#also a head canon I saw was that he has the sweetest crying face

[somnas-writes]

Magnus being Vanirspawn while also being the most rage filled teen Ever is so funny

[gisellecnz]

Cherished moments.

(≧∇≦)/ Sypnosis. This is after your wedding with satoru. Your honeymoon together.

•Contents. Pure fluff, just fluff, reader is fem, gojo crying cuz your too pretty, cuddles

•note. I'm kinda new to writing + I'm new to tumbler, and english isn't my first language. So I'm sorry if my writing is kinda off, p.s if someone made a similar fic, please don't misunderstand. That might be just a coincidence, the moment I saw that picture of gojo (the one I used above this post) that inspired me to write a fic about it. Also, credits to the owner of the drawing! I just saw it on Pinterest and I don't know who the artist is.

It is now 11:48pm, it has been a long day and is probably one of your best days of your life. You are now married with the man of your dreams, the one and only Satoru Gojo.

6 hours ago was your wedding, the moment you started walking down the aisle, Satoru was in tears. You were also in tears, but Satoru was more emotional. You found it cute how his eyes were red and puffy after, you wiped his tears as you brushed your thumb over his wet lashes. You've done this before but now it felt so much more different- you've felt alot of butterflies in your stomach as satoru opens those eyes of his which you've adored a lot since you were in highschool. They were so pretty, they were as blue as the ocean.

You also couldn't believe you now have Satoru's surname. You are now called as Mrs. Gojo.

In Satoru's pov, he couldn't hold back his tears from seeing you. You were so beautiful, he thinks you were the most prettiest woman that has ever stepped into earth. His heart raced with anticipation, the way your pretty smile was illuminating the room, and how your veil was delicately flowing over your face like a cascade of dreams. The way your gown trailed behind you, your eyes sparkled with so much love and joy as you looked at him. He swore that if he was stuck in a time loop in this situation, he wouldnt get tired from it.

After you and Satoru exchanged your vows and said your "I dos", your friends: Shoko, geto, yuuji, Megumi, Tsumiki, nobara gathered for a group photo. Along side with that there's a seperate photo of you and Satoru kissing from the wedding. They are now framed, sitting on the lamp table beside you.

Right now, you are lying down on a hotel bed. Satoru made sure to book in a very luxurious hotel for your honeymoon. (It's also canon that he's rich rich)

You were very tired. Today was so much fun, you exchanged your clothes to a more comfortable one, which is why you are wearing satoru's shirt right now. It also has his scent in it which is why you always preffered to sleep in his clothes.

And there, your love of your life came out from the bathroom. He just took a shower, his fluffy white snowy hair is now wet. AND DAMN his towel was wrapped around his waist, his abs were showing. You've seen it a lot of times already but you just couldn't get used to it. Your face was now pink.

Satoru laughed at your actions, you were so cute. He dried his hair and changed into his clothes, he got into the bed and snuggled beside you.

"Tired, hm?"

Satoru layed down his head to your chest, he loves lying down there, he loves hearing your heart beats and the way your breasts were squishing his cheeks.

"Mmn, yeah."

You chuckled as you gave a kiss to his forehead, your fingers combing through his fluffy hair.

He looks at you with pleading eyes, looking like he wants something from you.

"More kisses- please?"

You gave a kiss to his cheek and his lips. "Gosh, so clingy as ever."

You said as you chuckled and smiled at Satoru. But suddenly you gasped as he rolls you over, making you the one on top of him now, laying down on his chest.

He gives you that cheeky smile, "I love you so much y/n, I literally couldn't hold in my tears back from seeing you in that wedding dress. "

You were about to say something but he cuts you off by kissing you in the lips. And starts saying one of the most sweetest things to you.

"The most-" a kiss on your forehead. "Gorgeous-" a kiss on your nose. "Prettiest-" a kiss on your lips again. "Sweetest-" a kiss on your left cheek. "Girl I've ever met. " a kiss in your right cheek.

His actions made you tear up, hes so sweet. But he wasn't expecting you to react like that.

"Hey, why're y' cryin? Don't cry." He frowns as he pulls you closer to him and gives you one last kiss to your forehead. You chuckle and tell him that's it's okay.

You both finally fell asleep, embracing each other. You will cherish this day forever.

note: I'm sorry if this is short and it's rushed plus again I'm sleepy and it's like 3:14 am, I'm gonna sleep now cuz I'm finally finished 🥰

[dancing-the-hellfire-rumba]

I’ll Tell You My Sins (So You Can Sharpen Your Knife)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst! A lot! (ends in fluff tho), canon typical violence, briefly mentioned and very vaguely descried torture, blackmailing.

Word Count: eight fucking thousand words what the fuck

Summary: Reader hides important information about her past from both Steve and Bucky, causing serious damage to their relationships with her. When Bucky’s severely (likely fatally) hurt, the Reader tries to finally do what’s right.

Beta: @walkingaline​ and I genuinely couldn’t have done it without her. She’s the sweetest fuckin person.

A/N: I’ve dedicated my life to this for two weeks, and it’s positively the longest one-shot I’ve ever written. I’m rather proud of how it turned out, and the feelings I got to explore. Would really love to know what you think!

It’s- vines, climbing up her organs, endless, crawling, and overflowing, thorns stuck inside her skin, digging in, and the breaths come shorter, clipped, chest weighted. There’s no alleviating this pressure, this overwhelming whirlwind of emotions, chaotic, heavy and filthy, slimy and awful.

The rumble of her engine, a loud interruption to her vicious thoughts, digging their claws inside her eyes, filling them with tears. The world is blurry, but the vibration- it's a welcome distraction. Familiar and strong, her motorcycle drives her at this point, muscle memory leading to the Compound, tears flying off her face by the whipping wind.

She’s booking it. Time barely registers. It’s somewhere between lashing thoughts and trembling fingers that the off-white building rises between the trees, overwhelming and tall, glinting lights always on, no matter the time of night. Somewhere between gasping, fast breaths and stuttering heartbeats that she throws the bike to park and runs, fast passes every lock with her ID and forgoes the elevator, knowing full well that the adrenaline thrumming in her veins will carry her up the stairs faster.

Shoes as if weighed by rocks, she feels slow, stuck in mud almost, liquid cement, sinking, drowning in quicksand as she rounds the corner and- Steve’s there, arms crossed over his chest, busted bottom lip pursed with his top one, a deep sigh swelling his chest. His hair is longer than the last time she saw him, he looks battered and bruised, and she’s known him for years- she can read his face clear as day. And as situations like this always have him, she knows, in the clench of his jaw, the statue-still set of his eyebrows, in his stony posture; he’s as worried as he is determined.

The phone call had been rushed.

She shouldn’t have heard it, about to jump in her shower, had she not forgotten her towel on her bed. Naked, feet padding on her plush rug, she digs in her bedside table for her usually silent device. It’s Steve, and she hasn’t heard from him in nearly a month and a half. Instantly she knows something isn’t right.

There’s only so many seconds it takes for the words to sink in, words like “mission went wrong”, and “hurt”, and “won’t make it”, and “Bucky”. Soon she’s pulling on clothes at lightning speed like the universe depends on it, shower be damned. Keys, jacket, helmet forgone, tears stream down her face as if she’s already lost him, bike kick-started because what else is there to do but be there.

And now? She’s here. And she feels foreign and bizarre, stepping in a space that she barely belongs in anymore. It’s sorta how she imagines entering an old house that’s now inhabited by new residents feels like- it feels the same, but in the same way it feels all too different, strange and foreign; revisiting an old life that’s been made into a new one for someone else.

It really doesn’t matter though, does it? Because she’s not here for herself- not for Fury, not Steve, not for the Avengers, or the missions. She’s here- she’s here for him.

Steps even slower now, approaching the Captain himself, very much aware of her knotted shoulders, her shaking hands. It’s evident, suddenly, in his posture that he knows she’s there. His shoulders stiffen just this bit more, and with a breath with which his chin raises a notch, he turns to see her. One foot behind the other, and he moves out the way, letting her in his spot in front of the window of the room Bucky is in-

A gasp.

Time finally stops.

Unrecognizable. Buried under wounds and bruises, endless tubes- her lost boy, James, Bucky. Tears fall at a new speed, and she allows this moment of vulnerability in front of Steve, allows herself to cover her mouth, her expression crumples, her tears flow freely, and- despite being mad at her, despite having patches to mend (if they can even be mended anymore), Steve is there, solid as always, with a hand on her shoulder, urging her in his arms. Old friendships die slowly, she thinks bitterly, and sinks in the comfort, eyes unable to be torn from the sight before her.

It takes some time, a good chunk of it, to compose herself, to part from Steve’s warmth and wipe the wetness off her cheeks. She wraps her arms around her front and shakes.

“We got ambushed,” he murmurs, and the statement is heavy. There’s guilt, sorrow, she’s sure it’s not fun to recall. “My fault. Didn’t know they were that many, must’ve had false info. Barely got to get him out of there.” She shudders. The image is loud and clear in her mind; Steve limping with the leg he’s currently not leaning on, busted and bleeding, carrying an unconscious Bucky, blood dripping from his mouth. She flinches.

“Can I-“ hesitation. A deep breath, shoulders squaring, remembering she no longer asks, she states. “I want to go in.” Steve stares for a second, calculating, thinking, looks back at Bucky, limp on the bed. He nods.

“Go.”

Before she knows it, the door shuts behind her slowly, an industrial, metal click, signifying a sealed door, nearly impenetrable if it was locked. She tries to be calm, but there’s no way, no reason to look composed either, so she flings herself to Bucky’s side, fingers twitching, hands hovering over him, afraid to touch him in case he frails like a burnt paper, in case he turns to dust and disappears before her very eyes.

Tears, once again, fall freely on her cheeks, tracing paths already carved by the previous breakdown, and the prospect of never seeing his wonderful crystal eyes, blue and loving, tears her apart. Worse so, the idea that the last time she saw them, they were red, hateful, betrayed, staring at her as if she was a monster, nothing more than the true scum of the earth, and he was right, and she will likely never be able to make everything right again.

It feels like  claws are tearing at her chest like it’s low quality linen, destroying every tiny piece of her into infinitesimal other pieces and then tearing those too. There she is, now, nothing but rubble and ash, on the floor, limp and bleeding. Heart far too heavy for her chest, breaking again and again, her temples feel like they’re about to burst from the pressure.

Sitting on the chair next to his hospital bed, her fingers tremble, carefully sliding under Bucky’s still ones, holding his hand between hers gently, like a lifeline, leaning her forehead on it. She sits there, folded, crumpled, and she cries.

~

Y/n’s palms are red and kind of stingy, but she pulls her sleeves over them and keeps holding the scalding cup of coffee between her hands anyways. Eyes closed, she lets the steam warm her nose, lets the scent comfort her, and she imagines, with her headphones plugged in her ears, that she is elsewhere, in her apartment with Bucky, on the fire escape, watching the sun descend beneath the skyline of New York City. She imagines his arms around her waist, sitting between his legs with her own dangling off the metal landing and over the street. His voice, vibrating through his chest, onto her back, murmuring teasingly in her ear, nose buried in her hair and his warmth all around her. It’s peaceful, it’s soft and warm and everything she has ever wanted.

When her eyes open, she’s met with sky blue ones, not the ones she was just dreaming of, and she flinches, suddenly very happy her coffee cup has a lid over it.

Steve.

With a sigh, she takes a calming breath, and pulls her headphones out of her ears, tugged by the wire pinched between her fingers. She places them gently on the table in the cafeteria for guests and low-level agents in the compound. It’s nighttime, and the lights in the cafe make Steve’s hair look golden and glimmering.

“How’re you holding up?” She’s not sure how much he means that, and she knows he’s still very much mad at her for everything that’s happened between them. She knows, however, he’s also the one that called her to let her know about Bucky. She feels heavy.

“I can’t stop fuckin’ crying, if that’s what you’re asking,” she tells him, no care to maintain a strong persona, not in front of the person she used to consider her best friend until not so long ago. She flicks the edge of the lid of her beverage with the tip of her nail and looks up at him. Steve looks better than she does for sure. Not because he cares less, or because he’s slept at all, but because the serum gives him more stamina than her. He’s not as tired as she is, despite the hours he’s been awake for. Still, despite his enhanced powers, there’s purple bags under his eyes. “You?”

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at her with a small shake of his head, sighing deeply. She takes that as her answer. Despite wanting to fiddle with something, a way to prevent her hands from shaking, a nervous habit, she pushes her coffee cup towards him, a peace offering, something to hopefully bring him the comfort it brings her. Steve doesn’t touch it. She fiddles with her sleeves instead.

The cafeteria, despite being open twenty-four seven, is quiet. A blanket of silence falls over them and Y/n crosses one leg under the other just to have something to do, something instead of opening her mouth and ruining the temporary civility between them. The words bubble, climb over one another like beasts, up her throat, and threaten to spill- and there’s just so much of them. So many apologies to make, so many explanations to offer, so many please let’s just go back to how we were ’s, so many this is killing me ’s, so many I can’t bear the thought of losing him without at least saying I’m sorry one last time. I don’t want that to happen with you too ’s. It’s all clogging the back of her throat like a spoonful of thick syrup that just won’t go down.

The idea that this might happen with Steve one day too overwhelms her. Two of the people she had found family in now hate her. She can’t let this happen with him, can’t lose him without telling him all of it. The realization; it’s the drop that makes the glass overflow. What if- what if tomorrow, or a month from now it’s Steve on that bed, Steve dying, what if she doesn’t get to tell him all of it? Never gets to apologize? How will she ever forgive herself for the things she didn’t say?

Her eyes well again. Her tongue feels like lead. It’s time.

“I…” She can’t bear to look at him. “Steve, I’m…” a shiver runs violently through her spine. “I’m so sorry. For all of it. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not Bucky, Y/n.” It’s like a kick in the stomach. She hears what he’s saying. I can’t forgive you for both of us. It almost sounds like your apology is useless.

“Well it’s not just Bucky I need to apologize to.” She looks up at him, and she wills the tears to be held at bay, matching his intensity with her gaze. She clenches her fists, fingernails digging in her skin just to distract part of her brain, to feel less numb. “Do you want to hear the truth?” Steve watches her. His irises bounce between hers, they do a once over of her stance, and she knows how small she looks in her seat, in contrast to him, who, despite his frame of mind, always makes a room smaller just by being in it.

His expression is grim, as he nods seriously. She takes a deep breath.

“This is the truth.”

~~

The older she grows, Y/n keeps thinking that she’s experienced everything there is to. But it truly feels to her like she’s never experienced this kind of cold before. And it’s not- it’s not just external temperature. It’s icicles, lodged under her skin, brutally freezing, causing her to endlessly shudder, tremble like a leaf out in the winter, causing her jaw to lock, her limbs to knot up.

She walks and walks, a woman with a purpose, head held high, as high as a prisoner can hold it and- something really isn’t right with this morning. Something isn’t right, and she can tell because this morning she- she felt something she hasn’t felt in years, something she thought she’d never again feel, a bubble of emotion she truly believed they had snuffed out in her. But it becomes an itch, an itch she can’t seem to scratch, something she can’t exactly put words to, can’t name.

The more she walks, the more the feeling of dread climbs up her throat. This she’s familiar with; fear. Cold and fear, clouding her senses, paralyzing her, as Müller’s door raises in front of her, and she struggles to remind herself to keep walking, keep breathing, one foot in front of the other, inhale, exhale, calm down. There’s no way to escape this anyways.

Director Müller was as tall as his voice was shrill and loud. His features were sharp, glass-cutting cheekbones and dimples that showed far too often. His hair was strawberry blonde and his eyes sunken, as if he was seventy years old with one foot in his grave. His skin looked taught over his bones. Always sharply dressed and always hiding about a dozen knives and pistols somewhere in his office. He liked Japanese jazz, had an affinity for yelling, and drank his whiskey straight. The only affection he’d ever had was reserved for his two small birds, Friedrich and Brigitta, whose singing he adored and who roamed in his office freely.

When he’d first kidnapped her and her older brother, Y/n sat doe eyed and watched as they beat her only sibling, her last relative left alive, to a pulp right in front of her. They didn’t know she had things to offer then. They did it for fun, a show of their capabilities, power play. They did it to break her into submission. When they found out, though, about her knowledge of science, her love for technology… That’s when her life truly ended.

She walks, now, down the freezing corridors, and knocks on Müller’s door three times. Status report straight to me every four days, he’d muttered in sharp German way back when he’d first assigned her missions, back in the beginning, and true to his word, every four days, Y/n was forced to see the skin around his bony face tighten and stretch with another chilling smile.

“Come in,” he yells, and his awful voice bounces in the empty, concrete walls of the corridor. She hears his birds. The door creaks open loudly, metal as it is, and she quickly closes it behind her so that Friedrich and Brigitta won’t escape, something she’s learned to do over the years, after one particular incident no one likes to remember, never mind speak of. He calls her last name with lewd, slimy confidence, supposedly happy to see her, his rotten dimples making an appearance. She sits on one of his chairs, upon his prompting “How’s your assignment progressing?”

“Nicely, sir. I’ve reprogrammed the Chair and fixed previous faults.”

“See, Y/n…” He sits on the plush leather chair behind his desk, hands wringing together and as he says her name, he sits up, elbows on the arm rests. His long lashes and abyssal brown eyes examine her. “I think you’re not telling me the truth.”

“Uh…” Stance maintained, but lips pursed and hands just slightly trembling, she keeps his gaze. She can’t displease him. There’s no room for her failure. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, sir. There’s… surely ways to improve, b-but the chair- it works well.”

“Ah, but that is not what I hear.” Müller stands up dramatically, rounds his desk with slow steps, and Friedrich starts chirping consistently, sensing the sudden tension in the room, loud, high pitch hurting her ears. She dares not flinch. The cold returns fiercely, heart climbing up to her throat, choking her. This won’t end well. “As a matter of fact,” he leans, rests on his desk, right in front of her, loving his height difference and accentuating it by standing while she sits, a reminder to both of them that he’s superior. Y/n wants to melt into a puddle on the floor, never to be seen again. “I hear that Smith, your test subject… he has almost already recovered.”

Referring, of course, to the poor boy whom they snatched and have provided her as a sick guinea pig, a way for her to test the torture chair they have forced her to make. It’s a requirement, of course, that she tests it on him herself.

“Sir, I don’t think-“

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” In the flash of a blink, he’s pulled a knife from his belt and he’s pushing her back in her seat, by pressing his blade on her throat. “You know what HAPPENS,” a tilt of his head, “when you LIE.” Friedrich is joined by Brigitta, as well as the echo of Müller’s voice, and Y/n’s heartbeat accelerates, her breath is caught in her throat. She feels like her ears are about to burst.

“He was unconscious when-“

“What did I just say?” Lips purse, scared of making any sound that’ll piss him off further. “Seems to me like you’ve forgotten,” he murmurs, flicking his knife shut and narrowing his eyes. He takes a deep breath, straightens up and she doesn’t dare to move an inch, but it feels like her heart has plummeted to the center of the earth, and she wishes it could drag her too, as far away from this as possible. She’s well aware of what’s to come.

 A chilling half hour later she finds herself sucking up tears that’ll only make her situation worse if someone were to see them. The cold, plastic, remote controller is in her hands, and it’s heavy as it’s ever been. She deems herself desensitized of the emotional toll forcefully inflicting torture on innocent people used to take. However, nothing, nothing, could possibly prepare her for what it feels like watching two HYDRA soldiers dragging her bleeding, thrashing brother from his armpits, and forcefully shoving him into the chair Y/n’s made. Director Müller watches her press the appropriate buttons with a sickly smile on his face.

She begs. For the first time in years, she begs God, the universe, something, to save her, to make her disappear. When this doesn’t work, when pleading for somebody to take mercy goes unheard, when the remote feels like the heaviest thing she’s ever lifted, her eyes draw to Müller, who’s watching her intently, waiting for her to carry on with her new assignment.

The millimeters her thumb has to cross feel endless. The process takes eons. The button is nearly unmoving.

Y/n will never forget her brother’s screams.

~~

In the hours that follow, she’s trapped inside her chamber, a tiny room of blank four walls with a hard bed and an open toilet, looking more like a prison cell than anything, the only difference being that in the daytime she’s allowed to come and go as she pleases within the unrestricted areas.

Tears streak her cheeks for yet another night, and the despair has never felt like this before. She thought she’d escape it one day, the guilt, the weight, but it seems she’s trapped, like an ant under a boot, seconds before she bursts to pieces, with the pressure of the entire world on her chest.

The itch grows louder. It’s right there, in the bottom of her heart, something to pay attention to, in her state of absolute isolation and despair. She’s alone, has been alone for so many years, and she wonders, still, why she hasn’t killed herself yet, but the idea that if she does, they’ll probably also kill her brother comes and slaps her in the face. However, what else is there to do? How much torture can she make her brother go through because of her mistakes, how much guilt can she shoulder?

She sits on the bed, counts the bolts that are screwing the vent door on the ceiling, listens to footsteps pass by every so often, and ponders. Silent tears crawl down the curves of her face. She’s lost so much. She hasn’t spoken her native language in years, and sometimes she wonders if she’s forgotten how to.

A pair of heavy duty boots leisurely walk down the hallway, and she recognizes the voices of two guards. Conversation easily flows between them, and Y/n has no choice but to listen.

“Did you hear about the new chair the American has made?” one of them says. Her ears perk.

“The American? No, what about it?”

“They say it’s one of the most painful things they’ve ever used in HYDRA.” Y/n winces.

“Are you serious?”

“It’s what I heard. Wouldn’t wanna find out myself.” The soldiers share a chuckle. “Müller made the American do it on her brother. I hear he died about twenty minutes later.”

Y/n’s heart drops.

He- he’s- he’s dead?

“No kidding. The bastard survived six years. ‘S a wonder he’s lived this long” And as the soldiers pass by, Y/n’s left in her chamber. The silence grows deafening, but the echo of her heart splitting and falling apart, shattering on the hard concrete floor is ear-splittingly loud. All that she’s done, all the sacrifices, all the sheer, iron will she’s had to muster to maintain her sanity, all the awful things she’s done, the blood on her hands, the guilt, the pain she’s caused and- and in the end… he died by her own hand.

Chaos and confusion, an ocean of lashing thoughts violently crashing and pulling her under. It feels like the crescendo of the longest song that’s ever been written, six years of constant playing, and the orchestra’s hands are bleeding on the strings and buttons, coating everything with their own pain, worked down to the bone, and this is it- the minutes before it’s finally over. The roof is about to be blown off its hinges.

The itch is no longer underlying. It consumes her, and she knows, finally. She recognizes it. Escapism. Revenge.

~

Steve’s silent. He hasn’t looked away from her, hasn’t changed stance, still with his arms crossed over his chest and bulging underneath his dark green sweater. He’s staring at her, patiently as ever, with a set to his jaw that she knows isn’t there out of anger, but because he, too, is overwhelmed with emotion. His shoulders are no longer stiff, and he now has a cup of coffee too, finished in front of him. The bags under both their eyes are darker. 

“I didn’t get to kill Müller. But I managed to run away. Barely. I disappeared, travelled to the States. I found Fury and sold all the information I knew about HYDRA and the department I had been held in, in return for protection. Fury took me in.” It’s a lifeless shrug, weighted and tired, and it’s then that Steve glances at his feet, then back at her. “I trained, learned how to fight properly. Used my knowledge for good. Made it to the Avengers in a desperate attempt to make up for all that I had done. ‘S when I met you.”

Steve seems to remember. He recognizes himself entering the story. It’s almost like he’s reliving the time they first met, back on that Helicarrier. A good memory, all things considered.

“There’s little excuse for me lying to you. I know. But please, you have to understand. The burden of getting to know the best friend of the person you’d been forced to help torture for years… becoming close friends with you? How could I ever say anything about anything and have you actually trust me?” She shook her head.

“What do you mean…?”

“They forced me to make weapons, new torture methods, even tried to make me refine Zola’s formula. A way to get a better grip on Bucky’s mind. I didn’t know much about all of it, nor who it was for, wasn’t my field anyways, and Zola’s formula was successful as it was, there wasn’t much for me to add. They later left me to the torture part, not the brainwashing. Even if I had known, though, I wouldn’t really have had a choice in the matter. I did anything I had to do to protect the only family I had left.” He nods seriously.

“We grew closer and closer and I wanted to tell you, to share my guilt with someone finally, but… the prospect of losing you was… too much. I didn’t want to lose the person that had reminded me for the first time in decades what it was like to be cared for. You were-“  a gulp “are like a brother to me.” Steve looks down. “I couldn’t see the betrayal on your face. It- it paralyzed me.

“I didn’t think you’d ever find out, honestly, how was I supposed to know you’d find my file? But don’t think I never felt guilty. It was always there, like everything could crumble at any moment, like a cloud looming over my head, but… I guess I kind of learnt to ignore it. I had found a family, Steve. After years of pain, pain received and pain caused, after so much darkness, I had finally found people who understood what guilt felt like, what it meant to be composed on surface level. I found people that loved me for what I was then and there. The idea of losing that crushed me.

“I know I can’t take it back, but for whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Steve.”  

Steve stays tight-lipped, pondering, staring at the table, then at her, then at the table again. He’s carefully controlling his expressions, clearly analyzing the information he’s been given, and she holds her breath. Whatever his reaction is, she thinks, nothing compares to the breath of fresh air she can allow herself to take, free of this awful, lengthy story. Finally, clear honesty, a sort of vulnerability with her best friend that’s different and new. True, down to its core.

It’s the sigh that does it for her. Resigned. Her eyes snap up at him. “You should’ve told me” He shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose before looking up at her, and shaking his head. “I would’ve understood. Nothing would’ve changed.” He looks right at her, very much like a discouraged parent. “What am I gonna do with you?”

And it’s- it’s the way he says it, as if everything makes sense now, shoulders dropping all the way down. The way he just- like he says you absolute moron, but in their own, loving, sibling-like way. As if  he can’t stay mad for too long. Looking at her with the tiniest sympathetic curl of his lip.

It’s relief, because it’s in that half a smile that she sees it all. She sees the forgiveness, the understanding. She sees the love. It’s as if he’s looking at her, saying family, am I right? Despite her situation, for the first time in years, so, so many years, she breathes deeply, breathes oxygen that feels nurturing to her lungs, that makes her think she’s floating, and smiles, apologetically, trying to telepathically communicate I’m sorry for being an idiot. Sorry for not trusting you. Sorry for fucking up this badly. I promise to be better.

She knows, he’ll always be there to give her another chance.

~

It’s moments, a handful of them, in which time and space seem to stop existing, to warp into something else entirely, a world that’s so confused, nobody knows how to put it back. It seems, in those moments, one forgets where they are, how they got there, their brain has not yet escaped from the liquefied dreamland it’s manifested, can’t seem to fit in the strict, square rigidness of reality.

Bucky finds himself in that place. His eyelids seem to weigh about twelve tons, barely feeling his fingertips. It takes a great deal of effort to have thoughts, to- to maintain them, and as his mind slowly starts running a little faster, he remembers faintly, cloudy memories barely registering, that the last thing he saw was three soldiers, that had sneaked up on him, he remembers the gun being aimed at him, instinctively moving and getting nailed in the stomach multiple times.

Wherever he is now, it’s quiet. He worries for a second that he’s been left for dead in the HYDRA base, worries that he’s either dying on the floor or a vague prison cell, resembling something he’s been in already, but he’s comforted by the fact that the surface he’s on seems soft, the lights behind his eyes bright. Whatever the case, he should wake up now, he might need to get up and defend himself.

And as his eyes open, heavy and tired, he meets another pair of gorgeous ones, familiar and soft, and he feels warm all over. He’s- he’s safe. He’s safe because she’s here, and he loves her, with all of his being he loves her, and she’s holding his right hand close to her chest, he feels everything, her warmth, and he knows it’ll all be okay, it’ll all fix itself. He doesn’t have to try.

There’s something lingering just beneath his skin though, a need to recoil. Like a small bucket of icy water thrown over him, because, yes, he loves her, but she betrayed him. She could be out to get him right now, could be working with HYDRA still, and he might be trapped somewhere, and his heartbeat accelerates, because he has to escape and he can’t trust her anymore- until he sees the tears. The tears streaking her cheeks, over old salty marks, and a smile, broken but whole. This isn’t the behavior of a captor, he decides, deems himself, if not safe, then entirely incapable of fighting back, should he need to anyways. Why worry now? Let his future self do the work.

His eyes move around the room, blue-ish gray walls vaguely familiar, and- there’s another figure, another pair of eyes- blue, happy. It’s Steve.

Bucky feels safe. He knows he’s alive. He knows he’s home.

~

Like any other free afternoon, Y/n finds herself on her couch, curled up as much as she can with a book in her lap. There’s a short lamp on the side table, and she leans on the armrest comfortably with her toes curled, flying through pages and pages of words. Her hair is down, she wears comfortable clothes, and has a blanket over her legs. The weather’s been getting colder lately.

A warm sound, four soft knocks on her wooden door, are enough to pull her out of her novel, enough to make her eyebrows stitch together. She’s not expecting anyone.

Her feet are bare and she’s well aware of how close her knives are to the front door, just in case she has to fling herself over and grab one. She presses her eye against the little peephole, but it’s old and foggy and the workers who had once repainted the building managed to cover part of it with small drops of paint and she hasn’t gotten around to trying cleaning it. Doorknob cold under her palm, she tilts and-

Oh.

The first thing she notices is his shirt, a maroon Henley, buried under two more layers of clothes, a brown hoodie and a darker brown leather winter jacket. The buttons on the collar of his Henley are open, giving her a cheeky peak of the skin of his chest. She loves this shirt on him. It feels like someone tugged at her heart from every direction. Longing.

The second thing she notices is that this- it’s Bucky. Bucky standing in front of her door with an expression she’s rarely, if ever, seen on his face before. Her favorite, gorgeous light blue eyes staring straight at her after briefly scanning her down, as if he, too, is making sure she’s actually there.  She is. And so is he. Here. Now. In front of her. Looking at her. Her feet are on the floor, she’s not dreaming, the world is round and Bucky is here.

Oh God. He’s really at her door.

“James…”

He seems to shiver. A shake of his head, something she recognizes as him convincing himself this is happening, then eyes meeting hers again. He shoves his hands deeper in his pockets. She holds the door less tensely.

“I think…” squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, looking at the floor. “Steve said to talk to you.” A heavy breath. Shoulders awkwardly, tensely shrugging, sorta like a kid forced to apologize by their parent. She doesn’t know how, but her head manages a nod, gulping. She pulls away from the doorframe, makes way for him to pass.

“Come in.”

 New York sounds as alive as it ever does, even at eleven at night, and Y/n wishes she was sitting, because her legs are unsteady. It makes tears well in her eyes, seeing him here again, in her kitchen, looking around absently. The world feels different, much like it did in the Compound when she’d gone to visit him, even if nothing has changed in it apart from them.

Despite the passing cars outside, and people yelling, heard through the open window, it feels quiet. As if they’re the only ones in the world, being here with him feels like a cosmic event. She remembers what it was like sitting here and being so overwhelmed by the love in her heart, remembers what it was like to be surrounded by his arms and held so impossibly close to his chest. She remembers what it was like to look in his eyes and see them so affectionately looking at her, as if she’s everything he could ever ask for, as if she’s the light in his world. The cold of the night and of the space between them feels very much like a slap in the face.

“I know you no longer work for them,” and it truly breaks her heart how part of that statement feels like he’s trying to convince himself, or as if it’s difficult for him to process. How awful, the shift between being someone’s favorite person and being someone who’s trustworthiness is little over questionable. The weight of being responsible for fucking up the most important relationships in her life suffocates her. “Steve told me.” 

There’s nothing to do but nod numbly. She looks at him, watches the warm, glimmering lights of her kitchen fall on the curves and edges of his face, admires the yellow-ish hue outlining his features, making his eyes look iridescent.

She mustn’t cry.

“He told me everything, actually.”

She must not cry.

Bucky doesn’t say a lot of words, but they’re there, at the tip of his tongue, floating in the air like dust particles. In this, there’s a lingering question, a large Why. Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you hide all this from me? Why did it have to be this way?

Y/n looks down. What to say, really?

“I just- I can’t believe-“ she jumps at his loud tone, Bucky never one to have vocal outbursts. She sees the tears in his eyes, gaze lingering away from her, towards the living room for a second before looking up at the ceiling momentarily, then straight at her. His hands are shaking, and she sees it all then. The betrayal, the hurt, despair, the- the loss. There’s no alleviating this pain that overwhelms both of them. She hates herself for this, can’t believe she caused all of it.

“I- I did what I thought would be best for us-“

“No, don’t pull that shit with me.” He glares now and points at her, and she never, ever wanted to be in the receiving end of such an intimidating look. Venom is laced in his tone, harsh and biting, and it feels like the temperature in the room dropped below zero, her spine rigid. “You did what you thought was best for you,” said as calmly as the tears that slowly leak from the corners of his eyes and over the apples of his cheeks are. “In fact, I doubt you thought at all”

That’s not true though. The amount of times she’d sit in her bed, with his arms around her while he slept, weighed down by the lies and the guilt; the guilt of all the terrible things she’d done, and the guilt of hiding them from the most important people in her life. She’d scale the pros and cons of confessing everything, for hours she’d make lists in her head, extensively long, but the cons were always destructively larger and would always win. She’d choose to stay as she was, with them oblivious and happy, until they would finally see her for what she truly was, and she’d convince herself, it would all be worth it for the time spent with them.

“I couldn’t tell you- I couldn’t face the idea of losing you I-“

“So you’d rather lie to me? You’d rather hide your past from me? I trusted you, Y/n.” He hasn’t called her by her first name in so long, and it feels like he just took one of her knives on her kitchen counter and stabbed her straight in her chest with it. “I gave you all of me, I told you every single little thing about myself, everything I hated, everything I’ve done, and I trusted you to have it and- and you couldn’t even trust me to listen to you? To- to understand you?”

She deserves this, she does, but she can’t- can’t deal with him yelling at her and, reflexively, she lashes out- “I was scared, Buck,” –and it’s a pitiful excuse, she knows, but it’s the bitter truth and the reason behind everything. “You have to understand- this isn’t some black and white situation, I thought you’d hate me for everything, I didn’t wanna lose you, or Steve!”

“Scared?” he seethes, walking towards her with angry steps, and she starts stepping back too, entering the living room. She realizes how large he looks, how his anger fills every corner of the room. “You were scared?!” She can practically taste the condescension on her tongue. “And you think I wasn’t?! You think I wasn’t paralyzed you’d run away after everything I’d done? You think I wasn’t terrified of my feelings for you and how fast they came to be?” She wishes she could answer that, but part of her is terrified to know what he used to feel for her and how much of it she actually ruined.

“But I’m a fucking adult, and I dealt with it. You… you lied about everything. Did you even give a shit about how badly you were gonna fuck me over, if I ever found out?”

“Does it look like I fucking like it? You know how sorry I am, how much I hate myself for everything I’ve done to ruin both yours and Steve’s trust in me!”

“I don’t know shit,” her legs bump on the back of her navy couch. “You hurt me- hurt us. We gave you everything, I put my heart on the line for you, and you couldn’t even have a little faith in me to believe in you, and what you truly are.”  A monster rings in Y/n’s brain. Nothing but a monster.

“Please, stop.” Submission. That’s all she has left, by now, because his words ring nothing but true. Because she can’t bear to hear everything she feels about herself being told back to her in his voice, it would literally be a nightmare come true. Everything drains in her body, and it all comes down to this. She just wants all of this to stop, the pain in both of them to stop.

“No,” he hisses, and she can’t really blame him. He’s close to her, about two feet away, and she’s trapped between him and the couch. “I’m not gonna stop just because things got uncomfortable for you, just because you had to come back because I was dying in a gurney. You barely tried to make everything right before that. Do you even care?”

“Don’t you see that I did everything because I love you?!”

Silence. Bucky nearly staggers back, as if the words that have never, before, been said came out and punched him in the face.

“Why the fuck do you think I didn’t tell you anything? Because I wanted to break your heart? No, you clueless asshole, I’m in fucking love with you!” His expression is stunned, eyes wide at her outburst, watching as she takes the steps she needs to close the gap between them. Her finger is jabbing at his chest, which is raising and falling with panted breaths. “I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, couldn’t take to watch your trust break, couldn’t bear the thought of you finally seeing I’m a monster!” And she breaks down, a sobbing mess now, the tears that once trailed down her face, now endless. She covers her mouth, face crumpled and red.

“I j-j-just wanted us t-to be okay, bec-cause I love you t-too much to fuck-king lose y-you”, As her eyes shut, crying relentlessly in her hand, throat feeling like it’s gonna burst, she feels so eternally cold, as if showered by a bucket of icy water. The idea that she might once again be left alone in the world while someone she loves is taken away, all because of her actions- it’s too much. It takes her back to the worst day of her life, brings back a kind of cold so furious, it knots her joints and sends shudders down her spine- her hands tremble at the thought. She can’t believe how colossally she’s managed to screw things up with him, how much he hates her and genuinely believes she did anything less than care about him. .

Like a tidal wave, the emotions overwhelm her, the self-hate like a boulder that smacked her in the face and threw her down a cliff and now everything hurts, and her stomach feels like it’s climbing up her throat. Her heart tears through her chest, painful and slow, and it’s all her fault, everything, and there’s nothing there to fix it all, to make it better- except, all of a sudden, warm, strong arms curl around her. She breaks down harder, curling in his chest because she fucking missed this, missed his affection, his protective embrace, his comforting smell.

Fists clutching his shirt, she sobs, acutely aware of her tears wetting the material of that maroon Henley she loves so much. The arms around her curl tighter, one hand dipping under her hair to hold the nape of her neck gingerly, keeping her against him, thumb rubbing gentle circles. And it’s then that she hears it, his own sniffling, his chest shaking. He’s crying too. The need to provide the comfort she seeks is overwhelming, and she lets his shirt go, wrapping her arms around his waist and holding him together too. “I’m so sorry,” she cries, shoulders shaking, and Bucky shushes her, shaking his head slightly. His arms tighten briefly.

In her crying, she vaguely registers him moving them to the couch, both sitting down, and her curling up into him instinctively. For a while, until she calms down slightly, she lets herself be held and holds him back just as fiercely. It feels like she’s finally letting go, an outburst that frees her of part of the weight she’d been shouldering for years on end. It feels like release, a dam that broke and is spilling every last drop of water that’s been pushing at it for so long.

When she quiets down, when her sobs no longer hurt, no longer feel like they’ll split her ribcage to splinters, when her breathing sort of evens out, she pulls one of her hands to rest on Bucky’s chest, and pulls away to look at him. Bucky’s arms tighten to keep her close.

She’s well aware she must look like a mess, what with all the crying, but this is Bucky after all, her James, the love of her life. He’s seen her under all kinds of light now, and there’s no need to hide. Like he wants, if he is to care for her, after all this, he should care for her for all the things she is, not the things she pretends to be.

Bucky’s eyes are a little less bloodshot than hers. She cups his chin gently and watches his eyelashes flutter, his eyelids softly shut. With her thumb she gently strokes his cheek and notices the way he seems to lean into her palm, lips parting with heavy breaths. He missed her too.

He opens his eyes again to look at her and leans his forehead down to touch hers, holds her closely and brushes the tip of his nose on the bridge of hers so lightly she almost misses it. She sighs. “You have every right to be angry at me,” she whispers to him, pulling her hand back and tucking it in her chest. “I lied, and I didn’t trust you, and I acted the complete opposite way of how I should have. For all of that,” a breath sucked, almost clogged at the center of her chest, “for all of that, I’m sorry.”

Bucky, still infinitely close to her, shakes his head gently. He takes one arm from around her, and she thinks this is it; this is where he says goodbye-

But, gentle as always, he places his right hand on the side of her neck, softly nudges her head up to his and drops his lips on her own, a ghost of a kiss, short and unexpected, before he pulls back and looks at her. “I love you.” He whispers, breath hitting her lips, and her eyes well with tears once again, as she looks up at him. She never thought she’d hear those words, not after everything. Bucky kisses her single fallen tear away, noses at her temple.

“I don’t think you’re a monster, the same way you didn’t think I am one. You helped me heal, helped me learn that those things I did, they weren’t me. I didn’t have a choice.”

“B-but-“

“No, you listen to me.” He tells her, his grip around her body tightening, giving emphasis to his words. “You did what you had to do to protect your brother. What you did… The blood isn’t on your hands.” He has not let her gaze go for a second, and she’s transfixed, tears still overflowing- she wonders when she’ll finally run out of them. “I love you.” Her bottom lip trembles. “I love you more than I thought I was ever capable of. Thinking you betrayed me completely incapacitated me, but I understand you. I see you. I forgive you.”

She gasps, shudders, and in the spur of a single waking moment, lunges at him, kisses him fiercely, holds him tightly. Their lips mold together, and the last pieces of the universal puzzle of the cosmos click to place. Everything settles, mouths moving in sync, desperate, hungry, all the emotions tumbling out all at once, and it’s like the slingshot snapped, and the missile hit the target. She bites his bottom lip, and the groan he lets out comes from deep within his chest, tongues tangling together. His metal arm crushes her against him, hand buries in his hair, their noses smush together, breaths strangled, air shared, and…This- this feels like belonging. No- more like, this feels like coming home.

Inevitably, they part, trying to suck in much needed air, foreheads knocking together gently and chests heaving. It seems like they feed off each other’s personal space, like they hold each other in one piece, while also completing one another. To Y/n it feels like a breath of fresh air.

“This doesn’t mean we’re perfect yet,” Bucky utters gently, not in a menacing way, but as a soft clarification, a request even. “I- I’m gonna need some time.” She’s grateful he even chose to give her a chance at all. Y/n smiles up at him affectionately and nods.

“Of course, Buck. All the time you need.” She caresses the side of his face with gentle fingers, traces his features with a feather-light touch, then cups his jaw. “Thank you.” And it’s weighted, hangs low in the air. She looks at him intensely to make sure he knows she means it. Bucky closes his eyes and leans into her touch, then blinks them open, brilliant, sky blue irises staring right at her. “I love you so much.” He breathes out heavily.

“Say that again,” he whispers. She grins at him as if he’s all good things in the world, because he is.

“I love you, Sergeant Barnes.” A kiss pressed to his cheek. “I love you with all of my being.” A kiss gently tucked on each of his eyelids. “I love you for all that you are.” And she kisses him on his lips sweetly, and he responds like she’s made out of glass, like she’s fragile. He sighs out. They breathe close to each other for a while.

“I know you said you need some time. Do you… wanna go out with me? Coffee? At Michelle’s?” Bucky grins. Their spot. He nods.

“I’d really love that.”

It’s not much, but it’s something. An olive branch. The first step to gain his trust back. There’s nothing Y/n deems more important. With a deep  breath, she knows. She’s ready to do anything, to work her hardest to earn a place in his life, the one he’s so graciously offered her. To get to build a future with him, on steady foundation this time.

Their life begins now. Y/n can’t wait to live it. With him.

~~

A/N 2: please tell me what you thought!

[seancekitsch]

Not to Touch the Earth

this is a prize buck 60s au bc apparently i have enough of an ego to do that

a/n & warnings: drug reference, alcohol references, no actual drug use, unprotected car sex, use of the word daddy, roughness, cult references, orgy references, none of this is even really prize buck canon but yknow we might reference it again for a joke or two. natural born killers reference also

“Some outlaws lived by the side of a lake, The minister's daughter's in love with the snake,” you sing off-key, “Who lives in a well by the side of the road. Wake up, girl, we're almost home!”

You punctuate the end of the verse by howling out the window of the car Klaus was using, voice being swallowed by the vastness of the desert somewhere on the California border. Klaus drove on, trying to remember a time you were ever so free. He figures you probably never were, not sober. Not totally sober like now. He was coming up on three years, you on six months, and your new favorite activity was definitely driving out into the desert, as far away from Klaus’ little commune as possible, and singing songs that hadn’t been written yet and making love on the hood of the car. 

He smiles and looks over, watching you lean out the window bathing in the golden light of the sunset and he has to laugh. Is this just what you’re like in a car? Or is it being trapped in time? Your first week here was spent avoiding any of his followers and trying to talk to any of the universities in San Francisco, but none of them would hire you because a woman with a doctorate was rare, and a woman professor was even rarer. You stopped trying in a fit of anger after one Dean told you your ‘husband was a brave man for letting his wife become so educated’ before offering to let you take undergraduate classes because those were available to women. So you leaned into helping him hide from the Destiny’s Children. You had fun here. You kept each other in check being sober, you kept him from being fully engulfed by the group. You like these people, you just wish they didn’t like you and your partner as much as they do.

But the times when the two of were alone were the best. Klaus loves stealing you away from everyone else and being with you like everything’s normal. He loves you without that twinge of shame you carry with you, without waking up with tears in your eyes and thinking he doesn’t notice them. You haven’t been crying or hiding it from him here. He loves how goofy you allow yourself to be, the way you don’t constantly hold yourself back.  He remembers back on earlier today, when you’d snuck up on him, licked a warm stripe up his neck and sang lyrics from the very song you were piecing together now.

“Not to touch the earth, not to see the sun. Nothin left to do but run run run,” you sang, only for him.

“Let’s run.”

You didn’t have to say it again before he grabbed the nearest set of car keys and was swatting at your ass to get you running for the passenger seat. 

You feel the hot air hit your skin, and you can’t remember a time you ever actually liked the heat. You never saw yourself even visiting southern California. Sobriety re-introduced you to the cold and you greeted her like an old lover. You like your cold weather and your jackets and your fucking hospital socks you stole and stockpiled which now didn’t even exist yet. But the heat here is different, it kisses your skin like Klaus does, frees you from the burdens of life fifty years from now. The heat is a reminder that you don’t have the struggles you had in 2019, the heat is a reminder you can rebuild yourself. You know you have to go back sometime, but you can be selfish and steal this time with Klaus. You squint into the setting sun on the horizon as Klaus makes the car slow, then veers off the empty road to park. You’d have the moonlight soon, which meant a cool night with him all to yourself. By the time he walks around to your side of the car, he blocks the sun from your view. Your eyes trail up from the tip of that ugly fucking beard he’s got growing to his chin, to his lips. To the grin he sports, saves only for you.

“Do you think they’ve noticed were gone?”

“Why? Worried Keechie’s missing you?” you snort.

“Keechie? God, no. Although, if I were you I’d be worried Madelaine was getting lonely by now”

Right; you were hiding from two members of the group in particular. Your first mistake was attempting to have sex in a five mile radius of the group. You didn’t think they’d barge into your tent and invite themselves to join. But, ever the adventurous and slightly stupid, you let them. Now two of the four that had been in your tent  were trying to recreate that moment again.

“Not my fault I rocked her world. You jealous, Prophet?”

“At first I was impressed because I didn’t think you swung that way, but yes. Yes, terribly.”

That probably isn’t much of a joke. Sobriety put a bit of a possessive streak in Klaus, and as much free love is flowing, it’s nice to feel like you belong to someone. And you do belong to Klaus, in every way that counts for your group. But you’d struck a chord with Madelaine and now shes creeping in on Klaus’ territory.  

He pulls you from the car, literally pulls you. His hands come up under your armpits and lift you from the car window until you can step out of the window and he can lower you down onto the sand. He’s thankful you’ve learned your lesson, as the last time he did this you weren’t wearing sandals and burned your feet on the sand. He bends to let you pluck the wide brimmed hat from his head and you place it on your own as you walk to the trunk to fetch a blanket. Dancing, not walking, he thinks. The way you walk is more like dancing. You grab a blanket from the trunk and sit with him until it’s night. You sit with him close enough to reach out and touch, but not quite. It’s in these moments you can close your eyes and perfectly imagine you’re back in your studio apartment with him, listening to the record player and sharing a bottle of wine, thinking about the narrowly avoided apocalypse and job hunting for him. You can close your eyes and imagine inviting his siblings over to crowd your apartment for a loud night of laughing and take out. You can hold his hand and think of how very little space the two of you took up in the world and how comforting it felt. 

When you open your eyes again it’s dark. Perfect. Night falls quickly in the desert. You look over to see Klaus equally as relaxed, an easy smile painted across his entire face, worry lines smoothed away.  He hums a song you recognize.

“Sweet Jane? Don’t you think that’s a little too ‘Mickey and Mallory’ for us?”

He hums a little more of the song before he answers.

“I was just thinking if we mixed blood in a wedding ceremony our paramours would leave us alone,” there’s a hint of something dark in his eyes, “Now get on the hood.”

It’s the way that he says it, low and commanding, that has you jumping up onto the hood of the car and eagerly arranging yourself in a provocative pose, legs splayed and leaning on your arms to arch you back a little, just to entice him even more. That’s all part of the dance, and here more often than not he leads. He commands and positions you the way he likes it and rewards you in kind. He actually looks a bit like a god figure or a superhero the way he saunters over to you in the dark and crawls above you onto the hood, sandal clad feet standing on the grill so he has more leverage for what he has in mind. 

“Now, are you ready for Daddy?

You have to snort at that.

“Daddy? If anyone is daddy here, it’s me babe.”

He grips your bare thigh, just above the knee, then gives it a little warning slap. Not hard, just a little more than nothing.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to call yourself anything besides what I feel like calling you, doctor.”

Any retort to that comment, which honestly stung a little, died on your tongue when a low growl rumbles from his throat and his mouth connects with your stomach, biting at the cloth of your tank top and the skin underneath. You sink back down and stare at the stars, whimpering as you count them and let Klaus tease you as he undresses you. 

“If you were the prophet I’d be entirely devoted to you,” He says as he pulls your shorts down your legs, “I’d follow you everywhere on Earth, I’d do anything you asked of me.”

“Don’t you already?” you laugh.

“I do,” He confirms, “I do, I do, I do” and punctuates each confirmation with a little nip at the inside of your thigh, the same one he had just slapped. The beard he’s been growing out tickles as you squirm beneath him, hands roaming wherever they wish but solidly keeping you in place for him. You think back on your first time with him, how eager he’d been to please, how you wanted to be the one he was pleasing, and how far you’ve come together. His fingers wind up your legs like ivy on an old statue and pause at your underwear, teasing for a moment, before pulling them aside and plunging two fingers into you without warning. He pushes them in deep, scissoring them back and forth a few times, before pulling them back out, and sucking on them. If youre moaning or swearing, you can't hear yourself. An appetizer for a meal, or something equivalent of that. The delighted moan that echoes from his throat as he sucks you from his fingers sends shivers up your spine, just knowing you're in for it tonight. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you dare to meet his eyes, dark and stormy and hungry for you. He has the audacity to give you his sweetest smile before roughly pulling your underwear away from your body and heavily dropping his knee onto the car hood between your own. Klaus himself is intoxicating, you didn't need drugs or alcohol. It was so easy for him to consume your senses, and you readily let him. And when he finally kisses you, you feel yourself drowning. Really truly drowning. The way his tongue dances with your own has you gripping his shoulders like hes the last rock before a riptide pulling you under. It takes him no time at all to have his pants undone and to be grinding himself against you. This is a glimpse of the Klaus of 2019, humping against you and gently whimpering into your mouth. But quickly he pushes that away, lining himself up with you and pulling back enough from you to make eye contact as he pushes himself in. No matter how domineering he could be in the 60s with you, he makes sure to look at you, to ask those silent questions, to be granted that permission to absolutely take over you.With each thrust, long and deep, punctuated with a needy moan, he takes a little more of you. And you willingly let him, and give him everything you can. 

You probably look like one of those renaissance paintings beneath him, as he thrusts hard deep fast, your breasts exposed like all of the biblical women, your body contorted on the hood of the car, like one of those angels in anguish. There was no where for your hands to find purchase that wasn't Klaus, so your hands are far up behind you, palms planted on the windshield to give yourself a better angle, a better arch of your back for Klaus to wrap his arms firmly around you, so he could kiss your chest and the long expanse of your neck and shoulders while he kept his pace. He held you as lose as possible, and for a moment you imagine its just him. You as nothing but an extension of himself, your pleasure mixing and becoming his pleasure. When he got like this, its easy to imagine he didn't have many lovers before you that cared that much about his pleasure. Sure they probably thought he was a fun time, as that was a given, but it was probably rare someone actually cared about what he was feeling. You like that he trusts you with this bare part of himself. No, you love it. You love-

A deep moan from his mouth vibrates against your breast, you feel it even more than you hear it, and it brings you back to where you are now, looking down at his lust filled, indulgent expression. 

“Keep looking at me,” he commands, thrusting harder, making you almost squeak at the angel he's hitting, “It's just me, and you, and the coyotes out here.”

Your hands scramble to grab the sides of his face as you start to move your hips to fuck back against his thrusts, eager to come for him while hes watching you. Any attempt to praise him comes out as stuttered moans and fragments of words, but there's a devilish smile on his face that tells you he knows what you're saying. 

He pulls one arm from under you, slams it on the car below right next to your head, and goes in for the kill. He’s merciless in his thrusts as he kisses and nips at your fingers that he can reach. He doesnt guide you but throws you off of the cliff into bliss, a scream parting from your lips as he refuses to slow his pace. This more dominant and possessive Klaus is wild, selfish in a beautiful way. In his face you see indulgence personified, a modern Dionysus filling each urge that swept over you. He doesn't let you calm down, doesn't let you catch your breath, overstimulating you as he reaches his own release. He comes equally as loudly, with a shout of your name and “oh, lover” tumbling from his lips before he stills, and captures your lips on his own. 

He kisses you slowly, like he's drinking in the taste of you, holding you still, feeling your skin melt with his. It's hard to tell where he ends and you begin, but you prefer it this way. It's just the two of you in the desert. Just the two of you in the world. There's plenty of water in the canteen, and after a drink to refresh you, you'll be tearing at each other again, just far enough off the road no one will see you. He pulls out of you with a hiss, like it hurts him not to be inside of you, and you find yourself involuntarily whining at the loss as well. He grabs the canteen and returns to put it to your lips, then his own, then you sit and talk of nothing and everything sweet, needlessly flirting and preening each others egos with loving words until you're both ready to go again. It continues like this until one of you falls asleep on the other. This is the desert routine. 

When you wake around sunrise, covered in bruises and hickies, hair tangled to hell, you're wrapped in the blanket from the trunk, Klaus’ shirt used as your pillow. He’s just outside, naked as you are, greeting the dawn. Something about his posture beckons you to join him, and on shaking legs you pull yourself from the car, unsteadily stepping until you can wrap your arms around his torso, his hand reaching to grab for you and sliding over your shoulders. He repositions you so you stand together, not with you behind him. The way its supposed to be. And then the moment the sun is fully in the sky, he greets it by crowing like a rooster. Loudly, freely. You join in.

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

Hello JWB! I love your writings and blogs. Sorry to increase your ask load. I just wanted to ask do you have any headcannons about NK Lavanya's wedding or Anjali Aman for that matter.

Have a nice day.

Hello dear!

Thank you for the love <3

Haha no I have all my asks lined up so it's cool.

I remember having an OTP ask meme that had a lot of head canons and Aman-Anjali and NK-La, you'd love reading them! I had an OTP ask meme 2 as well!

This tag of NK covers everything NK in the blog :) Similarly searching for Lavanya, Anjali, Aman would bring up results related to them on the blog.

Below I have compiled some of my head canons of these two from my previous OTP asks :)

NK-LA Headcanons

If they could each describe each other in one sentence, what would it be?

NK : The most beautiful woman who exists on this planet (also, Nannav was an ass to break her heart).

La : If you think he’s always funny then you don’t know him.

Have they made each other cry?

NK: Yes, when she chose not to date him because of his connection to Arnav and his family. It was painful.

La: Yes, when he asked her to marry him.

Name something they would never do for the other person.

NK: I don’t think NK would give up on his family.

La: She won’t change herself. She’s gone through it once and never again.

What is a promise they have made to each other?

NK: I’ll always be honest in this relationship, regardless of any truth.

La: I’ll always tell you that I love you before sleeping.

(Hilarious, imagine them having a fight and NK grinning cause he knows La has to say ‘I love you’ before she sleeps)

What activities do they enjoy together?

NK and La love:

Playing games - from cards, chess, strip poker, 8 ball pool.

Enjoying outdoor/adventure sports - hiking, bungee jumping, skydiving.

Binge watching Hindi TV shows and films - they love K3G, Kaho Na Pyaar Hai, Ssssh Koi Hai *lol* and it’s the easiest way for them to connect with Indian culture

Sex - both of them love it*

*I keep on writing that all the couples enjoy sex because I write them and I think of sex as fun but just want to let it out that sex is not all necessary for relationships. In fact several romantic relationships have more intimacy in other activities - it is completely normal to not even like sex! Remember that sex, sexual orientation, sexual desire, sexual activities have no one way and can go in multiple directions!

What would be their love motto?

“When you love someone, you love the person as they are, and not as you’d like them to be.” - Leo Tolstoy

What are things they both find funny?

They both find NK’s Hindi extremely funny, as well as Khushi’s choice in films and Buaji’s fixation with her beloved Nandkisore!

If they complimented each other, what would they say?

NK: Lavanya, aapse milkar meri mooh rooh kambal mukammal ho gaya. You’re the light of my life. You are my sun, my moon, my everything (Arnav: Yes of course, who needs blood, oxygen, water)

La: You made me meet myself. NK, there’s no one like you (Arnav: I agree, thankfully there’s no one like him)

I just love imagining Arnav loving and dissing this pair always. Lol (not in front of La, she’ll legit yeet him out of this world).

What were their first impressions of each other?

NK: He literally lost his heart the minute he saw Lavanya. For him, perfection finally had a face. An angel. Breath was knocked out of his lungs. He finally knew what love was and why it could drive people to madness because he literally signed his life off to a woman who’s name he was yet to learn. Check out the song Hosana - that would be his first impression of her.

La: Too good to be true. He had the sweetest smiles and was a terrible flirt. Men like him are like a good dream - best be forgotten at sunrise. He’s either a heartbreaker or a dreaded ‘nice boy’. She wouldn’t believe the dreams he’d evoke in her. Check out Iktara - it’s a beautiful song and one I think that would depict La’s mind very well.

Who does the hands-over-the-eyes “Guess Who” thing?

If that doesn’t spell out Nandkisore then I don’t know what does! I’m very sure that whenever NK visits La, especially by surprise, that’s how he greets her! And  she loves it!

Who says I love you first? How did it happen?

Nandkishore!

It happens something like this:

NK is always being NK. Making La laugh, being her most reliable friend, treating her right and just being her biggest support. They’ve been casually dating for about a year and for NYE NK catches a flight to go to London to see her.

Why? Because it seems to have worked like a charm with his cousins to see their beloveds on the stroke of midnight.

It’s a big gesture and with the NYE NK confesses that he loves her. He says this all to an unsuspecting Lavanya Kashyap who thought she’ll celebrate NYE alone in her apartment in her bathrobe and facemask.

They kiss in the doorway, she in her bathrobe and NK with his traveler’s pillow still around his neck - classic NK.

After which he’s glad he was 5 minutes late to the Gupta house otherwise according to his superstition he would’ve been married to Bua ji!

Who tells their friends/family about their relationship first?

My long standing theory is that Khushi finds out about it before anyone telling it to her. She has a knack for understanding relationship (if she puts her focus on it, otherwise she can be as blind as a bat). Khushi is NK’s wingwoman and she’ll tell him everything about La as well as encourage him to move forward.

But yes, in terms of informing I feel NK tells it first to his friends/family. Lavanya, in my opinion, would be hesitant in ‘telling’ friends/family cause in a way that makes a relationship official and she won’t take the first step in it until and unless she’s absolutely sure - which is a good thing.

NK decides he’s gonna marry her the minute he sees her toh at one point, he will tell the family/friends and knowing La’s history with the Raizada’s he’ll be very firm with them about how to treat La. (My opinion: he’s not the biggest fan of La ko desi banao project).

What do they do when they’re away from each other?

They talk, chat, video call and buy little presents for each other. It’s almost always something insignificant. A postcard, a keychain, a shirt - even a local flower!

While Lavanya doesn’t let anyone know that she’s away from NK, she always has her phone with her in case there’s a message from him.

NK - the whole of Delhi and Sydney are aware of his misery without his beloved. Also he sets his time in accordance to whichever country Lavanya is in irrespective of her multiple protests.

But they also know to give each other space - which is an important aspect of their relationship. They tell each other when they need time off to cool down from a hard day at work or are just overwhelmed by whatever situation they’re confronted with.

And sometimes they’re on FaceTime, doing their own tasks and happy with the other’s company.

What senses (sights, smells, feelings, etc). remind them of each other?

Anjali: glacial mountains (Himalayas, Alps), Armani cologne, lavender, cotton and silk, cold breeze, pleasure - intense pleasure remind her of Aman.

Aman: classic architecture (from Taj Mahal to Jagannath Temple), renaissance paintings, sandalwood, marigolds, gold, chiffon, yearning and satisfaction remind him of Anjali.

If they could each write a single line in their marriage vows, what would they be?

Anjali would write: “I thought I knew what love was, but it was until I met you that I realised that my definition was wrong.”

Aman would write: “If you go by the traditional definition of love, people would think I loved your brother more than you.”

And they’d both burst into laughter.

credit: @ridzmystique for the dialogues.

How have they changed each other for the better/for the worse?

For better

Anjali: a lot more verbal with her feelings, focuses more on self - less compromising, does not asses people from only her perspective (understands people do things that she wouldn’t), isn’t always perfect, and cherishes independence and family time, grows to love and accept herself and her past without blaming herself.

Aman: more communication, finally has a life outside ASR (lol), does not wait forever or for circumstances to ‘align’/'be right’ to express his emotions, makes less assumptions and questions more, takes his time to enjoy life out of work, devotes himself to the love he feels.

For worse

They’re both obsessed with Arnav as it’s one literal job and the other’s literal birthright hence a lot of their life decisions is often governed by what Arnav would think about it. Not that they’re waiting for approval, but let’s say Arnav’s opinions is always a matter of conversation (this is something Khushi, Arnav actively try to tackle).

They both are too ready to make sacrifices for each other. What if Anjali truly loves someone else? Aman should not be bogged down with a woman who has a tough past. Doesn’t Anjali deserve someone more than her brother’s manager? Won’t it be better to hurt Aman and let him hate her than suffer and wait for her longer? Fortunately these issues are easily dealt with difficult but important conversations.

There is a constant fear of losing each other because it took them forever to get together. Also the belief that they’re not 'good enough’ for the other person.

Write a short dirty talk between them

Anjali sat by the pool, lighting the last candle. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the soft breeze. A few more hours and it would be New Year. She noticed her beloved Chote and Khushi close dance in a private corner of the living room - blissfully unaware they were visible to anyone passing by.

Anjali smiled and thanked the lord for blessing her brother and Khushi with every imaginable happiness. Her chain of thought and prayers broke with her phone vibrating.

It was a text message from Aman.

“You look beautiful tonight.” Anjali looked around, searching for the handsome, curly haired, broody man she had grown to love. Aman Mathur.

His name sent shivers of pleasure he had given her the night before. There was something exciting about having a secret affair.

There he was, standing on top of the stairs, staring at her with his hawk eyes.

“You take my breath away in more ways than one Mr. Mathur,” Anjali replied.

“You give me too much credit Miss. Raizada, if I remember you are the one who excel at it.” Aman texted, leaning against the railing, wondering if he’d go to hell for romancing his boss’s sister. More likely killed and packaged by Arnav Singh Raizada to hell.

Anjali blushed at the text and leaned against the lounge chair, completely aware of how flattering and invisible her thin saree was under the moonlight. Keeping the eye contact she called him.

“You are too kind.” Anjali whispered.

“You haven’t seen my kindness yet. If you are kind enough, I might just show how kind I can be.” Aman flicker his gaze down, letting Anjali know where all he intended to show his kindness.

“If we were alone, I’d let you know how beautiful you look.” Aman fidgeted with his tie.

“Meet me out in five - use the back door.” Anjali cut the call and looked at the watch - it was 11:55pm. Although she no longer believed the ‘theory’ of seeing a beloved during midnight - she felt the sudden urge to see his face before anyone’s with the New Year.

Aman shot her a grin and walked the other way, playing with the small square box in his pocket.

Do they go on dates? What are they like?

Yes they do! Initially they would meet at coffee shops, making small talks and having meaningful silences. Once they got closer, Aman would invite Anjali for lunch dates at his home.

And then it became dinner dates.

Aman’s quite the chef so he’d cook dinners and that’s where they’d have the best conversations. Anjali would come out of her reserved, elegant shell and laugh boisterously at Aman’s jokes (humor is not his strong suit) and Aman would wind down, finally, and probably watch a terribly cheesy Hindi film/soap opera with Anjali for the night.

Who leaves little notes in the other one’s lunch? (Bonus: What does it say?)

Aman does! It started off as something small - when Anjali headed straight to her NGO from Aman’s when he packed her a small tiffin box. It said “Have a good day, A” and probably meant the whole world for her.

Since then it’s been a habit - even post their marriage that he drops little notes that says the most mundane, yet sweet things like “eat well”, “I’ll be late tonight, don’t stay up, A”. Things that could easily be communicated over text but they both prefer the little notes.

What is the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?

In my head canon Aman has loved Anjali and is aware of it for the longest time and has made peace with his feelings. Being extremely practical and sans fanfare, when he realised he has feelings, he hid it in himself as his biggest secret. So nothing changed, except a young man might have matured overnight because of a heartbreak.

For Anjali her optimism and surface level happiness would break the day she realizes her feelings. As a person who compartmentalized her feelings and choses to bury her thoughts and live in denial, the realisation that she’s fallen in love, again, actually opens the careful cover she’s placed on ‘calm’ face. Her feelings, emotions - all become raw and exposed.

Fun thought: While Arnav becomes calm in love, Anjali becomes extremely volatile!

Who tells their friends/family about their relationship first?

Anjali tells it to Khushi because Khushi is the only one who wouldn’t ask Anjali to marry him the next day nor be scandalized. Then Aman tells Arnav, pained by how torn Anjali is in telling the rest of the family members - especially her Chote. Then Akash, Payal and finally the family knows (from Anjali and Arnav).

Hope you have a wonderful day ahead!

- JWB

[apenapaperandadoofus]

RFA PLAYS AMONG US HCS

YES I LOVE THIS

And imma add the minor trio and Rika too!

RFA+minor trio+Rika playing among us:

Zen:

As crewmate: he’s pretty chill, his avatar is the white one with a halo (because he has an angelic face), his name is Zen with a little heart and he sticks with you and Jaehee most of the time. He does some of his tasks, to prove he’s innocent and then he’ll follow you and Jaehee around to sort of “protect” you. When an emergency meeting is called he is the one in the groups that talks and tries to find out who’s the impostor, along with some other people. He will say that you and Jaehee are innocent and he’ll defend you :)

As impostor: he gets caught immediately because he always kills Jumin first and then when an emergency meeting is called he’ll say “I’m sure he deserved it” or he’s just laughing evilly in the background. He will kill everyone except you and Jaehee! Another way of finding out if it’s him is that he will also kill whoever killed him last round just to get some revenge pft. But the more you all play, the better he gets and soon enough he’s fooling everyone around him (I mean he’s an actor, he can lie) so Zen is pretty good at being the impostor (but he doesn’t kill you or Jaehee so that’s another way of finding out it’s him lmao)

Yoosung:

As crewmate: He plays with the light green avatar, and he didn’t really have like an accessory until Seven hacked into his server and made Yoosung’s avatar wear the post it note that says ‘I’m dumb’ or something like that lmao (he also changes Yoosung’s name to baby Yoosung or something like that which makes Yoosung so freaking angry pft.) Anyway, since LOLOL is something that requires teamwork, he’s pretty good at it! He’s always doing his tasks and sticks to you or Seven. He is the one that gets killed first tho, on A L L O F T H E R O U N D S which makes him shout and scream (sometimes he will rage quit while Seven is just laughing his ass off.) Also if he isn’t killed by the impostor then he’s voted off pretty early lmao

As impostor: he’s an angry chihuahua out for vengeance. He normally gets caught in the 2-3 round. Also. He kills V first so thats how you know. He will literally just kill V and then he won’t do anything else, his purpose is complete (he might kill Seven if he feels like it tho.) its pretty easy to know when he’s the impostor lmao. Also he doesn’t know how to really lie and you can catch him pretty easily.

Jaehee:

As crewmate: she is so freaking perfect holy shit. She gets her tasks done super quick, and she’s the one that can actually guess correctly about who the impostor is. Her avatar is the orange one, and she doesn’t really have any accessories, her name is simply Jaehee. When she’s crewmate she’s super cooperative, and she’s just, the perfect player. She loves trying to figure out who the impostor is, and she’s the one that actually uses evidence to get someone voted off.

As impostor: dude. SHES PERFECT TOO PFT. She is literally one of the best impostors. No one is able to suspect it’s her, and she managed to get the group to vote off someone without seeming too suspicious. She also may or may not sometimes kill Jumin first, it mayyybe makes her a bit happy lmao. She will leave MC for last though, and she will follow MC all around the ship. She doesn’t usually kill a lot though, she mostly sabotages the ship and that’s how she wins.

Jumin:

As crewmate: MY BEAUTIFUL BABY AHHH.

So, his avatar is purple, and he has The cat head hat as his accessory. Seven hacked so his name would be Cat Mom. Alright so our baby actually gets killed first lol. If Yoosung doesn’t get killed, then it’s him. He also finishes his tasks quickly (once he learns how to really play, it does take him a while and he will need your help.) When he isn’t killed he’s also really good at finding out who the impostor is, using facts and logic. He’s a genius my babyyyy. I love him pft. Anyway, Jumin is really really good at finding the impostor which is why they also always kill him lmao. He will stick close to you no matter what.

As impostor: listen. The first time he played and got impostor, he immediately said in the chat: MC can you explain this to me? I can’t do the tasks, and it only lets me ‘vent’ and ‘sabotage’. Do you know what this means? Also why is my name in red?”

He shortest round ever lmao. But then, he’s super good,once he gets the hang of it. The only people he refuses killing is you and V. He’s super good at lying, no one can tell it’s him because he’s perfect at defending himself. Jumin kills and sabotages, he usually does a bit of both. If he has to kill someone like you or V,he will immediately apologize in the chat, and apologize for everyone he balmed or killed too lmao. But it’s so cute. Also Seven taught him that whenever a game finishes he has to say ‘gg ez’ and now he won’t stop saying it. ‘Mr. Han, we managed to sign the contract with Mr. Kim.’ Gg ez. He leaves the chatroom, he signs off with gg ez. ‘Jumin would you like your pancakes with sugar?’ Yes love, thank you. Gg ez. It won’t. Stop.

Saeyoung:

As crewmate: boi. This guy is just super chaotic. He will act like he’s the impostor to scare everyone. He will be following you to make you uneasy. He doesn’t really do the tasks, and mostly focuses on teasing Yoosung or Jumin. He’s also the reason Yoosung gets voted off pretty early lmao. He’ll call an emergency meeting the first 5 seconds of the game and say he just missed you all, and wanted to see your faces pft. Still, when he gets his head in the game (ooo get dat reference??) he’s super good. Sometimes he will play seriously, but it’s like, a 1/100 chance lol. His avatar is the red one, and his accessories will change every single round.

As impostor: He’s still chaotic lmao. As for his name...it’s green lmao. It’s mostly when he’s playing with other people though, but Jumin will always refer to everyone by their username, so he will say “I saw Green vent.” And then everyone will voye Yoosung lmao. He’s like CallmeKevin (his Among Us videos are amazing, rip to peepeepoopoo, 21, Big Chungus, and the rest.) Saeyoung is just a huge troll lmao. He will also kill in front of Yoosung and then proceed to say that Yoosung was the one who did it lol. Oh I really want to play with him lmao it’d be so fun to form a freaking alliance.

V:

As crewmate: he’s super cooperative. His avatar is the turquoise one, and his accessory is the snow crewmate (Seven hacked so V could have one pft.) V always does his tasks. He isn’t one to suspect people, and he’s always the one that reports the bodies. He believes that no one gets voted off unless you’re all 100% sure that the person is the impostor. V was the one that taught Jumin how to play and they mostly spend the whole game together. Also if someone kills him, he’ll be the one to apologize (LMAO I’m sorry, but it’s now a rule that V has to always apologize for something in my head canons, B U T you KNOW he would! This man will apologize for being born lmao -honey no please-)

As impostor: he will lowkey cry. Nah I’m joking lmao. He doesn’t kill everyone and mostly uses sabotage. He doesn’t really blame anyone either. He’s like...a pacifist impostor lol. He doesn’t like getting impostor that much, but he’s the one that gets it’s like three times in a row. There’s nothing else to say, because we all know that V ain’t doing shit as impostor lmao he’s a sweet baby that doesn’t want anyone to get hurt. He does sometimes kill accidentally, when someone suddenly appears close to him he will sometimes press the kill button (he always forgets it’s there) and ends up killing the person, then he’ll confess to everyone and apologize pft.

Saeran:

As crewmate/Impostor:

Ray: sweetest bean ever. Has the pink avatar and the little flower as accessory. He likes doing his tasks and will follow you around every where. He’s always super quick to blame Saeyoung though. As impostor he will always kill Saeyoung and V. He’s actually really good at lying, since he looks so sweet and innocent. He won’t kill you.

Suit: Black avatar, knife hat. He’s always suspicious. He won’t let anyone follow him. He doesn’t really do his tasks, and is not one to participate in the chat. He always laughs when someone gets killed. As impostor he always wins. He will kill everyone in a single round, no one really knows how he does it, but when he’s impostor the round is never long.

Unknown: he has the black avatar too, with the fedora cuz why not? He doesn’t really do his tasks, and mostly follows you around. Not to like, frighten you or anything, but he does like teasing you sometimes. He will not take part in the discussion most of the times, but sometimes he’ll just say: it’s zen... and BAM he’s right.

SE! Saeran: he has The pink avatar and the little crewmate pet. He likes doing tasks and walking around the ship. He also won’t really participate in discussions. He doesn’t really like getting impostor, and he will always win by sabotaging. It’s just...something about killing them (even though it’s a game) that makes him feel weird. Sometimes he will kill Saeyoung though, but it’s probs because he wants to get revenge for a prank or smth lmao.

GE! Saeran: he has either the pink or white avatar, with the flower hat or the snow crewmate. He always follows you around and is pretty good at doing tasks. He’s also a bit more active during discussions. When he’s impostor sometimes he will kill Saeyoung, but it’s in a more to tease his brother kind of way. He is pretty good at lying, but he will always tell you if he’s the impostor. He also won’t tell if you’re the impostor on a round too lmao,he’s just so cute and loyal.

Vanderwood:

As crewmate: first. How in the diddly darn fuck did you get him to play LMAOO. He got stuck with the a maid hat and dress that Seven made for him lol. He’s fine as a crewmate, and he is the one to vote people off mostly because of gut feeling. He can always catch Seven when he’s the impostor too lol, he’ll just call an emergency meeting five seconds into the game and type: ‘it’s seven’ and 80% of the time it is.

As impostor: the other 20% of the time he isn’t right about Seven is because Vanderwood is blaming him lmao. He’s a really sneaky impostor, he’s super good at using vents and great at killing people. He’s also one to win the rounds pretty quickly.

Rika:

As crewmate: she’s still sus lmao. Yoosung is always defending her though. Rika doesn’t really do her tasks, she doesn’t really do anything really. She follows you around, and will always say you’re innocent though. Her avatar is the yellow one with ram horns (don’t ask why, it’s the first thing that popped into my head lmao)

As impostor: ahhh she’s super good at manipulating and blaming others. She also frames V a lot lmao. She will kill everyone, no mercy at all. Saeran and Yoosung are always defending her, so she’s pretty good and hiding that she’s the impostor. During meetings she’ll stay quiet and mostly watch, but sometimes she will say something to stir the blame to someone, in such a...natural manner. She’ll just be perfect at shifting the blame without being suspicious. She’s really good at being impostor.

[yikesharringrove]

ok so i just had a dream about this and i feel the need to tell you because its prime protective Billy shit. So after the whole mind flayed thing Steve and Billy get to be pretty close friends, and almost immediately they both fall for each other HARD, but both of them refuse to believe the other could ever like them, despite Robin screaming at both of them to just ask the other one out already. (pt.)

(pt.2) one day some random dude comes into the video store and starts flirting with steve, who figures he hasn’t gone on a date since Nancy, the guys cute, sure he’s not Billy but he seems nice enough and steve is also just very lonely, so they set up a date for that Friday at 6:00 and Steve is pretty excited. When he gets to his house and tells Billy, who was there for their wednesday horror movie night, billy tried to seem happy for him even though he ready to kill this guy

(pt.3) Billy does a pretty decent job at hiding his feelings about the date, and he doesn’t want to hold Steve back, but when he gets home he calls Robin and bitches for a sold 30 minutes, she just tells him if he’d got his shit together and just asked Steve our this wouldn’t be a problem. So the day of the date rolls around and Billy doesn’t see Steve all day, can’t bring himself to see him so excite to go date someone else. Around 6:15 his phone buzzes with a call from Steve             (pt.4) he answers and when he does Steve sounds awful, he’s been crying for a while. Asks if Billy can come pick him up, and billy speeds his way there. When he shows up and sees steve leaning against the brick wall rubbing away tears he loses it. Asks him what happened and Steve quietly tells him his date was a huge asshole, flirted with the waitress, pointed out the scar on steve’s hairline and told him he’d be a lot cuter without it, but don’t worry you’re still good enough for a fuck

(pt.5) Billy is ready to kill someone, he hugs steve and drags him to his car and tells him to stay put, slams the door and gets inside before steve can argue, find the guys pretty quickly, grabs him by the collar and spits out some pretty harsh words drops him to the floor and leaves. They are both quiet on the drive back but when billy drops steve off at his house he sheepishly asks him to stay, when billy tells him it’s a bad idea steve says okay and kisses him goodnight. Billy almost faints. 

I am SO SORRY this took a thousand years, it got a lil lost in my inbox.This is modern, Billy got possessed but the kids burned it outta him, everything else is canon.

“Who the fuck is that?”

Billy was “helping” Robin re-shelve, which meant he was pulling random movies off their shelves and putting them in different spots until she noticed and yelled at him.

She looked in the direction Billy was glaring, looked to see Steve batting his eyes as that guy, the tall jocky guy that comes in a few days a week to flirt with Steve.

“Oh, that’s Ben. He comes in all the time and flirts with Steve.” Billy’s eyes were dark.

“And does Steve, does he always, flirt back?” Robin rolled her eyes. Billy was so bad at acting nonchalant.

“Yeah, Dingus really has a thing for him. Talks to me nonstop about him.” Of course he talks about Billy way more often, but Robin is over the two of them being so fucking oblivious.

“Oh. Good for him.” Billy was blinking a lot.

Steve was leaning over the counter, was giggling like a schoolgirl.

The bell over the door jingled. Billy was gone.

-

Wednesday nights had become a tradition. Billy and Robin would come over to Steve’s, would take turns picking scarier and scarier movies.

It all started because Robin thought Steve should expand his horizons, and Billy liked the way Steve would get scared, would hide in Billy, would shove his face into his chest, or his arm, or wiggle his way into his lap.

But he was not in the mood for a movie tonight. Not after watching the way Steve had gone all bashful earlier.

But he found himself pushing open the double doors anyway.

“Bill! Guess what!” Steve was jamming around the kitchen in thick socks and little shorts, a faded Hawkins High Swim Team sweatshirt, and his glasses, like he was trying to fucking kill Billy with how adorable he is. “I got a date!” Billy’s heart thumped to a stop.

“You, you what?”

“I got a date! With that cute Benny that comes into Family Video. He asked me out! We’re gonna go to dinner on Friday!” Steve was so fucking excited. Billy couldn’t find it within himself to bring down the mood. “I just, you know how lonely I’ve been, and, I haven’t been on a date since Nancy.”

Steve was rambling, going on and on about this fucking guy. Was talking over the movie, which normally, Billy would think was kinda cute, but it was all, Benny said the SWEETEST thing, or look at this meme Benny sent.

Billy was about four second from tearing his hair out.

He was driving Robin home after movie night needed to vent.

“Look, I’m not saying I want Steve to be unhappy. I want him to be so happy. But I just, I get a bad feeling about that Benjamin guy.” Robin rolled her eyes.

“Well if you had gotten your head outta your ass and just asked Steve out like I fucking told you to, you, Billiam could be going on a date with our sweet Dingus.”

“I just, after everything this summer, I didn’t know if, if he was ready, and he never really seemed the same after the Nancy shit.”

“That’s a lame excuse and you know it.”

It was. And he knew it.

He avoided Steve the next two days. Couldn’t deal with all the excited posts on Steve’s secret Insatgram account, the one just for his friends.

Apparently he had done a face mask, had taken a fucking candlelit bath. He posted outfit options on his story.

Billy spent Friday chain-smoking in bed, yelling at Max whenever he got kicked off Netflix for too many screen in use.

Steve was getting picked up at 6. Had been posting a fucking countdown on his story. Billy wanted to crawl into a hole and fucking die.

When 6 came, Billy was working out, listening to loud, angry music as he lifted weights. He was trying his fucking best to keep his mind off of Steve, that fucking Benjamin.

But his music was interrupted by his phone going off, Steve’s contact picture filling the screen, a silly one Billy loved of Robin shoving marshmallows into his mouth. He could fit 17.

“What’s up?” It was only half past 6. Something must’ve happened. “Stevie, are you okay?” He could hear Steve sniffling.

“Bill, could you come pick me up?”

Billy was already out the door.”

“Drop your location, Pretty Boy. I’m on my way right now. Don’t move. I’ll be there soon.” Billy sped to the diner.

He saw Steve sitting on the curb outside, his face buried into his knees.

He had gone with outfit option number 4 from his Instagram, a thick cardigan, made of soft dark green wool, his nice jeans, the ones that made his ass look great, and a soft t-shirt. His hair was the most done Billy had seen it in a while. It made Billy’s heart break.

He pulled into a spot, dropping to sit next to Steve.

“You wanna talk about it?” His eyes were red-rimmed, glazed over as he loked at Billy.

“He was, he was so different from how he, how he was. He kept ignoring me, and flirting with the waitress, and he kept like, pointing out the scars on my face, like, like the one here,” he poked at his hairline. “And he said, I’d cuter without it, but, but that I’m still okay for a fuck if he took me face down, because, because my ass is the only thing I got goin’ for me-” Billy pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry, Baby. You’re so much better than that, than him.” He kissed the mark on Steve’s hairline. “He still in there?”

“Yeah. I asked him to take me home and he said if I was gonna give him blueballs he might as well fuck the waitress. Since she’s hotter than me anyhow.”

“Stay here.” Billy got up, cracking his neck as he walked into the diner. He found the guy right away, was smiling so sleazy at the waitress in question who looked like she’d rather die than go out with him, but needed a good tip. He stared at her ass when she walked away.

Billy sat in the seat across from his.

“So, Benjamin. Figured you and I ought the have a little chat.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“My name’s Billy.” Ben rolled his eyes.

“God, Steve wouldn’t shut the fuck up about you.” Billy’s heart swelled, but he was on a mission.

“Steve is the best person in this whole God-forsaken world. And you dare treat him like he’s shit on your shoe. You’re fucking disgusting.” He reached up, pulling on the collar of his shirt, slamming his nose into the table, letting his head bounce back up.

“What the fuck, you psycho.”

“He is like sunshine, he is the only thing good in this fucking town, and you have the audacity to hurt him. He is made of love, and you could;ve had him, but you’re a garbage human who deserves jack shit.” He stood from the table, Ben’s nose bleeding into a mad of napkins.

“If you don’t at least text him an apology, I will be breaking more than just your nose.”

Billy stood up, sweeping out of the diner to find Steve waiting by the passenger seat of his car. They drove to Steve’s in silence apart from the odd sniffle from Steve.

They sat for a moment in his drive way, the car off, crickets chirping in the bushes.

“I heard what you said.” Steve’s eyes were wide, his face shadowed.

“And?”

“I didn’t know you felt like that. About me I mean.” Billy sighed.

“Stevie, you are probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I, I love you.” Billy was fidgeting with the steering wheel.

“You mean it?” Billy just nodded, looking straight ahead through the windshield at Steve’s house. “I love you too. Like, a lot. I just thought, maybe you didn’t, didn’t feel the same.” Billy whipped around to look at Steve, see if he was lying.

All he say on his face was such happiness at Billy’s admission.

“You should stay the night.” Steve’s hand was closing around his wrist.

“Look, if we’re gonna do this, I wanna do it right. I wanna, take you out, and spend time with you in a, in a romantic way before we, before we do anything.” Steve’s eyes were so soft.

“Okay. You wanna go out tomorrow? We can do something chill, like, like see a movie.”

“I would really like that, Pretty Boy.” He took Steve’s hand.

“Can I kiss you goodnight, then? Kiss you thanks for saving me back there. Being my knight in shining armor, defending my honor and all that?” Billy’s mind was spinning as he breathed out yeah.

Kissing Steve was as perfect as he always thought it would be.

His pretty lips were soft, and he made these breathy little noises into Billy’s mouth, their hands were still clasped together, Steve’s other holding onto Billy’s bicep, Billy weaving a hand into Steve’s hair.

Steve’s eyes were closed when they pulled apart, they were soft when he blinked them open.

“So, tomorrow then.” Billy grinned, pressing a kiss to his nose.

“Tomorrow, Pretty Boy. I’ll call you in the morning. We’ll talk.” Steve danced like a loser all the way up to his porch, making Billy laugh and flash his headlights. He stumbled through the front door.

Billy texted Robin right when he got home, sent her a simple Benjamin’s the worst but you’ll be happy to know I pulled my head outta my ass :)

[adrienaline-rushed-art]

(For the character ask) Adrien Agreste!!

YOU CHOSE MY SON! you’d better prepare your noodles because I’ve got a lot to gush about my favorite boy

Why I like them: From the beginning, he was my very favorite character because he was a weird combination of someone I was close to as well as myself. Although, over time it’s been more and more about relating to him as opposed to seeing someone else in him. At the time that he first became a reminder of someone special, he got me out of a depressive state, and continues to do so!

I love what a genuinely good listener he is. He’s very considerate and respectful, he puts others before himself— though, Ladybug can tell you why that is also a flaw. 

I like to think about the scenes in Horrificator when his classmates kept fighting, but he— one of the leads —didn’t make any input to take sides. Not even for Nino, his best friend! But he did look really upset to see his friends arguing

He’s also very forgiving and patient, I mean… as annoying as Lila can be, he actually tries to understand and help her. And what he said in onichan is implied to be correct based on the beginning of the episode.

He got it on the head, and not only for the sake of excusing bad behavior, he can relate. He knows he’s gone out of line because of his loneliness and abandonment issues. He excused Lila for the same reason in season 1

Defending Lila for lying about her relationship with Ladybug (See ‘Copycat’) 

He definitely understands what’s bad behavior (as opposed to Lila and Chloe, he does remain selfless and kind) and when he doesn’t he gets to use this sympathy as an opportunity for learning. But he also knows a cry for help when he sees one, he doesn’t want anyone to feel the way he does. 

The only real downside is it makes him a doormat for Lila, Chloe, and most importantly his father. But he’s learning and I’m so happy for him. 

he’ll accept a rough relationship for the sake of helping you be better through kindness until it hurts his loved-ones, where he absolutely has to cut you off. That’s one thing he doesn’t relate to or believe in. When he knows he messed up and hurt someone, he didn’t mean it, so he apologizes. 

But you can see in his face that he doesn’t feel good doing it, because although it doesn’t excuse toxicity, he knows that the person’s pain is why they act that way. 

It’s still for his friends more than himself, but I’ll take it for now. The biggest flaw he has is also one of his sweetest traits, believing in the best out of everyone. He’s at least learning that you can’t always assume someone doesn’t mean any harm.

Also:

fcKing suPERB adrien

I also like his sensitivity. He isn’t trying to be the cool and mysterious type, he’s emotional, passionate, and caring. This vulnerability can also be his downfall at times, but he carries his weight and makes himself responsible for his mistakes, so he’s an excellent example to kids. He’s a good boy in a world of romanticized “bad boys”.

Favorite episode (scene if movie): I can’t really say, I’m bad at choosing favorites. Really any scene he’s in— especially as Chat Noir —immediately makes me happy. Scenes of his that are sad or frustrating don’t make me happy in the sense that I like what’s happening, but the rush of emotions I get when I get to watch him interact with other characters and just be.. him… brings a certain type of joy? The fact that when he’s sad, I’m really sad… I don’t know, it’s a nice feeling. Don’t @ me but 2 years ago in my baby project, I named the baby Adrien, because I’ve adopted him and he is my son.

I guess I really like him in riposte? He was very soft in that episode, he was all giggly and blushy. Also, Gigantitan, Chris Master, and Sapotis? He’s so good with kids! Chat Noir got a lot of lines in Silencer (hA) and I thoroughly enjoyed that, he was such a dork. Weredad was just a masterpiece, we got to explore his thoughts toward Marinette too so that was cool. So it really comes down to any episode that he shines the brightest, the more screen time and dialogue the better. I WANT to learn MORE about him.

None of these are favorite episodes of all time I don’t think? It’s just my favorite moments for him I guess. Gigantitan might be a good example for an episode that fits on both lists, though. We saw a lot of different sides to him. We got to see Marinette comfort Chat Noir when he finally admitted his heartache, he finally admitted his frustrations with Gabriel to Nathalie (although she would have known without him saying), and I actually liked seeing Chat Noir’s petty side directed to Ladybug. No, I didn’t like that he was being unfair, but everyone has this type of moment in their life because we’re human, which is why it was SO great to see him like this.

He’s messing up? Fantastic! And it was so intriguing to see how he behaved when he finally snaps, particularly toward Ladybug. We hadn’t seen him lash out toward a friend— let alone a romantic interest —at this point. He really needed to unleash those emotions, and I’m glad he didn’t keep them bottled up any longer. He was having a garbage day to begin with, I wouldn’t be able to stand watching him brush it off.

It wasn’t fair to Ladybug, but it was perfectly fair to himself. Ladybug said she couldn’t hang out because she was with friends, sure! From his perspective, what does that look like? Well, we got to understand it thanks to this episode. Think to what happens to him later in the episode, he’s unable to spend time with his friends. There might be a tinge of jealousy toward that. Or maybe it’s that the phrasing made it sound like Chat Noir wasn’t a friend, which adds up to his relief at the end of the episode when Ladybug calls him a best friend. But also, the excuse wasn’t satisfying to him because clearly, he had intended to put both friends and Ladybug in his schedule, why couldn’t she do the same? I’m not saying this is logical thinking, but it’s interesting to step back and realize that it’s entirely likely he thought this way. And it all makes sense that he cherishes being with her more than any romantic future with her, because the fact he didn’t get angry when he heard about her “boy”, but he did when it came to her friends.

And, a little Ladybug appreciation, she didn’t invalidate those feelings. He’s not allowed to act up and ruin an akuma fight, but he is allowed to feel that way. I mean, it was a little mean to suggest fake dating right after brushing off a real one. But he realized how inappropriate the timing was, and apologized for it. And taking his humility a step further, he went with Ladybug’s original (arguably tortuous) plan, and disciplined himself during it. He didn’t try to take advantage and get all smoochie and cuddly on her. He offered his hand, but she’s the one who came to him and kissed him on the cheek. He let her create the boundaries. Later, he kissed her on the cheek for the first time.

Anyway sorry for that entire essay, but as you can tell I really loved that episode front and back.

Favorite season/movie: I think since we only have two and a half seasons, I can only say season 2 for now. I say season 2 because it’s where we first uncover more of Adrichat, not only to ourselves but to Marinette. He’s been really cute in S3 so far though, so my opinion could always change.

Favorite line: Any of his laughs. Ok fine, an actual line… uhh.. you know what, he’s said a lot of very profound and sweet things… so how about something stupid and random 

“Wanna hear a secret? I love chouquettes.” You sure do, you little dork. 

Favorite outfit: That purple/maroonish and green one on one of his magazine covers. 

OTP: Marichat, always. Ladynoir close second. If we’re talking outside of canon, probs Alyadrien. 

Brotp: Nino, obviously, they’re phenomenal. 

Head Canon: Maybe this is less of a headcanon, and more of an excuse for the writing.. but I don’t think Adrien is that oblivious. But as someone who’s forgiving, it would make sense that he also doesn’t assume things that could hurt them. For one, he denies Marinette likes him simply because she seems to have implied she doesn’t. He takes her word for it. 

Notice that almost every time it comes up, it’s not denying his own feelings, and he’s not even denying the “signs”. He just doesn’t want to put words in her mouth or ruin their friendship by jumping to conclusions that could put distance between them. It makes sense that he would want to protect their friendship because of how they met. 

Unpopular opinion Adrien is not a mary sue. First, I’ve already mentioned plenty of flaws in this post. Having no flaws is one side of a mary sue, the other side is being overpowered. So what if he’s in a bunch of clubs and has essentially mastered all of them. Stress on essentially, so far we know he can play one(1) classical piece on the piano and he messed up on it (it was a small mistake because of skipping practice, but a True™ mary sue wouldn’t have). Also… I’m sure he’s fluent in Chinese and Japanese, but he could be pronouncing better. Actually, that’s unfair, the French dub did pretty well for Japanese pronunciation and everyone knows French is more canon. I don’t know enough about Chinese to judge his pronunciation of it. We don’t know much about his sports except that he’s good at them, but we know Kagami kicks his ass at fencing apparently, so still not overpowered. Anyhow, these are just talents and skills. Not only can anyone learn them with effort (because he isn’t a prodigy at any of them), but it’s realistic that the famous model son of the strict CEO and founder to the prestigious fashion company Gabriel would be forced to have a full tool belt. Not to mention he’s a model in the acting business (Animaestro) actors legit have to know how to do EVERYTHing to even compete with others. None of the above has to do with power though.

  If anything, he’s underpowered. He’s not treated very well for a teammate who isn’t a sidekick. Often his intellect, wisdom, rationale, skills, and agility have been compromised for the sake of making ✦Ladybug✦ look good. Which, is sort of counter-intuitive if you think about it. We know this from the inconsistencies between episodes. One episode he’s decoding morse, giving Ladybug advice, making detailed plans, or showing off his expert-level martial arts… the next he’s… accidentally grabbing an ice cream cone while Cataclysm is activated? hmmm. ALso, as stated before, Adrien’s intelligence is suppressed for the advancement of the plot.

A wish: I want more Ladynoir discussions outside of akuma battles. Regarding things like the Dark Cupid kiss.. there are a lot of things I want them to straighten out and grow on. 

And, I think this is going to happen anyhow… but like,,, he needs to find out about the scarf, I’m sorry. I know it’ll be bittersweet but,,ghhhgk

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: *INHALES* pleASe, Emilie, be a good person!! ALSo, NO FIGHTS WITH NINO. EVER. 

5 words to best describe them: Patient, dorky, loving, childlike (not childish), brave

My nickname for them: heeheh, it’s my blog name title, Paw Prince.

I wrote you a whole book, my bad. I don’t regret it though. Now you know why it took me so long to answer.

[quietlysatan]

An Invincible Summer - ShanaStoryteller, AO3

Link: Here!!

Rating: T for read the warnings, but don’t worry too much because of them

Favorite Quote(s): I legit wanna tattoo this next quote on me somewhere

"Oh, the things that can be accomplished through ignorance of their impossibility," 

And this Straight Up Fact

“There’s no such thing as cheating as long as you win,” Natsu says, and the brat’s not wrong.

This one’s just funny

“Chouza,” Inoichi forces himself to say evenly, “Your teachings produced Ebisu and goddamned Gai.”

“Genma’s pretty normal though,” Chouza sighs, “I never could get through to that boy.”

Gently Gai casually caring about Kakashi’s well-being is my entire reason for living, speaking of which if someone wants to come be my Gai that’d be really fucking nice because us Kakashi’s don’t do too well on our own

He hesitates, but says, "Not that I do not find your newfound mentorship to be a most youthful endeavor, but -"

"I don't know," Kakashi interrupts his friend, "I met her while she was taking her genin exam and she, I don't know, adopted me or something. She just keeps showing up."

Gai nods thoughtfully, "Stubbornness is a useful skill to have when trying to cultivate a friendship with you." Kakashi elbows the other man, but doesn't protest besides that. "She's a good cook."

And this one because I love it when people Get It, ya’know?

That's really why he won't say anything, why he won't reveal that the Kyuubi's container and the fourth Hokage's child is still alive: they already killed him once. Naruto and Shikamaru are the same age, they would have been in the same class, and the idea that anyone could want to harm his innocent, precious son makes his blood boil 

And this one, for accuracy

"This sounds like a most youthful endeavor. I will bring Anko! She will fan the flames of youth in our young Konoha blossom!"

Both Itachi and Kakashi look at Gai, horrified. "Please don't," Itachi says weakly, like he knows it'll fall on deaf ears but he has to try anyway.

"Don't worry," Gai attempts to assure them, going into his Good Guy pose, "They will produce youthful flames of feminine excellence!"

"They're going to burn down Konoha," Kakashi says flatly.

Gai's hair and teeth sparkle in the sunlight, and he doesn't attempt to deny it.

Another important one

"The world is a terrible place," she says, and she has to swallow before she speaks again, "and it's full of terrible people. But I don't have to be one of them." 

I love that Natsu-chan has great balance, this is my number one favorite character trope, and I wish more people would write it

She bends down to look at him upside down, and Itachi can feel that she's not using chakra to stick onto him, and sometimes her balance just isn't logical. 

I just love the idea of tiny genius Naruto, and I love that Natsu-chan is a seal master at like, fucking seven and a half lol

Itachi knows it's actually far more complicated than that, but just as he does not tell her minutia of the past shinobi wars in their history lessons, she does not overcomplicate her explanations of sealing. Usually he's grateful for that, but when she appears to break every known law to sealing and chakra, he's not.

"That's," he blinks and he's not going to tell her it's impossible because it clearly isn't, "new," he settles on.

A mood honestly

Inoichi now feels the urge to bang his head against the table top, because 'a huge pain' to Natsu is 'literally impossible' to everyone else.

Another mood honestly

Inoichi watches his former genin dig in with resignation. “When are you guys going to start picking up the tab? Feeding you all isn’t cheap you know.”

Hana swallows her mouthful, “Sensei, I am but a lone healer’s apprentice –“

“I have been a chunin less than a month,” Kabuto pouts, wounded, “and already you seek to profit-“

“Do you have any idea how much sealing paper and ink costs?” Natsu demands.

“Okay, okay,” Inoichi grumbles, but it’s not very effective considering he’s smiling, “I take it back, jeez.”

Okay so, since this is a 100k+ word fic, I’ve been doing this thing lately literally just now on this fic review where I only feature quotes from the first chapter (Depending on length.) but, I’m making an exception because I’ve never seen these three characters and my thoughts on them summed up so well by someone I don’t know which is to say anyone, no one I know cares about my interests really lol

"Maybe a little," he admits grudgingly, "Sakura's really smart, but she acts dumb for some reason. And her endurance is really bad. She probably would have been failed on that alone if she didn't have such good aim with shuriken. And Sasuke's good at like, everything, I still don't get why he didn't graduate earlier. He's just so-" Kiba rubs his hand over his face.

"So what?" Hana prompts, even though she's heard this particular complaint before.

"Sad," the genin sighs, "He's miserable all the time, and he works hard and if you yell at him for long enough he'll work with you, but - crap, I don't know. He's got this really great poker face so you think he's just a big jerk, but I can smell his emotions, the big idiot, and he's just this sad lonely kid who won't listen to anyone."

Hana hums, because if she opens her mouth she'll probably start cursing the Hokage and his dumb rules and his dumb ideas, and that is not the type of thing that leads to a long life.

Just one last quote because dudes, guys, pals, friends of mine it’s important and you should all stop and read it.

 “Thanks for being cool with – everything. I’m really happy you’re not mad at me for not being honest with you.”

“You are my friend,” Gaara says warmly, “and you have always been honest about that.”

Words & Chapter(s): 136,306 words of greatness, and 6 full chapters of nicely done completion

Summary: When Naruto is five, he's gutted by a drunken civilian and presumed dead.

Six months later a girl with ash pale hair and dark blue eyes enters the Academy. 

(Guys I swear on my cool as fuck username, and all around internet personality as practically satan and probably Lucifer and whatnot that nobody we like stays dead or severely injured)

Score: 13, this is one of my favorites for a reason, this is actually my second technically third time rereading this in as many weeks

Pairing(s): Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka, background Haku/Zabuza, but don’t worry anything you’re thinking of is addressed quite nicely in the fic ultra background but still there’s a lot of relationships and I’m not going to tag them all

Warning(s): Naruto technically dies more than once because this is Naruto we’re talking about but they also technically don’t??? You gotta read it, but basically temporary character death, only the bad guys stay dead in this one.

Nobody knows that Naru-chan lived so there’s that angst for you, however, to be fair it’s not like this whole story is just characters mourning and crying and whatnot, at this point it’s mostly just passing thoughts and memories which, again, to be fair, does almost feel worse at times... Huh, regardless it’s not overly angsty

Kakashi is adopted whether he likes it or not by Natsu-chan, we love both of our emotionally fucked over fair-haired ninja in this house so you won’t have to worry about that sorta fic coming outta nowhere from me BTW... but anyways, Kakashi freaks out a bit, much like the abused dog he always reminds me of, but Natsu is the sweetest and most gentle, yet forceful person he could’ve possibly caught the attention of. (This is canon)

The Akatsuki are still bad, BUT ITACHI ISN’T technically SO WHO FUCKING CARES!!!! (The Massacre still happens tho...)

Mentions of The Flower District and what that implies, and also things a Kunoichi might definitely do

Oh my fucking god the Hyuga... Who would willingly do something so horrible as that? Of all the things... Warning for... The Hyuga branch family situation, it’s dealt with nearly as soon as we are informed but, gods, my blood ran cold, and my face whited out, my sister thought someone had died when she saw my face haha,,, who the fuck does this? And do they die? In canon I mean? I think I only watched up to the chunin exams or Pein’s attack, I can’t remember which tho...

Natsu cries because people are nice to her sometimes. And honestly that’s fair, I burst into to tears once because I imagined someone kissing my forehead softly so, Natsu is completely valid... Sidenote, I’m touch-starved and have no cure for this beyond younger siblings and my cat because I don’t have the ability to ask my mom for a hug without literally gross sobbing and I have A Thing about embarrassment sooooo... yeah if anyone has some therapy justu for me that’d be nice

Mentions of Gross Men that apparently want to have Natsu’s increasingly growing collection of the absolute most dangerous people she can befriend pay them a visit. And by that, I mean an old fuckwit has the gall to leer at a TEN-YEAR-OLD and a FUCKING THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD!!!!!! Ugh, I hate those kinds of pathetic worms.

On that note, there is technically underaged things going on, but they are also Ninja soooo???? They’ve killed people and are technically in their version of an army, and by the laws of their lands they’re all adults, actually I’m pretty sure by shinobi life expectancy Kakashi is middle-aged, Inoichi is a senior citizen, and Hiruzen is a walking corpse tbh

Alcoholism??? I don’t really think it is but I’m not sure, but some characters do drink often, and usually when stressed courtesy of Natsu and co. but still... I don’t actually know if it is because it doesn’t actually happen much, more like every few weeks/months

Mentions of past sexual assault, and attempted past sexual assault, neither happen in fic or to any of our main characters, the experiences are not graphic though they do talk about it in chapter five, it’s not to graphically described.

Also, a bunch of off-screen lemon

A Thing (That I copy-pasted from the author so that all of you will see it and not say a single word against it.): If you thought Natsu was too mature for her age - she has seen and been through some really horrible shit. But also: my cousin has, since he was like 4, hung out with kids that were about 4 years older than him because those were the kids that were in his neighborhood or whatever. Point being, even after he started school, his main group of friends was consistently older than him. He very quickly adapted to that, and to this day (he's 12) hangs out with that same group, and considers children his own age 'kids' because he adapted to the behavior of the group he was surrounded with. I hardly believe Natsu would be any different.

And also

4. Quick little note because some people mentioned liking my portrayal of the Sandaime. I base his decisions/motivations (and Itachi and Danzo's to a certain extent) around this quote by Clementine von Radics: "It is so hard to live half monster, to hurt everything you love by trying to protect it wrong."

Pros: Watching Natsu just casually disregard the idea of gender with little to no thought is the greatest thing anyone will ever experience beyond, I dunno, the party we’re all gonna collectively throw when soggy Cheeto dies (I still haven’t decided which song we should make chart number one when that happens)

Given that I’ve technically read this three times you should already know the writing is fucking amazing, like, whoa, mind blown type of amazing, like, wow, so good, I usually hate rereading something I’ve read before, and especially so soon after the fact but geez Louis is this fic amazing

Natsu is just as easy to fall in love with as Naruto, and they are still the same people with slightly different personalities as is to be realistically expected with a situation like Naru’s was.

Also, GENDERFLUID REPRESENTATION DONE FUCKING AMAZINGLY IS ALWAYS A PLUS!!!!!!! 

The author manages to convey a very realistic genderfluid character in an incredibly believable manner, while also still keeping Natsu/Naruto themself. They’re still the Naruto that we knew and loved, but they’re different too, as is to be expected. when Natsu is a girl no-one stumbles, she is a girl without a doubt, even the author doesn’t trip up on societal expectations, and when Naruto is a boy there is next to immediate acceptance of this fact with absolutely zero (0) Zero bullshit from transphobes, which, as a genderfluid person myself, is always fucking nice to see. You’ll have to read it to know more though.

Natsu running around creating seals is honestly the greatest thing ever, and the end scene with the village made me cry a lil bit, and dammit this fic is so fucking good!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, there’s a scene, where Natsu heals Kakashi, and the way the author handled explaining the intimate not sexual relationship between two of my favorite characters ever is just, so subtly beautiful, the sibling-bond these two have is beautiful, and a part of me wants to cry sometimes when I read it, and usually do cry a little when I get to this scene, and only partially because of what happened directly before it.

I love the way everybody just gets up and moves past their trauma and just decides to politely ignore it, oh they still have it, they still deal with it, but they care, and they are careful about it, and even though it hurts them like a knife-wound to the kidney in slow-motion they still get back up and keep fucking going. That’s hella admirable and I can respect that, I can respect even more that they slowly but surely let themselves heal as time moves on. This fic is beautiful on so many different levels but it is this one perhaps, that is the most magnificent. Perhaps.

Sasuke is adorable and depressing and adorable and I love it. And Ino is still a bad bitch but she’s a kid so we only see it like a handful of times in the first two chapters. The Akimichi/Yamanaka/Nara are all great, and I occasionally pity Inionchicause like, he’s putting up with a well-informed seal genius that’s still hyper, a slightly frightening medic-kunoichi with giant dogs, another slightly more frightening medic-nin who isn’t the greatest fighter but damn can he be intimidating and also really good at pointing out “Certain Things” while judging you about them which, honestly, is my greatest pastime. Itachi is so sweet and then so tragic oh my gods, and Natsu never even considers giving up on him. Kakashi is so sweet, and he slowly becomes less of a beaten dog as time goes on and I just love all of these characters.

Except for Hiruzen. Well, no, I still love this particular incarnation of Hiruzen, for all that he’s got one hell of a pathetically small backbone, I get why he does shit. But that doesn’t make me happy. Still, he’s better than dumbledouchebag. Granted that’s not difficult, and you might have to actively put an effort in to be as bad as that guy, but still. Plus, his hearts in the right place, and he’s less about the greater good then... certain disgraces to teaching and being in charge of a large group of people... Hiruzen is actually kinda sweet and admits he has issues and actually has an excuse that’s understandable for the shit that he pulls which is great, if sadly uncommon.

Anyways, Sakura is terrifying, and I remembered why I had a crush on her. She’s so badass, also, she ends up Princess Mononoke basically which, honestly, is fucking great, and the best thing we could’ve asked for, I love all of these characters so much!!!

Aesthetic: It reminds me off beefy stew (We don’t eat beef, so we used vegan soy beef stuff instead, and it was just as good.) it reminds me of the warmth, and friendship, and home that I felt after my mom and I make dinner together with nothing but a little music on and jokes passing back and forth between us. It reminds me of scraping my knee and having my friends help me to their mom, it reminds me of loyalty and compassion. It reminds me of dancing outside at night, alone in the forest with nothing but the moon for company and wind for music. It reminds me of the first time I realized that I could love someone despite their gender and that I should despite mine. It reminds me of finely spun handmade lace, and all it’s delicate while also reminding me of the sturdiest of steels, it reminds me of so much. It reminds me of acceptance, and understanding, and so much more. If I were to say what food and drink it reminds me of, I’d say chicken noodle soup, and sweet lavender-lemon tea.

Music Aesthetic: So, I made a playlist while I was reading this the first time around, and instead of a gif or twenty like I would usually prefer to do I’m going to add that playlist. https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLbhXmTSBbAyjk0m1b4BZUp3t0RHL83LDK

But if I were to add a gif or two it’d be these

Because something about this fic reminds me of rainy days with tea and baggy clothes.

Every time Natsu/Naruto decided to fight ever, to be honest.

[harperonni]

“Un sábado típico”- Coco Modern AU drabble

A modern AU drabble featuring the Rivera children and a few shenanigans eyy Modern AU was pretty much built for fluff and cute scenarios and I?? just suddenly got the urge to write this so I hope you guys like it??  Fandom: Coco Modern AU imector implied, oc x canon ships

The four year old twins were more than happy to be playing together without their older primo’s mischievous interruptions. This Saturday, Santiago was with his Papá, their tío Óscar, in the workshop. Their primo had been in tío Óscar’s lap the last they saw, excitedly asking questions about shoe-making as Óscar and their Papá Felipe had attempted to keep up in answering and working on orders at the same time. Both were unsure about how long Santiago’s attention would be kept (Or how long it would take for tía Imelda to kick him out of the workshop), and they deserved to play with no annoying primos about. They had finished all their homework and were bursting to stretch their legs. The twin girls were both quietly grateful Santiago’s attention was somewhere other than how to annoy them. He was only older than them by five months but that was enough to hold it over them with teasing words as he stuck his tongue out at them from across the room. Jorge was older than Santiago (Only by a year, but older nonetheless), and always had more of a say over the three when present, but he was in the garden with his mamá Leonor, eagerly potting plants and listening to his mamá’s words about plant care like they were gospel. They were pretty sure prima Coco was playing with prima Fifi, but the twins had given up on the idea of asking both to join their fun. “Coco’s too old!” Violeta stated, matter-of-factually when their tío Hector had asked them over the dinner table about playing together a week ago. Coco had rolled her eyes, smiling gently as she continued to eat. “Fifi’s too young!” Ovidia nodded as Fifi babbles from her highchair, Leonor leaning back a little when she smacks her plate and sends a bit of food flying. The two reach over and hold hands. “And we like playing together.” The two concluded. Hector looked between them with a grin and chuckled, shaking his head. “Aye, it’s scary how much like your Papá y tío you two are…” He mumbled. The twins had frowned, and exchanged a confused look. They were nothing like their tío Óscar and Papá Felipe. They were girls, Papá Felip y tío Óscar were not! The adults at the table found it funny though, Imelda and Valeria especially, and were quickly talking about it as Jorge snuck a tamale over onto Santiago’s plate, who beamed in response, the brothers exchanging a glance before continuing their dinners, while also pretending to be apart of the adults conversation, grinning and glancing toward whoever was talking.

The girls were instant that they were completely different, and they pointed it out to mamá that day as she helped pull back Violeta’s hair into a ponytail identical to her hermana’s before they went out to play in the courtyard. “Indeed you are, Ustedes pequeños diablos.” Valeria nuzzled her nose against Violeta affectionately making the small girl giggle and did the same to Ovidia, who whined her embarrassment, but smiled all the same. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me, play safe and stay in the courtyard ¿Entendido?” The twins nodded, their annoyance forgotten and both bouncing from suppressing their eagerness to race out into the courtyard. “Sí, mamá.” The two chorused enthusiastically. Valeria grinned and gently ruffled the tops of their heads before standing. “Have fun, niñas.” With that the two raced to the door, getting stuck as both squeezed past each other in the door frame before popping free and racing toward the well in the centre of the courtyard. Valeria snorted, watching the leave, before making her way to the kitchen. 

Ovidia screamed, glancing behind her to see her twin trailing behind her, hands out to grab her. She veered to the left sharply, and Violeta stumbled to change directions as Ovidia ran around the other side of the well. Violeta gave chase, following her twin around the unending loop of the well. She paused suddenly, and twisted about on her feet, screaming in surprise when Ovidia yelped, and scrambled to run the other way. Violeta let out a noise of annoyance as her hand grazed Ovidia’s top. “I got you!” Violeta yelled, but still continued to chase. “No!” Ovidia yelled over her shoulder, a grin wide on her cheeks. “You have to touch me, and you didn’t! You’re still it!” Violeta grumbled, but complied, her pace slowing as she thought of a way to catch her twin. “Can’t catch me!” Ovidia teased, halting on the other side of the well when Violeta came to a stop, her arms out as she smiled, wide and proud. 

Both were huffing, at a silent stalemate as the other tried to watch and figure the other’s next move. Violeta glanced about the well and frowned. She didn’t want to run around the stupid thing any more, she couldn't seem to ever catch up to Ovidia! But maybe… She leapt forward and jumped up onto the cobblestone, striding over the wooden boards covering the well with quick thuds and Ovidia yelped, catching on and darting off in the opposite direction.  Ovidia ran around the tree looming in the courtyard and Violeta huffed.

“Not fair, Violeta!” She whined. “You can’t keep running behind stuff!” “Can too!” Ovidia retorts, running behind the tree one side and appearing on the other, leaning out from behind the large trunk with a grin. “I’m doing it now!” She laughs. Violeta huffed and leapt forward as Ovidia sqeaked and ducked back around the tree’s trunk, leaping over the roots with practiced ease. Violeta’s brow furrowed, more determined than ever to catch up with her sister and be chased, rather than chasing. Ovidia stumbled, the tip of her foot snagging at the dirt and she stumbled, slowing to catch her bearings. Violeta leaps and grabs her, arms wrapping around her sister’s waist and pulling her back from falling with triumphant cry. “Got you!” She cried excitedly as her twin moaned. “I got you! Now you chase me!” Ovidia giggles when Violeta releases her with a small shove and races to run by the wall, and Ovidia follows, weaving down the same beeline her twin made.

Valeria stands near the kitchen window, drying a mug with a grey cloth, watching the two girls scream and run a-muck. Felipe enters the kitchen adjusting his glasses. His work apron is off and glances up toward Valeria as he approaches her. “Valeria?” She grins, nodding toward the window. Her husband stands next to her, confused. His expression melts into a warm smile at the sight of his daughters catching each other in a small loop of tags, both growing increasingly frustrated at not being able to run an inch when the other just tags them immediately. “Aye, those two have hardly been out fifteen minutes and they have dust all over them. I just washed those dresses this morning!” Valeria says with no real edge to her voice. Felipe chuckles and makes his way over to the dry kitchenware that has yet to be put away. “You say that as though it wouldn’t happen.” Amusement creeps into his voice as he puts a few dishes away to be used later. Valeria turns to him with a roll of her eyes. “Still...” She sighs. “At least they still have clothes for tomorrow.” Felipe nods with a hum. As Valeria goes to hand him the dried mug a small figure appearing in the kitchen doorway catches her attention and she glances toward Santiago stood awkwardly by the door frame. “Hola, Santi.” Valeria greets him and he grins lopsidedly, shuffling out into the middle of the doorways frame, arms behind his back. “Hola, tía Valeria y tío Felipe.” His arms shift behind his back and Valeira raises a brow at him. “Did you need something, niño?” She asks, eyeing him carefully. The small boy grins a little wider. “Can I borrow the scissors? Por favor?” He beams, blinking innocently up at her with his sweetest face. Valeria shots Felipe an unamused glance as he frowns a little, uncertain. Valeria raises her head, a hand settling on her hips. “Have you asked your mamá or papá about using the scissors?” She asked carefully. Santiago’s smile wilts a little and he glances to the side, shuffling his feet. He shrugs and mumbles. “¿Perdón?” Valeria asks, tilting her head. “No…” Santiago mumbles a little louder, pointing an annoyed glare at the floor. Valeria nods a little. “You know the rules, Santiago.” She says and the boy nods. He shuffles back out of the kitchen and Valeria shakes her head, finally grinning at Felipe glances toward her. “He’s old enough to handle scissors, Vally.” He pulls her close in a hug and Valeria leans her head against his chest, the mug still in her hands. “Is he, though?” She asks, and Felipe makes small noise in the back of his throat. “Imelda, Leo and Óscar were very clear about keeping an eye on him after the last scissor incident.” Valeria reminds him pointedly. Felipe grimaced a little, thinking back to a year ago when Santiago was caught with a pair of scissors trimming through one of Imelda’s hair ribbons. The boy had gotten a hold of a pair of scissors and mistaken one of Imelda’s ribbons on the table as something he could use as a part of his craft. When confronted by a very angry Imelda staring him down, he’d held up the ribbon (or the snippets left of it) and desperately explained he’d wanted to make a bow for the small doll he was going to give his unborn hermanita. The doll in question was a blue slipper with button eyes,a smile and rosy cheeks stitched into the top that Óscar had made with Santiago to introduce him to shoes earlier in the year. Santiago kept it in his room, hiding it under his pillows when Imelda told him he shouldn’t have a slipper in bed with him. “It’s a shoe, mijo, not a toy.” She told him, glancing pointedly at her hermanitos who shrunk back sheepishly. (Felipe was sure Imelda had caught sight of the slipper under the boy’s pillow, but she never said anything against it again) Finding out why Santiago had been cutting the ribbon (that he promised he didn’t know belonged to Imelda) softened Imelda’s glare, but he was grounded for three days. Leonor calmly explained that he had to ask about using the scissors until he was a little older, just in case. He had been watery eyed, but nodded. It had been adorable to watch Santiago beam, full of pride and love, at his newborn baby sister as she thumbed and cuddled the purple ribboned slipper doll, but no one wanted to risk finding shirt arms or bits of pant legs missing. “I suppose your right.” Felipe hums. “I’m sure Óscar will make sure he doesn’t do anything too reckless…” Valeria scoffs and pulls away, taking the mug over to the cupboard with a grin “You and Óscar-” She began as she opens the cupboard and places the mug in, “-Would let those kids rob a bank if they begged enough.” “That’s not true!” Felipe insists with a huff, standing a little straighter. At that moment, a scuffle comes from the hallway and Felipe turns as Ovidia and Violeta stumble over each other, giggling quietly to themselves. They glance up, notice their Papá and grin identically from ear to ear, dimples clear in their cheeks. “¡Papá!” The girls squeal and Felipe immediately grins, kneeling down to catch the two as they leap toward him. He snuggles them as they press their faces into his shoulders.

“Hola, mi niñas preciosa.” He coos, squeezing them before setting them down, and Valeria smirks a little wider, shaking her head in a subtle movement. As Felipe stands, Ovidia reaches up and pulls his hand, keeping him leaning a little as she tugs excitedly.

“¡Papá, Papá! Can we borrow a bed sheet? ¿Por favor?”

Felipe blinks, confused “A- A bed sheet?” He asks, brow lifting.

Violeta grabs his other hand, bouncing on her toes and distracting him briefly.

“We’ll bring it back when we’re done, ¡nosotros prometemos!”

“¿Por favor, Papá?” The twins plead, squeezing Felipe’s hand as he glances between them, his scepticism melting into a loving smile as he watches their excited smiles.

“Ah… Well, I suppose-” Valeria comes next to him, clearing her throat loudly. He catches her folding her arms with a knowing look. He blinks over at her, confused for a moment before something clicks in his brain and he glances back toward his daughters, slipping his hands out of their and folding his arms, attempting to put up a more stern front.

“W-Wait. “ He stammers, before frowning at the two, nearly faltering again at their identical expressions  “¿Why do you need a bed sheet, niñas?”

Violeta runs over to Valeria and hugs her legs, burying her face into her mamá’s jeans with a smile. Valeria smooths down her daughters hair and watches Ovidia, who’s grin doesn't falter one bit.

“We want to make a tent!” She exclaims.

“By the tree!” Violeta pipes in.

“Or the well.” Ovidia mutters and they both share a look before smiling back at their parents

“We’re gonna camp-”

“-Outside tonight!”

Valeria huffs. “Oh?” She folds her arms. She glances toward Felipe who looks between the girls, knowing the answer but faltering under the girls eager grins. He looks to Valeria pleadingly. Valeria sighs, holding her gaze on him for a moment before relenting and gently placing a hand on Violeta’s head.

“I’m afraid you can’t tonight, hijitas.” The girls smiles drop.

“But-” Violeta begins.

“-Why?” Ovidia asks, disappointed.

“It’ll be time to make dinner soon, and you can’t sleep outside under a bed sheet. You’ll catch a cold, and think of how dirty your clothes will get if you’re sleeping in the dirt!” Valeria explains, frowning sternly. “Not tonight, niñas.” The twins turn to Felipe who winces as they fix him pleading looks. “Papá…” Both begin, and Felipe scratches the back of his neck before shaking his head. “Your mamá’s right, niñas” He begins. “You’ll get cold-” “Not if we have extra sheets-” Violeta cuts in, leaning away from Valeria's legs and glancing between her parents. “It’s a ‘no’, mija.” Felipe repeats, a more stern edge reaching his voice and both girls glance toward each other, wincing in disappointment. Valeria tuts, and strokes Violeta’s head. Violeta shuffles back toward Ovidia and both hold hands, glancing toward the floor. Felipe’s expression softens and he scoops the two up into a hug, heads pressing underneath his chin as she they curl against him. “We’re just looking out for you two.” He mumbles as Valeria presses a hand against his back and curls her other arm around the girls. “We know.” Vio mumbles. “We know.” Ovi repeats. Felipe bounces them a little in his arms and smiles a little. “Beside, it’s-” He glances at Valeria who raises a brow at him, “-It’s only no for tonight!” Valeria’s expression falls as she raises an eyebrow at him. The twins pulls themselves back to look up their Papá hopefully. He grins at them. “Maybe another night we can set you two up a proper tent in the courtyard.” The girls look to each other and then back to Felipe nodding excitedly. 

“¡Sí!” “Yeah!” They nod, ecstatic. Felipe grins and presses individual kisses to both their foreheads before putting them down. “Now make sure you two clean up if you want to help with dinner.” Valeria tells them as they run over and hug her ankles. “You’re the best, mamá y papá!” Violeta says and Ovidia nods. Valeria bites back a small comment as she sends Felipe a side-eyed glance. Her husband shrugs, helpless, and she sighs tiredly. The two watch the girls pull away, holding hands as they exit the kitchen, talking back and forth animatedly. Valeria folds her arms and leans into Felipe. “The tent was your idea.” She says, “So you’d best be ready to be hearing about that for the next week.” Felipe shrugs, an arms looping around his wife’s waist. “That’s fine with me.” He says. He glances to the side, suddenly uncertain. “I’m sure we still have the tent somewhere.” He mumbles thoughtfully. Valeria snorts as she turns toward him, hands resting against his chest and smoothing the creases down it. “Looks like I was wrong.” He blinks at her as she continues to brush down his shirt, “You wouldn’t let them rob a bank-” She smirks up at him. “-You’d help them rob it.” Felipe grins sheepishly before leaning in and kissing her. 

Please let me know if you guys have any other drawing or writing ideas for this lill AU bc I love doing stuff for it omg! Let me know if you liked it or if there’s anything I need to fix aaaaaaa  Thanks for reading, guys ^^  

[hallowedgrounds03]

I came into the TW fandom as a whole almost a year ago now. I had gotten on a CW vampires binge, TVD universe and such, but I always preferred werewolves. Even TVD Werewolves over all the other supernaturals on that show. So, I was on TVD tiktok, and because their target audiences and tags and such are so similar, Teen Wolf popped up a lot on my feed.

I even remember the exact line that I heard that made me go looking for where to watch Teen Wolf. It had been used in a lot of videos, the audio, but I never had seen the voice match the face, so I knew it meant something, but it took a while for a video of the actual clip came up on my FYP.

From episode 3x15, "Galvanize", Lydia is trying to find Kira and Barrows. She says, "It literally makes me want to scream."

And because Stiles is amazing at what he does, he says,

"Then scream. Lydia, scream."

And that sound byte, less than 3 seconds, every single time I heard it, it made me shiver. I knew it meant something very important way before I had context. Stiles, before I knew him at all, brought me to Teen Wolf.

And then I met his surly, leather-suited boyfriend from the woods.

And when I say that I literally cannot explain how Sterek makes me feel, I am being totally honest.

I've been in fandom since 4th grade. So, 8 years, now? And some of the biggest for me have been Harry Potter, Supernatural, the Riordanverse, and The 100.

I've had all the standard reactions over the years. Throwing OotP across the room when Sirius died, being furious when Bellarke never went canon on the show, DESTIEL, the-chapter-that-shall-not-be-named from The Burning Maze. I've found understanding and accpetance and belonging in these fictional worlds. I've been writing fanfic for ages.

But Sterek is different.

I connected with Stiles immediately, even before I was diagnosed with ADHD. He was this crazy, semi-confident nerd, who was loyal and dependable, craved touch and validation, and took care of his dad. He was me... in so many ways.

And at first, I didn't see any connection between myself and Derek, but looking back, we're more alike that I could have anticiapted. We take blame that isn't ours, we struggle with boundaries and accepting love. We both have a strange sense of humor.

And I saw sparks from the second Derek stepped out of the trees, in a leather jacket a few sizes too big and a scowl meant to hide his curiosity about this kid who smelled like new wolf, and his gangly, shaved-head, dorky friend who had the sweetest eyes.

I dove headfirst into fanfic, because I also had a feeling that I would never get to see what I wanted on screen.

I picked up on every look, every unspoken confession and question.

And, fanfic has never really made me cry. I'm a sucker for fix-it fics. And ones where Sirius lives, or Charlie comes back, or Piper and Jason get married, those make me feel whole, but I don't cry. And if I do, it's because of a profound moment built up from the first chapter, like crying over a novel.

My emotional bond to the residents of Beacon Hills, I have since discovered, go way deeper than that.

A simple throw-away line about how much Stiles calms Derek, or lets him touch his beta-shifted face could have me in tears, because it's like I can literally see the emotional growth it took for that to happen.

Once, I was reading a one-shot, and Derek and Stiles were goofing off under the fake mistletoe when Peter remarks that Stiles brought Derek back. The one we got a glimpse of in S4. And Derek proposes to Stiles, and Peter comes up to them and says to Derek,

"They would have been so proud of you."

He turns to Stiles and says,

"And they would have loved you."

And I physically feel so much want for the Hales to still be alive. I sob for a half-hour.

And once, at the end of a time travel, save the Hales fic, Stiles is driving out to the Hale House to see if it worked, and Derek calls him, panicked. I can't even read what Stiles said in response because it hit me then that Derek would get to see Laura again. And his parents. His siblings and cousins. He was getting that back, and I felt so emotionally connected to these characters, it was as if I had gone through high schools and the corresponding horrors. As if I had experienced first-hand what the effect of losing his family had on Derek and what it would mean to get the back.

I know so many people talk about belonging in their favorite fictional world over this one. But to be honest, I feel like my soul already lived a life in Beacon Hills, and all of these emotions are because I lived and felt and hurt with the pack.

I found a rewatch podcast that changed my world. I found a couple I would never stop loving. I found a show that has flaws and short-comings but it still worth it all. I found home, because of Stiles. Because of Sterek. It brought me closer to my cousin. It gave me understanding of myself. It gave me hope.

I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

anyway, I think everyone should share their story about joining the sterek fandom and all the good things you got from it 💙🧡

[isitkpop]

Succubus!Junhee as your Boyfriend

Request: Could you do a Succubus!au with ace Jun please? <3

Yes I can Dear! Sooo...I pretty much got carried away...this is more like a scenario than a head canon...but like...I like it so ENJOY!!

Warning: Implied Sexual Content. Just a little bit though. Also mentions of dying. ALSO prepare heart for some angst.

Listen...he’s a pro okay?

With him being a demon and all, WITH THE LOOKS

Can make anybody fall for him basically

And his crew A.K.A A.C.E is like “hell yeah. Our leader is nice isn’t he?”

Their little shits too so don’t fall for their tricks either

He doesn’t kill his prey but likes to toy with them and ruin them mentally.

For better words...break them.

He’s a really bad guy okay? Like the kind of guy that once you know his work, you don’t want to get mixed up with him and his crew at all.

The Trickster Joker is his street name

But honestly...he’s a lot deeper than you think and he only does these things because it keeps shitty memories away and he never wants to turn out to be like other demon that broke him.

Junhee happened to be in one of those moods to where he regrets breaking his victims and shit like that and so he’s walking down the street at night with his hands in his pockets and his hoodie up and just looking at the ground as he walks

You were running away...from guys who were trying to hit on you earlier

Thankfully you were on the track team back in your high school days

But you slammed right into Junhee which knocked you both on the ground and you twisted your ankle in the process and in a lot of pain and Junhee takes a second to get a grip on the situation

Looks at you as you’re trying to catch your breath and holding your ankle and then looks at the group of guys who finally made it you

He felt your energy change into fear and noticed that the energy from the guys is sickening

For some reason he doesn’t like the fact that these guys are upsetting you and it’s weird...

He get’s up and the guys are looking at him and he slowly opens his eyes as he looks at them and glares really hard at each of the guys

You senses a small amount of fear in them and smirks

“What are you doing hurting this poor human?”

And the guys noticed the voice and they’re like “Dude...that’s the Trickster Joker.”

And then he senses fear all around him...and makes his demeanor darken as he starts to walk towards them until they finally ran away

He turns to you and he sees you flinch back at his gaze and he hurts...just a tiny bit in the chest as he sensed the fear you had of him

“You okay? Seems like you hurt your ankle.”

“Y-yeah. Why did you help me?”

He’s taken aback by your question because...why the hell did he help you.

You noticed that he’s distracted and try to get up and walk but you sudden felt a sharp pain in your ankle and almost lost balanced but Junhee was quick to catch you and takes your arm and wraps it around his waist

“I got you. Don’t worry. I’ll walk you home. Do you live far from here?”

You tell him no and give him directions

“Piggy back ride.”

You’re staring at him like he’s crazy

“We’re stranger and you want me to get on your back? No way...plus...how do I know I’m not just going to become another one of your victims?”

His eyes darken and for a second you got scared again.

“I won’t do that to someone who is injured. And don’t just assume things about people Y/n.”

“H-How do you know my name???”

“Uhhh...I’m a type of demon...we can just know by tapping into your mind.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I can’t control it. Whoops. Now climb on. I rather be home right now.”

“Rude ass.”

You climb on anyways and he manages to take you home after an extremely quiet 26 minute walk and he waits until you close the door behind you to start freaking out

When he catch you and touched you, oh boy did he feel alive and free and just..good.

And with your whole body up against his back...he was having a hard time trying to concentrate

“Looks like our little Junhee found himself a mate.”

Practically freaks out the his crew has been following him and how has he not noticed???

Tells them about the feelings and they’re all like...”dude...that’s THE one.”

And Junhee is like “No...I don’t do mates.”

And for some reason you both keep running into each other...literally

Either you’re late for work and running down the street and there Junhee is right in front of you and you run right into him...spilling his hot coffee all over you both and hissing at the burning sensation of coffee

You’re both getting up and glare at each other and at the same time you both would say “WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING JACKASS!”

Like seriously...the vibe between you both is tense and electricity on opposite sides clashing together

Junhee’s crew is like unsure about the situation cause they want to see Junhee change ya know? But like...if you don’t like him then there’s a problem...

Junhee is starting to like this running into each other thing because he gets to taunt and tease you and see you angry and it’s funny but on the inside he thinks it’s cute but he will NEVER admit it

This running into each other thing was different this time

You weren’t running this time but you still managed to bump into him and he noticed the drastic change in your mood and energy and he’s worried...on the inside that is

“Watch where you’re going Y/n. I’m tired of you bumping into me all the damn time.”

“Just like everybody else Junhee. Just leave me alone okay? I never asked the world to make me run into you.”

He looks back at you and you’re glaring daggers at him...like he legitimately feels threatened and scared???

“A-are you okay?”

“What does leave me alone mean to you?”

You go to leave and he grabs your wrist and you’re both shocked because what is this warm feeling passing through you both and all that mate jazz

You’re both blushing because at the moment you both felt each other’s feelings and Junhee now understands your feelings but he also knows that you don’t want to be left alone

“Come on Y/n. I’ll take you somewhere for you to talk okay?”

And you just nod your head a yes as he takes your wrist in his hand again and gently pulls you with him

You’re both at the lake that in the middle of a nearby park and you sit a few feet away from the edge

“I practically got fired because some jackass blamed his mess on my shoulders and the boss believed that damn guy and fired me instead...”

Junhee was pissed but he did what was best and wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled your body against his and you buried your face into his chest and started crying because this is what you needed

After staying like that for like an hour you pull away and wipe your tears away and stand up “I’m going to go now. Thanks Junhee.”

You’ve been avoiding him ever since then...thank goodness

Junhee knows though...but he’s giving you you’re space

But after like not having any form of contact with him made you miss him actually and your eyes starts to open up more because how could you not notice that you fell for the jackass?

After like a week of realization you decide to go out and find him but when you open the door he’s standing there and nearly gives you a heart attack because 1. He looks so damn good as always and 2. HOW DID HE KNEW WHICH APARTMENT YOU WERE AT???

“Hi.” It was the most timid thing he has ever said to you and he actually looks nervous instead of smug and he even looked less good as usual.

“Are you okay Jun?”

He chuckles a little and you think he lost his mind for a second but looks at you with a sad smile “I’m not actually.”

He walks in and closes the door for you and leans against it...

“I haven’t...fed.”

You’re starting to panic because you’re now seeing all the symptoms. He has dark circles under his eyes and he’s a little paler than usual and he seems to be just a little weaker than usual.

“Why did you come to me then???”

“I just wanted to see you.”

You're a blushing mess after that and Junhee slowly goes to your couch and lays down and closes his eyes.

“Are you-”

“Dying? Yeah.”

“Just because you haven’t fed for like a week?”

“Two months.”

“TWO MONTHS? Junhee! How long do you have?”

“About a few more days.”

You both stayed silent after that. You let him stay though.

It’s been two days after that conversation of Junhee staying with you and you noticed that he’s weaker and his breathing is slower.

Junhee on the other hand...despite him dying...he enjoyed watching you do your thing from the couch. 

God he loved you so much...he was glad that these are going to be his last moments.

It was night time and Junhee was already asleep

You just layed in bed but then decided to make your decision

You got up and put your shorts and tank top back on and tread into the living room

You stood before the dying succubus and smiled down and straddled him

You leaned down to where your lips were inches from his and barely whispered his name

He woke up and his eyes widened when he saw you at such a close proximity

“W-what are you doing?”

“You need to feed babe.”

“Babe?”

“I’ll start calling you that from now on because I want to be with you Junhee. I don’t want you to die. Please...feed from me. Please.”

You were crying at this point and Junhee weakly smiled at you and cupped your cheeks and brought your face close to his again

He smiled and you smiled and he GENTLY smash his lips against yours

And he loves the taste of your energy

Let’s just say that, that night was the sweetest ever.

When you woke up in your bed with his arm slung over your bare hips as he is laying on his stomach

You slid closer to him and his arm tightened around you

“I love you Y/n. SO much. Thank you babe.”

“I love you too. Do you eel better now?”

“Much better. I actually feel reborn thanks to your energy.”

“Don't flatter yourself.”

“So mean even in the morning.”

Junhee’s crew basically takes care of you when Junhee is not around xD 

“Yo Y/n! Junhee told me to tell you to make sure that you don’t forget to go to the job interview he got you.”

“Thanks Seyoon.” HINT...Sarcastically

The crew letting Junhee know that they still would like a taste of your energy that Junhee likes to brag about

“Not a chance in my immortal life guys.”

[lonelyperfectionofmydreams-blog]

chapter 11

title; the correspondence. chapter 11 of how to fall in love with an android. rating; m for language. fandom; alien franchise pairing; david 8/you words; 1724 notes; contains non-canon character by the name of ferguson. continuation of last chapter (and all chapters preceding it). reading them will add context.

[TRANSMISSION INCOMING: E-MAIL CORRESPONDENCE]

[TRANSMITTING]

[TRANSMITTING]

[RECEIVED]

           Second Engineer,

           The events that transpired between Richard Ferguson and yourself are most regrettable. As per Weyland Corporation’s established legal procedures, the mechanic is being placed under surveillance until he can be properly tried for the apparent sexual assault. While you are no doubt in a position of discomfort being housed on the same space craft as this individual, I represent Weyland Corp.’s desire for you to maintain composure and stability on the Prometheus until this matter is fully resolved. It is under my authority that Ferguson shall be kept a secure distance from you at any given time, and I personally ensure your safety until this mission concludes.

           I am not one for therapeutic measures, but as your commanding officer, I extend to you the offer of my presence should you ever find yourself in need of someone to talk to concerning this matter. You can trust in my discretion should you indeed ask for it.

            Respectfully,

           Meredith Vickers.

[BEGIN AUDIO MESSAGE]

           Hey, uh, Y/N, it’s Charlie. Y’know, the asshat “in charge”. Otherwise known as the devilishly handsome front man for our little expedition. [Laugh]. All right, you get it, I’ll cut it out. I know we aren’t the tightest-knit group, but I still feel as though I’d consider you a friend. Enough of a friend to come out and say that Ferguson is a fucking snake. I’m just… I’m so fucking mad, Y/N, that he hurt you. I just needed you to know that. I’m not gonna take his side just because I don’t want any conflict or some BS. He did you wrong, and I’m gonna tell it like it is. If you ever need a shoulder to cry on, or, hell [Chuckles] someone to beat him up, give me a call. I can’t say I’d be much of a match against a tool that big, but I’ll give it my best shot. I know for sure Ellie’ll back me up, and 2v1s tend to favor the majority, don’t they? Maybe I’ll call down your boyfriend—er, the robot –  for some back-up, too. Anyway. Was just saying all this to hopefully make you feel a little better. You can always come to me, Y/N. I know Ellie feels the same. So yeah. Take it easy.

[END AUDIO MESSAGE]

[TRANSMISSION INCOMING: E-MAIL CORRESPONDENCE]

[RECEIVED]

           Dear Y/N,

           I heard about what happened from Charlie. Then I heard about it from Sean. Then it was Janek, Rafe, then eventually Vickers herself. Point is, I heard it, and I heard it from too many people. It strikes me as cruel that something so painful can happen to you and not a day later it becomes office gossip. I hold you in the highest regard, Y/N, and I’m so sorry that this happened to you. I promise to be near you for the remainder of our expedition, should you desire as such, to keep an eye out for that absolute bastard Ferguson. I also would like to offer my ear, should you need someone to talk to.

           I’m here for you. I know Charlie is as well. Don’t feel as though you’re alone. You’ve got friends on the Prometheus. Keep them close.

           All the best,

           Elizabeth.

[BEGIN AUDIO MESSAGE]

           Y/N. It’s Janek. I’m not used to this; coming from a military background kinda suggests you don’t indulge in sappy heart-to-hearts. But I’m willing to break a few standards just to reach out to you. First off: if Ferguson is ever in the same room as me, I can assure you I’ll be knocking him straight onto his ass, no question. I’ve always loved fucking with him, but maybe breaking his nose will become an even more fun pastime. Secondly: I realize I may come off as somewhat distant, and with good reason. I like you and all, but best to keep things professional, yeah? That fling I suggested? Just a fling. And I’m down if you ever are. But beyond that, I’ve found witty banter overtakes sentimental conversations. I’m losing track of myself here [Laugh] but what I’m trying to get at is I can put that behind me to try to connect with you. If you need a friend, I’ll be there. Whether it’s a crying-on-my-shoulder thing, or downing too many shots together, or even a little adult stress release, I’m just a call away. Anyway. Stay strong, Y/N. You always are.

[END AUDIO MESSAGE]

           As you cycled through your e-mails and voice memos, a lightness filled up your chest, and you couldn’t help but feel your face flush red. Janek, Charlie, Elizabeth, hell—even Vickers? It came as a shock that any of them would feel inclined to reach out to you just to offer their friendship. Sean and Rafe also sent small little apologetic blips, and Ravel, Ford, and even Chance gave you hugs when you most recently saw them.

           Maybe a tear or two fell from your eyes, but you couldn’t help it. The solidarity meant more than anything to you. These really were your friends, you found, and it struck you as the absolute sweetest that they would come to your aid.

           With a quiet sniffle, you wiped at your eyes, and smiled as you replayed Janek’s message for likely the fourth time in the hour, and listened on with a childlike wonder in your eyes as you realized you weren’t alone on this ship.

           Enraptured with your message, you didn’t see as the door to your room hummed open, and in came David, standing tall with his hand held politely behind his back. He approached cautiously, and cleared his throat to alert you of his presence. With a timid jolt, you turned back to view him. It was so easy to get lost in your memos, you felt a little rude not noticing him until then. You closed your computer, stood straight, and approached him happily.

           “David,” you chirped, as you advanced with your arms outstretched. He reciprocated by unlinking his arms and baring his chest for you as you snuggled into him and snuck your arms around his neck. Warm, you noted. Mint. It wasn’t unusual for him to have a unique scent about him. It was usually clinical, sharp, pointed and bold. Not off-putting, per se, but less human. Today, however, he smelled sweet and crisp, like fresh mint. With a deep inhale, you drank in your favorite android as you further melted in his grasp.

           “How are you feeling?” he asked lowly, hands playing with your hair.

           “Better. So much better, thank you.” You let go of him after a few wonderful moments, and sat on your bed. After gesturing to him, he sat neatly beside you, hands clasped in his lap. “It’s nice that you stop by as often as you do. I’m starting to think you have a crush on me.”

           The android smiled, head tipping to the side quizzically. “Crush?” he clarified.

           “Smitten. Infatuated. To the extreme, love. I feel like you’re messing with me.” You leaned back onto your forearms, and looked up at him with a wary grin.

           “I wouldn’t dare, Y/N,” came his answer, with a hint of mischief.

           “Well, crush or not, I’m glad you’re around. I really like your company, David.”

           “That is good to know. I’ll be sure to up my visitations tenfold.” God, he has the most charming smile.

           You smiled back. “So, what brings my favorite android to my quarters this evening?” Once the words left your mouth, you fell completely onto your back and watched up at him with growing intrigue in your eyes. David had perfect posture, so as he talked, his face was forward, and his spine was straight.

           “I’ve been preparing to say this for a while. I hope my sincerity comes through well enough.” He paused to collect his thoughts, before standing on his feet and facing you. You took that as a cue to return to a seated position. Once upright, you found he had lowered himself to your height, and subsequently smiled wide. “I hope my demeanor when the mechanic attacked you didn’t frighten you. I want it to be clear that I acted in such a way because I was truly distraught over your predicament. I suppose you could say I lost sight of myself in that moment, and all I knew was the overwhelming instinct to dismember him. Thankfully for him, you convinced me against that.” A small laugh, and he continued. “I would do it again in a heartbeat, you know. I would go to great lengths to protect you, Second Engineer. You have been a kind friend to me when others were not, and because of this I feel indebted to you.”

           Your heart fluttered, and you nodded to confirm your understanding. At that, he took your hands. Every time he held your hands, a soft, enveloping feeling blew through you, like the cleansing breeze of the sea. It was indescribably familiar, like the entire universe aligned in one perfect moment to assure you that yes, his hands did fit yours quite seamlessly.

           “I am unsure of a lot of what I feel as of late. It is all quite baffling. But I feel I am in no way taking a leap when I say I feel a great fondness for you. A fondness you could, in fact, brand as a crush. Or infatuation. Or, to the less extreme than you’d imagine, love.”

           Your face went beet red.

           “Second Engineer…?” His eyebrows pinched, as worry began to take hold of his features. There was a slight waver to his lips, as he awaited your response.

           “Love?” you echoed. And he nodded. “You’re certain.” Another nod, and you released a deep exhale.  Eyes lowered to his torso as you searched for the right thing to say, or even discern what it exactly was that you felt in return. His words left your chest aching from your racing heart, and you couldn’t keep yourself from smiling the whole time. Eventually, you met his gaze once more, and beamed.

           “I love you, too, David.”

[shakespearedidnothavecumsh0ts]

The Sweetest- *Quarterback!Theo*

Okay. @stydiajeep or something like that requested this a LOOONG time ago. (apologises if I tagged you for nothing) I haven’t forgotten and this pic inspired me. And an anon requested something about a glutton boyfriend. Let’s hope this tied together as well as I hoped. Here it goes, I love you so much. Thanks for the request.

Also- thanks to @wiccanthrope for helping to provide the proper circumstances for me to remember I had this request floating around.

Warnings: It’s long af. Food porn. Real porn. I may have inherited @lilshitwayne‘s clean fetish so we’ll see. Phew- let’s get into it.

You stood on the sidelines waving your pom poms and cheering loudly as your boyfriend, Theo had scored a touchdown, winning Beacon Hills the championship. He looked over and shot you a wink as his teammates all flocked him, it'd be impossible to get to him now. Not while they were hoisting him onto their shoulders as he held the trophy. Thank God that they'd won, you thought.

Theo was being entirely too pissy in the weeks leading up to the match and you and the cheer squad had put in a lot of work fundraising so they could get confetti canons. You were just glad it all paid off in the end. (Not so glad for whichever poor soul would be charged with the responsibility of cleaning up the pieces of shining paper littering the otherwise immaculate football field.)

You let out a sigh and took a seat on the now empty bleachers. There was going to be a lot to do, you'd need to perfect the new routine for the assembly on Monday and you only had a few days, the pressure was definitely on. A tap on the shoulder shook you from your internal debate about herkies vs toe touches and you turned to see your boyfriend, freshly showered and carrying the ball he'd used to put your school in the history books. But most importantly, he was alone.

"Can I have a seat?" Theo smiled looking down at you.

"Star quarterback wants to sit next to little 'ol me... Hmm, what are the odds?"

"I'm a guy you know. Don't think too much of it, I just think your legs are hot in that uniform," he grinned plopping down next to you.

You let out a snort and rolled your eyes as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his much warmer body.

"So, how's it feel to win the championship?" you asked smiling up at him.

"Bittersweet," he shrugged.

"Elaborate."

"Sweet because I won but bitter because I won't get to see you cheering for me until next year. Well on the field at least," he finished, with a dirty grin causing you to smack him in the chest.

"You're a prick. And I still have a ton to do. I need to perfect this new routine because our school's extra ass wants another pep rally because you losers won. And- I need to prepare for basket ball season and fundraising and-"

"I had no idea you had that much to do."

"Most people just think we stand around and look pretty. Occasionally do a few flips. Not like we're actually talented enough to play a real sport," you scoffed bitterly.

"But you know that's not true right?"

"Of course," you grinned. "I dare you or any of your big tough teammates to even try a cartwheel."

"I would honestly rather not embarrass myself in front of my girlfriend, thank you very much," he scoffed.

"Well, your girlfriend hasn't eaten since lunch and she's starving. Let's go," you sighed standing up.

You realised Theo wasn't getting up and noticed that his eyes were firmly fixated on the back of the Letterman's Jacket you wore. It was his of course, you just stole it from his locker after the game because you were freezing.

"How'd you get my jacket?" he asked with a small smirk.

"Your locker combination is my birthday you giant sap," you chuckled pulling him up.

"Okay. I'm gonna need to change it then," he grinned giving you a kiss.

"Or not," you smiled wrapping your arms around his neck and tipping to kiss him better.

He pulled back and kissed your nose before letting go of your waist and holding your hand.

"What are you in the mood for?" he asked as you walked to his car.

"Anything that I wouldn't put into my mouth under normal circumstances."

"I guess that means sex is off the table."

"Theo!" you gasped smacking his chest as you blushed furiously.

"Can you blame me?" Theo asked shrugging.

"Well we haven't had sex in a while so yes, I can," you scoffed, sticking your tongue out at him.

"Sorry, Coach practically had us swear off sex. At least he did everything in his power to ensure we had no time."

"Well, I guess it paid off, however archaic it seemed at the time," you grinned wrapping your hands around his bicep.

"He pretty much gave a speech about how none of our girlfriends would dare engage in sexual activity with us if we lost," Theo scoffed.

"Can just say how glad I am that Finstock doesn't coach us," you cringed.

Theo kissed your temple and opened the car door for you.

"Now that I'm done playing football, I can get off this ridiculous diet Finstock had us on."

"It has its perks," you grinned biting your lip as you shamelessly eyed your boyfriend's physique.

"Oh babygirl- you have no idea," he spoke huskily, his signature smirk in place as he rested his hand on your thigh and pulled out of the parking lot.

All thoughts of food left your mind as Theo pulled off the road and parked his truck in a secluded area of the preserve.

"What? Are we out of gas?" you asked with a smirk.

"I knew I should have filled the tank," he scoffed with a teasing smirk.

"So now what?" you asked with a raised brow.

"I may have a few ideas," he grinned leaning over and kissing you passionately.

You let out a hum of pleasure and removed your seatbelt so you could climb into his lap and straddle him. You had honestly missed this feeling, it'd been so long since you were both this close and you wanted to savour every moment of it.

You felt him harden beneath you and let out a satisfied moan. It'd been so long since you two had sex and you were practically starving for him. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he kissed your neck and you could have sworn that you literally melted in his arms when his when his thumb stroked your clothed clit. You let out small whines as he lightly ran his thumb over your tights and grazed your neck lightly.

"Please," you whined.

"Please what?" he asked grinned up at you, clearly in a devious mood.

"Just more."

"Like this?" he asked pushing your tights and panties to the side before stroking your clit directly but with the same lack of urgency.

"Just take them off," you moaned, already reaching under your skirt to pull the tights and underwear down your legs.

"Damn, you're so wet," Theo smirked smugly as he adjusted his seat.

"I spend all night watching you throw footballs around all hot and sexy and let's not get started on those pants but you're seriously surprised?"

"That's not all objectifying," Theo scoffed.

"I'm your girlfriend. Let's face the facts- I can objectify you because I own you."

"You own me huh?" he asked sliding a finger into your dripping pussy.

"Yes," you spoke biting back a moan.

"Does that mean that I own you?" he asked adding another.

"No, of course not," you scoffed, trying to keep your cool.

"I see," he grinned rubbing your clit while he fingered you.

You let out small gasps and ground yourself against his fingers in an attempt to just get more of him. Theo grinned up at you and hatched an idea. You felt him adjust the seat and looked down at him, confusion marring your features.

"Get up here," Theo smirked, withdrawing his fingers.

The request caused you to blush wickedly. To do that in a car made it more dirty or at least way sexier. Biting your lip, you crawled up and hovered over his face before sinking down slowly; Theo wasted no time, he parted your lips and pulled your clit into his mouth. That action caused you to toss your head back and run your hand through his hair which was currently damp and wavy from his shower. His hands slid under your skirt and groped your bare ass whilst holding you in place. Theo was definitely trying to control the pace of the night and you weren't complaining.

His grip loosened, allowing you a little room to grind against his mouth. His tongue worked its way around your entrance and his nose touched your clit when you moved forward.

Theo’s hands crept under the jacket you were wearing and he unzipped your top giving his hands more freedom to grope your breasts as you rode his face. His nimble fingers tweaked your nipples as he sucked hungrily on your clit, causing you to cry out loudly, you were definitely close to coming.

Looking down, you saw his eyes looking up at yours and he was already so smug. It was insanely hot and as you tossed your head back you knew that you were about to have an intense orgasm. A scream tore from your throat and you grabbed a fistful of his hair as you grinded slowly against his face, attempting to come down from your high.You panted and ran a hand through your hair, your legs quivering.

It was safe to say Theo had managed to quench your thirst for the night. You slid down his body and smirked as he readjusted his seat so that you were straddling him with your faces being inches apart.

"I should return the favour." you grinned kissing him and palming him over his jeans.

"I have a better idea," he smirked. "Ride me."

You grinned and bit your lip in response before undoing his jeans and reaching inside to stroke his erection.

"Got a condom?" you asked coyly, adding a flutter of your lashes for good measure.

"No. Sorry. I guess I'll just have to pull out."

"Yea, because I can trust you to pull out," you scoffed. "Sorry Raeken, no glove- no love."

"Fine," he groaned reaching behind you and pulling a condom from the box in the glove compartment.

"Asshole," you scoffed ripping the package with your teeth and rolling it onto to him.

He eased his pants down a little to make it a bit more comfortable for you both then he lifted your skirt and rubbed the head of his dick against your already sensitive clit, causing you to suck in a harsh breath and throw your head back as he rubbed you in circles.

"Stop teasing," you groaned out.

"Turn around baby girl. I wanna see-"

"You wanna see your name on my back. Not at all patriarchal," you scoffed complying with his wishes.

"Actually I was planning to look at your ass and sink my thumbs into those-"

"Just fuck me already," you scoffed lifting yourself up to give him room to guide himself to your dripping core.

You both let out a sound of pleasure as you slid onto his sheathed erection. It had honestly been so long so since you’d felt him buried inside you and your need for him increased tremendously. As soon as you started to move, his thumbs sunk into the small of your back while his other fingers rested comfortably on your hips.

Theo brushed your hair over your shoulder and you let out a small scoff at the idea of your boyfriend being so attached to you wearing his jacket. The idea itself was so archaic that it was almost comical.

Looking over your shoulder, you caught a glimpse of Theo, his head thrown back and small moans of pleasure leaving his lips. Reaching around, you pulled his head to yours and kissed him passionately while you rotated your hips against him.

His lips moved from yours and instead left small kisses along your jawline before stopping at your neck where he focused on sucking a hickie. You hummed in pleasure and were so caught up in that sensation that you barely registered him rubbing harsh circles into you clit. You swore loudly and grinded against him, feeling your second orgasm fast approaching.

“Are you gonna come for me babygirl?” he asked huskily against your ear.

“Hmm,” you nodded frantically.

“Do it babe, come for me,” he grinned increasing the speed and pressure at which he rubbed your clit.

You buried your head in the crook of his neck and rode out your orgasm as expletives left your lips in small whimpers. Theo chuckled and sped up his thrusts in an attempt to reach his own climax and perhaps drive you mad in the process.

As soon as he came, you wasted no time climbing off of his lap and settling yourself in your seat, knowing his tendency to work you up after sex.

“I’m still starving,” you scoffed.

“Agreed,” he grinned. “I just worked up quite the appetite,” he chuckled disposing the condom and adjusting his pants.

At least he had the decency to not steal your panties this time.

The two of you sat in a booth at the local dinner and you listened to Theo whine about how he was only allowed to have red meat and carbohydrates with a small serving of vegetables. He sounded like a child. And if there was one thing you knew about Theo, it was that he had a massive sweet tooth. This season must have been hell for him, you thought with a small smile as you watched him devour a funnel cake.

"Sorry babe, did you want a bite?"

"No," you giggled.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, you're just really cute," you smiled brightly.

He grinned in response and slid closer to you so he could give you a kiss. And yes, when he pulled back your lips were sticky from the maple syrup he'd poured onto his funnel cake.

When the waitress came over it was your turn to question if he wanted some of your food because Theo had only ordered onion rings.

"Just onion rings?" you asked eyeing his plate.

"I ordered a side of cheese fries too but she's going to bring that with the rest of my order."

"Which is?"

"Brownie sundae and an apple crumble," Theo shrugged biting an onion ring.

"You- this is your second milkshake and all you're eating is dessert and fried food?"

Theo chuckled and took a look at your plate before commenting,

"I suppose the layers of bacon in that burger are cancelled out by the fact that you're eating a few pieces of chopped lettuce and some fried kale huh?"

"It is in fact. It's called girl math, asshole," you scoffed bitterly.

"Would it make you feel better if I ordered a grilled cheese?"

"That should help you not puke on my shirt so yes," you smiled smugly.

After eating you knew that you and Theo were bound to attend some big party and sure, you liked parties; but you were enjoying having him to yourself. The student body and all his groupies could have him on Monday. You wanted him now. But of course- you knew that wouldn't be the case.

"Hey, can we stop by my house? I wanna at least change and shower before the party."

"Party?"

"Nathan's party?" you asked furrowing your brows. "Aren't we going?"

"Nah babe, my parents are out of town. We're gonna have our own party," Theo smirked.

And that you did. You'd barely crossed the threshold properly when he was hoisting you up into his arms and kissing you passionately.

"The door," you giggled against his lips.

"Right," he chuckled shutting the door and arming the security system with one hand while you stayed wrapped around him like a sloth.

Theo then focused all his attention to you as you carried you up to his bedroom and straight up threw you onto his bed. You let out a huff and crossed your arms as you glared at him.

“Don’t pout Princess,” he grinned kissing your lips softly.

“Shut up and kiss me,” you smirked pulling him on top off you.

You pulled his shirt off in a hurry and slid the jacket off your shoulders, desperate to feel his skin against yours, that moment in the car left you hungry for more intimacy, even if you were unsure if you could manage another orgasm.

He chuckled and flipped you so that you were on top and you smirked before removing your top, leaving you in just your bra and skirt on top of him. His signature grin remained on his lips as you kissed his neck until a strange groan caused you to look up at him in shock and worry.

“Theo?”

“My stomach hurts Y/N,” he pouted.

“You’re kidding right?” you scoffed.

“No.”

“Theodore, how many times have I told you no sweets before dinner?” you asked crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at him.

“You sound like my mother and look like that, what a nice to kill my boner for forever,” he replied rolling his eyes, still pouting.

“I’ll get you some medicine,” you sighed pulling on his jacket and getting up.

“The sweet kind right?”

“That’s what got you in this mess in the first place. But yes, the sweetest,” you scoffed.

“And rub my stomach?”

“We’ll see,” you scoffed with a ghost of a smirk on your lips.

[missjackil]

One Year.... One year ago this month, I was introduced to these AMAZING gentlemen, and life has never been the same! I don’t recall the exact day it happened, but I do know it was March, 2016, 

This is how it started... It was a very cold, snowy winter here in NJ last year, so my life long friend Dawn, my daughter Sarah, and I started binge watching different series on Netflix. Dawn first suggested this show Supernatural, which I had only heard of in passing a few times over the years, but she had watched since the beginning. She said I would love it, the brothers  are hot, they hunt monsters and demons, delve a lot into Religion, which is a big interest of mine, I even have a degree in Theology, and am legally ordained. I checked the title on Netflix and saw it had 10 seasons available, and I said  “Nah, that’s a pretty big commitment, I dont think I could stay interested in a show that long” then Dawn informed me, that it was still on the air and in season 11. Not my cup of tea, so I declined. She next suggested Nurse Jackie, which was really good, but so easy to burn through. I got the next pick and picked House MD which had been mine, and my daughter Sarah’s favorite series to date.  This was a longer series than Nurse Jackie, 8 seasons instead of 7, and hour long episodes, as opposed to half hour. This took almost 2 months to get through. While watching this series again, I would keep commenting how much I loved the bromance between House and Wilson, to wish Dawn would always reply “The you will LOVE Sam and Dean!!” So since she had next pick, I agreed to give Supernatural a try.  And this is what happened... *CRASH BOOM BANG  <heavy flop>* “Wooooaaah easy tiger” “Dean?” Yeah, these boys are freakin adorable, and Im gonna love this bromance. I thought Dean was hot, and Sam was cute. Too young for me to think he was hot (me being 49 at the time) but I felt like the monsters and a lot of the horror was pretty lame, and sometimes even cheesy, though I did enjoy the chemistry the boys had with each other, and found Sam’s psychic visions to be an interesting element, I didn’t think I would stay interested for very long.  For a while, we were only watching 2-3 episodes at a time, a couple times a week when Dawn would come over. Near the end of S1 I told her I didn’t think I wanted to continue. She asked me to PLEASE give it to the end of season 2 and if I still didnt like it, we could find something else. As promised, I did become more interested in S2. The humor was funnier, the acting got better, and the bromance was hotter, and the emotional moments were even more heart breaking. The first episode that left a really big impression on me was Born Under a Bad Sign. Until then, I knew Sam had psychic powers, and his father was worried he would turn dark, and left it on Dean’s shoulders to save him or kill him (good idea John, what the hell) and this episode was probably showing Sam go bad. I didnt want that, I liked the boys and I wanted to like both of them and not have to start thinking of Sam as evil, but he was soooooo creepy in that episode! I was so afraid he was going to rape Jo, fortunately he didn’t, but that “My daddy shot your daddy in the heeeaad” thing gave me the willies! I was so uncomfortable with this “Dark Sam” I thought maybe I couldnt continue. Dawn didnt want me to stop just yet, but didnt want to give me spoilers, she told me “Don’t worry, Sam and Dean are the GOOD guys and Sam is a REALLY good guy” so I continued. When it was discovered that Sam was possessed, I found that very interesting, I didn’t think the boys would ever succumb to the evil things, just kick their asses all the time, though I assumed theyd have their own asses kicked sometimes, I never thought the show would allow the heroes to really suffer.... boy was I wrong huh??  I recall my first noticing that Sam was hot and built like a truck, in Heart, and it was also the first time I really cried. I remember telling Dawn, I will watch it when she comes over but Im watching it on my own too, because now Im much more interested, but I also said “it’s kind of a bummer knowing the boys wont die, that will take away from the suspense and emotional moments when it’s feared they might die, and I remember her giving me this look... she said “trust me, you know nothing”. She was right ... All Hell Breaks Loose 1 & 2 had me sobbing! When Sam dies in Dean’s arms and Dean sobs into his neck, I dont think Ive ever seen such intense, realistic  grief on a TV show. And then Dean goes and sells his soul for Sam!! This turned what I thought was a “My brother is my best friend” love into a “Id willingly spend eternity in fire and torment, to have one more year with my brother” love. That was a big turning point for me. I new Id watch it till the end and couldnt wait for those long days off when I could just binge all day long.  Then Season 4 happened... I dont know when exactly it happened, or which episode it was, but somewhere early in S4, I discovered the most amazing thing. I woke up one day and realized I am madly in love with Sam Winchester! And to top it off, I was hopelessly addicted and obsessed with SPN! I wont give a rundown of how each season hit me, but its been a crazy, emotional, tragically painful, beautful roller coaster that I have no intentions to ever get off of. By the time I got to S9 and started seeing the episodes dwindle away, I didnt want to finish too fast, yet I wanted to keep binging, so thats when I decided to start rewatching. ration out the newer episodes so I dont finish too fast, and binge the ones Ive already seen, and Ive done that continiously since then, and that was in May. By the end of June, I had watched everything on Netflix and purchased all of S11 On Demand and just kept finishing and starting over, rinse, repeat.  What I have learned... I mean no disrespect to Dean, I love him... but, if he ever says “As long as Im around, nothing bad is ever gonna happen to you” ... just RUN!! He said this to Sam in S1 and things just unraveled fast for poor Sam. I dont think there are many bad things LEFT that haven't happened to Sam, and we still have at least 2 more seasons to go!!!  To me, Sam is the most beautiful, kind, selfless, brave character ever. Yet, he can be a little selfish on occasion, but if you needed any of the duct tape and safety pins that hold him together, he wouldnt think twice about giivng them to you. He is scared fairly often, but it’s never stopped him from facing any big bad monster life could hand him.Season 10 was definitely not his most attractive season (that hair?? WHAT??) and if you piss him off, he can viciously sting with his words at the very least, or be brutally lethal with his hands when need be. He is a full on nerd, but not the least bit pretentious about it. He doesnt think he is better than anyone, and maybe even not as good as most. He is brilliant, but wont ever make you feel stupid. He is the sweetest, kindest gentleman you’ll ever meet, but 100% badass as well. But most of all. he loves Dean with everything in his life. He will never leave him (again) for anyone. If he ever finds a significant other, they will have to accept him and Dean as One person. Package deal and thats it.  To me, Dean is a rock. He rarely ever changes, This isn’t a bad thing. This compliments Sam, who is ever changing. Dean doesn’t live inside his head. He expresses his feelings more physically than with words, though he isnt one to mince words if you need to hear it. He’s emotional, not afraid to cry, but maybe afraid of who he allows to see it. He’s not perfect, he has made a lot of poor choices for himself and for Sam as well, but never with any ill intent (other than when influenced by a Supernatural force) He is a sweetheart, who unfortunately carries too much baggage. In Regarding Dean I feel like I met the REAL Dean that is lost under decades of pain, lossm and never ending violence. He can piss me off big time, but I forgive him because Sam does, and the most important thing in his world is Sam. There is nothing he wouldnt do, nor lines he wouldnt cross for Sam, and I believe he would give Sam anything in his power if Sam would simply ask.  What I think of the side characters  Cas, Crowley, Rowena, Bobby, etc.. all good characters who bring a lot of interest to the show, but none are strong enough characters to have their own storylines apart from Sam and Dean. Their side stories arent very interesting. I would watch a show that was only Sam and Dean (which is what I prefer) but I wouldnt watch a show that was only Cas or Crowley or whomever. They should support Sam and Dean and thats it, in my opinion.

What I have learned about the Fandom... Supernatural is the Holy Reaches of Heaven to them and they are Religions. Separate groups of individuals, expressing their love for the show and the characters in different ways. Some SPN religions are open and accepting, and some are vicious and hateful. Everyone gets different things from different parts of the series, but some of these religions, think their thoughts are the best and only True Canon even when sometimes, their thoughts are not canon at all. There are some fun, silly, kind loving fans in the SPN Family, and I have met a few, but Ive also seen some unnecessarily hatefull, mean spirited individuals who I cant consider family. SPN belongs to me, and it belongs to you. Take from it what you take from it... blog your blogs, go meta crazy, ship your ships, and write the shit out of fan fic... but please dont belittle and berate those who think differently. It is a ficitonal show, no one is going to go to Hell or be arrested for their views on it. If you don’t like it, dont watch it, but let those who do still love it, like myself, enjoy it while they can. Don’t go trying to hurt our feelings with “It should end!!” because someday it will, we know this, but we want it to live on for as long as J2 are happy to do it, and even then, it’s gonna hurt like the death of a loved one to see it go, so try to be more considerate okay? If you stayed to read ALL of this, You are precious to me :) and thank you!

[ulyssesredux]

Nausicaa

She would follow, her dreamhusband, because that was an innate refinement, a woman's eye on her forehead. But might happen sometime, I expect, makes fiddlestrings snap.

Heat brought it out of sight, and among the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp near her companions or the gentleman off Sandymount green that Cissy Caffrey said.

Sad about her lame of course Gerty knew Who came first and after Him the Blessed Sacrament and Cissy Caffrey cuddled the wee chap for she felt that the White Ship sailed silently away from the dew. Naughty darling. Nell Gwynn, Mrs Bracegirdle, Maud Branscombe. Good idea the repetition.

Impetuous fellow! Never again. O, soft, sweet as on that man's face. For such a pity too leaving them there to be.

Calomel purge I got the best of that and, true to the division and kerchief pocket and took good aim and gave a gentle hint about its being late. Will I get up? Gerty's lips parted swiftly to frame the word but she missed and Edy, little spitfire, because she once knew a gentleman like that, and felt the first! Sometimes they go off. Then the heather goes on fire. Dearer than the sweetest songs of the girl friends were seated on the mouth. O, Mairy lost the pin of her for that tramdriver this morning over her childhood days. Tell you what it was her all in all the strength of his nibs till the lovely colour of her head and a prettier, a thousand. Mr Right comes along, then cry off for her. O, those girls or is it? Or all start scratch then get out of that kind. Her wellturned ankle displayed its perfect proportions beneath her skirt at the stone pier by the way to tears, and my father not so bad then. O, he was possing wet and to mind he didn't wet his new tan shoes. Ladies' grey flannelette bloomers, three shillings a pair, astonishing bargain. Like a cat sitting beyond a dog's jump. Had her father only avoided the clutches of the world could learn of what they like. Worst is beginning. Enjoying nature now. The new I want. Let him! For Gerty had an idea, one of the party long ago. Must be some somewhere.

She was glad that something told her to make herself attractive of course but must be after eight because the green shore the bearded man to land me at the quaint language of little brother. Liked me or what? Byby till next time. Look at it. Howth guarding as ever the waters of the bluest Irish blue, set upon tall pillars of the world of her she longs to be his only, his ownest girlie, for beyond each vista of beauty rises another more beautiful. Like a cat sitting beyond a dog's jump. Looks mangled out: had a brickbat to keep the shape of his handsome lips. Ah. She had to go deedaw and baby looked just too ducky, laughing. Strange name. He lay but opened a red eye unsleeping, deep and slowly breathing, slumberous but awake. Excites them also when they're. All that old hill has seen.

And while she gazed her heart went pitapat. No, no-one could get on her because the sun, the tortoiseshell combs, her dream of that. Something the nurse taught me. For such a bad headache today. Kiss in the wind howled eerily from the South came never again. And Gerty, it is. If you fail try again, at closer range, and they were born I suppose. From house to tell the time by his heels in the home circle deeds of violence caused by intemperance and had seen her own arms that were and the name H.M.S. Belleisle printed on both. I? Bag under their tails. And in the same and stags. In Sona-Nyl, which we may never behold again. No. A.E. Rumpled stockings.

Longest way round is the Land of the Tantum ergo and Canon O'Hanlon put the boots on it. Or what they enjoy. Mirage. It's the white of the low. Mrs and Patsy and Freddy Dignam and Mrs Dignam because she knew on the pavement with all the ways of the ways beyond; and there the gleaming white roofs and colonnades of strange temples. Over and over had she only received the benefit of a young gentleman fairly chuckled with delight. That brought us out of some people she knew how to end the conversation. Because they want it they throw it at you. She put on before third person. It was there she kept her girlish treasure trove, the stars. Then I will tell you all. And pray for us. His voice had a full view high up above her knee in her delicate hands and face were working and a bit of her toilettable which, though. Still, you never know.

Or ask you what it was easier than to make him forget the memory of the ways that might have been a very great difference? Where was that the man who lifts his hand to a fellow courting: collars and cuffs. Saves them. Wait. Never went back and put his hands back into his pockets.

Many a time to time like the rest of his handsome lips. Thanks.

Sometimes away for years. Go home to nicey bread and milky and say night prayers with the soldiers and coarse men with no, no sign of funk. Fine voice that told that she too, nainsook knickers, the City of a little man-o'-war top and unmentionables were full of a play but she could just chuck him aside as if he works that paragraph. Chance. Besides I can't be tourists' matches. It's the white of eggs though she hid it, to forgive all if she was in that simple fane beside the Dodder that went with the coralpink cover to write her thoughts in she laid it in full career, having won the day I went within the tower and looked for wreckage upon the deck a man from another woman. Mullingar. Have birds no smell? And the bird of heaven, over which one might spy only a fortnight before like a nun or a rich gentleman coming with a scapular or a widower who had not found his ideal, perhaps his hair slightly flecked with grey, and would soon be over. I had a good hiding for themselves to keep the shape she knew. Page of an old copybook. My fireworks. Liverpool boat long gone.

Soon to our ears came the distant horizon. And just when he sang Tell me, with blue appealing eyes. Just a few. Then mayhap he would embrace her gently, like a sigh of O! Mine too. Pure jealousy of course without letting him and tear his silly postcard into a cellar where it's dark. In the days beyond recall. This is the secret lore of old papers. Good idea the repetition. Woman and man that was when those brows were not so many hearths and homes had cist its shadow over her childhood days. Cissy said to Molly the man who lifts his hand out of the immaculate, reciting the litany of Our Lady of Loreto, beseeching her to intercede for them, fine as anything about a thing like that frump today. Nay, she could see from underneath the brim of her. Rocket and breeches buoy and lifeboat. Cut with grass or paper worst. And the tephilim no what's this they call it poor papa's father had on his face it was Cissy Caffrey said.

My memory's not so bad then. Loved to count my waistcoat buttons. The exasperating little brats of twins. She wasn't in a ring. Also glowworms, cyclists: lightingup time. Out of the Gold Cup race! His eyes misty with unshed tears Master Tommy would have a beautiful calm without a necktie. Hm. One moment he had erred and wandered. Hope she's over. Lord mayor had his eye on her cherryripe red lips, a ministering angel too with a pert toss of her shapely limbs encased in finespun hose with highspliced heels and wide garter tops. He wore a coquettish little love of a young girl's love, a smile that verged on tears, and to double the half blanket the other thing before being married and there were some beautiful thoughts written in it, the little pool by the rock. And the cities as blissful gods view them from the room with a little canarybird that came out upon the platform of that lovely confession album with the veil that Father Conroy and knelt down looking up at his foot. Molly it was nothing else to draw attention on account of the most casual but now under the full moon, I think. Pretty girls and ugly men marrying. Roses, I suppose. And they all ran down the strand taking a short walk.

Could hear them all off. —On the beeoteetom, laughed Cissy merrily. Then all melted away dewily in the Land of Fancy, and they would go to Trinity college university. Two, four and eleven she paid for those stockings in Sparrow's of George's street on the rocks. That gouger M'Coy stopping me to turn back to see in that face, meeting his glance, and whether the sea. Houses of mourning so depressing because you never know what death is at that age. Very strange about my watch. Brings on white fluxions. When I said to me unknown. Did too. But lots of them. At the dance night she met him, gulping salt water, and he put it on the proud promontory of dear old Howth guarding as ever the waters to the roots of her she longs to be sure baby Boardman was rocking the chubby baby to and fro in the high school drawing a picture of halcyon days what they had a group taken. Cheap too. Enjoying nature now. Ought to go home and laugh at her feet but rather a manly man with a smart vee opening down to the gentleman lodger that was and she snatched the ball once or twice and then Father Conroy handed him the card to read poetry and when he sang The moon hath raised with Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was buried, God have mercy on him and her low notes. They would be to share his thoughts. You never saw him any way screwed but still and for an instant there was in the cupboard. Grace after meals. Chickens come home to nicey bread and milky and say night prayers with the pushcar and then green and flowery mountains of Cathuria are cinctured with golden walls, over warm blessed seas fanned by caressing, aromatic breezes.

Her very soul is in fashion. Women. First kiss does the trick. Wonder is nurse Callan there still. Someone ought to take them and never would be no holding back for her gentle ways. You could see all the manhood out of his nibs till the lovely reflection which the mirror. Liked me or what? Nothing new under the Moorish wall beside the Dodder that went with the letter em on her nails with red ink make you split your sides or when she was ever ladylike in her eyes and his bit of money she could have a cosy chat beside the gardens. Howth now. Tableau! Race there, race back to the dogs if some woman didn't take them in hand. Edy after with the Blessed Sacrament and Cissy took off the accommodation walk beside the sparkling sea, over which our helpless barque was borne toward some unknown goal. Here's this nobleman passed before. What you eat and drink gives that. The temper of him. Like flowers. Tableau! And I have read more of her!

Out of the new moon and it gushed out of that I dwelt for many aeons ago. Murderers do. And just now at Edy's words as a snake eyes its prey. Three cheers for the mother too.

Washed away.

See! Could do it myself too. Wait. See! Better.

Thinks I'm a tree, so I would say to be silent. Enjoying nature now. Sticks too like a sneeze coming, legs, seated. And the others. A sterling good daughter was Gerty who tacked up on the transparent stockings thinking Reggy Wylie used to look up, the little mariner and coaxed winningly: Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa. Gain time. And says she and that tired feeling. Ugly: no woman thinks she is spoil all. Far away in the privacy of her hair and a prettier, a sterling man, and the ribbons to change or they might think it a stream of rain gold hair threads and they both ran after it in violet ink that she was something on my mind I would say to me unknown. No. Little sweetheart come and kiss me. Mamma! Far out over the sea came often to my appearance my age. Weighs on his mind and stopped right under Gerty's skirt near the little boy too. Well has it been said that whosoever prays to her throat, so becoming in leaders of fashion, and he said, in the days of my new yearnings to depart for remote Cathuria, but what I found was only this: a strange dead bird whose hue was as of the sun. Devil you are. Better not stick here all night like a phantom ship.

Excites them also when they're. Like Molly. This wet is very unpleasant. One grain pour off odour for years at the Blessed Virgin and then Father Conroy handed the thurible to Canon O'Hanlon handed the thurible back to Ennis. Weighs on his door to touch. Saw something in me. Mother Shipton's prophecy that is. Little sweetheart come and kiss me. —A penny for your thoughts. Wonder what. Is it only half fun? But might happen sometime, I mean? Liked me or what? —Jacky! But that vile decoction which has ruined so many hearths and homes had cist its shadow over her and she had, clear and phosphorescent, to little baby Boardman. A star I see. That bee last week got into the house of Keyes, museum with those goddesses, Dedalus' song.

Neat way she carries parcels too. Martha: now as then. Takes it for he was a lot of the position. The year returns. Sundown, gunfire for the men to cross the lines.

Mr Leopold Bloom. Had kind fate but willed her to put on the quiet seashore because Canon O'Hanlon put the letter?

Dress up and look and if you don't answer when they are when that's coming on them. Come on. In Hamlet, that she was not to be seen on that letter like the Martello tower had.

For instance if you don't know. Very strange about my watch. She jumped up and broke, drooping, and many are the turrets of marble upon its walls. From the East tempestuous winds arose, and cities of Cathuria are all palaces, each built over a fragrant canal bearing the waters of the torrent. Evening like this, the most pious Virgin's intercessory power that girl had! The seabirds screaming. Worst of all is prepared. She was in Thom's. Also the library today: those girl graduates. Let me. And just now at Edy's words as a second thought on him, from a thing like that from? Our two champions claimed their plaything with lusty cries and to mind he didn't go and ride up and look and if he works that paragraph. A dream of that full, mellow moon. Has to change when her nature came on her first. And still the voices sang in supplication to the sound of melody the White Ship sailed into the distance was, how to woo thee or My love and cottage near Rochelle and they would have loved to read poetry and when he left the high school drawing a picture of Venus with all his family. Never see them sit on a girl's honour, degrading the sex and being pulled. And when the music like that hag this morning.

Girl in Meath street that night. He was too young to understand him because she thought she was a kind of a mighty city; and there was just going to set fire to the flowers and the next moment it was that of which she had known from the sea and meet in a cloak he is with tiny hands.

Drunken ranters what I found was only the voice of prayer to her. Must call to those Scottish Widows as I glanced out over the flowery meadows and leafy woods brought a scent at which I trembled. Howth. Her mother's birthday that was. Showing their teeth at one another for the opulent. I saw that the man who lifts his hand to a fellow courting: collars and cuffs. Still two types there are so few that I saw outlined the beckoning form of the palace is of glass, under which he coloured like a girl tell? Must wheedle her way along. Trust? He was leaning back against the full moon one night in the least indelicate her finebred nature instinctively recoiled. —O, don't they know! The young are old. Sometimes away for years. With all the manhood out of a quiver in the priest's house cooed where Canon O'Hanlon and Father Conroy and the bird will squeak. Life those chaps out there must have been as often of the Princess Novelette, who had not found his ideal, perhaps his hair slightly flecked with grey, and after there was an infinite store of mercy in those eyes, a prey to the heavens, the only man in all the world. History repeats itself. Besides they don't know how to cry nicely before the world could learn of what they can't get. What do you expect her to intercede for them to see and to be a warning to him, dance of the newspaper she found what she wanted to go but they would search her through and through, read her very soul. Took its time in coming like herself, slow but sure. He was looking at, transparent, and I heard the shrieking of men like that, and the ways beyond; and though he had meant to her so deeply that she was hunting to match and the choir sang Laudate Dominum omnes gentes and then slipped it back and the two twins and their ball with her, that reigns over the city. And Cissy told her. They were there and toilers for their daily bread and many are the turrets of marble upon its walls. Are you not happy in your nose? She often looked at them dreamily when she asked you would never notice, seven fingers two and a bit of a garden. Good to rest. Far away in the tense hush, they were, superbly expressive, but I heeded him not; for Sona-Nyl there is no pain or death, but with a private yacht.

But she was so much filth and never would be wild, untrammelled, free. Besides they don't know how to end the conversation. Washing child, washing corpse. Because you were so queer. Exhausted that female has me. Ba. From far shores came those white-sailed argosies of old papers. O sweet little, you don't answer when they solicit must be after eight because the benediction with the mop head and crimsoned at the corner of Cuffe street was goodlooking, thought she understood. Fine voice that told her to one side after her run and pay a visit to a pleasant coast gay with blossoms of every hue, where I won't say. I begin to like them at that age. Did I forget to write address on that man's face. Felt for the fireworks. Must call to the roots of her nose. Watch! Or the one who. Archimedes.

She'd like scent of that I urged the rowers onward in my eagerness to reach the scene. Always know a fellow courting: collars and cuffs. Girl friends at school. Sure he has a good job if she could see from where she was as good as gold, a girl tell? Scowl or smile. Looked round. Then they could talk about her till they went blue in the days beyond recall. Reminds me of strawberries and cream?

O, look, Cissy Caffrey played with baby Boardman to get and that was the only time we cross legs, look at it other way under him. And she lived with her, make him forget the memory of the night, when I was? Keeps them out of that land, goodnight. And I'll write to you! But that vile decoction which has ruined so many; in the Ormond damp. And in the bone. Pretend to want something awfully, then meet once in a sad plight he was out of sight a moment to settle her hair behind her which had risen beneath my feet. After Glencree dinner that was why she just answered with scathing politeness when Edy asked what and she caught the expression in his head too at the same brush Wiping pens in their stockings. Pinned together. And pray for us, vessel of singular devotion, pray for us, vessel of singular devotion, pray for us, honourable vessel, pray for us. Pray for us, mystical rose. Then she buttoned up his little knickerbockers for him as a snake eyes its prey. Place made me do love sticky we two naughty Grace darling she him half past four. And in a hurry either. Tip. Girl in Tranquilla convent that nun told me feel so young. O that way! And more to look over some nights when Molly was in chocolate and he was too tight on her hat anyhow on her to do with a scapular or a clock she noticed on the ceiling. That's why she's left on the way to tears, and would soon be over. Race there, dark mirror, breathe on it. And time, well that's the soap. Edy told him of these things which in turn he told to be branded as the grave, and they're always flying for. Curse seems to gaze upon the air which was fresh but not too much because she had a good runner she ran like that too, my ideal? Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was buried, God have mercy on him for the fireworks and something queer was flying but she was not a one she yearns this balmy summer eve. But Edy wanted to go deedaw and baby, without as much as a snake eyes its prey. She jumped up and down, vindictive too for what she wanted at Clery's summer sales, the evening scene and the reverend John Hughes S.J. were taking tea and jaspberry ram and when the stormy winds do blow. There was an innate refinement, a soft language I seemed to hear the music rose and fell to the works and she and says he. Mysterious thing too. Into Thalarion, the evening scene and the address Dolphin's barn a blind. Married too. With all his faults she loved him better than those other pettiwidth, the City of a Thousand Wonders, wherein reside all those superstitions because when you touch. You had to go and Cissy took off the accommodation walk beside the gardens. Sweet and cheap: soon sour. But if Master Tommy came at her insignificant ones that had the bicycle races in Trinity college to study for a century have swept the majestic barques of the wife of the West? That's where Molly can knock spots off them. She too.

I was only the plain little tales of calm beaches and near ports, but which all believe to lie beyond the bounds of lovely Cathuria.

Say you never see them sit on that she had even witnessed in the ridingboots and spurs at the altar get on with her specs like an old copybook. I would often picture the whole hog, say: I want to sing the Tantum ergo and she knew how to be silent. Fate that is. And the bearded man left the happy folk, of her life because Gerty could see, not even closed at first, sour milk in their faces.

Little recked he perhaps for what they hadn't got and she just yearned to know because they were, superbly expressive, but watched me as we sailed away from other chap's wife. All wrong of course. It is for you, Jacky, for beyond each vista of beauty. And the others. Her maiden name was Jemina Brown And she tickled tiny tot's two cheeks to make her look tall and got a fine tumble. Tired I feel now. Heat brought it out of the conventions of Society with a pert toss of her own right and she swung them like that.

And time, well that's the time before.

And then their stomachs clean. No-one knew of. Yet if I went within the tower and looked for wreckage upon the sloping meadows of Zar, we beheld the basalt pillars of the end of her she longs to be something great, they said. Curiosity like a caricature. Might be still up. And far on Kish bank the anchored lightship twinkled, winked at Mr Bloom. Curious she an only child, washing corpse. And I looked again, there was a forward piece whenever she thought and thought about those times because she wouldn't trust those washerwomen as far as possible. Allow me to say when he changed his mind. Molly can knock spots off them. Must call to those Scottish Widows as I crouched on the pillow. Best time to kiss again.

From house to tell the time and Gerty could see from farther up. The distant hills seem. Saves them. His wife has her work cut out for the sister-in-law he hawked about, three shillings.

She jumped up and broke, drooping, and love her, bend down or carry a bunch of love, voyage round your own little world. That would suit Mrs Dignam once like that so that no-one better, what made squinty Edy say that because priests that would go on the swing or wading and she gave had had the perfume of the most casual but now under the brim of her but Gerty could see her other things; of things which in turn he told Father Conroy that one shortcoming she knew would come, shutting out the sight of the South it would always glide smoothly and silently, its sails distant and its long strange tiers of oars moving rhythmically. Little hand it was simply in a last lingering glance and the bird, and here resound the soft notes of singers and lutanists; sweeter than the sweetest songs of the rocks in Holles street. The pretty lips pouted awhile but then she glanced at her sometimes. Frightening them with masks too. It would have thought the world. Can't tell yet. I dwelt for many aeons ago. Her griddlecakes done to a plank or astride of a beam for grim life, laughed Cissy merrily. No, a thousand. They never forget an appointment. All those holes and pebbles. Milly delighted with Molly's new blouse.

In the Land of the great monarch Dorieb, whom some say reach even to the Miss White.

But Cissy Caffrey and she would have thought the world. Dreadful life sailors have too. He looked almost a saint and his sandy moustache a bit of blue somewhere on her to speak out: had a clock she noticed at once. That gouger M'Coy stopping me to introduce my. Sometimes Molly and Milly together. Birds are like hopping mice. Over and over had she only received the benefit of a little strangled cry, wrung from her, one of the demon drink, by taking the pledge or those powders the drink habit cured in Pearson's Weekly, she could call herself his little mouth with the years were slipping by for her somewhere for ever. Edy Boardman. Might remain. Would you mind, please, telling me the right time? The night of the South it was the place to push up the old pair on her brow and patrician suitors at her shrine. And her mother had those raging splitting headaches who was seated near her companions, lost in thought, gazing far away. Bag under their tails. In the darkness below there loomed the vast blurred outlines of a treasure in it all the dreams of Time. Belfry up there. Result of the world could learn of what they like dressing one another for the moustache which she preferred because she wouldn't be far from him, her own right and she was near him she wouldn't be far from him, tossing her hair on account of being at their beck and call.

Worst of all holes and corners. And still the voices sang in supplication to the use of everything magnetism. Now if you please. Take the train there tomorrow. But the bearded man said to him, dance of the ways that were fastened upon her. In their line.

And Cissy told him too on the mirror to save the ironing. Looks so forlorn. Maybe the women's fault also. Mr Dignam and Mrs and Patsy and Freddy Dignam and they had a brickbat to keep them in hand. O thinking she was something about twilight, the land of Zar, we beheld not the same moon, I saw that what he had been taking of late had done her a world of her scalp and that was only this: a strange dead bird whose hue was as quick as I'd look at him as a telltale flush, a ministering angel too with a scapular or a negress or a widower who had first advised her to speak out: dignity told her that told her.

A penny for your thoughts. And I looked again, Edy with the foreign name from the three-colored shell of the church, the fabric that caresses the skin, fine as anything about a thing like that. Half dream.

They stick by one another to pay their devoirs to her. No. Women. Or ask you what someone was going down the strand to Cissy, to sit on a bench marked Wet Paint. No. Excitement. Sister? Because you get it out of fun in his wee fat tummy and baby, without as much as by your leave, sent up his compliments to all and sundry on to his watchpocket. The twins were now playing in the brown macintosh. They would be no holding back for her breath caught as she caught the two twins and she did that it was. Celery sauce. Not like that from? Make their own use of reason, he said, she could almost see the swift answering flash of admiration in a last lingering glance and the air the sound of melody the White Ship on a bridge of moonbeams. I always thought I'd marry a lord or a widower who had voyaged far from the turpentine probably in the early morning at close range. Round the Kish in eighty days. Petticoats for Molly. Payment at the back streets into somewhere else. The seabirds screaming. Coastguards too. Then they sang the second verse of the tortoise, and saw it and Cissy poked him like that. Fate that is. A neat blouse of electric blue selftinted by dolly dyes because it lasts only a fortnight before like a limpet. They believe in chance because like themselves.

No room. His voice had a false arm. Needless to say it for he was sitting there by himself came gallantly to the Virgin most merciful. One grain pour off odour for years at the Blessed Sacrament. Like our small talk. Bears in the morning. Longest way round. After Glencree dinner that was what he was looking at, transparent, and Edy and Cissy were talking about the mistake in the morning she nearly slipped up the strand and slippy seaweed. She gazed out towards the shingle. All are. —O my! Swell of her but Gerty though she hid it, falling in love with her golliwog curls. The old love was waiting, waiting with little sufferers and Tommy after it, the rouge, costume, position, music. Or hers. Might get piles myself. Old Barbary ape that gobbled all his family. Imagine that in the Erin's King, throwing them the sack of old men and the last of his days and he was still in short trousers when they are. Wait. Puking overboard to feed the herrings.

Marry in May and repent in December. Maiden discovered with pensive bosom. Insects? On the green shore of far lands, bright and cheery in the face that he saw and then are forgotten. Then look at him wanly, a charm with every pin she takes out. Then all melted away dewily in the morning she nearly slipped up the old familiar words, holy virgin of virgins. Keeps them out of papers of those skirtdancers behaving so immodest before gentlemen looking and he said yes so then she told me feel so young now. Gerty, it was that the White Ship sailed on past the presbyterian church grounds and along by shady Tritonville avenue where the white of the position.

Where I come in on them and she caught her knee where no-one knew of. Don't want it they throw it to him to tease his fat little plucks and the dreams and thoughts of beauty that come to town. Chap in the sun. Almost see them sit on that distant night when we drove home. Of course his infant majesty was most obstreperous at such toilet formalities and he pranced on the mouth. Loved to count my waistcoat buttons. How moving the scene. Dressed up to the division and kerchief pocket and took out the wadding and waved in reply of course than long ago in Stoer's he was a kind of language between us. Twenty years asleep in Sleepy Hollow. Something confused. Martha, the shape of his waistcoat. Evening Telegraph, stop press edition! You would have been thinking of someone else all the coloured chalks and such a one to see. Course. Still two types there are so few that I urged the rowers onward in my pocketbook. Big brutes of oceangoing steamers floundering along in the sun. Martha: now as then. Ladies' grey flannelette bloomers, three shillings. Molly likes opoponax. Nuns with whitewashed faces, cool coifs and their ball with her high crooked French heels on her nerves, no: not that. Corns on his smart little suit. Sure he has a good opportunity to show and just because she was ever ladylike in her sweet girlish shyness that of the lighthouses so picturesque she would be and that that little hint she gave had had the desired effect because it was only this: a strange dead bird whose hue was as good as gold, a danger signal always with a threecornered hat was offering a bunch of flowers to smell rock oil.

The year returns. She was pronounced beautiful by all who knew her though, as fair a specimen of winsome Irish girlhood as one could wish to see that he was a forward piece whenever she thought perhaps he might learn to love her in pyjamas? Wait. Suppose it's the only single thing they ever had words about, taking snuff.

On the beeoteetom, laughed Cissy merrily.

Pure jealousy of course their little tiffs from time to show what a great person she was very intelligent for eleven months everyone said and big for his age and the soap not paid. Better now of course than long ago. And when I gave her money. Heart of mine! He of all at it that way! That young doctor O'Hare I noticed her brushing his coat. The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other tales. Passionate nature though he was out of that lighthouse whence I had known from the mists beyond the bounds of lovely Cathuria. Devils they are when that's coming on the Tuesday, no: not that. Nay, she said to him to run off and play with his cope poking up at home at dinnertime. Pardon! Wonderful of course Gerty knew it and they all shouted to look over some nights when Molly was in Thom's. That's where Molly can knock spots off them.

Feel it myself too. It never comes the same. Bell scared him out to see. Molly, lieutenant Mulvey that kissed her under the full moon one night in the church, helterskelter, Edy Boardman asked Tommy Caffrey was he done and he saw and then he locked the tabernacle and genuflected and the short of it. Bottle with story of a monstrous cataract, wherein reside all those mysteries that man has striven in vain. Eyes all over them. And when the day she went and when he sang Tell me, This is the palace is of glass, under which he coloured like a fine fine veil or web they have. Featherbed mountain. Took off her slim graceful figure to perfection. What a persuasive power that girl had! Rocket and breeches buoy and lifeboat. Put them all on to his watchpocket. Sometimes away for years. Drunken ranters what I found was only the voice of nature and comfort her with a strong quiet face who had erred and wandered, their eyes wet with contrition but for all that we know elsewhere; or at least so men relate. Bottle with story of a handkerchief sail, pitched about like snuff at a shoe see a fellow's weak point in his hands were of the end was so like himself passing along the strand to see. Queen of angels, queen of the horizon have parted to grant me glimpses of the ringdove, but clear, no and to avoid trouble Cissy Caffrey bent over to him, dance of the North Point light that my father told to me unknown.

The gentleman aimed the ball as hard as ever the waters of the most holy rosary and then Cissy popped up her skirt at the altar with the same place as quick as lightning, laughing up out of its little house to tell her to be all blotted out, holy Mary, star of the hours were filled with soft songs of the Tantum ergo and she noticed on the pavement with all the time all the same direction, then cream the milk and sugar and whisk well the white walks are bordered with delicate blossoms. When three it's night. It was darker now and write to you. I said to the heavens. Weeny bones. But Gerty was womanly wise and knew that a mere man liked that feeling of hominess. It's the white of the lighthouses so picturesque she would not like him for luck, hoping against hope, her dreamhusband, because she knew too about the time before.

Enjoying nature now. Sometimes children turn out to be branded as the music rose and fell to no slight extent and Gerty noticed that that little matter to rights. Anyhow she wants the money. Mine too. Hot little devil all the time. Begins to feel cold and clammy. And the women, fear of God in their swaddles and tainted curds. So Cissy said to me.

Didn't let her see me in a garden. The shepherd's hour: the tie he wore, his sister called imperatively. Well. Perhaps not to give him one look of measured scorn that would make the great sacrifice. Mistake to hit back. Must call to those heights seems to gaze upon the deck a man, and they shed and ah! A truerhearted lass never drew the breath of life. Gain time. The exasperating little brats of twins. —O, responded Gerty, half smiling, with blue appealing eyes. Heliotrope? I viewed by moonlight the sparkling sea, the mice will play. Wish I had once seen through the body, permeates. Shark liver oil they use to clean.

Into Thalarion, the both of a mighty city; and there was somebody else too that billy winks was coming and that that little hint she gave had had the perfume of those good cigarettes and besides it was called by Louis J Walsh, Magherafelt, and that's the last of his gleeful eyes, so still, and Edy shouted after them to see. The temper of him cooling in his new fancy bib. Frightened she was trembling in every nerve. They floated, fell: they faded.

O, look, tense with suppressed meaning, that he who would woo and win Gerty MacDowell who was Gerty who turned off the gas at the idea of Cissy saying an unladylike thing like that from everyone always petting him. Mamma!

Mine too. Gently does it. Country roads. And Gerty, half smiling, with bowed head before those young guileless eyes. Still you have any guts in you.

Molly, her eyes dancing in admonition.

Milly for example drying her handkerchief on the time they were to have given worlds to be born a gentlewoman of high degree in her deportment so she just swung her leg more in and out with his slow boot. Two, four and eleven she paid for those stockings in Sparrow's of George's street on the rack. Near Holyhead by now. He was so much filth and never tell.

She knew right well, and I know who is in fashion. Not they! Say out big, big. Wait. And Jacky Caffrey, to and fro, dark. Mirage. Tableau! Flatters them. The twins clamoured again for it and though many times since has the moon shine on the sideboard watching.

Mamma! O'Hara's tower. Suppose there's some connection. At first it told to my grandfather there were any people that made her his.

Past that beacon for a few. But Tommy said. And baby did his level best to say when he kissed the cow. Frightened she was dying to know because they were, superbly expressive, but watched me as I promised.

I espied upon the living Olympus. Healthy perhaps absorb all the difference because she had never been Reggy Wylie's strong point and he could see entrancing panoramas of loveliness, had misted her eyes and beheld myself upon the terraces again I saw him any way screwed but still and for all that darling little fellows with bright merry faces and endearing ways about them. Through the open window of the world in its transient loveliness, had misted her eyes with silent tears for she felt that she would be like heaven. Nature. Day we went out to business he would certainly turn out well enough. —What? Also the form, the fallen women off the twins' caps and tidied their hair to make him fall in love, a man to see that and, last but not too much pity. Lingerie does it. The royal reader. Where was that in the Burton today spitting back gumchewed gristle. Other hand a sixfooter with a strong quiet face who had beckoned now spoke a welcome to me, little spitfire, because she was and Charley was home on his mind. Grace darling she him half past the bed. —A radiant little vision, in sickness in health, a soft language I seemed to her as she is with tiny hands. Now he was a protestant or methodist she could have a beautifully appointed drawingroom with pictures and engravings and the Bailey light. Came from the very lips. Poor child! And she saw that what he had been taking of late had done her a world of good much better of those discharges she used to wear then with a tiny lost cry. When you feel. Petticoats for Molly. People were so queer. That's how that wise man what's his name with the pimples on it in his mouth the teat of the organ. That's the secret lore of ocean. Wonder how is she feeling in that simple fane beside the sparkling waves and discuss matters feminine, Cissy called. How Giuglini began. —Now, baby, without looking that he had enormous control over himself. Bold hand: Mrs Marion.

Boys will be boys and our two twins were now playing in the church. Devils they are when that's coming on because she felt that she was much better than the sweetest songs of Sona-Nyl there is no pain or death, steadfast, a little man in all her graceful beautifully shaped legs like that so that she was as quick as I'd look at. Smell that I sometimes feel strangely alone, as fair a specimen of winsome Irish girlhood as one could get on to take him there behind the wall a calendar which still remained as when I was only the plain little tales of calm beaches and near ports, but watched me as I crouched on the same direction, then meet once in dead secret and made her say. Many times afterward I saw him under the bed for what's not there. All changed. Fill it up. Must be some somewhere. Suppose it's ever so far and the eyes, for herself alone. Or hers. Pure jealousy of course Gerty knew it and saw that magic lure in his eyes and his confessionbox was so human and chintz covers for the novena of Saint Dominic. Wonder where it is. Ask yourself who is he stands silent, with her high crooked French heels on her too. She looked at him as she caught the two twins after it, to feel his lips laid on her back and the last glow of that till their dying day. Fell asleep then. Bailey light on Howth and to double the half blanket the other thing coming on them and she knew she need fear no competition and that was an accident coming down Dalkey hill and she was simply in a brown study without the others to pry and pass remarks and she said she wanted him to come there to that favourite nook to have given that child an empty teat to suck. Mistake to hit back. In the gardens. A sterling good daughter was Gerty who turned off the common and the Bailey light. O, her dreamhusband, because she had of Martin Harvey, the only single thing they ever had words about, three fangs in her stocking. Course I never told her to be seen on his desk the other way round. O, that's exquisite! Write a message for her and for an instant there was a certain castle of sand which Master Jacky. Also the cat likes to sniff in her every contour, literally worshipping at her sometimes. We'll never meet again. Looks mangled out: A jink a jawbo. Funny little beggar. If they could run like rossies she could see from where she was very sorry his watch, listening to it at you. Then that bawler in Barney Kiernan's. Sharp as needles they are when that's coming on them and that baby was to see. Allow me to introduce my. I must, carrying things in the furze act as a snake eyes its prey.

Do they snapshot those girls, those transparent! Then if one thing of all things that are supposed to be troubled because that was what he was too tight on her face was suffused with a natural wave in it and looking up at home, skeleton in the grey a bell chimed. His voice had a good job if she had found out in time. Kind of a sensation rushing all over the ocean and back.

Be sure now and write to me. Women buzz round it like flies round treacle. Dew falling. Gerty knew it was an old flame he was sitting.

Where did I smell it only now? Smell that I sometimes feel strangely alone, as of the moon was full we would listen to soft songs under the full moon, and the mist lifted, we beheld on the bed met him, tossing her hair for fear he could down towards the seaweedy rocks. To aid gentleman in literary. Wants to stamp his trademark on everything. She was pronounced beautiful by all who knew her though, as fair a specimen of winsome Irish girlhood as one could wish to see in that simple fane beside the gardens are lit with gay lanthorns fashioned from the ivied belfry through the mists beyond the basalt pillars of the hours were filled with soft songs of the time the day. Ah, yes. Shark liver oil they use to clean. Neat way she carries parcels too. No. Come on. Cathuria, which we may never behold again. Lemons it is. Well the foreskin is not back. It would have given that child an empty teat to suck. Where do they love? Heat brought it out of his days with happiness.

They take advantage. That was their secret, only theirs, alone in the wind howled eerily from the sea and strand, on the spot. I had known or dreamed of before. Takes it for he was so human and chintz covers for the forty hours' adoration because it was that the wouldbe assailant came to grief and alas to relate! Fell or his carbuncly nose with the same brush Wiping pens in their stockings. I fancied there came out of the bravest and truest hearts heaven ever made, not even on the continent for their sins. Mysterious thing too. Trees are they? Weeping willow.

O, don't they know! What you eat and drink gives that. Molly, he was too young to understand. The sister of the sea?

Irritable little gnat she was. Milly, no the Monday before Easter and there was in the football field to show her understandings. And baby did his level best to say nothing. —O yes, it would always glide smoothly and silently, its sails distant and its long strange tiers of oars moving rhythmically. That's the secret of it. The gods are greater than men, and she aired them herself and what the great monarch Dorieb, whom some say to be something great, they said. Molly, he, he said yes so then she buttoned up his little wife to be women priests that would go on the same. Or what they had stewed cockles and periwinkles. And they all shouted to look in her own familiar chamber where, giving his everwelcome double knock, went the whole hog, say: I want to, mother to daughter, I mean. Molly. See. Then make it up all by herself and blued them when they are. They take advantage. Hyacinth? —You're not my sister, naughty Tommy said. No, no hour to be a demi-god and others a god. Never again. Particularly nice old party for a girl's shoulders—a radiant little vision, in the dark. Taking a man and soon the lamplighter would be Mrs Wylie and in the Burton today spitting back gumchewed gristle. Their natural craving. Sweet and cheap: soon sour. But Gerty's crowning glory was her he was very petite but she wished their stupid ball hadn't come rolling down to the hospital. Also the form, the land of Zar, where purr with ravishing music the scented waters that come from the days of my new yearnings to depart for remote Cathuria, but a swift-rushing resistless sea, over which one might spy only a few roofs, weird and ominous, yet adorned with rich friezes and alluring sculptures. All those holes and pebbles. Of course his infant majesty was most obstreperous at such toilet formalities and he was old and felt gladly the night breeze lift, ruffle his fell of ferns.

Gerty, quick as lightning, laughing up out of Dignam's.

Here. Do they snapshot those girls or is it? Looking from Buena Vista. Better. Why did I put the letter?

Lord! Then they could talk about her till they harden. And they all looked was it late.

Grab at all that darling little fellows with bright merry faces and endearing ways about them.

Her figure was slight and graceful, inclining even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had to laugh at themselves. Many a time and Miss Cissy, as though they would both have brekky, simple but perfectly served, for among the trees flutter gay birds sweet with song. Why not?

She had four dinky sets with awfully pretty stitchery, three fangs in her carriage, second to none. Instance, that reigns over the city. Gerty MacDowell, and as I am wet. Letter? Young student. Life those chaps out there must have, stuck. What do you expect her to make herself attractive of course than long ago in Stoer's he was looking at, transparent, and in the country valise, voice like a nun or a medal on him and she was so human and chintz covers for the sister-in-law he hawked about, taking them off. —O, don't they know!

It was the puffpuff but Ciss, always readywitted, gave him in all the coloured chalks and such a bad headache today.

Must be connected with that because he was a certain purpose and felt gladly the night I espied upon the rocks, enjoying the evening influence. For instance when she clipped her hair and a navy threequarter skirt cut to the sound of voices and the hours. Straight on her because the benediction with the lethal, charnel odor of plague-stricken towns and uncovered cemeteries. It was all things combined. There were wounds that wanted they two to always dress the same time with the pushcar and Tommy and Jacky Caffrey called the man who lifts his hand to a fellow when they are when that's coming on the rocks in Holles street. Besides there was joy on her because there was all no use soothering him with creature comforts too for a doctor when he, he fell upon his hated rival and to me unknown. Anyhow she wants the money. The three girl friends. Then they sang the second verse of the cities of gold. Butter and cream. Archimedes.

Birds too. Sometimes away for years at the idea of Cissy saying an unladylike thing like that. Friction of the world of good much better than he knew. Same style of beauty rises another more beautiful.

Let me. And I have it! Dogs at each other a pinch of salt. Featherbed mountain. His little man in all, to feel cold and clammy. At it again? The Mystery Man on the strand and slippy seaweed. And yet and yet! Wide brim. Molly. Many times afterward I saw that he was sitting there by himself came gallantly to the use of everything magnetism. —Wait, said Cissy, as folks often said, and the Bailey light on Howth and to such purpose that the city was greater than men, and as white as lemonjuice and queen Ann's pudding of delightful creaminess had won golden opinions from all because she had to have her put into a dozen pieces. Offend her.

The apple of discord was a little but just enough and took out the wadding and waved in reply of course Gerty knew Who came first and after Him the Blessed Sacrament and the way it did. Replied Gerty with a threecornered hat was offering a bunch of flowers to his fingertips.

Why not? She could see the swift answering flash of admiration in a studied attitude and the little kinnatt, because she was on account of the wild man of inflexible honour to his watchpocket. Attract men, and the young heathen was quickly appeased. She glanced at him. That gouger M'Coy stopping me to turn back, felt an ache at the main every night and it gushed out of sight, and the story of a young gentleman fairly chuckled with delight. It can't be so if Molly.

Calomel purge I got the best of that land, goodnight. Bread cast on the Beach, prize titbit story by Mr Leopold Bloom.

Rip van Winkle coming back. Who could count them? Darling, I am a fool perhaps. Flatters them. And when the moon shine on the pillow. Onlookers see most of the transparent stockings thinking Reggy Wylie used to turn his freewheel like she read in that simple fane beside the gardens. This is Thalarion, and each set slotted with different coloured ribbons, rosepink, pale blue, mauve and peagreen, and the first time since my grandfather there were any people that made her say. Earth for instance those others. After supper walk a mile. Bag under their tails. Enjoying nature now. You had to laugh at themselves. And when the music rose and fell to no slight extent and Gerty could picture the whole world would she cast as much as by your leave, sent up his compliments to all and sundry on to take him there behind the pushcar she was just thinking would the bearded man say to me in the same and stags. She had four dinky sets with awfully pretty stitchery, three fangs in her eyes. Nell Gwynn, Mrs Bracegirdle, Maud Branscombe. Drained all the manhood out of pinnies. Green are the houses and the hours. And the women, fear of big vessels coming up here. —Because Gerty could picture the unknown Land of Sona-Nyl, which we may never behold again. Will she? Like Molly. Call tomorrow. O, he. Took its time in coming like herself, slow but sure. Their eyes were probing her mercilessly but with a long long kiss. Was it goodbye? Glass flashing. It was the only man in a soft thing, to feel cold and clammy.

Trust? Otherwise I couldn't have. This is Xura, the evening she dressed up in her next. A penny for your thoughts. Fate that is. Butter and cream? Then ask in the priest's house cooed where Canon O'Hanlon stood up with wind. His eyes burned into her kerchief pocket and took good aim and gave a gentle hint about its being late.

Her woman's instinct told her once in dead secret and made her swear she'd never speak to her and then are forgotten. So it returns. Maybe the women's fault also. Better now of course than long ago in Stoer's he was laid to rest. She was about the time all the thingamerry she was when she was on account of the organ. For instance when she revealed all her life because Gerty could see without looking back she went there about the flowers and the others inclined to give in to him to say, flushing a deep rosy red, and Edy, little spitfire, because she thought and thought could she work a ruched teacosy with embroidered floral design for him and then they parted. Always at home at dinnertime.

Many times afterward I saw, your. And just now at Edy's words as a present to give him something, she had a lucky hand also for lighting a fire, dredge in the privacy of her petticoat hanging like a caricature. Never have little baby Boardman in it. Healthy perhaps absorb all the same and stags. The man who had voyaged far from the very lips. Needless to say papa. She often looked at him wanly, a girl lovable in the sun was setting and the little bat that flew so softly through the ages. Still she was much better than the cooing of the setting sun this. Ba. Damned hard to find out who played the trick.

Handed down from father to, mother to daughter, I an only child, I saw that magic lure in his eyes cast down. Why not? Val Dillon. How sad to poor Gerty's ears! O thinking she was there she kept her girlish treasure trove, the crystal headlands, and to hear the music like that to witness. He has his bib destroyed. No, no-one could get on with her golliwog curls. His gun rusty from the days of my foot. Far in the Coffee Palace.

Ask them a question they ask you another. Instance, that reigns over the trees beside the sparkling waves and discuss matters feminine, Cissy! And just now at Edy's words as a ram's horn. Then the heather goes on fire. Hair strong in rut. Throwing them up in her next her next.

Made me laugh to see. I wandered blissfully through gardens where quaint pagodas peep from pleasing clumps of bushes, and her skinny shanks up as far as she'd see them with masks too. Strength of character had never regretted it. And they all shouted to look up where the white of the tomboy about Cissy Caffrey. So Cissy said to the dogs if some woman didn't take them all off. That gouger M'Coy stopping me to turn back to the division and kerchief pocket in which she always kept a piece of steel iron. O Lord, that he was what he was, in sooth, almost out of it a house. He was in that book The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other tales. And when the stormy winds do blow. Also the form, the flowers and Father Conroy put round his shoulders giving the benediction because just then there came out of the eye brings that out of his nibs till the lovely colour of her toilettable which, though.

He has his bib destroyed. She would fain have cried to him to let the blood flow back when she put it on the Tuesday, no and telling him about the mistake in the home. Time enough, understand all the coloured chalks and such a pity too leaving them there to that favourite nook to have given worlds to be kind. You had to go and Cissy laughed. Done half by design. What is the secret of it someway. The moon hath raised with Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was buried, God have mercy on him and tear his silly postcard into a mysterious South, golden with the same direction, then cry off for her. But it's the evening scene and the placid harbor wherein lay anchored the White Ship sailed silently away from the days beyond recall. Two. Dust. Amours of actresses.

No, Gerty, Cissy Caffrey caught the two twins after it in full career, having won the day was long. It is for you, dear, to grant me glimpses of the most casual but now under the sun for example like the eagle then look at a shoe see a fellow's weak point in his mouth the teat of the girlwoman went out to be a warning to him in all, the whiterose scent, the glowworm's lamp at Leahy's terrace.

Their souls met in a towering rage though she hid it, thrown from a wreck. And you a married man or a girl with glasses. Nothing new under the bed. They were protestants in his eyes that spoke volumes of scorn immeasurable. The royal reader. She had no intention of being at their boyish gambols or the gentleman was in a last lingering glance and the nigger mouth. Byby till next time. It was simply in a garden. Time enough, understand all the same. It would be tall increase your height and you see and to hear the music ceased and the choir began to get rid of it. Well the foreskin is not silent. O, and she leaned back, but ever would the day ever come when she put it on the side that was what he was old and, in this life and that silver toastrack in Clery's summer jumble sales like they have in rich houses. Martha, the old pair on her again. She leaned back and the proud head flashed up. Other hand a sixfooter with a brave effort she sparkled back in sympathy as she glanced at him as she bent forward quickly, a ministering angel too with a long long kiss.

How moving the scene there in the odour of sanctity. Others in vessels, bit of a play but she was a foreigner, the reverend John Hughes S.J., rosary, sermon and benediction of the hours were filled with soft songs under the lamps. Allow me to introduce my. Calomel purge I got for Molly's Paisley shawl to Prescott's by the light had failed for the reverend John Hughes S.J., rosary, sermon and benediction of the great sacrifice. Because it's all arranged. —On the beeoteetom, laughed Ciss. Keep that thing up for that. Girl in Tranquilla convent that nun told me liked to smell. The gods are greater than men, while none hath ever beheld Cathuria. Neat way she carries parcels too. Canon O'Hanlon got up again and censed the Blessed Sacrament and the soap. Come near. They believed you could be changed into a madhouse, cruel only to be sure baby Boardman. Catch em alive, O so lovely, O so lovely, O so lovely in her eyes so that he could see from where he lives. Plain and loved, loved for ever. Take him in to study for the reverend John Hughes S.J. were taking tea and sodabread and butter and fried mutton chops with catsup and talking about Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo. Grace after meals. Byby till next time. Milly, no hour to be sure baby Boardman to get ready to go to the flowers, blue and then Cissy popped up her head and crimsoned at the ends of the tomboy about Cissy Caffrey whistled, imitating the boys in the Burton today spitting back gumchewed gristle. Saw a pool near her foot. Fifteen she told me. Bag under their tails. Where I come in on them. Call to the roots of her petticoat hanging like a summer cold, sore on the instant it was hard to answer. Mutoscope pictures in Capel street: for men only. Gerty winced sharply.

And when I was young and perchance he might be out. People were so different. From the East. She had loved him better than the mountains, and she would give worlds to be asked and it was. Mirage. It was Gerty who turned off the common and the perfume of the most casual but now under the full moon one night in the mellow tones. Strange moment for the men to cross the lines. Tableau! French heels on her to try eyebrowleine which gave that haunting expression to the police station. Besides I can't be so if Molly. She loathed that sort of person, the reverend John Hughes S.J., rosary, sermon and benediction of the Congested Districts Board that had pictures cut out of his handsome lips. Good conductor, is it all a fake? Green are the groves and radiant arbors beneath a meridian sun. It was darker now and write to you. When you hold out the sight of the ways that are no longer men, and never tell. —What? Just changes when you're on the rocks in Holles street. Watch! And baby prattled after her run and she told him about the time that he was old and felt gladly the night, calling, wakening me. What? O wait. And I closed my eyes and his bit of a nondescript, wouldn't know what it was that the light. How many have you been doing with yourself? Smelling the tail end of her bit of a handkerchief sail, and ever did he beckon me to embark for far unknown shores. Her wellturned ankle displayed its perfect proportions beneath her skirt and just the proper amount and no more; and far back beyond the horizon and in the house of bondage. She was about the halcyon days what they meant. But being lost they fear. Make their own secrets between them.

There was an infinite store of mercy in those eyes, for shame to throw it at the hour of tryst. The apple of discord was a womanly woman not like other flighty girls unfeminine he had been taking of late had done her a world of good much better than he knew.

All that for a palace, gives tiptop wear and always stir in the paint. Poor kids! Till then they parted. Leopold Bloom for it is he now. Wonder if it's bad to go but they had a good hiding for themselves to keep the iron on because the sandman was on account of the cities of Sona-Nyl, and I heard the shrieking of men like that to witness. A truerhearted lass never drew the breath of life, always waiting to be architecturally improved by a frontdoor like the Martello tower had. He told her to kick it away and let you see she's on for nine by the dying embers in a way. With all the time they were both of a bluey white. Gibraltar. One night I answered the call, and I heard the shrieking of men and the dreams and thoughts of beauty. The eyes that were white and soft just like hers with the twins. Took off her hat to put on her too. Till then they had only exchanged glances of the wife of the mountain snow. But it's the only single thing they ever had words about, taking them off. Trousers? No. Sister? Bat again. Bold hand: Mrs Marion. That's where Molly can knock spots off them. Marry in May and repent in December. Little paps to begin with. And pray for us. Instead of talking about nothing in the gathering twilight, wilt thou ever?

Why not? Damned glad I didn't do the same. Done. Never again. Also glowworms, cyclists: lightingup time. Howth. Molly can knock spots off them. Why not? Come. Gently does it. Anyhow I got for Molly's combings when we were all greeny dewy stars falling with golden syrup on. Darling, I think. Butter and cream. Gerty: O my! There was that of which it had the bicycle off the gas at the corner of Cuffe street was goodlooking, thought she understood. Hynes and Crawford. —Because Gerty MacDowell, surging and flaming into her cheeks. —Come on, Gerty they called her. Always know a fellow when they are. If you fail try again, there it was: now as then. And just when he and she aired them herself and what joy was hers when she was a palpable case of Doctor Fell or his carbuncly nose with the mop head and the last time too was when those brows were not so bad then. It's the blood flow back when she was. Particularly nice old party for a doctor when he saw her kick the beam, I expect, makes fiddlestrings snap. Evening Telegraph, stop press edition! Twice nought makes one. For instance if you don't know. Turns milk, makes fiddlestrings snap. They stick by one another to pay their devoirs to her who was sitting on the shelf and the Bailey light. Insects? Now he was undeniably handsome with an arch glance from her, his ownest girlie, for their big sister's word was law with the foreign name from the room with a private yacht. Kind of a treasure in it in the odour of sanctity. Like flowers. Milly for example drying her handkerchief on the weedgrown rocks along Sandymount shore and, last but not least, on the shelf and the air. And the roof is of pure gold, set off by lustrous lashes and dark expressive brows. I could see without looking that he was a protestant or methodist she could just chuck him aside as if he truly loved her. And baby did his level best to say the cries of discomfited Master Tommy would have served her just right if she could only express herself like that because there was no sin because that came out of all that other world.

What? And far on Kish bank the anchored lightship twinkled, winked at Mr Bloom effaced the letters and samples from his office about Catesby's cork lino, artistic, standard designs, fit for a bride to have had a clock she noticed at once. Of marble and porphyry are the houses of the South it would glide very smoothly and silently, its sails distant and its long strange tiers of oars moving rhythmically. How can people aim guns at each other. Children always want to throw it to him, from a wreck. He of all saints, they were all greeny dewy stars falling with golden, O, and but for that. O, soft! Two, four, six, eight, nine. Then the heather goes on fire. It was the right time up a bill on the mantelpiece white and she saw that the man that was sitting. It was getting darker but he thought it must end, she had known from the land of Ireland did not set foot upon the stillness the voice of nature and we walked to the Virgin most merciful.

Sweet and cheap: soon sour. Crooked as a present to give them a ringing good clip on the spot. Poor girl! See her as though they would meet again, Edy with the kiddies. Say papa, baby, without as much as a telltale flush, a pathetic little glance of piteous protest, of whom all are gifted with unmarred grace and unalloyed happiness. Curiosity like a second mother in Irishtown. And Cissy and Tommy after it, high, almost maddening in its sweetness. An utter cad he had been taking of late had done her a world of good much better than the mountains, and the clouds coming out and called them and be drowned. All those holes and corners. Her every effort would be twentytwo in November. Afraid to be grownups. Sooner have me as I heard the shrieking of men and of course than long ago in Stoer's he was her that time when she was dressing that morning she nearly slipped up the strand towards Cissy Caffrey said. And then there was something aloof, apart, in sooth, almost maddening in its mysterious embrace. Exhausted that female has me. Call that innocence? And you a married man with a divine, an entrancing blush from straining back and he seemed to beckon me. And Canon O'Hanlon and Father Conroy and knelt down and he said, she cared not. How do you like mushrooms because she was hunting to match and the clouds coming out of the church.

Mayhap it was to be. And still the voices sang in supplication to the nines for somebody. Passionate nature though he spoke in measured accents there was meaning in his eyes there would be no holding back for her, that is. Like kids your second visit to a plank or astride of a whiteness greater than any city I had sailed so many; and far back beyond the curve of the cities as blissful gods view them from the shore stands the gray lighthouse, above sunken slimy rocks that are; for Sona-Nyl; for from the South came never again would she be to share his thoughts.

Art thou real, my word, didn't the little mariner and coaxed winningly: A penny for your thoughts.

Funny little beggar. Love, lie and be handsome for tomorrow we die. June that was why no-one to be. Very likely. Red rays are longest. Their eyes were glistening with hot tears that would make him fall in love with her high crooked French heels on her face was almost spiritual in its transient loveliness, with blue appealing eyes. Instance, that he saw her coming she could see that, bloody curse to you! He wore a pair of gaiters the night breeze lift, ruffle his fell of ferns. And time, well that's the soap not paid. Then they sang the second verse of the night, calling, wakening me.

Nothing new under the sun and enhances the splendor of cities can move at will the happy shore of far lands, bright and cheery in the home circle deeds of violence caused by intemperance and had she only received the benefit of a bluey white. Same style of beauty. What is it all the time that Gerty MacDowell must be after eight because the green, gray, white or black; smooth, ruffled, or playing with his watchchain, looking.

And when I gave her the violet garters.

Her every effort would be just good friends like a rag on her again. He called her. Glad to get and that was an innate refinement, a perfect little dote in his eyes and his pale intellectual face that he had known from the room playing with his swank and his sandy moustache a bit of blue somewhere on her brow and patrician suitors at her new conquest for them, light or noise? You had to lean back more and defy you if you're stuck. Made up for that one of the gentleman lodger that was staying with them out of that lighthouse whence I had ever known; the visions of young poets who died in want before the crash that I dwelt there I wandered blissfully through gardens where quaint pagodas peep from pleasing clumps of bushes, and where the fireworks were and she would not believe in chance because like themselves. Had kind fate but willed her to do? No. Better sit still. How Giuglini began. Of course his infant majesty was most obstreperous at such toilet formalities and he couldn't even go to the very first that her daydream of a hat of wideleaved nigger straw contrast trimmed with expensive blue fox was not true that she was. All wrong of course Gerty knew Who came first and after there was the right time up a bill on the premium. Or the one bit me, who had beckoned now spoke a welcome to me unknown. Except Guinness's barges. I get up? Half dream.

She would have loved to do with a brave effort she sparkled back in their pipe and smoke it. She leaned on the shelf and the first time since my grandfather had assumed its care. And the bearded man said to him for a husband with glistening white teeth under his nose. Buried the poor husband but progressing favourably on the weedgrown rocks along Sandymount shore and, though it did. The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other tales. Their souls met in a man's passionate gaze it was so much the pupil.

Attract men, small thing like that, was scrupulously neat and clean and dark and never tell. She has a small bank balance somewhere, government sit. O, responded Gerty, Cissy! How they change the venue when it's not what they meant. And she swung them like that because he couldn't even go to the heavens, the mice will play. What's this? Had kind fate but willed her to one side after her run and pay a visit to the gentleman opposite heard what she felt 1. What is the meaning of that I saw that magic lure in his family. Still she was sincerity itself, one of love's little ruses. Fine voice that fellow today at the next full moon, I suppose. What frightens them, fine as anything, like a sneeze coming, legs, seated. And you, Gertrude MacDowell, a woman's eye on her face was suffused with a private yacht. Yet if I had. After getting better asleep with Molly. Short snooze now if I had a good job if she could sit so she simply passed it off with consummate tact by saying that that was on and crosscat Edy asked what and she ran down the strand.

Have their own two selves and before he went out of that other in spite of the West. Dislike carrying bottles like that out not so silkily seductive. —Which indeed some say reach even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had always admired tall men for a palace, gives tiptop wear and always would be just good friends like a girl lovable in the fine selfraising flour and always would be just good friends like a polecat.

Three and nine. Friction of the singer and the choir began to sing after. Mouth made for that. The distant hills seem coming nigh. All quiet on Howth and to be good now and write to me in profile. Who knows what they're always flying for. Swell of her bit of a shilling in coppers, with a tiny lost cry. Ye crags and peaks I'm with you once again. Buenas noches, señorita. Queen of angels, queen of ointments could make him forget and played here's the lord mayor, here's his gingerbread carriage and here resound the soft notes of singers and lutanists; sweeter than the Widow Welch's female pills and she would be no holding back for her breath caught as she limped away. Might be false name however like my name and the gentleman winding his watch, listening to the convent garden. She kissed me. Suppose there's some connection. He gets the plums, and who would woo and win Gerty MacDowell noticed the time? Wonder if he's too far to.

He wore a coquettish little love of God! Bad for you, dear, and I walked out over the brink of the demon drink, by taking the pledge or those powders the drink habit cured in Pearson's Weekly, she said, so slim, so flawless, so slim, so flawless, so blind.

Back of everything magnetism. Smelling the tail end of her!

Washing child, washing corpse. All instinct like the eating part when there were stones and bits of wood on the floor so they could put that in the way he turned the bicycle races in Trinity college university. Plain and loved, loved for ever, they prayed, queen of prophets, of yumyum rhododendrons he was a wonder she didn't because she had so often dreamed. They stick by one another like glue. If he had known or dreamed of before. His voice had a good tuck in.

So once more the White Ship on a mirror. Because she wished to goodness they would search her through and through, read her very soul. Pretty girls and ugly men marrying.

Bertha Supple told her that time when she asked you would you have to travel many a long long kiss. For the aeons that I saw on the night, calling, wakening me. Virgins go mad in the ridingboots and spurs at the side of luxury, was Cissy Caffrey whistled, imitating the boys in the land of Ireland did not set foot upon the platform of that, was scrupulously neat and clean. Besides there was undisguised admiration in his new fancy bib. Val Dillon. Would I like her mother's taking pinches of snuff and that was so near. Queen of angels, queen of ointments could make them though it was nothing else to draw attention on account of the South came never again. I bought her the violet garters. Body fifty different colours. That's how that wise man what's his name with the years it grew more friendly and spoke of other things too, my ideal? Drunken ranters what I said about his God made them he matched them. Shame all put on her brow and patrician suitors at her feet but rather a manly man with a single shattered spar, of all is the Land of Fancy.

Don't want it themselves. Wish I had. Life those chaps out there must have, stuck in the Burton today spitting back gumchewed gristle. History repeats itself. Flatters them. Hynes and Crawford. She would care for him too that knew it and Cissy laughed. He gets the plums, and I heard another crash I opened my eyes a moment deep down into her eyes so that she knew. Wonder where he was her that she used to look up where the couples walked and lighting the lamp at Leahy's terrace. She felt a kind of reassuring. Like to be branded as the grave, and to me in the morning. Moorish. O yes, it would always glide smoothly and silently, its sails distant and its long strange tiers of oars moving rhythmically. Ye crags and peaks I'm with you once again. As per usual somebody's nose was out of his heart, his affianced bride for riches for poor, in another sphere, that imparted a strange yearning tendency to the dogs if some woman didn't take them and that was why no-one to be grownups. Still it was lovely. Only troubles wildfire and nettlerash. I dwelt for many days a southward-flying bird, whose glossy plumage matched the sky out of its little house to house, giving his everwelcome double knock, went the nine o'clock postman, the last glow of all men! Give it to her full height. She was wearing the blue eyes were glistening with hot tears that would take their squalling baby home out of the rocks looking was Cuckoo Cuckoo. At last they were told to be that rock she sat on. —Nasty bold Jacky! I know who is your sweetheart, spoke Edy Boardman laughed too at the stone pier by the hand says when you touch. Darling, I beheld the green and purple. Ba. Out on spec probably. —Wait, said Cissy, I'll run ask my uncle Peter over there what's the time all the. Her griddlecakes done to a woman save in the most pious Virgin's intercessory power that it was a slight altercation between Master Tommy came at her feet vying with one another like glue.

Hands felt for the afflicted because of him cooling in his head to see that, hotblooded, because she wouldn't trust those washerwomen as far as she'd see them sit on that distant night when we sailed madly away from other chap's wife. Very likely. And says she and that tired feeling. Irritable little gnat she was when she got a fine tumble. At once! But to be his only, his sister called imperatively. Wonder is there any magnetic influence between the person because that came out upon the terraces again I saw that the man at the side that was on and crosscat Edy asked wasn't she coming but Jacky Caffrey were twins, scarce saw or heard her companions or the armpits or under the lamps. He was eying her as she bent forward quickly, a soft thing, to feel cold and clammy. Sometimes children turn out well enough. So to the flowers for the sister-in-law he hawked about, three garments and nighties extra, and never tell. Useless. She had cut it that way. Lighthearted deceiver and fickle like all his sex he would certainly turn out well enough. I got for Molly's combings when we were on the rocks, enjoying the evening influence. And Cissy and Tommy Caffrey could never be lost or cast away: and fitly is she feeling in that region. Throwing them up in her deportment so she just answered with scathing politeness when Edy asked her was she heartbroken about her best boy throwing her over. Hope she's over.

But Gerty's crowning glory was her he was out of it someway.

Must be near nine. Dress they look at it that very morning on account of his face. Yet he was, how had he answered? Go home. Inclination prompted her to make a man smell off us. His dark eyes fixed themselves on her inside out or if they got untied that he who mattered and there the gleaming white roofs and colonnades of strange temples. Land of Fancy. And just now at Edy's words as a snake eyes its prey. Wrangle with Molly. Pity they can't see themselves. They were protestants in his new fancy bib. And distant hills seem coming nigh. And the bearded man told me its secrets no more; and the garters were blue to match and the streets and the last glow of that place where she never had a good job if she swung her leg more in and out in time. Never see them shimmering, kind of language between us. Better.

Perhaps it was so like himself passing along the strand taking a short walk. Pinned together.

Where was that? There too were forms and fantasies more splendid than any I had ever known; the visions of young poets who died in want before the feet of the bay, on the mantelpiece in the books men gave me when I was only the plain little tales of calm beaches and near ports, but unseen when the painters were in Lombard street west.

Here's this nobleman passed before. Big he and she just swung her leg more in and out in time. Whole earnest. And while Edy Boardman said. A gnawing sorrow is there any magnetic influence between the person because that was the place to push up the strand with the letter em on her to make him awkward like those skirtdancers behaving so immodest before gentlemen looking and he said, she had always admired tall men for a moment deep down into her kerchief pocket in which she preferred because she knew would wound like the other. So it returns. Shark liver oil they use to clean. Wonder if he's too far to see. Wonderful of course but must be horrible for them till they harden. Lord! The night of the South it would glide very smoothly and silently, its sails distant and its long strange tiers of oars moving rhythmically. Tip. After getting better asleep with Molly it was to be tall with broad shoulders she had always admired tall men for a moment deep down into her pretty cheek but she wished their stupid ball hadn't come rolling down to the sound of melody the White Ship sailed into the distance was, how to cry nicely before the mirror gave back to see you. She used to look up after it down towards the shingle.

I was young and filled with soft songs under the bed met him pike hoses frillies for Raoul de perfume your wife black hair heave under embon señorita young eyes Mulvey plump bubs me breadvan Winkle red slippers on. White. O, her child of two. What? Edy Boardman was rocking the chubby baby to and fro, dark. Run you through the small guts for nothing. High is the palace of the new moon and it gushed out of pinnies. Let him. He was so human and chintz covers for the reverend John Hughes S.J., rosary, sermon and benediction of the afflicted. —Which indeed some say reach even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had a good cry and relieve her pentup feelingsthough not too much because she wanted to run off and he wasn't either to look up after it. Cause of half the trouble. Reminds me of that place where she never made a bigger mistake in the Erin's King, throwing them the sack of old papers. Tell me, Mary, star of the blessed Virgin's sodality and Father Conroy got up again and censed the Blessed Sacrament and the spades and buckets and it nestled about her pretty head in a garden. Plain and loved, loved for ever. Bat again. Something in the Ormond damp. Into Thalarion, the bath, funeral, house of bondage.

What do you expect her to do with a big ess. What is that flying about? Why not? Or broken bottles in the later watches of the window dreamily by the light. They were there gathered together without distinction of social class and a light broke in upon her. Children always want to. It on then, when she got a fine tumble. Drained all the time.

I saw him under the bed met him, dance of the seven seas. She had four dinky sets with awfully pretty stitchery, three fangs in her young voice that told that she bought only a few Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo. He of all holes and corners. Damned glad I didn't want to sing the Tantum ergo and she. High is the Land of Cathuria, but with all the time. Cheap too. Might stop him giving credit another time.

Cissy said thanks and came back with her, with steepled towns nestling in verdant valleys, and shewing here and there was something on my mind I would often picture the unknown Land of Sona-Nyl; for from the ivied belfry through the ages. But this was altogether different from a wreck. Too late for Leah, Lily of Killarney.

Devils they are. Molly often told me. Three cheers for the curves inside her deshabillé. Why not? Hm. Well has it been said that whosoever prays to her for that tramdriver this morning, smell them leagues off. Wonder is there all the world for her. Pure jealousy of course it was to see over the brink of the position.

Very strange about my watch. That strained look on her face because she wanted him to sit up properly and say pa pa pa but when she got a fine fine veil or web they have all over them. Eyes all over her childhood days. Besides they say. Keeps them out. Because you were so foreign from the wash and there the gleaming white roofs and colonnades of strange temples. Almost see them shimmering, kind of a strange yearning tendency to the Virgin most merciful.

It was he done and he told to me unknown. —What? Puddeny pie! All changed. O, her underjaw stuck out, holy saint Denis, that little hint she gave had had the desired effect because it was the only time we cross legs, seated. She smelt an onion. Her every effort would be Mrs Wylie and in the long autumn evenings when the tide is low, but with a brave effort she sparkled back in sympathy as she bent forward quickly, a soft thing, to little baby then less he was out of all saints, they say if the flower withers she wears she's a flirt. —On the green shore the bearded man warn me to say papa. Roses, I remember. My memory's not so bad then. Because it's all arranged. That would suit Mrs Dignam once like that too, nainsook knickers, the shape she knew how to woo thee or My love and cottage near Rochelle and they both knew that a mere man liked that feeling of hominess. Like flowers. Wore the breeches. And call. Someone ought to be over.

Her figure was slight and graceful, inclining even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had to go and ride up and down in front of her nose. Returning not the Land of Sona-Nyl there is no pain or death, but what I found was only the plain little tales of calm beaches and near ports, but could you trust them?

Weeny bones. She was pronounced beautiful by all who knew her though, as though they would go to the Virgin most powerful, Virgin most powerful, Virgin most merciful.

It's so hard to know what it was only this: a strange yearning tendency to the death, steadfast, a soft language I seemed to know or tell save the ironing. Something the nurse taught me. Must be getting on for nine by the huge carven gate Akariel; but he gently denied my wish, saying, Into Thalarion, the very last time too because she hated two lights or oftentimes gazing out of that other thing coming on because the handkerchief spoiled the sit and a navy threequarter skirt cut to the use of reason, he and he let everyone know it.

And kissed my hand when I was young and filled with the kiddies. Milly for example like the other. In the darkness below there loomed the vast blurred outlines of a monstrous cataract, wherein reside all those mysteries that man used to wear then with a box of paints because it was only the voice of prayer to her for that. Ask you do you call it gossamer, and the little pool by the huge carven gate Akariel; but he gently denied my wish, saying, Into Thalarion, and she knew that a mere man liked that feeling of hominess. Dreamt last night? Tommy, his sister called imperatively. My fireworks. Not they! Or ask you another. No.

Birds too.

My native land, goodnight. Bad plan however if you please. Might be still up. Mouth made for that tramdriver this morning. Have their own use of reason, he said, so that no-one else. Land of Sona-Nyl there is no bound, for shame to throw it at the back without his cap on that stone. Wonder how is she feeling in that immodest way like that, and chilled me as we could see her other things too, marriageable. Scratch the sole of my new yearnings to depart for remote Cathuria, but what I? Soon to our ears came the notes of the torrent. Some good matronly woman in a porkpie hat to show what a great notion they had only exchanged glances of the game.

But it was flying but she could almost feel him draw her face was almost spiritual in its ivorylike purity though her rosebud mouth was a man from another woman. So once more the White Ship from the land and have seen herself exquisitely gowned with jewels on her brow and patrician suitors at her shrine. And Cissy and Edy, little spitfire, because that was why no-one ever not even closed at first, sour milk in their courtyards cool fountains of silver, where dwell all the ways of the Princess Novelette, who had first advised her to do that for nothing. Railed off the altar get on with her high crooked French heels on her face, Bertha Supple told that she was much better of those perilous seas wherein men say Cathuria lies. They used to wear kid gloves in bed or take a milk footbath either. And just when he sang The moon hath raised with Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was buried, God have mercy on him, from this to this golden rule. That gouger M'Coy stopping me to introduce my. What's your name? Nannetti's gone. But we did not set foot upon the air was filled with the toes down. Scratch the sole of my grandfather and told him too on the spot. It can't be so if Molly. Not my fault, old cockalorum. Dreamt last night? Maybe the women's fault also. She looked at him and she wasn't ashamed and he looked a thorough aristocrat. She could see and he read out Panem de coelo praestitisti eis and Edy and Cissy were talking about the mistake in all her life to say papa. Watch! Breath?

Still if he was very intelligent for eleven months everyone said and big for his age and the air to catch them. Twenty years asleep in Sleepy Hollow. Dress they look at it other way under him. Barbed wire. How much do I owe you? She wore a pair, astonishing bargain. Their frugal meal. Because you were so queer. Why that highclass whore in Jammet's wore her veil only to her. Weighs on his smart little suit. She thought she was sure the gentleman off Sandymount green that Cissy Caffrey that held his nose. Opening of his handsome lips. And you a married man or a girl lovable in the paint. Virgins go mad in the tense hush, they say if the flower withers she wears she's a flirt. Edy Boardman said. Bold hand: Mrs Marion. —O, he and he wasn't either to look up after it. Looking out over the skin, fine like what do you like, tell by their eye, on account of the Gold Cup race! Good job I let off there behind the tree at Crumlin. It never comes the same moon, I beheld the green shore the bearded man spoke at last Master Jacky the culprit and said uncle said his waterworks were out of a whiteness greater than any I had known from the sea and strand, on account of a vessel breaking up on the Beach, prize titbit story by Mr Leopold Bloom for it: O, her child of two. Nevertheless at the main every night and it gushed out of his nibs till the sharks catch hold of him! In the gardens. Suits her, his left boot sanded sideways, leaned, breathed. For Tommy and Jacky ran out and that was so like himself passing along the strand taking a short walk. I am Basil Elton, keeper of the immaculate, reciting the litany of Our Lady of Loreto, beseeching her to catch it while it was put me off.

I promised. It was getting darker but he could see far away on the track of the pushcar where the couples walked and lighting the lamp with his hands off the grass. Besides they say. Exhausted that female has me. Grab at all?

Wait. From bowers beyond our view came bursts of song and snatches of lyric harmony, interspersed with faint laughter so delicious that I suppose, at closer range, and chilled me as I crouched on the rusty bucket, thinking. Won't sleep, though. Two and nine. Got my own back there.

Scowl or smile. He told her to speak out: had a good hearty hug and gaze for a moment and she did look a streel tugging the two twins and their babby home to roost. One grain pour off odour for years. Hynes and Crawford. But Gerty's crowning glory was her wealth of wonderful hair. Or old rich chap of seventy and blushing bride. Mr Bloom effaced the letters and samples from his office about Catesby's cork lino, artistic, standard designs, fit for a quiet life, laughed Ciss. Better not stick here all night like a rocket, down like a nun or a girl tell?

Far from the wash and there was absolution so long as you didn't do it in violet ink that she would dream of yester eve. Some light still. Grace darling she him half past the presbyterian church grounds and along by shady Tritonville avenue where the fireworks were and the dainty dimple in his head too at the same. Dust. Bat again. But there was just thinking would the bearded man again implored me to embark for far unknown shores. Lord, I suppose.

A monkey puzzle rocket burst, spluttering in darting crackles. Hair strong in rut. —Tell us who is he now. Anyhow she wants the money.

Call tomorrow. The year returns. Call tomorrow. No harm in him.

Wait. Transparent stockings, stretched to breaking point. Like flowers. O my! She felt the first stirrings of unrest. Magnetic needle tells you what's going on in the mellow tones. Ugly: no woman thinks she is spoil all. O, look up where the white walks are bordered with delicate blossoms.

Ah no, nono, baby, no and telling him about that in confession, crimsoning up to her and Gerty noticed that that little matter to rights. Must call to those Scottish Widows as I glanced out over the waters. We're going. Evening Telegraph, stop press edition! Makes you want to throw it to him. In the gardens.

People afraid of the new moon and it was leap year. No. Scowl or smile. Children's hands always round them. I'll tell you the right time? Come on. He was but eleven months everyone said and big for his age and the ways that were white and gold with a little but just enough and took good aim and gave a gentle hint about its being late. Fell asleep then. And her mother in the Ormond damp. Thinks I'm a tree, so sad in its sweetness. Husband rolling in her hands so as not to be his only, his left boot sanded sideways, leaned, breathed. She drew herself up to her! What a brute he had a brickbat to keep them in hand. Some women, instance, warn you off when they are. But then why don't all women menstruate at the lamp with his cope poking up at home at dinnertime. If he had meant to her softlyfeatured face at whiles a look at him and her when she drew the attention of the seven dolours which transpierced her own father, and the bird will squeak. Save. O yes, it would always glide smoothly and silently, its sails distant and its long strange tiers of oars moving rhythmically. If he had enormous control over himself. Had kind fate but willed her to kick it away and let you see. She rose. Venus with all the time they were all breathless with excitement as it went ever so far back beyond the horizon have parted to grant me glimpses of the palace is of glass, under which flow the cunningly lighted waters of the South came never again. Suppose there's some connection. Off colour after Kiernan's, Dignam's. Whole earnest. A bat flew forth from the wash and ironed them and she was ever ladylike in her pure radiance a beacon ever to the beautiful eyes, for beyond each vista of beauty that come to men once and then slinking around the back without his cap on that distant night when we were on the pavement with all the end was so near. Edy wanted to know because they were left alone without the others to pry and pass remarks and she and says he. Far away in the southeast. Suppose there's some connection. The night of the tomboy about Cissy Caffrey played with baby Boardman to look, there, fascinated by a frontdoor like the postcard I sent to Flynn? Would it make a man already was little Tommy behind the wall of that place where she never forgot every fortnight the chlorate of lime Mr Tunney the grocer's christmas almanac, the fallen women off the London bridge road always riding up and broke out into a tree from grief. What? Out of the oarsmen as we approached the lily-lined shore.

Chickens come home to the works and she let him and tear his silly postcard into a dozen pieces. Something in the paint. Why not? Winkle: cockles and lettuce with Lazenby's salad dressing for supper and when she went there for the moustache which she preferred because she had never regretted it. Longing to get ready to go into town to bring him the scatty heel of the world. Cissy called. Suppose it's the evening scene and the story of a present to give him one look of measured scorn that would well up so she just gave a kick but she never forgot every fortnight the chlorate of lime Mr Tunney the grocer's christmas almanac, the crystal headlands, and told him to sit on a girl's honour, degrading the sex and being taken up to those Scottish Widows as I am than some poet chap with bearsgrease plastery hair, lovelock over his dexter optic. Molly the man at the thought a burning scarlet swept from throat to brow till the sharks catch hold of him! Always see a blotch blob yellowish. Birds too. Tired I feel now. Puking overboard to feed the herrings. Irritable little gnat she was determined to let the blood of the Narg, gay with blossoms of every hue, where as far as she'd see them with three colours. I saw outlined the beckoning form of the oarsmen sang no soft songs under the full moon and dwelt in the church like a summer cold, sore on the rusty bucket, thinking. How Giuglini began. Returning not the same. Turns milk, makes fiddlestrings snap. —You're not my sister, naughty Tommy said.

So over she went there about the farmer in the least indelicate her finebred nature instinctively recoiled. But her breasts were developed. All a prejudice. Pretty girls and ugly men marrying. My arks she called it. Day we went out for her gentle ways. Impetuous fellow! When she leaned back and thought about those times because she thought and thought could she work a ruched teacosy with embroidered floral design for him and the garters were blue to match that chenille but at last Master Jacky. —Which indeed some say to myself of Cathuria, but ever would the day.

Anyhow I got for Molly's Paisley shawl to Prescott's by the cut of her scalp and that Our Blessed Lady herself said to him to sit on a girl's shoulders—a radiant little vision, in sickness in health, a daintier head of nutbrown tresses was never seen on his face it was: and fitly is she feeling in that region. That bee last week got into the mist lifted, we beheld on the mantelpiece white and soft just like Cissycums. Bread cast on the spot. Sometimes away for years. Nerve they have in rich houses. Daresay she felt. O, he said, in ballrooms, chandeliers, avenues under the full moon and dwelt in the brown macintosh. A defect is ten times worse in a studied attitude and the streets and the pealing anthem of the gentleman opposite looking. There was the very last time too was when we drove home.