean you up and tuck you in. he could brace himself for the impending fight later, but he was concerned about you. you never drank, not unless there was something wrong.

iida easily hoisted you up over his shoulder, discarding the various wine bottles and taking you to your shared room, although he wasn't sure if it was still considered shared anymore.

he laid you on the bed softly, changing you into one of his old shirts. his fingers ghosted over your cheek as he watched you sleep, the reality of where he was sitting heavy on his heart.

he loved you and yet there was nothing he could do to help at this moment. he had to leave for night patrol. he had to leave you.

his gentle touches roused you from your sleep and your eyes felt heavy as you tried to blink them open.

“you came?” you breathed, voice sounding foreign even to yourself.

iida gave you a small smile, “im sorry.”

your demeanor did a 180 at his apology. he was sorry. he was always sorry. but sorry couldn’t fix this. not when it had been so broken.

you winced and sat up, “sorry for what? sorry that you broke your promise for the thousandth time or sorry that you’ve been such a shit husband for the past few months?!”

“______-”

“no tenya. you do this every single time! every time i want to spend time with you theres always something more important! what could be more important than your wife?!”

“______ you know my father-”

you laughed bitterly at the mention of his dad. he always had to be such a good little iida child, always on daddy’s beck and call. it made you sick.

“your father doesn’t even want us to be together! cant you see that he’s doing this on purpose! youre a grown man! not a child permanently tied to his mommy and daddy!” you spat

“hes giving more responsibility for the sake of the agency! for the ingenium legacy! why are you always so selfish when it comes to these things?”

“selfish? selfish?” you asked, incredulous. you couldn’t believe your ears.

“yes selfish. do you know how much i sacrificed to be with you? how much i already have on my plate on top of trying my best to make time for you?”

you stared in astonishment.

sacrifice?

what had he sacrificed for this relationship? he got to do what he wanted, come and go as he pleased with virtually no regard for how you felt or what you did. what sacrifice was there in that way of living?

“fuck you, tenya.”

tenya took a deep breath and ran his hand down his face. he chose his words carefully before finally saying, “i cant do this. im leaving.”

you could hear a pin drop in the room. you felt your blood pound in your ears as you stood up quickly, dizzy from the alcohol but still trying to process the words you had just heard.

leaving?

“youre leaving?”

“yes, i have to go. im not doing this with you, not now.”

your heart felt like it had been smashed by a sledgehammer, as you tried to regulate your breathing. leaving. he was leaving.

“w-wait,” you feebly attempted to cling onto him as he gathered a few of his things.

“tenya you cant leave me.”

“_____ i do not want to do this right now,” he sighed, easily shaking you off and moving to collect more things. his words were buzzing around on the inside of your skull. he was leaving.

leaving without so much of a second thought. he had been planning this. still unsteady on your feet you hobbled after him as quickly as possible, desperation taking over every fiber of your body. you didn't want to lose him, you just wanted your husband back, you happiness back.

“y-you cant do that! you cant leave me! i dont know how to survive without you, tenya, please-”

“_____, just go to bed. you’re drunk.”

you trailed him around the house,“no, you don’t get to decide when this is over. i'm the one whos been hurting for months you cannot just leave me by myself.”

iida spared you one last glance before grabbing his bag, “goodbye, _____”

crushed, you sank to your knees, leaning on the couch for support. you felt like you were dying., hell, you probably were dying. you had never had so much to drink in your life, and you were desperate to make the pounding pain in your chest stop.

you cried yourself to sleep that night, waking up to the sunlight coming through the window with a splitting headache. you felt like your skull was trying to crack itself open from the inside but you shakily got to your feet, remembering bits and pieces from your fight with iida.

you could tell he didn't come home last night; everything was exactly the way you had left it last night. the house alarm was still on, and his shoes were gone.

he actually left.

anger bubbled in your chest as you thought about what had actually happened. you would not let him get the last laugh, or be the last one left, the one waiting on him patiently to pick up the pieces after trying to keep it together. you would leave too, as much as it hurt, and show him just how selfish you could be.

in a flash, you haphazardly packed a bag with essentials and had texted your friends that you needed a place to stay for a few days. you didn’t get into specifics- your heart ached too much to relive the events of the previous night- but you told them you had reached your limit and you needed to take some time to cool off.

alternatively, iida did not sleep that night. after finishing patrols, he stayed at his brother’s apartment out of pure convenience, not feeling prepared to face you after everything that had transpired between the two of you.

the dark-haired man laid staring at the ceiling of tensei’s guest bedroom, wracking his brain and trying to pinpoint how things had gone south so fast. he wanted to fix things, but really didn’t know how. he couldn’t even tell you what was broken, let alone how to begin to fix them.

his brother had tried to give him advice after listening to the entire story, but there was only so much he could do. he knew that you were right, their father was keeping him from you on purpose, slowly making tenya think that he was in the right in an attempt to break you up, but he couldn't be the one to tell him.

tenya had to come to that conclusion himself. he needed to be the one to set boundaries and save your relationship, but from the looks of it, soon any attempts would be futile.

“_____? darling?” iida called as he came into your home. immediately noticing your missing shoes, he moved to the bedroom in a flash, checking to see if you had just moved them or something.

the room was a mess, drawers left open and clothing strewn across the bed and floor. the bathroom had been cleared of almost all your essentials, and a note was left on the dresser. gingerly, iida picked it up and read it, offering up a silent prayer that it didn't say what he thought it did.

i don't know when you'll see this, or if you ever will. if you're reading it, that means you came back home but you will not find me there.

im tired, tenya.

im tired of always being the one to extend the olive branch or bend over backwards for you.

i refuse to be in that position any longer. i love you… i love you so much it hurts sometimes because i know this isn't the way things were supposed to be. but you left, and so i decided to leave too.

if a way to fix things exists, i want us to find it, but right now i need some time to reevaluate us and what that means. i hope you understand, i know you will.

if you want to reach out, im open to talking about this further, but for right now i need to think.

goodbye.

--------

[marauders-venting]

This Love

pairing: wolfstar (remus x sirius)

genre: fluff & angst

warnings: mentions of drowning, child abuse, physical abuse, death/murder, war, grief and guilt

words: 3679

note: based on the song ‘This Love’ by Taylor Swift

a/n: this is a request I got from someone on Instagram :)

okay I know that sirius ran away from home at 16 and they’re not supposed to use magic outside of Hogwarts until their 17 but uhhh idk just pretend that sirius ran away at 17. or that they can do magic at 16, whatever you prefer

Clear blue water, high tide came and brought you in and I could go on and on, on and on, and I will. Skies grew darker, currents swept you out again and you were just gone and gone, gone and gone. In silent screams, in wildest dreams I never dreamed of this

“Hey,” Remus said, waving as he saw Sirius approaching. His nervous expression rearranged itself into a smile when he saw Remus.

“Remus!” Sirius said, rushing towards him and hugging him. The embrace is quick and short, Sirius pulling back as quickly as he came in, but it’s enough to make Remus’ heart pound ridiculously fast in his chest. “I’d ask you how your summer’s been but I guess I already know,” Sirius added with a laugh. Remus smiled. They had been exchanging letters back and forth all summer long. Not that they didn’t usually write to each other over breaks but Remus was pretty sure this summer they had broken the world record for most letters sent in a month.

Remus had planned on using this time away from Sirius to try and get over his crush but the second he saw Sirius walking around the beach he knew he had failed. If anything, being away from Sirius, missing him, had only made Remus’ feelings of longing more intense.

“Come on, let’s sit,” Remus said. He had already spread a towel out on the sand near the water before when he was waiting for Sirius and they sat on it now. “How’d you manage to get away in the end?”

“I just snuck out the window,” Sirius said, shrugging. “And then I took a taxi like you taught me and I used the muggle money you sent me. I will pay you back for that by the way.”

“Don’t bother,” Remus said. “Think of it as me paying you back for all the chocolate you bought me on the last Hogsmeade visit at the end of last year. Nobody knows you’re gone?”

“Nah, they’re not expecting me down for dinner anyway so it’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” Remus asked nervously.

“Yeah,” Sirius said. Remus wasn’t convinced. “Hey, come on, don’t worry about them. We’re here now, let’s enjoy it.” Sirius flopped back on the towel, lying on his back, arms stretched up above his head, shirt riding up and revealing a strip of skin above the waistband of his pants that Remus was actively trying to avoid staring at. Sirius was right. They had discussed this all summer, planning exactly how they would make it work. He wouldn’t ruin it by worrying now that they were finally here.

“Yeah, okay,” Remus said, smiling. And lying down next to Sirius. He looked up at the sky. It was a brilliant orange now, the rays of the setting sun giving it the colour. “You feel like going for a swim?”

“Okay,” Sirius said, grinning. They raced into the ocean, spraying each other water so they were soaked before they even got in past their knees. Remus kept going deeper until only his head was above water.

“Come on, Moony, that’s not fair, I can’t stand here,” Sirius complained, treading water beside him.

“Then swim,” Remus replied.

“Swimming is the one thing that I’m not the best at,” Sirius admitted grudgingly.

“What, all that old family money and your parents never paid for swimming lessons?” Remus teased but he followed Sirius back to the shallows.

“I think they were hoping I’d just drown actually,” Sirius said once he could stand. “I wonder why Reg never got any swimming lessons though. Well, it’ll be on their conscience if he ever drowns. If they even have a conscience, that is.”

“What if you drown?”

“Oh, it definitely wouldn’t be a weight on their conscience. They’d probably pat themselves on the back and go ‘see, this is what happens to gay, Gryffindor, blood traitors.”

“That’s… really fucked up,” Remus said. Sirius shrugged and submerged his head in the water. When he came back up, Remus splashed him in the face, starting a short water fight that Remus had clearly won (no matter what Sirius said).

They didn’t stay in the ocean much longer because the lower the sun sank, the colder the water got. They got out of the water, dried themselves with their wands and then sat back down on their beach towel. The blue water was crystal clear and above it, the sky now looked pink. It was a beautiful sight. But Remus was watching Sirius’ face instead. His wind-swept hair, blue-grey eyes squinting at the setting sun, rays of orange light giving his skin a golden look. Remus’ heart was beating loudly in his ears.

“What?” Sirius asked when he noticed Remus’ staring. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Normally this would be the point where Remus would look away hurriedly, his face burning, claiming that he wasn’t looking at Sirius and joking that he should deflate his ego because not everything was about him. And maybe it was the way Sirius looked today, different from what Remus was used to, in a different setting or maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t seen Sirius in weeks and his resolve had weakened, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away today.

“Moony,” Sirius said. Remus’ heart skipped a beat. “What? Is it my hair?” Sirius’ hand reached up into his hair and ran his fingers through it. It looked both messier and neater somehow. Remus didn’t understand it. Remus would never admit it out loud, not after the number of times he had teased Sirius about it, but Sirius’ hair was every bit as perfect as his arrogant ass claimed it was.

“It’s you,” Remus said, without thinking. “Just… all of you.” Sirius looked at him, eyes wide.

“W-What do you mean?”

“I—” Remus started, when suddenly it hit him what he was about to do. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was going to tell Sirius. He was actually going to do it. “Nevermind,” he mumbles, looking away and blushing as he should’ve done a minute ago when Sirius had caught him staring in the first place.

“What? No, come on, Remus, just tell me,” Sirius teased. Remus shrugged. Sirius turned around so he was facing Remus.

“Remus,” he said, “whatever it is you can tell me. I’m here for you, no matter what.” Remus hesitated.

“Promise you won’t hate me?” he said. He felt stupid asking the question because even if Sirius did promise, it wasn’t a binding contract. Sirius couldn’t control his hatred. Nobody could.

“I promise,” Sirius said. “I could never hate you, Remus.” He looked genuine but Remus knew better than to believe it was true. Promises are broken more often than they’re kept. But not with Sirius, he thinks. Sirius has never broken a promise he made to Remus. Not once. Well, he’s about to, said a voice in his head. Remus tried to ignore that voice as he spoke.

“Okay,” Remus let out a shaky breath. “Okay. I… I like you, Sirius. Like, um, a lot.” Sirius remained silent for a moment.

“I like you too, Rem,” he said quietly. Remus felt his chest burn.

“You don’t understand,” he said, shaking his head. Because Sirius couldn’t… he couldn’t possibly… But his thoughts are interrupted when Sirius speaks again

“Oh, I think I do,” Sirius said. Remus opened his mouth to reply but Sirius got there first. “Can… can I kiss you?” Remus closed his mouth.

“W-What?” he stuttered, his brain taking several moments to process what Sirius had just said to him.

“We don’t have to,” Sirius said hurriedly. “I was only—” But Remus cut him off by pressing their lips together. In a rush of adrenaline, fear and excitement he ignores the voice in his head saying this is a bad idea, that he misunderstood something, that this isn’t really what Sirius wants and instead he listens to Sirius. He hears Sirius’ voice echoing inside his head. Can I kiss you? Can I kiss you? Can I kiss you? Yes, you bloody well can. This is all Remus has wanted, what he’s been dreaming about for months. But not even in his wildest dreams could he have imagined what it would be like to really kiss Sirius. To have Sirius kiss him back. To thread his fingers in Sirius’ hair and feel Sirius’ hands pressing into his back, holding him close. And with all of Remus’ expansive vocabulary, he couldn’t think of a single word to describe this feeling that could even come close to how extraordinary it is. All he could think was Sirius. Sirius is touching me. Sirius is holding me. Sirius is kissing me.

When they break apart, they’re both breathless. Remus can’t think straight. Everything in his brain is one big mess.

“You— I— we just…” Remus has seemingly forgotten how to speak. And the grin on Sirius’ face is definitely not helping.

“Told you I understand,” Sirius said, taking Remus’ hand in his.

“You actually… like me?” Remus asked, bewildered.

“Um, yeah,” Sirius said, laughing as if it had been obvious. “For, like, a really long time.”

“I– why didn’t you say anything?” Remus asked.

“I could ask you the same,” Sirius said, shrugging. “But I don’t think it matters much. What matters is that I like you and you like me and…”

“And?” Remus prompted. Sirius looked him in the eyes and bit his lip.

“And I’d like to, um… take you out. On a date. Sometime. If that’s something that you might be interested in?” He said it like a question, looking nervous up at him.

“Yeah, I– of course, I–I’d love to go on a date with you,” Remus said. He could feel himself blushing. God, he was so awkward. Sirius cupped his cheeks with his hand, leaning towards closer again, ghosting his lips on Remus’.

“Your face is warm,” he said, his lips brushing against Remus’ mouth as he spoke, which only made Remus blush harder.

“Well no fucking shit,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. And then he kissed Sirius properly, fitting their mouths together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

When the sun had gone down, they finally left the beach, each going back to his own home. Remus hadn’t known how badly Sirius would be punished for sneaking out the following day; if he had he might have never agreed to it. Or might have told Sirius not to go home.

It was that summer that Sirius finally decided to run away from home for good. Remus couldn’t help but feel guilty no matter how many times Sirius told him that he would have done it anyway. Besides, meeting at the beach was Sirius’ idea, not Remus’. But Remus couldn’t forget the moment he finally understood just how terrible things had been at the Black household.

He remembered going over to the Potter’s house after getting a letter from James saying that Sirius was staying with him. He remembered being horrified when he saw Sirius’. Bruised and scarred from the blows that his own parents struck and curses that they fired at him. That night he cradled Sirius, holding him close and promising that he would take care of Sirius, that Sirius was safe with him. He told Sirius that he loved him and that he always will. It had never occurred to him that maybe Sirius wouldn’t say the same about him.

Tossing, turning, struggled through the night with someone new and I could go on and on, on and on. Lantern, burning, flickered in the night, only you but you were still gone, gone, gone

Everything had changed in a single night. In a single night, he had lost Lily, James and Peter. He’d lost Sirius too but not in the same way. He’d lost them all because of Sirius. Sirius had killed them. And in doing so, Sirius had been lost as well. He hadn’t died but Remus counted him with the losses. He might as well have died. He’s dead to me, Remus thinks, he doesn’t matter. He killed them. He killed them all. It was all him. The man that he knew had died. Remus had wondered how long ago it had happened.

He had been tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep from fear of the war, images of everyone he had lost, turning to Sirius for comfort. To someone he thought loved him. But this was someone else. Someone new. This wasn’t the boy he’d fallen in love with.

Remus remembered laying in bed the night before everything had gone to hell. It felt like a million years ago, but he remembered it all the same. He remembered how Sirius hadn’t spoken to him in the weeks before. He remembered devising a plan to find out if Sirius still loved him. Because that’s what he did best. At school, he devised plans for pranks. After school, he helped devise plans for the Order. He was good at planning ahead. So he made a plan. Because he couldn’t go on living in the same apartment as Sirius, sleeping in the same bed without exchanging a word, not knowing whether Sirius still reciprocated his feelings. His plan kept him sane. But his plan had failed. Or maybe it had succeeded. It just hadn’t given him the results he’d been hoping for. Because when he got into bed that night, he waited long enough that Sirius would think he was asleep. Then he turned towards Sirius and brushed his fingers on Sirius’ back. And Sirius got up and walked away. And just like that, the last flame of hope Remus had left flicked out.

Remus remembered thinking that Sirius had fallen out of love. But maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he had simply never loved Remus in the first place. Maybe this wasn’t someone new at all. Maybe this person, this murderer, was in fact the very same boy he’d fallen in love with all those years ago. Maybe this was all part of some sick scheme. Maybe Sirius had hated him all along. Sirius had promised he would never hate Remus. But what is a promise, really? Promises are made to be broken. Remus had to learn that time and time again. He should just stop believing people when they make promises. He wouldn’t believe anymore, he told himself. He promised himself. There was nobody left to believe. Nobody left to promise him anything anyway. Sirius was gone. They were all gone, all his friends. And they’re never coming back.

Your kiss, my cheek, I watched you leave. Your smile, my ghost, I fell to my knees.

Remus’ world is on fire. Everything has burned the ground and he’s left to scrape away the ashes and try to find something he can put back together. Alone.

He can still feel the sting of Sirius’ lips against his cheek. He can still remember Sirius’ easy smile, his light-hearted laughter ringing through the walls of the room that Remus is in right now. But then he blinks again and now he’s seeing Sirius’ face on a ‘wanted’ poster for the first time. He doesn’t remember how he found the poster that night. It’s not important anyway. All he remembers is the feeling of looking down and seeing a photo of the love of his life behind bars, arrested for the murder of his three best friends. He remembers collapsing. Literally, falling to his knees as quickly as the tears fell down his cheeks. He remembers crying, sobbing, screaming out. 

He remembers thinking of every happy moment he’d ever had with his friends, with his boyfriend. He’d never make any more memories like that. He had felt empty that day. Hollow. That feeling still hasn’t gone away. Remus feels like a ghost. A ghost of the memories from before this all happened. He haunts himself. But Remus is not a ghost. He’s the only one still left alive. He’d rather be a ghost right now. He’d rather be dead. At least then he wouldn’t feel this pain. At least then he wouldn’t feel like he’s been pulled apart. Nobody can glue him back together now. There’s nobody left alive that would try. There’s nobody left alive, period. Nobody but him.

This love is good, this love is bad, this love is alive back from the dead, oh, oh, oh. These hands had to let it go free, and this love came back to me, oh, oh, oh. This love left a permanent mark, this love is glowing in the dark, oh, oh, oh. These hands had to let it go free, and this love came back to me, oh, oh, oh

Sirius has been staying at Remus’ apartment for a couple of days now, sleeping on the couch in Remus’ living room. It’s been weeks since that night he found out the truth. The night he nearly killed everybody he cared about. The few still left alive. The night he saw Sirius again for the first time in twelve years. It’s been weeks but Remus can’t figure out how he feels about Sirius after everything they’ve been through. On one hand, Remus can’t believe how unbelievably lucky he is to have Sirius back. He can’t believe that Sirius is here. That he’s innocent. And he wants things to go back to how they were. He knows that’s impossible but he wishes it could happen.

But on the other hand, there are still so many complications, so many questions. Is being together wise? Is it advisable? Is it responsible? Even if Sirius wasn’t still a wanted criminal, would they be able to repair their relationship? To pick up their shattered love and piece it back together? They’d been through so much together and so much apart. Remus isn’t the same person he was 12 years ago and neither is Sirius. Does Sirius even still love him? Does he still love Sirius, after everything? He buried those feelings deep, deep down inside him on the night of Sirius’ arrest. Are they still there? Do they still exist, locked somewhere in the depths of his heart? Remus is sure they do. What else could be squeezing in his chest every time he looks at Sirius? It’s like a game of tug-a-war in his mind, back and forth. This love is good, this love is bad.

All this is why, right now, when Sirius is saying that they need to talk and they’re seated in the living room side by side on the couch, Remus feels like words are failing him. He’s disappeared into his own head until Sirius’ words snap him out of it, his voice ringing in Remus’ head.

“Remus?”

“Yeah?” he says, sounding dazed.

“I–I just want you to know that I never meant to hurt you. I would never intentionally hurt you, Remus, I promise.” His eyes pleaded with Remus to believe him. Remus had promised himself that he would never believe people when they make promises. But here he was, believing again. Never believe a promise, even when you’re the one making the promise to yourself. Especially when you make the promise to yourself.

“I—” Sirius starts again, seeing that Remus doesn’t know what to say. He closes his eyes and takes a breath before continuing. “I still love you, Remus. And I understand if you don’t feel the same anymore, really I get it. But I just thought you should know. I’ll always love you.” Remus can barely breathe. Sirius still loves him. This is a bad idea, says a voice in his head. Fuck good and bad. Remus doesn’t care. The important this is that this love is fucking alive. It died. And now it’s back. Back from the dead. Sirius is back. He came back to me, Remus thinks. He’s innocent. He came back and now he’s telling me he still loves me. Sirius is here. Remus desperately wants this to be real. He wants them to be real again.

Sirius’ love left a permanent mark on Remus. Not like his scars. This is something different. More like a tattoo. Something that he’d chosen at first and couldn’t get rid of later. In all the years that Sirius had been in Azkaban, in all the years Remus had willed himself to forget Sirius, to hate him, the tattoo had never faded. And now that Sirius is back, Remus doesn’t have to want it to fade. So in a lapse of judgement, he kisses Sirius. He kisses Sirius and that tiny flame that had flickered out all those years ago is back. Remus feels it fill him up as Sirius kisses him back, hands in hair, arms around waists, fingertips on bare skin. And when they break apart, Remus still feels the warmth of Sirius’ body against his.

“I missed you so much,” Sirius murmurs against his lips and Remus feels like he’s back on that beach the first time he kissed Sirius.

“I missed you too,” Remus says, a tear trickling down his face.

“Really?” Sirius asks, pulling away to look at Remus with his eyebrows raised. “But you thought I was a murderer?”

“I know,” Remus says. “I didn’t want to miss you. But I did. I couldn’t help it. I wanted you back.”

“I’m back now,” Sirius says, hugging Remus tightly. “I’m back and I’m never leaving. And I’m all yours, love.”

“I never stopped loving you,” Remus whispers in his ear, tears spilling from his eyes even though they’re squeezed shut. “I hated myself for it. But I loved you every day you were locked in that cell. And I still love you now.”

“I love you too,” Sirius whispers back.

It’s the only light in this crushing, suffocating darkness of death and war and grief and guilt. That flame, his and Sirius’ love, glows amidst the dark. And it’s what keeps Remus going. And this time, Remus will never let go of Sirius.

[plant-flwrs]

hi! i absolutely love your writing!! can i request a pureblood slytherin (kinda mysterious?) reader x george? muggle-borns call her the child of the cheshire cat bc her mischievous smile says it all. so when the twins escape the professor, she answers in riddles to not blow their cover. you can add on to that, thank you!! 🧡🧡

mischief // george weasley

masterlist!

a/n: i love your request so much!! i’m sleep deprived rn so i apologize if none of this is coherent or good, but my tiny brain did it’s best. hope u like it!!

summary: George falls for the mischievous pureblood Slytherin who couldn’t care less about blood status.

(3.1k)

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“You’ve never seen Alice in Wonderland?”

“No,” Ron groaned, annoyed with Hermione’s better-than tone.

“When would he have seen Alice in Wonderland, Hermione?” Harry asked, also annoyed with the two’s constant bickering.

“It is a book too, you know, he could have picked it up and read it any time he liked,” Hermione defended, sticking her little nose into the air with purpose.

“Will you just tell me what it means?” Ron pressed.

“It’s a reference. The Cheshire Cat is a mischievously annoying animal. It would mislead and annoy Alice,” Hermione explained, trying to simplify the characterization for Ron.

“So why do they call her that?”

“Because she gives us the creeps, she’s evil looking,” Harry answered, shuddering his shoulders slightly. 

“She’s actually quite interesting,” Hermione said, “if you gave her a chance.”

Harry rolled his eyes, having little sympathy for any pureblood Slytherin. Ron’s face showed him to be in deep thought, and Hermione returned to her Divination work.

You were perched in a shadowed corner of the library, twisting the ends of your hair in your fingers. Pansy sat across from you, reading her Potions textbook with great concentration. You hummed to yourself, a dull smile on your lips.

“Y/n,” Pansy spoke slowly, tearing her eyes away from the textbook and showing it to you, “do you know what this means?”

You looked intently into the notebook, your head nodding slowly as you read the page.

“Yeah, it’s applying the absorbing properties in lizard scales to the enlarging properties of ogre’s root. All the other stuff is there to make sure you don’t die, probably,” you said, handing Pansy the textbook back.

She made an “oh” noise, finally understanding the potion.

“I don’t think this school could be any more boring if it tried,” you groaned.

Pansy gave you an entertained smile and returned to her book.

Your gaze had drifted to look out of the window when you heard a loud crash.

Your head snapped to where it came from and your legs were moving before you had realized where they were going.

You came to stand right in front of three crashed bookshelves, little Cornish Pixies rolling around in all the books that lay on the floor.

You watched two red-headed boys doubled over trying to catch the Pixies in their outstretched hands.

“What happened here, boys?” you drawled, leaning against a book shelf that still stood upright.

“Shit!” one of them shouted, clutching his chest with this hand, “Scared us.”

“You gonna stand there, or help us?” the other said, not lifting his eyes from the Pixie he just managed to shove in his pocket.

“I think I’ll watch for now,” you quipped, a smirk reaching your mouth.

You watched them attempt to gather all the Pixies, until all three of your heads shot up at the heavy footsteps of McGonagall. 

“What on earth?” she started, and you watched the twins duck behind some standing bookshelves a few feet away.

“Did you see who did this?” she asked you, her suspicious eye trained on you.

“Did what?”

“This!” she shouted, her hands flailing towards the fallen shelves and books littering the ground

“What about this?” you asked, feigning innocence and confusion.

“Why are there shelves knocked down and books everywhere?” 

“Are they not supposed to be like this?” you nearly broke your act, a smile threatening your lips, but managed to keep a straight face. McGonagall looked infuriated.

“Did you see where they went?”

“Where who went?”

“The people who did this! Unless it was you?”

“I didn’t do it.”

“Then who did?”

“Who did what?”

“This!” she repeated, her face turning red.

“Oh! I think they went that way,” you pointed over your shoulder, the opposite way the twins went.

“She’s brilliant,” George whispered to his brother from behind the shelves.

“You can say that again, Georgie,” Fred answered, watching you in awe as you waved off McGonagall.

They crept form behind their hiding places, stepping cautiously around the fallen books. 

“How did you do that?” George asked, looking at you in awe.

“Do what?”

Fred smiled at you, quite entertained. George just stared, his mouth hanging open in amazement. 

You sauntered off, sitting back down with Pansy.

“Jaw up, George, you’re drooling,” Fred taunted his brother, bumping into George’s shoulder.

The two left the library, sneaking past Madam Pince. George watched you smooth down your green tie with your delicate touch, your eyes locking with his. He admired the mischievous grin on your lips, and he gulped when you winked at him. He just met The Child of The Cheshire Cat. And he was in love with her.

The two boys peered around the corner, Fred crouched below George. They watched you carefully taking a bobby pin to Snape’s door, your fingers jutting back and forth against the pressure you applied.

George watched you pull your lips between your teeth. He watched the curve of your body as you stood on the tips of your toes, bent at the knees and leaning close to the door. Your skirt itched dangerously up, exposing more and more of your thighs.

Fred’s eyes were trained on your mischievous actions, but all George could focus on was you. He tried to stop thinking about you, but ever since that day in the library he couldn’t get you out of his head. It became even harder when Fred insisted you join them in their pranks from now on.

You stood suddenly, your skirt falling back into place, much to George’s dismay. You turned towards the boys, smirking at them. Fred sprang from his place behind the wall. George stumbled to follow after his brother.

You bent the bobby pin back into place and George watched you tuck it seamlessly into your hair. 

“All in a day’s work, boys,” you said, breaking the silence that had formed around the three of you while they stared at you in awe.

“You’re brilliant,” Fred mumbled, gripping your shoulders and kissing your cheek briskly.

You laughed, rolling your eyes. George debated if he should copy his brother’s actions, take advantage of the situation to make an excuse to be that close to you. Before he could, he realized he had been staring at you for far too long. He coughed awkwardly and casted his gaze to the ground. You quirked an eyebrow at him in suspicion, and followed Fred into the potions class.

“What are we looking for, exactly?” you whispered into the dark room.

“We need more Ashwinder eggs for our products,” you heard Fred whisper back to you a few feet away, “running low on our supplies.”

“So you thought Snape wouldn’t mind letting you borrow some of his?” you teased, and heard Fred snort from where he was.

“Of course not,” George said from behind you, “as you may know, he’s a very generous man.”

“Always been supportive of us,” Fred joined, the smirk very loud in his voice.

George was close to you in the dark, you could tell. He must have been inches away from you, waiting for Fred to gather what he needed. You could hear his breathing, not that it was labored, and felt his presence.

“Fred, will you hurry it up?” George snapped at Fred.  You turned to where his voice came from, the deepness in his whisper surprising you.

“Scared?” you teased.

You heard George’s low chuckle, and suddenly two hands snaked their way onto your sides. George’s long fingers gripped your sides, making your entire body jolt. You jumped at the sudden touch, and heard George chuckle even more.

“Scared?” he murmured, his hands still on your sides but his fingers considerably looser.

You met his hands with yours, putting them on top of his for some reassurance that you weren’t imagining it. Your touch was featherlight over his rough hands, and you realized how small your hands were next to his. You felt the veins on the top of his hands and traced over them before you knew what you were doing. George’s chuckle stopped at the touch, and the only noise in the room was the occasional clink of two glass bottles bumping into each other as Fred looked for the eggs.

The two of you stood in silence, George’s body inching closer to yours from behind you. Soon, your back was against his chest, and he trapped you in his arms. Your arms leaned against his, hands still atop his hands. You felt safe in George’s arms. You didn’t care if Snape came in at that minute, you just wanted George to hold you.

“Got ‘em!” Fred called out, a few clinking noises heard.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice closer to you now.

George started to turn, turning you with him. He gave you one last squeeze, moving his hands a little lower on your hips before releasing you completely. You let your hands fall from his, and moved from your spot against his chest.

The moment of intimacy in the dark had caused a blush to spread across your cheeks, and George saw it the second you three reached the dimly lit hallway. You avoided his eyes, looking at Fred and the three glass bottles he was slipping in his pockets.

“What are you going to use those for?” you whispered, following them down the hallway.

“Our luck and love potions,” Fred answered, his hand ghosting over the eggs in his pocket.

You nodded approvingly, taking a glance over your shoulder to make sure you were still in the clear. The three of you stopped at the bottom of the stairs, well you stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

“Aren’t you coming?” Fred asked, looking down at you from a few steps above you.

They both towered over you, but the look in George’s eyes made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

“My common room is down here,” you lifted your hand to point your thumb over your shoulder.

“Oh right,” Fred said, smiling, “sometimes you’re so much fun we forget you’re a Slytherin.”

“Shut up,” you said, laughing. 

The boys watched you walk away. Fred smiled at the memory of the successful night they had, and George smiled at the way your skirt moved across your hips and swayed side to side.

“And where were you?” Draco Malfoy’s sneer was on you immediately after you crept into the common room. He was lounging on the couch, face illuminated by the dwindling fire on front of him.

“Where was who?” you smirked, starting your usual act.

Draco smirked back at you, aware of your reputation.

“Off with the Weasleys? You’ve been spending a lot of time with them recently. If anyone had some sense they might begin to question you aligning yourself with blood traitors,” Draco drawled.

You furrowed your brows, feeling incapable of deflecting that like you usually would. You were never one to focus on your blood status, but you figured you didn’t have to since you were a pureblood. Draco was obsessed with his blood status, you knew that, everyone knew that. Why was he so concerned with yours all of a sudden?

“Why do you care, Draco?”

Draco’s cold laugh echoed off the walls of the dungeon.

“I try to look out for my housemates,” he said, “especially the incredibly attractive ones.”

Your face twisted with disgust before you could help it. You walked past him and up the stairs, hearing his laugh continue from behind you.

Up in your room, you reflected on your night. You couldn’t help but lift your hands to where George’s had been earlier. You closed your eyes, imagining him still there with you, his chest a hard presence behind you. You breathed in deep, feeling the familiar tightness in your chest. A smile was on your lips before you knew it, and you realized you wanted George to hold you more often.

The next day at breakfast, you had filled your plate with food and talked with Pansy.

“So,” she started, glancing at you over her Charms textbook, “where were you off to last night?”

You smiled at her, looking down at your plate. When you looked back up at her, you noticed Draco watching you a few seats down. You gave him a glare, and he smirked at you.

“I was with Fred and George,” you turned your attention back to Pansy.

“The Weasleys? Why were you with the Weasleys?” Pansy tried to hide the repulsion in her voice, and barely managed to.

“They’re my friends,” you defended, furrowing your brow at her.

“Since when?”

You didn’t answer her, feeling that whatever said wouldn’t matter much to her.

Pansy gave you a suspicious look and returned to her textbook and breakfast.

You looked down at your plate, not daring a glance at Pansy or an accidental look at Draco. You felt isolated, the green tie around your neck becoming too suffocating all of a sudden.

You stood from the table, leaving breakfast early. You walked to the empty hallway and felt a little better in the quiet.

“Y/n?” you heard a voice call for you.

When you turned in the direction of the Great Hall, you saw George. He was walking cautiously towards you, concern etched on his face.

“Hey,” you said, trying to sound normal.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

George had closed the distance between you, coming to stand right in front of you. You turned from him, leaning against the wall. He did too, and you felt his arm against yours.

“Fred and I were going to talk to you after breakfast,” he said, “but since you’re already here.”

“More late night sneaking around?”

“You could say that,” he smiled down at you.

You turned your head to look at him, and he was already looking at you. You felt your heart stop beating, the air stuck in your throat. Your eyes danced all over his face, focusing on the strength of his cheekbones, the sharpness of his nose, the smile lines marked on his cheeks, the look in his eyes. 

He didn’t know what was happening. You turned towards him, leaning closer. You closed the distance and your hands were in his hair. He barely had time to close his eyes before you pulled away. You leaned back against the wall for a second, shook your head, and started to walk away.

You felt like an idiot. You had no idea why you just kissed George, probably ruining the only genuine friendship you had made at Hogwarts. You walked away from him, hoping that the sooner you left, the easier he would forget it happened.

You were only a few feet away before his hand was wrapped around your wrist.

“George, I’m sorr-”

He cut you off with his lips, his hands cupping your face.

He pulled you back to the wall, pushing you against it. The force nearly made your legs tremble from under you, but you forced them to stay still. 

His hands ran down your body, moving from your face and down to their spot on your hips. He squeezed them like he did last night. You couldn’t help the reaction it caused, lurching your hips into his at the touch. He groaned into your mouth, pushing his face harder against yours. His nose pressed against your cheek, your chins bumping as you passionately moved against each other. 

“Well, this is awfully disappointing.” You barely registered the voice, and George certainly didn’t.

You opened your eyes, still kissing George and glanced to the sound. Draco stood there, an evil smirk on his mouth. You slowly pulled away from George, and he trailed after you, trying to continue the kiss. It wasn’t until you turned your head to look at Draco that George even realized he was there.

“Get out of here Malfoy,” George said, his voice gruff and annoyed.

He moved back towards you, expecting Draco to scurry off. Draco stayed put, and you pulled back from George.

“What do you want, Draco?” you said, still pushed against the wall with George leaning on you.

You didn’t even bother to fix your messy hair, adjust your skirt, or tuck your shirt back in. All of which were messed up by George’s roaming hands.

“Just wanted to make sure my eyes didn’t deceive me,” he snarled, “Saw a Weasel chasing after you, but I didn’t think it would have been this bad.”

“What are you on about?” George said, and you could feel his body tensing with anger.

“Well I have to report this to the Sacred 28,” he explained, casting a fake innocent look over his evil features, “they’ll have to know that the Y/l/n family are now blood traitors.”

“Malfoy, you’re the only one who still cares about that,” you sneered.

You would have felt a bit intimated by Malfoy if it weren’t for George. You knew Malfoy was one of the smartest students in his year and had no doubt he knew some dark spells that you couldn’t have dreamed of. But George made you feel safe. When George was there you didn’t even think about the danger Malfoy threatened.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he started to saunter over to the two of you, “your father still seems to care.”

George moved you from the wall, putting himself between you and Draco. 

Draco was right about your father. He cared a great deal about his status and the power it held. He had grown to accept your disobedience, but you had never strayed this far from his ideals.

“You’re pathetic, Malfoy,” George spat from in front of you. You squeezed his arm warningly, and he glanced down at you. The second he saw your scared expression, his gaze softened.

“Shove off,” you managed, your voice nearly sounding afraid.

“Alright,” Draco said in a sing-song voice, holding his hands up in mock defeat, “fine, be that way.”

He walked back into the hall, and George turned to you with concern on his face.

“Why did you do that?” 

“I don’t care about what my father thinks,” you admitted, furrowing your brow.

“Are you sure?” George asked you.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, looking up at George’s brown eyes, “You mean more to me than any useless blood status.”

George softened. He literally felt himself melt at your words. He took a few large steps, a goofy smile plastered in his face, and backed you against the wall again.

“That was adorable,” he said, sounding giddy.

You laughed, moving closer to his face. Your smiles connected, quickly changing to a heated kiss once again.

[unbridgeabledistances]

hi 💜💜 i got a prompt about ian x body image a while ago (my inbox is a hot mess and i may have deleted the prompt lol, but i did paste it into my phone notes)- and i was feeling some feelings today & had some spare time amidst my travels & ended up writing this!!

prompt: can you write about ian and his relationship with his body image, esp post-canon when they move to the westside

(tw for body image/eating disorder/food mentions)

--

He didn’t really even think about it the first times that he did it— skipping a few meals that went unnoticed in the morning clamor of the Gallagher kitchen. He noticed his skin growing tauter and tighter around his abdomen with every passing day, a hollow absence sitting like a rock in the pit of his stomach.

He did it for a reason—he’d been getting more lingering looks under the flashing lights at the club, more unwelcome fingers pressed against the now-present ridges on his stomach, tracing his toned upper arms. The less there was of him, the more they wanted him.

The thing about Ian is that he was always disciplined; the middle child, the one who was overlooked and ignored and blended in until he decided that he had to make a name for himself. He and Lip and gotten into hair-tugging, jaw-smashing fights about this very reality; Ian was completely, totally, absolutely ordinary. Until he made himself extraordinary—until he burst through the storefront labeled “ARMY” at a strip mall with smudged windows and said with a tall chest: I want to enlist.

Everything had led up to this— every push-up on the creaking slanted floor of their childhood bedroom, every jog at the crack of dawn. He was going to make something of himself, he was going to be a hero.

He was going to get the fuck away from Mickey, and his wife, and whatever else kept pushing him down and holding him back.

When Ian came back from the army, when he was sleeping on exposed floorboards and working at the club all night—that was when it all actually started. When he decided that less of him meant more—when he decided that he should give people the best show he could, because everything else was fucked up anyways. This was all he was good for.

But then Mickey came through the door, pale skin flashing in the strobe lights, wearing that fucking dark button-up with sleeves folded to his forearms and smelling like nice cologne that he’d almost definitely stolen from one of his brothers’ bathroom shelves; and for a brief moment after the initial shock set in, Ian was proud— proud of how much negative space surrounded him, proud of how he could press his thighs into stretched golden spandex better than any of the other men thrumming to the beat beside him on the podium. Proud of how much other people wanted him, when Mickey didn't.

It was only later, after Mickey carried him home (easily, too easily) after he’d passed out in a snowbank, and Ian had woken and waited for Mickey to burst into his bedroom door at the Gallagher house while he leaned against the wall and scribbled on a notepad— later, when Mickey was about to curl on the floor and sleep using one of Liam’s balled-up t-shirts as a pillow— that Ian noticed Mickey’s eyes lingering on his uncovered torso, a second longer than the quick glances of admiration from the well-dressed men with greased-back hair and grubby fingers at the club. It hit Ian, then, when he saw Mickey’s gaze that was soft around the edges, the same fuzziness and confusion of Fiona’s stares when he would chatter on for too long in the mornings:

He’s worried about me.

But Mickey played along— Ian was back, and Mickey stayed beside him this time, and chuckled when he walked down the stairs to the sight of Ian cutting off the bottom half of his old ROTC pants, now multiple sizes too big and hanging baggy even at the hips. Mickey curled beside him on the twin bed, silently stroking hair back from his forehead and cradling his cheeks with a feather-light touch as Lip and Liam’s even, sleeping breaths swirled around them. And Ian kept doing pull-ups, and told Carl that he liked the way that Mickey smelled. Mickey came out for him. And for a while things were really, really fucking good, and Ian didn’t even think about the gnawing hollow feeling in his stomach at all any more.

Until a grey morning came, quick and silent, and kept him frozen under the sheets for days.

In the months afterwards, Ian trained harder, faster—he met up with Fiona as she pushed Liam in the stroller and jogged beside them, ran before and after shifts at the club, did push-ups on Mickey’s grimy floor while he was out handling Rub N’ Tug shit.

I’m not Monica. This wasn’t going to happen again. His body could do this. His body could fix his brain.

It couldn’t.

Most of what happened on the “road trip” with Yevgeny (that was the only phrasing that Ian could really mentally use to name the incident, the only semiotic filler for “kidnapping” that didn’t want to make him burrow even deeper under his tattered blankets) was a blur—Mickey feeding him fistfuls of pills and room-temperature Gatorade, luring Mickey to the dugouts where he tried to do a pull-up and felt a quivering in his limbs, a weakness rather than a familiar and fulfilling burn. Slamming Mickey in the face with a fist that was too flimsy, too weak—a fist that still left the blooming of a bruise on Mickey’s jawline, a splatter of blood caking into his eyebrow. But still weak, still not enough. Definitely not strong enough to fight off two MPs with loaded guns, tangling his hands behind his back and forcing him into the backseat of a car.

More blurry days— on the road with Monica. Breaking up with Mickey. Getting a job at Patsy’s. Withering away, purple bags sagging under his eyes. Becoming less, always less.

Then, a glimmer of light— he met Caleb. He studied to be an EMT. He got a call from Mandy, got to wrap her in his arms in less-than-ideal circumstances.

“I got tired of starving myself to fit in that golden thong.”

It was the first time he’d said it out loud.

He started to run again—and he started to not miss it, the hollow feeling gnawing at his insides, the twisting lack. He met Trevor, he went to brunches, he ordered mimosas and muffins and kept himself in shape, but didn’t push himself too far.

So it surprised him, really, when once again his body and mind weren’t in sync.

That was the biggest thing he’d think about, in the idle hours of he and Mickey’s prison cell, months later—that for once in his life, years after the nights at the club or the hazy early mornings at Patsy’s or in a baggy janitor uniform, he was actually doing really, really fucking good. He had a following. He was strong. Or at least he thought he was.

But something about being near Mickey pulled him out of his head and into his body, centered him— it always did. Mickey had always liked his body; Ian remembered how Mickey’s eyed at lingered that night at the dugouts, when they were two kids doing pull-ups and Mickey watched his muscles clench in the moonlight, two sets of shining eyes and bodies warm with beer leaning closer to each other in the muggy air. But Ian never felt a need to flaunt his body, or change his body, for Mickey— and in so many ways, those first days in prison were like his body was coming home. Sometimes it was hard, and fast, and filthy words whispered into each other’s skin—and sometimes it left them grasping for breath in an entirely different way, in fingertips lazily skimming over collarbones and fisted into roots of hair, of breathed “Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful”s escaping Mickey’s parted mouth that Ian mentally stored but never brought up again, because he knew in the best case scenario Mickey would just roll his eyes and call him a “soft bitch,” and in the worst he would just flat-out deny it. But Ian felt balanced in a way he hadn't in months, with all the "Gay Jesus" bullshit pressing in. He took his meds, he did his nightly sit-ups, he counted down the days—until the hourglass was slipped out from under his fingertips and he was teleported back to the Gallagher house, back to the place where so much of this began and so much was about to end.

The hollowness, the hunger, didn’t really need to be there anymore once he was out— it was only a dull murmur. A ghost, a memory trapped in dreams of strobe lights and prying hands.

Mickey got out, and they got married—and in the moments before Ian called Mickey an “ugly motherfucker” as he let a smile crack onto his face—and he knew Mickey felt it, knew Mickey heard: I have never known anyone as beautiful as you.

And Ian’s fullness just kept blooming and compounding and radiating after the wedding; they fought, and then they didn’t, and it didn’t matter anyways because they were fucking married. Ian kept doing sit-ups before they went to bed, even though he felt like he didn’t really have to anymore. Something big had shifted; something had settled and given way, had filled in all the cracks.

So he’s surprised, when they move to the West Side, and that feeling starts to stir again; faint, fuzzy, like some sort of invasive and shapeless amoeba in the dark corners of his brain, whispering and hissing that there should be less of him. On their first morning in the new place he heads to the gym, wearing a camo t-shit that covered his torso and shoulders—and of course he ends up making a fool of himself next to some guy, some guy that he could have been, with sweaty toned abs and bronzed skin and rippling muscles. He doesn’t know why it gets to him, that small interaction—he’s so much happier now, so fucking happy he’s buzzing with it, but there’s also something churning in the faultlines of transition; that aching for hollow absence and stretched skin and interested eyes, that feeling that made him woozy and lightheaded as a kid but also sickeningly proud, like every moment of standing tall, of dancing, of staying alive was a statement, a challenge, a test of how much he could push his ability to be desired.

He immediately pushes the thought down. He doesn’t fucking need that anymore to keep his head above water; he’s stable, he’s loved, he’s fed. He’s growing organic tomatoes, and definitely developing a farmer’s tan from his days hunched over their way-too-tiny community garden plot tenderly watering and pruning the vines and brambles. He is desired. So it doesn’t make fucking sense that the hunger, the clawing in his stomach for the absence, doesn’t really stop.

**

“Okay Gallagher, spill.”

Ian felt his eyebrow raise instinctively at Mickey’s tone. “Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at this fancy fucking chicken thing you made for, like, twenty minutes. Stop staring at it and eat your goddamn dinner.”

He felt a twist in his gut. I don’t want to.

“M’actually not really that hungry.”

Mickey’s eyes narrowed. “The fuck’s up? You stressed about work shit?”

Ian huffed out a breath of relief. “Nah. It’s not that.” He fiddled with his fork on the plate, drawing lines into the sauce pooled under the tomato-basil chicken he’d made. It was healthy, it was good, he’d worked out today; he could stomach a couple bites of dinner if he fucking had to. He just had to work up to it. Even the smell was making his stomach twist— it had smelled good while he was cooking it, placing fresh-scented basil leaves into the simmering sauce, but now it just was too much.

Mickey’s boot nudged against his calf from under the kitchen island. “Ey. Is it a tired thing? Or a… sick thing?” His eyes darted to their kitchen cupboard, where Ian kept his meds on the bottom shelf by the water glasses. “Or, like, a food thing?”

Ian felt his fingers go slack around his fork. “A food thing?”

“Yeah, man, y’know. When you get all weird about food.”

A tightness in his chest. “What the fuck? I don’t get weird about food.”

Mickey’s eyes flickered to meet his—and Ian would have gotten more pissed off if he didn’t see the soft concern bleeding into Mickey’s gaze, how cautiously Mickey was trying to broach the topic. Ian blew out a breath. Of fucking course Mickey noticed this shit— he always did.

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know, man. You’re usually good, especially compared to when you were fucking starving yourself when we were kids. But, uh… I don’t know.” Now it was Mickey’s turn to play with his food, scraping his fork along the remnants of sauce on his plate that was nearly clean. “You got kind of weird about working out and shit in prison. And then at the house, with all the quarantine bullshit the first few weeks. Eating fuckin’ cereal all the time, then not eating at all. You’ve been normal since then, or whatever. Lookin’ healthy.” Ian felt Mickey’s gaze drag over him. “Just don’t want you getting stressed out and not eating again or whatever.”

Ian felt a muted warmth blooming in the hollow of his stomach, filling in the cracks of where the jagged feeling continued to claw. If it was anyone else laying out this fucking analysis of his habits Ian would’ve gotten defensive—or at the very least annoyed, that someone was pinning down yet another one of his behaviors, putting them under a fucking clinical microscope.

But of course, this was Mickey— and the difference with Mickey was that he cared, he cared so much that it made Ian’s body ache every time he realized it. Those words wouldn’t have come tumbling out of Mickey’s mouth if they hadn’t been building for a while, hadn’t been gnawing away at some corner of his mind over time.

Ian raised a hand over the table to clasp into Mickey’s warm palm—reaching over the empty plate, the plate of uneaten food.

“It’s, uh. A food thing.”

Mickey’s eyes met his—open, listening.

“You’re right about all the starving myself shit from forever ago. And the not eating. And the… quarantine stuff. I guess I just thought that now that things were good, it’d go away? And I feel so fucking good right now. But sometimes I just have weird days.”

Mickey huffed out a breath. “I fucking know you do, dumbass. M’just saying that I notice that shit. And we can figure it out.”

Ian felt the corner of his mouth tick upwards. “I really thought it was gonna go away. I’m a fucking adult.”

Mickey shrugged. “Sometimes shit doesn’t work like that, Gallagher.” He chugged a sip of water from his glass, apparently glad that this heavier part of the conversation was over now that he knew what was up. “It’s like what you tell me about my shit with Terry. Trauma doesn’t just magically fucking disappear.”

Trauma. He’d never really thought about it like that before—he had plenty of childhood shit to work through, between abandonment and raging mental illness; and he’d never really thought that his body image issues made the list.

But maybe they did— maybe this was another wound, one that he could learn to heal.

Mickey kicked his shin under the table. “There’s cereal and stuff in the cabinet, I got the Fruit Loops shit you like. Want me to wrap up the chicken and shove it in the fridge?”

All he could do was nod— and once again feel that warmth on his insides that Mickey was this good, that he knew how to make shit like this easier.

And he snuggled into the couch beside his husband, a bowl of soggy cereal in his hands.

[otp-holic]

Will this be the night? (ALSO IN A03)

A random piece of online advertising unleashes some movie memories of a Summer afternoon in 1932

1.5 Ks Fanfic + Pictures Inside. Part of the Never let us lose what we have gained series (AO3) Silly drabble born from my love of classic movies... that ended up not having anything to do with classic movies.

BROOKLYN'S KING'S THEATRE

Poster for Cary Grant's Retrospective. Printed paper 2025.

A poster for the upcoming month long celebration of the movies of Cary Grant to be held in Brooklyn.

Bucky is not expecting a vivid memory of the past to jump at him from a piece of online location-targeted promotion popping on his phone as he and Steve are wandering around the neighborhood on a random Friday.

But the 21st century works in mysterious ways and Google is kindly inviting him to check “Cary Grant: A Celebration”, a month-long chronological retrospective of all his movies taking place at a nearby hipster cinema starting… in half an hour.

He beams as a long string of memories of the both of them in different afternoons and movies plays in his head; how they counted the cents for the admission price, and how Bucky learned to sneak into the movie every time that did not add up to two full tickets.

“Buck, you’ve been smiling at your phone in silence for a whole minute,” Steve interrupts his daydreaming. “Should I be jealous? Worried?”

“Sorry,” he answers, still smiling about the memories. “I think I’m leaving you for Google, they see inside my one hundred years old soul; But I might give you another chance if you don’t mind a change of plans for the afternoon.”

“Lead the way, but can you give me some heads up?” Steve chuckles, more than used to Bucky’s ways.

He takes Steve’s hand to direct them towards the movie theatre and thinks about how much information he wants to share.

Although he is the one who still relies on the comfort of 30s and 40s movies whereas Steve keeps getting bolder with his options, Steve has always loved Cary Grant and Bucky thinks he’s going to appreciate his choice since this particular movie has a history (sad history, maybe) for them, so he debates on whether to tell him or not.

“We are going to the movies. But the real ones, not that shit on Netflix you keep choosing,” he settles for half-disclosure.

“Damn, mister life in black and white strikes again. Embrace the 21st century, Barnes, I think you’ll like it!”, Steve laughs.

“Hey, I embrace it more than you do! At least I look the part of a mid-thirties man from it instead of a fifty-year-old hiding in fucking khakis. Albeit a very hot one, I’ll give you that.”

They both laugh. It’s not the first time these remarks fly between them and having a routine, running jokes, and running pet peeves is very soothing after everything they have gone through.

They’re getting closer to the cinema now, and Bucky can already see the Billboard announcing the retrospective and a small queue forming upfront. He takes a side look at Steve to see if he has noticed and he can certainly tell that his curiosity has peaked.

“Surprise! Call it a win-win, it might be up my alley, but you used to love Cary Grant movies,” Bucky smiles as they reach their place in the queue and glance at the program for the afternoon.

‘This is the Night (1932)’, the poster says, ‘Cary Grant's feature film debut on the big screen’

Bucky is deep in nostalgia, remembering a summer day of 32 when they were waiting in line for the same film and how the evening turned out, but when he looks in search of his partner’s reaction, it’s not what he expected at all.

“Steve, you ok?” he asks, worried at seeing Steve frozen in place.

Steve nods. His whole face is deep red, but at least he is responsive. He looks ashamed and Bucky is shifting from worried to curious.

“Jesus, this movie,…” he chuckles now.

“You seem to remember, then. I thought you might.”

It was not a happy memory: Steve had felt really ill halfway through, looking white as a sheet of paper and about to die on Bucky. They had to leave the unfinished movie and run home, as per Steve’s request. But as far as Bucky remembers, nothing to be ashamed of.

“Why are you acting weird? Oh my god, Steven, are you allergic to this movie?”

The silence before Steve answers is a little too long and the queue moves forward.

“Shit, this is not easy to say and I’m sorry in advance.”

“Duly noted, but could you try to explain? I’m lost and I didn’t expect a full-on confession of something to be sorry about when I decided to follow Google’s intelligent advice to an unfinished movie. I just thought it was a good excuse for a change of plans. And kind of closure.”

Steve takes a breath and starts talking.

“I wasn’t honest with you, Buck. Back then…” he stops, searching for words, nervously musing on his beard. “Ah, I cannot believe this hasn’t come up at some point, but there it goes. I absolutely lied to you that day: I wasn’t sick or half dying and I am very very guilty of using my poor health to run away from that place and that movie, but I did the only thingI could think of.”

Bucky is at a loss for words, he’s still deciding if he is angry, curious, or somewhere in between.

“But… but you were feverish and white as a ghost and you said you had palpitations!”

Steve seems to think for a moment again and the bastard laughs so loud they get a curious look from the people behind. And taking advantage of the queue moving up again, he gets really really close to Bucky who honestly thinks he’s going to try to kiss himself out of the situation since it’s a bulletproof strategy.

But he doesn’t: He goes for Bucky’s ear instead, and whispers.

“I had a boner like you wouldn’t believe.”

Bucky gasps loudly totally taken aback while Steve takes a step back and looks at him in the eye more amused and hungry than ashamed, but still blushing.

“But hey, not all lies! I was somehow sick. And pale since my blood was… otherwise occupied. And I was barely 14!”

Bucky laughs at the dork. His dork. But the information is still making its way into his brain.

“Oh my God,” he exclaims as it starts to settle, “You piece of shit, you pulled the poor sick child card when you were just plain horny. I was worried to my bones as we run to your home. Shame on you Rogers!”

“Me? It was your fucking fault! Yours and Cary Grant’s and your stupid grins and stupid chins, those clefts!” he’s screaming in whispers so Steve Rogers’ teenage boner doesn’t make it to the news, but he’s talking as if he was pronouncing an important speech to the UN, “What was a 14-year-old in the fucking 30s popping one upon seeing an actor who kind of looked like a very tall version of his very male best friend to do?”

He is about to say something, but Steve literally covers his mouth with one hand giving Bucky no other option but to stick his tongue and lick the palm.

“Gross, Buck. I’m not done!”, he dries his hand on Buckys’ shirt before he goes on. “I’m not done because as I was still processing all that, you kept brushing your goddamned hand with mine when you went for popcorn! Over and over and over. It was torture. I have palpitations now just thinking about it.”

Bucky full-on laughs. One of those real ones that come more and more lately and that he honestly thought he would never get to experience again.

They have reached the box office, so he doesn’t push it further. For now.

“Two tickets for `This is the Night´, please.” Bucky smiles at the box-office guy. “He is paying, tho. I paid last time we tried to see this one and he didn’t have the decency to stay until the end.”

He actually feels like a teen as Steve takes his hand into the theatre, as he very intentionally buys popcorn to share, and as they start full-on making out on their seats during the commercials once the lights are out.

“Wanna know another secret, Buck?” Steve whispers a few minutes later, eyes on the starting movie as he brushes Bucky’s hand with intention over the popcorn bucket. His flustered face and recently kissed lips bathed by dancing lights and shadows coming from the screen. “It’s a good thing we were already together in ‘38 when “Bringing up baby” came out because I was able to plan ahead and lure you into that memorable window fuck at our old apartment before the show, or we would have totally missed one of our favorite movies, too.”

Bucky hates Steve with the force of the universe. Or maybe not, but he’s not playing clean.

“Raincheck on the movie?” he manages to whisper back as he drives Steve’s hand to his already noticeable hard-on. Two can play this game.

“Oh, poor Buck. Do you have palpitations” Steve chuckles, lips wet on Bucky’s ear and gripping harder on his bulge instead of letting go. “Was that the memory of the window fuck? Or all the making out? Tell me so I don’t do it again.”

“You are a punk, Steve Rogers,” Bucky answers before standing up to leave, closely followed by a smiling Steve.

Argh, sorry for deleting and uploading again, but i had technical issues with this.... so here it goes again. I need to free myself from this one!