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katsukikitten · 5 years ago

Text

Majo

A/N the labor of love that was trying to post this thing. Let me know what you think of my first attempt at shy girl.

You stand in the doorway of class 1A, still not used to the move you were forced to make all from a stupid, stupid dare two months ago. You hunch your shoulders, it doesn't matter that you're so early that you're the only soul in the classroom.

It does not ease your racing heart or the intimidation that is class 1A.

Especially since you came from the support class.

"Are you going to enter or block the door all fucking day, extra?" A growl comes from behind you and you startle.

"S..sorry." You blush madly, stepping to the side so he may enter. He sucks his teeth in response and plops himself into his desk.

Deadly jaw sitting in an even deadlier palm. You swallow frustrated with your self and the furious blush that just won't go away.

The blonde is the last person you want to see. You sit in front of him in class and you already feel his candy apple red eyes piercing the back of your head although they currently stare at clouds that float gently across the sky. He sighs heavily and you only now notice the bandages on his cheek and forearms. You frown, was he pushing himself too hard again?

"Whatcha looking at, Y/N-chan?" A purr in your ear has your heart jumps into your throat before a deep chuckle rings out.

"Kiri..Kirishima-san." Your face is red, and you're stammering. Damning your body for flustering so easy, scarlet eyes slide back to you at the door. You look away instantly.

"Please I told you call me Kiri or Eijirou." He says rustling your short hair, before taking his seat. He talks to Bakugou who's eyes haven't left you yet.

You can tell when his eyes linger from the weight of them. Thanks to your quirk you can feel when someone's eyes are on you, it's one of the main reasons you are so shy. Knowing when people are staring AND feeling the heaviness of a gaze can be overwhelming. You've come a long way at learning to block most of them out, having them fade to the background but some people have intense eyes and it often comes to the forefront of your mind whether you like it or not.

And Bakugou Katsuki is one of the few you cannot ignore.

Still you woman up and sit down in front of him. Keeping your posture straight as you add some cliff notes to your notes from yesterday's class.

You no longer feel the burning sensation at the exposed base of your neck as you hear him and Kiri erupt into laughter.

You try not to blush. The rest of 1A floods into the room with plenty of time to talk. You feel thankful to hear the chatter that you've grown used to, their energy feels happy as they all speak.

The sound of a scrapping chair pulls you from your notes. You smile at the strawberry milk skinned girl with matching hair, as she sits closely to you. Elbows resting on your desk. Mina has wormed her way, as with the rest of the girls, into the status of friend.

"Oh do you need to borrow my English notes?" You beam brightly before it sours as you study her face. She wears that devilish grin, you swallow at the thought of trouble.

"I heard a rumor about you." You instantly blush and her smile widens.

"You cant just ask people about their own rumors, its rude!" Ida says, emphasizing his belief with jabs of his left arm.

"So its true by the hue on your cheeks huh?" She teases, you look for Urakaka-chan. Midorya, even Kiri for help but not a soul makes eye contact with you.

"Mina!" Ida chides but you take a deep breath. It was bound to make it to class 1A sooner or later.

"Wha...what rumor?" You whisper as anxiety gnaws at your chest as you worry over how twisted the rumor may have become.

"I heard you influenced two teachers with your quirk." She leans in closely and you try to avoid her gaze, "Midnight and All Might."

The class grows quiet at the mention of his name. You swallow thickly as you're sucked back into the memory.

It was just a fucking dare gone bad.

"Y/N, truth or dare?" What was supposed to be your best friend asked you.

"I..I'm not very good at this game." You said sheepishly but she grinned ear to ear. One of the things about Kiko is that she loooooved to bully you into abusing your power but she defended you from other, more dangerous bullies all through the school years so it was a no brainer to follow her to UA.

"Come on, itll be easy." You deepen in shade but not because of her peer pressure but because you feel those eyes on you again today. You seize, almost frozen from the weight before they seem to glide away, your shoulders relax. You see him across the court yard lazing in the shade of a tree.

"Look Y/N, I'll even give you your options up front." She looks around as she thinks, she spots her target "The dare is to make All Might and Midnight scream 'Fuck you' to one another."

"The truth?" You ask almost timid even after all these years.

"You tell us who you have a crush on." You go to open your mouth but she stops you, "Aina here can make you tell the truth with her quirk if you're lying."

You feel your skin prickle with worry, your cheeks blossom with embarrassment.

You're not even sure you if you like this person and to have Kiko know his name would be mortifying. You look her in the eyes with your most intense gaze she flinches. She's seen your ability first hand.

"Dare." You almost growl with a new found furry as you plop onto the grass crossing your legs. Normally you would need a mirror to do this but since it is two people you'll need to keep your eyes closed. One person is easy to manipulate but two, almost simultaneously will be difficult. You let the energies of others fade away as your world falls into a black drop. All Might appears and you startle for a moment when you see more than his energy lingering around him, you ignore it and you focus hard on Midnight.

They both appear on the black backdrop, you concentrate on them both until they come into sharp focus, they are closer together in this plane than in real life.

"Her nose is bleeding..." You hear Kiko's friend speak.

"Quiet." She snaps.

"Turn to one another." You whisper both aloud and to them. They do with ease, "You're angry, furious. How could they how could they how could they?!"

You watch their faces distort, pulling on distant memories in them both, altering the who they were furious with into one another.

"Now scream, tell them how you feel. Tell them what you've always wanted to yell at the top of your lungs." You breath in feeling both of their voices mingle together in your throat before you whisper, "Fuck you!"

"FUCK YOU!!!" They shout, pulling you from the plane at lightening speed. You smile proud of your work, that's the first time you've 'worked', as you call it, two people at once. The yard goes quiet as they both fluster, cheeks burning red as they realize what has happened. You wipe your nose at the wrong time catching the eye of Aizawa.

"Earth to Y/N?!" Mina asks. Your heart races before you look her square in the eye.

"Yes, it was me."

She looks shocked before she laughs, "Oh that's so cool!!"

You feel everyone's eyes on you, including a pair of deep red. You try to fight the anxiety but thankfully Aizawa lazily strolls into class with his normal bored look, distracting the class.

All but one.

"Alright class, sit in your seats." He begins the lesson shortly after the scrapping of chairs and desks cease. He starts with a history lesson of Hero's before segueing the conversation into identifying a quirk in moments. Your pencil scratches against paper, eyes fully glued on your handwriting to avoid Sensei's eyes. It's getting to the part of his lecture where he pauses for a question.

"What's the quickest way to identify a quirk, Y/N?" Fear grips you tightly in its inescapable fingers. Your heart clenches, blood rushes to your face and deepens in color on the back of your neck. Sweat collects quickly on your palms as you gulp softly. This is the first time he's called on you and Sensei's eyes feel heavy on the top of your head.

You know this is one of those questions that has several right answers and you know what the best answer is but what if you don't?

What if you say the wrong thing and Aizawa scolds you in front of every one?

What if it isn't the answer he is looking for and the whole class thinks you a fool when he says the most correct answer?

What if you can't speak at all? What if they laugh, shunning you back to the support class where you belong

What feels like ages passes in a matter of seconds. Seconds too long that could seem like stalling.

Oh Kamisama what if Sensei thought you weren't paying attention at all? You want to let your body shake but you clench your fists hard enough that your palm is sure to have bloody half moons. Your lip quivers as you try to force the answer out. Nothing comes and you bite your lip to keep from whimpering in front of the whole class.

Why you? Why did you have to be so fucking scared of the simplest shit?

You feel the burning then, not of the other nineteen students that wait patiently for your answer but of his unforgiving red eyes.

"You watch them." He growls impatiently behind you.

"Very good Bakugou." He says returning to his lecture. Relief and sadness seep into your veins, bringing you down from the rush of adrenaline. Shame hands heavy in your eyes at it threatens to spin. You swallow your disappointment and the sob that threatened to leave your lips.

Class goes on, lunch comes and goes in a blur and before you know it Aizawa is handing out his personal homework assignments. He goes up and down each row as he tells them their nightly task, dismissing them when he is finished. You hear Sensei pause behind you.

"Bakugou, tonight after your normal task I want you to meditate. Relax anyway you know how so you can attempt to keep your temper in check."

"Yea yea." The blonde waves his hand as if to shoo Aizawa before sensei takes a step to you.

"Y/N. How often do you get to practice your quirk?" You face him but keep your eyes on his chest

"I was called a witch growing up. So it wasn't until recently did I start getting the hang of it." You admit shyly. Aizawa thinks for a moment but you're too distracted by the energy that is still present behind you.

"Your file says you can do quite a bit. From spying to your display in the courtyard." You feel petrified as he discusses your quirk, something you've always wanted to keep secret but Kiko convinced you other wise. You swallow thickly wanting to protest but Sensei speaks much faster than you.

"I want you to spy on me from 5pm to 6pm tonight. I want detailed notes on what I've done for that hour. If you can hear my thoughts while you spy I want a select few of those as well." He gives a rare smile as you actually shake, "Let's add something else too. I want you to envoke a feeling in me. Or try to anyway."

"Sensei, you'll be too far..."

"I said try. It's best to try and fail than to fail to try." He grabs his notebook from the lecuturn before leaving you dumbfounded, so much so that you do not even notice that Bakugou is already standing at the door. His back to the class room as he readjusts his bag.

"Oi." He calls, burning eyes peeking over his shoulder, "Get a move on extra. They turn the lights off in less than ten minutes."

You scramble for your items as fear creeps into you once more. Being alone in the dark is how you discovered your quirk in the first place.

Your eyes snapped to his moving figure as he exits the class room.

"W...wait please Bakugo-senpai." That's how fearful you were of a wondering mind in an unfamiliar place. You rush for the hallway bumping into the ash blonde who bares his teeth in response.

Still he walks with you down the winding path to the dorms as the winter sun begins to set early. Once you see the dormitory for class 1A your practically fall into a sprint, almost late to prepare for your difficult assignment.

You slip off your shoes in a hurry, your thigh high socks give no traction on the shining wooden stairs and you slip. Falling up the steps but you have no time for embarrassment. You'll be missing your window of opportunity.

"Slow down!" A growl from the ground floor as the door to the stairwell slams shut. You fumble with your keys before finally swining the door wide open rummaging through your closet for the gift your grandmother gave you when you were a child. The opaque black orb of onyx weighs heavy in your hands as you set it neatly on the low table in your room. You slam your door shut, light candles and turn on your Himalayan salt lamp. You arrange your notebook before doing the math on the distance between you and Aizawa.

Five whole miles.

Was the campus really that large? You try to push down the panic of failing miserably as this would be the furthest you've tried to manipulate a mind

Spying, well spying was easy, you could see anyone anywhere at anytime with just a small compact mirror. But working them?

Well that would prove difficult.

You breath deeply before focusing on the orb before you, letting your eyes lose focus only to refocus in the black backdrop on conciousness. You slowly push away those you do not want to feel or see until you spy Aizawa. Your heart races as you approach him though he cannot see you.

You begin to write details about his apartment as you take it in, the smell of his now finished dinner and the sandlewood candle he has burning.

Most of the hour passes with a bore as he reads his book, a fat cat sleeping soundly on his stomach. Just as you're about to root through his mind for a feeling to alter Mina comes busting in through the door you forgot to LOCK in your haste.

She breaks your concentration as she guides the girls into your room, flustered you begin to lose site of Sensei.

"Oh what have we here?" She asks plopping down on her stomach in front if you snatching at your notebook.

"Hey!" But you can't tear your eyes away yet.

"Wow this is what you see?" Uraraka asks peering over Mina's shoulder.

"Sensei has a cat?" Asks Momo as she sits with her legs crossed.

"Yes and yes. Where is everyone else?" You ask, "Mina if you arent going to give me my notebook back at least take my notes. Please make them legible."

"Practicing still." Momo answers.

"Ah so you do have a bossy side!" Mina says delighted with her pen poised.

"Its not that. I..I just have more confidence when I use my quirk is all." You blush.

"So what is our great sensei doing?"

"Reading the same damn book he has for the past 55 minutes."

"What's he wearing?"

"Mina?!" You all say in unison.

"Please like you all don't want to know too." She gives a pointed look to everyone else around the room. You feel their eyes fall on you in curiosity.

"His hair is tied back. You can see his scar, he looks..." You pause, "Handsome. He's wearing a black t shirt and lounge pants that are loose fitting. He's reading some mindnumbingly boring book."

Five minutes pass with no change.

"Ugh Aizawa is boring. Spy on someone else."

"But..."

"But it will be good practice. Oh I'll let you spy on my crush." It's her turn to have a slight blush.

"You mean Kirishima-san?" You tease and she whines.

"Ah is it that obvious?"

"Yes." A chorus

You find him with ease, grunting as he does his nightly ritual of pushups. His phone in easy reach to change his music should he wish.

"He's sweating." You say softly, "He's almost done with his pushup regime. Mina send him a text. I wanna see something."

"Oh what..what should I say?"

"Some thing you normally would or..do something flirty." She listens and Kiri smiles at his pinging phone falling to his forearms, you relay his actions.

"Heh so cute." You whisper his own thought aloud in his voice. Mina's phone pings back with an extra string of emojis attached.

"aaahhh" she squeals, "Now make him fall in love with me."

You laugh aloud.

"It doesn't work like that. I...I can." You struggle to explain it, "If I fabricate the feeling he will find out eventually before getting extremely paranoid. I could do it if he's felt it before and just change who he feels that way about. But that's tricky love is much harder than hate."

They all stare at you astonished before chiming in with their crushes. You blush before Momo assumes her normal motherly roll.

"Let's not pressure her into doing something she doesn't want to do." She places her arm around you as if to protect you. You see how happy Mina seems to be so you decide to give in.

"But it would be good practice." You smile and now all the girls are sitting giving you their full attention, "Momo you first.

"T..todoroki." She admits more shyly this time and you let your eyes lose focus on the onyx orb.

"He's sitting at the katsu in his very traditional dorm room, idly scrolling through Insta as he maps out his outline for an upcoming paper. He's come across a picture from Momo. The selfie of you and your Russian doll 'BFFs'. He's smirking, like actual smile." You creep into his mind as he likes the photo. You relay how your chest feels a little warm and tight before adding in the smallest Todoroki whisper. 'Cute caption.'

Mina inhales sharply.

"I TOLD YOU HE'D LIKE THE SELFIE!! YOU'RE WELCOME FOR THE IDEA AND CAPTION." She gushes as Momo's cheeks deepen a shade.

"Midorya?" You ask U-chan who nods furiously. You laugh when you find him in the black plane of consciousness before you step into his room.

"What?" Uraraka asks nervously.

"He's staring up at his phone in his hands, lying on his back. He's thinking as he's staring at a blank message to a Uraraka in his phone. He's retyped a message four times that just says hey."

You giggle before saying, "Uraraka send him a text."

She does and you feel your heart burst when he reads the text. His palms sweat as he types out his request for a date that's not a date before he gives up and sticks with a how are you?

U-chan blushes and Mina laughs. You peer into the lives of a few others in class 1A as they call out suggestions. Jirou and Kaminari sit closely on the couch, Kaminari is sweating and scared she will notice. Sero snickers to himself as he plans a prank for Kiri later, mineta sleeps under a pile of huge blankets. Mina suddenly snaps up

"Oooh you know who I would love to see when they think no one is watching?" She asks having the full attention of the room, "Bakugou Katsuki."

Your blush goes into a shade of red so deep you almost feel light headed.

"Oh no. Let's uh...let's not look at him." You stammer but Mina bites onto it like a rabid dog.

"Come oooonnn. Aren't you curious too?" She has a point. You are curious if that hothead is angry all the time, "or do you have a crush on him?"

"It is not that." You snap before focusing on finding him.

He is by far the easiest to find, what with his intense energy. He might as well be a beacon.

You walk slowly through the endless black, stalling a bit before you approach the steam. Which should have been your first hint as you walk through the fog

"Ooooh!" You flush fiercely as you realize he is taking a bath. In water so hot it must be scalding.

"What?" They ask, leaning closer to the orb as if they could see.

You stand there in the bathroom with him as he groans outwardly sinking deeper into the bath his head leaning back against the tub. Your heart races, you don't need to reach into his mind as you feel a sense of calm surround you.

"He's in the bath." You whisper and they stare at your zoned out face though it is red. You go to pull away but you almost can't and the girls do not protest.

"He feels...calm. Relaxed. Warm. Hes so muscular and they ache. He's replaying fights in his head subconsciously. He's hurt."

"Where?" They breathe.

"Forearms mostly. Pushing his quirk pretty hard." You say nearing his skin, your fingers trace along the small burns before a shiver runs down his spine. You startle. No one has ever reacted to your presence before. You chalk it up to it being your own imagination

"He's got a text from Kiri-san. He mentions Mina, he's teasing him for..." you lean closer to read, before seeing your name on the screen. His body reacts to your name with such violence it causes fat tears to spill from your delicate eyes.

"Hey..."

"Quiet." You snap, you need to sort this knotted feeling he has. His stomach flips as he reads it, heart no longer calm and eyes no longer distracted by replays.

Your nose begins to bleed as you keep yourself from plunging into his thoughts. He sucks his teeth with a snarl, his mind is open and he projects across the small bathroom the sight of you. Blushing, from your first day in 1A to the deep hue you carried today in class.

"Asshole Aizawa." He mutters before slamming his phone down. Not even bothering to reply to Kirishima's text. 'I saw you walking home with Y/N today 😏"

The girls gasp as you relay the feelings, the encounter and text.

"I don't want to invade his mind too much. He's very open which means I could get lose in the call of my quirk." You admit and the girls nod.

"Oh no." You whisper shout as he begins to stand. You turn frantic as he reaches for a towel to wrap around his waist. The girls blush but demand every detail that you so painstakingly give them.

"I didnt see uh... but his back..." you start following him like a shadow as he makes his way to the mirror, "His back is chiseled like the gods. He isnt as scrawny as he seems. His shoulders broad and his eyes. Shit his eyes are looking right at me."

After that you go silent as the event unfolds before you.

You panic as you see them squint in the mirror at your reflection before a cocky grin disarms you.

"Spying on me are you, little enchantress." He says darkly and you suddenly feel stuck in the bathroom, struggling to return to your mind. It's rare but you've heard of people with your quirk before getting caught or being so close to someone they can be seen.

Why did you have to spy on Bakugo Katsuki?

You blush furiously at the intimacy. You cannot tell if you're feeling your own heart race or his as you stand in place struck dumb by that immobilizing gaze. He turns around closing the distance as you phase in and out of his vision. He grips your chin and you feel stunned.

To touch you? To feel you in the tunnel of your minds is astonishing. You gasp for air.

"Taking Aizawa's lesson a bit far aren't you?" He smirks, dark eyes piercing into your soul and suddenly you feel naked. He chuckles before adding, "Like what you see?"

You swallow your desire, of both him and to manipulate him here and now. It would be easy you can feel even at the fringes of his mind that he has wanted someone before.

It would be easy to make it you.

"Y/N?!" The girls shout but they sound far away, more blood seeps from your nose and even your eyes as you fight against yourself.

"You're pushing too hard." He bites out wiping away the blood with the pad of his thumb, explosions dance along his forearms in anger.

"It's time you leave little enchantress." He says pushing against your third eye chakra, you fall backward in slow motion before you slam into the floor that shatters the room and his mind into shards. You fall through the layer of darkness before inhaling deeply in your own body. The girls fuss over you with tissues but you are, for one of the first times in your life, angry.

Seething.

You hear the door to the boys bathroom slam and you stand, livid to be caught by him of all people.

How dare he

How dare he catch you

How dare he touch you

How dare he overcome your quirk.

Before you realize it you're standing in front of the hot headed boy's dorm, slamming your fist in a quick percussion.

You do not hear your friends follow your angry wake.

He swings the door open, only having had enough time to replace his towel with black boxers. His eyes are narrowed and mouth snarled

"What the fuck do you want?" A growl so low that suddenly you realize what you're doing.

It's much different staring into his hot red gaze in person than in the security of your own mind. You swallow as you feel everything rush around you. How could you be so stupid? He probably doesn't remember, he may have thought it all was a dream. Stupid stupid.

Fucking STUPID.

You begin to shake as the high of your very brief rage dies. Like a flame snuffed out of existance. You feel feverish, the hall spins and your vision begins to blur. You had pushed yourself too hard, spying and feeling people's emotions for hours was taking its toll. Your knees buckle beneath your slim frame but strong hands catch you before you fall to the hardwood. You're pulled into his dorm and sat on the edge of his bed. Your breath comes too quickly, what with the combination of the heat of his touch, the weight of his gaze, the lingering smell of his body wash and the fresh linen of his sheets. You're over stimulated and not in the good way. If you aren't careful you'll begin to dissociate and then your mind will wander on it's own. Panic continues to plague you as you try to swallow down air.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You're shaking like one of those bitch chihuahua dogs." He snaps and with that fat tears fall from your eyes. How could you ever have had a chance with this strong, confident boy when you couldn't even face him after an almost imaginary confrontation?

"Why the fuck are you crying!?" A half yell.

"Its...its called a...a..." you stuttered before screaming, so frustrated with yourself and this infuriating dumbass, "IT'S CALLED A PANIC ATTACK YOU INSENSITIVE ASS!!"

Well if he didn't like you before he sure as hell doesn't now. You choke on a sob, slender hands flying to cover your deep crimson face.

How could you be so caught up in wanting to please your new, genuine, friends that its come to this? Sitting in front of an unrelinquished crush showing him the ugliest most valnurable side of yourself.

Because you're a selfish bitch, that's why.

"YOU BITCH! I TOLD YOU TO STOP WORKING ME! I'M YOUR FATHER FOR CHRISTS SAKE."

"YOU EVIL WITCH YOU MADE YOUR MOTHER LEAVE!"

A slap rings in your ears as you struggle to breath. The voices get louder and louder before you bend over, cradling your head with you elbows as your hands claw at the nape of your neck and upper back

Anything to make his voice go away.

Cool liquid collects under your nails and only then does the pain begin to drown it out. You dig deeper.

"Stop." A low threat with a tug of your arms has you facing the ash blonde, his hands tighten on your wrists. Only worry laces his bright candy apple eyes but all you see is disgust. You look away, eyes squeezed shut as you bite your lip.

"Oi..." You've never heard Bakugo speak so softly, "Y/N..."

You heart pounds against your ribs desperately trying to escape. He stands between your legs, letting go of one of your wrists, he places his cell phone in your hand. You blink away blurry tears as you stare down at his phone.

"I want you to describe what this feels like." His voice is gruff.

"Wha..what?" You struggle to speak, throat tightening.

"Go on." Is all he says, eyes watching yours. You swallow hard, hoping this isn't a trick question.

"Like a phone." You try.

"No, tell me what it's like. As if I've never held these things. As if I cannot feel." He sounds impatient but his eyes are anything but.

"Uhhhm smooth like glass. A good fit for your strong palm. It feels big in mine. Has a little bit of weight to it but not heavy." You say slowly, studying the phone.

He takes the phone and places a water bottle to your hand.

"Hard plastic, cold to the touch and smooth but different than the phone."

"Now this." He bites, shoving the closest thing to him which happens to be his favorite black *BOOM* shirt.

"Soft, like cotton soft. Warm. Smells like linen and you." You smile, fingering the shirt. Your thoughts fade as you are immersed in using your senses.

"Like me?" He prompts, voice getting lighter, "Well I can't smell or feel. What do I smell like."You laugh as you try to think.

"That's hard." A lingering giggle, "Um like..like sweat, a little spicy. Nutmeg, cinnamon. But not the bad kind of sweat. Clean if that makes sense."

You begin folding the shirt slowly forgetting what little remains of your panic attack. You let loose a shaky sigh, eyes focused on the warm fabric. Suddenly you feel a warm and sturdy body between your legs before your cheek meets an even warmer chest. You freeze, his skin is smooth, tantalizing and so so soothing.

"I want you to describe what this feels like." His voice ever soft as he rests his head atop of yours

"Wha..what?" You still struggle to speak, although now your throat has loosened.

"I want you to describe what this feels like." He repeats, voice so even and calm you almost wonder if this is Katsuki holding you. Your cheeks somehow blush deeper as you stammer.

"Wa...warm. Calming and yet my hair stands on end. Like..." You close your eyes to think, "Like just before a big summer storm. But instead if a huge storm it slowly turns into lying on the beach in the sun."

Time passes as you snuggle deeper into his chest sighing slowly before he starts to pull back. Cupping your tear stained cheeks with his deadly hands. His crimson eyes are level with yours before a devilish smirk crosses his lips.He kisses you so softly that it takes you a moment to realize it. When he pulls away he chuckles at your reddened cheeks. Admiring them with his thumbs.

"No more pushing yourself so hard my little enchantress."

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou

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nadiineross · 5 years ago

Note

Print: “How do you 'accidentally' achieve immortality?"

note: abt ur prompts.. i ….actually was planning a fic abt immortality but i dont think itll be done for ages so i slammed this one out. i also made a few posts abt superhero aus btw :’). i watched hercules for the first time in like a decade bc of ur other prompt and wow…. hades is still so funny DSJFHSKH ok anyway i prolly wont write a lot in the coming month bc semesters starting next week BUT i can type out some headcanons for prompts u give me, if u guys r interested in that?

i didnt proofread this and i dont want to because i am Lazy anyway thank u sm for continuing to talk to me abt chlodine yrs down the road. pls feel free to send in ur chlodine headcanons or if u jus wanna scream abt them

Nadine’s been alive for a long time, and so nothing really surprises her anymore. But, then again, Chloe is always her exception.

They first meet in India, only a passing thing. Being alive for so long, well, it gets boring. Nadine, also, could never really handle being purposeless. She enjoys having goals and working hard to achieve them, and she definitely enjoys the brief period, afterwards, where she relishes in those achievements.

It was easier, before, to find purpose: fighting. There were a lot of wars and Nadine was good at it. She was, and is, by all accounts, remarkable. However, to preserve her anonymity, she allows herself to dissolve into the unknowns of history.

She has had many names, most of which she has since forgotten. But, her first, she will not forget: Nadine. It is that name she gives to Chloe, and it is the one Chloe knows her by.

At that time, in India, she had nothing to do. It seemed the age of fighting as she knew it was coming to a close, and she grew bored.

Of course, this wasn’t a new experience; Nadine can hardly find anything she has not experienced. Usually, she travelled. She’s been to most places, but they were always changing, and this was something she appreciated on a deep level.

India, she has not visited in almost four decades.

On her first night, she eats a feast on her own. The restaurant owners were impressed, to say the least.

It is routine, her travels. During the day, she sees the sights, explores the places that have changed the most and visits those that she loved the last time she was here. When nightfalls, again, she feasts. Sometimes, when she isn’t too tired, she’ll take someone to bed.

This, she does rarely. It is, after all, hard to find a woman interested in other women in this world. Harder, even, to find one who isn’t interested in a long term investment, since Nadine is not very interested in the part where she outlives everyone. It isn’t a pressing issue, though. She has needs, sure, but she is patient, and sex did not fall very high on her list of priorities.

Besides, she understands. The consequences of being a woman like her are grave and not a lot of people would want to risk their lives for a fling.

Chloe is only her second in India.

There is a river, a half day’s walk away from where she’s staying. It is her second to last night in India, and there aren’t a lot of things she is itching to see, so she decides to make the walk.

By the time she gets there, the sun is hanging low in the sky, not yet set, but almost. She’s sweating from the heat and the oppressive humidity characteristic of the Indian climate. So, naturally, she unbuttons the first few buttons of her shirt and leans over the edge to splash water over her face.

It is a relief on her skin, and she looks up to gasp out a breath when she sees her. Chloe, shameless creature that she is, watches her.

Nadine doesn’t know how she didn’t notice the woman lounging in the water before now. Bewildered, Nadine blinks at her and feels very bare, suddenly hyper-aware of the droplets running down her face and into her shirt.

“Hello,” Nadine finally says. She is good with languages—there isn’t a lot to do when you’ve been alive for a few centuries.

“Hey.” She swims over until Nadine can see her smirk with distinct clarity, until her bare shoulders come up, but does not go farther up the shore. “Not from around here?”

Nadine raises an eyebrow. Clearly not. “No,” she says.

“Huh. Chloe, nice to meet you,” says she, extending a wet hand from the water. Nadine has to slosh into the water to take it and give it a firm, short up-down shake.

It’s a strange name, given the context, and this whole thing takes her off guard. She stupidly blurts out: “Nadine.”

Chloe’s grin becomes wider. She doesn’t try to hide the way she eyes Nadine’s open shirt. Nadine isn’t dense, either, so she knows when there is an opportunity she could take, is she wanted.

She’s not sure yet.

“And you? Are you from around here?”

Humming noncommittally, Chloe stands, abruptly, to her full height and walks around Nadine to the shore. She is naked, and Nadine has to swallow a lump in her throat.

Nadine has seen a lot of women, and she can say with certainty that Chloe is one of the most beautiful she has seen. She tries not to stare and succeeds, given that she has excellent self-control. Though she will admit, Chloe certainly tested her in that moment.

“Where are you from?” Chloe asks as she picks up a shirt strewn across a rock and slips into it. Now, Nadine notices the pair of pants and shoes hidden behind the rock.

Nadine smiles, wryly, aware that she is giving more information than she is receiving. “Africa.”

Chloe doesn’t seem to take offence at her brusqueness. Just laughs. “Ah.” Then, because Chloe is so brave and so young, barely thirty by the looks of it, she stoops and holds up her pants, and asks, “Should I bother with these or are we going to address… what should I call it? The tension?”

Oh, how they address it.

After, as Chloe disappears into the trees on the other side of the river, Nadine realizes that she is entirely, profoundly, surprised.

Nadine has met many bold women; she can be one herself when she wants to be. Chloe, she never really forgets, but she is filed away into a tiny corner of her mind, fading away until Nadine never really thinks about it unless she is alone at a river and has run out of things to think about.

Besides, World War II has started, and she’s occupied with killing those Nazi bastards. She doesn’t enlist in any army—can’t exactly fly under the radar there—but she has connections and resources, and works perfectly well alone.

In the face of all this, Chloe is not forgotten, but she is not remembered.

And Nadine’s life goes on, and on, and on, as it is wont to do.

Nadine doesn’t know why she never dies. It just happened or, more precisely, it just never happened.

Her parents did. She never really knew her father, as her mother raised her, but she does know he died. Her mother, she held as she passed.

Years later, people began to talk. Nadine turned thirty, and that was it.

She doesn’t know if she can die at all, but she isn’t interested in testing her theories. She has avoided fatal wounds for so long; she won’t stop now.

Sure, she has suffered and has felt like she might die, but she doesn’t think she wants to die. There are so many things she wants to know.

So, she decided, a century into her life, that she would not question it. She isn’t at all old enough to have been there for the Trojan War, but she does know not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It is the 2000s and Nadine begins to feel a little existential. She will not fight in wars now, given the stakes and, especially, given her moral compass. Well, at least not official ones. She has accepted that she is a little bit of a vigilante, and she’s focusing on bettering her own home.

Always levelheaded, she never bites off more than she can chew. She only takes to the streets every few weeks. In the meantime, she decides to get into academia.

If she’s so keen on learning, why wouldn’t she go to school? Human achievement is impressive!

She has one PhD already and is working on her second. She has just started, meeting her advisor for only the third time, when she sees a flash of red in the hall, heading towards the History department.

It’s a woman with jet black hair, ponytail swinging. Before Nadine can think to squint, she’s rounded the corner and is gone.

Blinking, Nadine turns away and heads to the courtyard. She likes to sit on the grass and do her research there. Small pleasures.

It’s been an hour, maybe two, when a shadow casts over. Strangely, she feels her heart start to beat faster before she even looks up.

“Hello,” she says, throwing an arm over her forehead to shade herself from the afternoon sun.

Chloe in the flesh. She puts on the same old smirk and looks down at Nadine with her hands on her hips. “Hey, you.”

Nadine raises an eyebrow as she sits down and makes herself at home on Nadine’s picnic blanket, among her sea of books.

“Well, look at you.” Chloe keeps on grinning, shark-like. “You haven’t aged a day.”

“You’re too kind,” Nadine says, thinly. “And neither have you, by the looks of it.”

Dismissively, Chloe waves a hand and tosses her ponytail over her shoulder. “No need to flatter me, you’ve already gotten into my pants.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” Much, at least, she thinks. Then, wonders if, perhaps, she is dreaming.

“That’s nice.” Chloe leans closer, growing serious but retaining her persistent underlying curiosity. “Oh, Nadine, what are you?”

Nadine snorts. “Always so bold.”

She shrugs. “Places to be, things to know, people to do. I’m a busy girl.”

Like a shark, Nadine thinks again. She keeps her mouth shut for a few moments, just watching Chloe watching her. As Nadine recalls her memories of Chloe, she notes that Chloe mostly hasn’t changed. Finally, she leans back on an arm and says, “Looks to me like you have all the time in the world.”

“Hm.” Chloe lifts a hand, maybe to touch her arm, maybe to push her hair out of her face, maybe to cup her cheek. Nadine will never know. She tenses, instinctively swaying back a little. Chloe’s hand drops down, but she keeps on smiling. “You’re immortal, then. All the time in the world.”

Nadine doesn’t say anything, just waits for Chloe to draw her conclusions.

“How long have you… been like this?”

Nadine pretends to think. “About a century or five now. You?”

“Well, I was thirty-four when I met you,” Chloe wonders aloud, tilting her head as she does the math. At this, Nadine frowns and, upon seeing this, Chloe huffs a laugh. “Yes, actually thirty-four.”

That makes her roughly two centuries old. Nadine doesn’t know how to feel about this, about everything, about Chloe. She had been, to her knowledge, alone in this for three centuries. Never once had she met someone else like this, and she didn’t want to, she doesn’t think. She had always been slow to trust.

She never tried to think about this too hard; she doesn’t know how it works—is she contagious? But none of the other women turned immortal after going to bed with her. Still, she worries at her lip and examines Chloe.

“How?”

“How am I like this?”

She nods.

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “Quid pro quo.”

Nadine rolls her eyes. “I don’t know. I just never died.” She sighs, harshly, and closes the book in her lap with a full clap. “I don’t know.”

“That’s alright,” Chloe says, gently. This time, when she reaches out, to touch her wrist, Nadine lets her. Chloe looks down at the point of contact, seemingly charmed. Then, after a beat, meets Nadine’s eyes again and smiles. “Well, I don’t know how exactly it worked, but this was an accident.”

“…what?” Nadine scoffs. “How do you ‘accidentally’ achieve immortality?”

Chloe looks sheepish now. “I went into an ancient temple and mucked around, and maybe I broke something, and… well, here I am.”

Suddenly, struck by the urge to lie down for a decade or at least go somewhere more private for this discussion, Nadine shoves her books into her bag and stands. Chloe, startled, mirrors her movements and then stills as Nadine rolls up the blanket and easily hefts everything up.

“Uh, what’s going on?”

Nadine picks up her baseball cap and puts it on, and then sweeps an arm towards the paved path. “We’re going to my apartment.”

A little dumbly, Chloe follows along. “Who’s bold now?”

Nadine gives her a look, and Chloe just smiles, looking away with a shrug. They make the journey in silence, Nadine’s is a stubborn one, and Chloe’s obliging. When they reach the apartment, Nadine lets her in first and gestures to the couch. It’s not a very big apartment, but it’s comfortable and in an alright neighbourhood.

After Nadine puts her bag away, she comes back to see Chloe leaning over the back of the couch to look out her window. She twists back around as Nadine sits.

“You alright?”

Nadine looks up at her, eyes hooded. “Ja.”

Chloe smiles, a kind one. She has such an expressive face. Nadine wants to run her hands over the dips and curves of it. Wants to feel a little more grounded in reality—is she really not dreaming?

The urge to just ask disappears in a moment as Nadine comes back to herself, feeling safer on her own turf.

“So, this is where you’re from.” It’s not a question, but Nadine nods anyway.

“Originally. I don’t remember exactly where but I grew up farther inland and then moved to the coast later before my mother passed.” Nadine rubs a hand at her temple. Tired. “They both died. I’m the only— I was the only one. For the longest time, I was the only one.”

Chloe shifts, an unidentifiable emotion drifting across her face. “Nadine.”

She sighs and says, “I don’t want your pity.”

“You don’t have it,” she says, not ungently. “It’s been a long time.”

For once, Nadine allows herself to give in. She leans over until she falls, turning her face to press her nose into the hard muscle of Chloe’s tensed thigh, just above the knee. She hugs her arms to her chest and counts her breaths. Chloe sighs, too, and puts her hand in Nadine’s hair.

Nadine’s back is to Chloe.

It’s been a long time.

So, this is how it happened.

She was abandoned by her mother and raised by a father who wanted a son. He loved her, regardless. He just taught her the ways of his trade.

Her childhood was spent scaling the shelves of libraries as he did his research and sitting uncomfortably still as he spoke to “experts” in their homes. When she was old enough, by his standards, he took her out to ancient ruins, and they explored.

It could be dangerous; she broke a few bones on these adventures. Most never healed properly, and so bumps and scars littered her body.

The worst, the one that almost killed her, occurred in the temple.

Her father passed a few years before, to disease. She carried on his work, suddenly alone. His life’s work: a crumbling ruin.

She had spent days scouting it out, hidden behind a waterfall, like in the legends. She was nervous. Afraid that her father’s work would amount to nothing, that the life she had led without him would’ve turned out to be a waste.

So, she spent days by the falls and walking along the river. It was there that she met Nadine.

She had thought Nadine was a figment of her imagination at first, peeking out from the top of the water. A beautiful, sweaty spirit of the wilds, dressed like an average person.

A blessing she received.

That night, she went in. There were traps, which she expected, and treasures, which she had desperately hoped for. In the centre, buried underneath layers of chambers, was the Tusk.

She got greedy.

Traps triggered—

The Tusk, she held to her chest—

She curled over, protecting it from falling rubble and—

The tip, sharp and shiny, punctured her middle. It was shallow, but still, she cried out and tripped, and the spear she landed on went too far in to be considered shallow.

She doesn’t remember the details; all she knows is that she came back to herself while crawling out the collapsing entrance, sticky with blood.

She hid the Tusk away, for later, and stumbled her way to the nearest town, broken spear sticking out from her ribs.

Half a year later, freshly healed and free from the doctor, she went back. The Tusk was still bloodied, and a gem from the tip of the Tusk had fallen out somewhere. At least, it made up for all her suffering in gold.

In the face of all that, Nadine was not forgotten, but she was not remembered.

Feeling awkward and uncomfortable, having been vulnerable for the first time in almost half a millennia, Nadine sits up and grimaces. Chloe opens her bleary eyes and stretches.

“What time’s it?”

Nadine could look at her watch, but she grabs hold of Chloe’s forearm. “Does it matter?”

Chloe looks down and frowns. “I suppose not. What’s happening?”

“Do you want to address the tension?”

Chloe’s muscles relax slowly. She kicks her sneakers off and, in one swift movement, shrugs Nadine’s hand off and settles into her lap. Her mouth descends onto Nadine’s.

This time is almost like the last, fast and sloppy. Except they do it three more times, at least, and afterwards Chloe settles in beside her and stays till morning.

Nadine also has many scars, and Chloe maps them all out just as Nadine does to her.

“So, am I the older woman or are you the older woman?”

Nadine bites into her skin, licking a soothing stripe along the scar tissue there.

Chloe groans and looks down. “Does that mean I should shut up?”

Nadine gives her an unimpressed look. “Yes.”

“Okay,” she breathes, hand flying to the back of Nadine’s head. “Whatever you say.”

South Africa is best experienced in the weeks after Summer has passed, in Chloe’s very vocal opinion, and maybe that’s why the days she spends holed up in Nadine’s apartment feels a little like paradise.

She is not the sentimental type, and Chloe even less so, but there is something to be said for attachments. She had forgotten.

Chloe even admits that she was only here because she saw Nadine’s picture and wanted to use Nadine for information on why she‘s the way she is. Nadine doesn’t take it too personally, because she would’ve done the same, probably.

It ends, of course, as all things do. Not permanently, but Chloe isn’t the type to stay still, and Nadine’s set her sights on finishing this damn degree.

They agree, in five years, they will return to the tree, the patch of grass, and try again.

Nadine feels like she has aged the five centuries she had powered through almost numbly in the span of those five years.

They kept in contact because neither of them is the type to make significant, corny gestures like that. Over text, Chloe echoes the sentiment.

For Nadine, it is as if Chloe had barged in, reminded Nadine that she was in control of the remote and that hitting the fast forward button on life wasn’t the only option.

“Why do you chase after violence?” came her voice, tinny over the phone. She was in Russia.

“Do I?”

Chloe hums. “All your wars, your crusades. You insist you don’t want to die and yet…”

Nadine raises her eyebrows and finishes typing out her sentence before pushing back on her desk chair. Her first instinct is to be defensive, but Chloe starts to hum tunelessly, and it reminds Nadine that not everything is a fight to be won and— “Ah.”

“Do you wanna talk about something else?” Chloe laughs, then, and jokes, “My abandonment issues? Inability to sit still? Maybe how I’m greedy and selfish?”

Nadine smiles softly. “It’s okay.” She clears her throat. “I think I just got scared of losing people and just, frankly, losing in general, with life and all. I took being independent to the next level. I forgot the value in doing things senselessly, and in a way that’s exactly what I did.”

“How do you mean?”

Nadine shrugs even though Chloe can’t see. “I don’t know why I’m immortal, and I didn’t want to know. What makes me deserving of eternal life and not anyone else? So, I thought only of what I would do with this and doing those things. I’m good at fighting. Why wouldn’t I fight? And I can’t die—there are causes I could give myself to.

“I mean, there were moments, in between, where my thought would wander, of course.” Nadine pauses, feeling nonsensical. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“That’s alright. I get it.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“Anytime, love.” Another breathy chuckle. “Literally, anytime. From now until the rest of eternity.”

“Hello,” Nadine says when she feels a shadow loom over her.

There’s a rustling, and then a kiss to her cheek. “Hey there, sleeping beauty.”

It’s been five years.

Nadine opens an eye and sees Chloe peering down with her stupidly beautiful smile. Her fingers graze at Nadine’s cheek, featherlight, and Nadine’s touches over them. Warm.

“So weird how you haven’t aged a day.”

“Ja, I didn’t get a chance to develop stress wrinkles since you left.”

Head thrown back, wind blowing her hair aside, Chloe laughs. Nadine thinks there hasn’t ever been a surprise as nice as Chloe since the dawn of time.

Stooping over, Chloe kisses her.

#THANK U FOR THE PROMPTS THEY R V INSPIRING and also thank u for still caring abt chlodine yrs later #ok i didnt edit this n i wrote this all in one sitting literally 5 seconds ago and this isnt good like plotwise #and the themes r not thought out at ALL but #but i still am proud of myself for slamming this one out #chlodinefics #ask #anonymous

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kpop---scenarios · 5 years ago

Text

Creatures of the Night

"Don't trust those with red eyes"

"Well hello there beautiful"

"I'm sorry"

The nightmares were back, and yet no matter what you did you couldn't wake up. Why wasn't Hyungwon waking you up? Why wasn't he protecting you like he had done so many times before? You needed him, to feel him beside you, to let you know everything was going to be okay.

But he wasn't there.

Hyungwon paced beside the bed your body was laid on. It had been a week since you had stupidly gone to solve the problems by yourself. You really shouldn't have done that. He was so mad at you but so worried.

It had been a week and you still hadn't woken up.

It had been a week since he tore the mans head off, killing the leader.

It had been a week since he sucked whatever poison was injected in you.

It had been a week since he had tasted a single drop of your blood.

He wasn't proud of himself, he had most definitely not wanted to stop. He wanted to continue tasting you, suck you dry. Luckily Shownu pulled him off of you quickly.

Hyungwon slowly slide down the wall, his head in his hands. What if it wasn't enough? What if you didn't make it? How would he go on? Would be ever be able too?

Hyungwon hears a light tap at the door, lifting his head, he turns to look as Minhyuk peaks his head in.

"Any changes?" He asks, staring at your still body.

"Nothing" Hyungwon sighs. "What if I didn't get it all out? What if she doesn't make it?" He asks.

"Don't think like that. She's still breathing, even if it is a little shallow, it's a good sign" Minhyuk reassures him. Even though it's meant to make him feel better, it doesn't help much.

"Mhm" they both hear coming from the bed. Their eyes dart over to your twitching body. Quickly you begin to move more, as if you're trying to fight someone.

"Nnnno" you stutter, eyes still shut.

"PLEASE" you cry, suddenly darting up in the bed. Your chest heaving, your eyes darting around the room.

Hyungwon is next to you in a second, stroking your hair.

"Shh baby, it's okay. You're safe. Everything is okay" he whispers, gently pulling you into him.

"What happened?" You croak, as Hyungwkn lays your weak body back on the bed.

"You don't remember?" He asks you.

You shake your head. "I remember up until I left and then saw you, but nothing after that" you admit.

"Their.. their leader bit you. Poisoned you with something. I managed to suck it out in time, but you were out for a week so we didn't know if you were going to make it or not" Hyungwon tells you, as he strokes your face.

He feels so relieved that your awake, but worried that you don't remember anything.

"Can I get you anything?" He asks you, hand still on your face.

"Some water would be nice" you croak again, your throat sore and dry. "Maybe some advil or something" you finish.

"Are you hurt?" Hyungwon asks, checking you over.

"No just a little sore" you half smile.

After Hyungwon brings it to you, you close your eyes as he strokes your hair.

"I love you" he whispers as you fall back asleep.

It had now been a few weeks since the incident and Hyungwon was still treating you like glass. The two of you had been so happy but you needed more. The passionate kisses always left you yearning for more. You needed more but Hyungwon would never budge. He insisted you needed to rest.

You were horny. You needed to be fucked, not a good nights sleep.

Hyungwon was laying in the bed, reading a book and now was your chance. Walking out of the bathroom you strutted infront of him wearing a black lace lingerie set, complete with stockings and all.

Clearing your throat, Hyungwon looked up from his book and let out a gasp.

"Why are you doing this to me?" He groans. You giggle.

"I don't need sleep, I'm not made of glass, I need you to touch me" you purr, climbing ontop of him to straddle him.

"Baby, if I fuck you, I'm going to want to bite you and I don't want too" he sighs.

"I want you too. I want you to bite me, change me. I love you. I want to be with you forever" you whisper, with a smile on your face.

"Are you sure?" He asks, a little surprised.

You nod your head.

A smirk plasters over his face. "Well in that case" he growls before quickly flipping you over to your back.

"You have no idea how much I want you. You look so fucking sexy in that outfit" he growls, kissing your neck. "But you'd look much better without it" he finishes before ripping your top in half, exposing your perky breasts.

Hyungwon leans down taking one on his mouth, swirling his tounge around your already hard nipple. You throw your head back from the pleasure.

"What do you want?" He asks you.

"Eat my pussy" you moan, your clit already throbbing without even being touched yet.

"Gladly" he smirks, moving his body down. You spread your legs, welcoming him. Hyungwon reaches up, ripping your panties off your body.

"You smell delicious baby" he groans before lowering his head inbetween your legs.

Hyungwon sweeps his tounge up and over your clit causing you to shiver. His tounge continues to circle around your clit.

Your hands gripping the sheets, your eyes closed trying to concentrate on not being too loud.

"Fuck" you half whisper, half moan.

"Louder baby" Hyungwon smirks, licking his lips.

His lips attach to your clit sucking away before adding two fingers into your already wet pussy.

Your eyes practically roll back into your head as the knot in your stomach builds and builds.

Hyungwon's tounge begin to go in circles as his fingers pump in and out of you.

"Shit. Fuck fuck" you cry out, your orgasm right there.

Before you can cum, Hyungwon removes his fingers and lifts his head. Looking your straight in the eyes, he placing his fingers inside his mouth, sucking off your juices.

"What the fuck" you huff as you rise on your elbows.

"When you cum, itll be from my cock, not my fingers" he smirks, taking his clothes off.

As Hyungwon strips off his boxers, you begin to drool at the sight of his long, thick cock.

He's infront of you, leaning to to place a kiss on your lips before you can get up to wrap your lips around his cock.

"Can I taste you?" You question.

"Not today. I need to feel you around my cock right now baby" he growls while lifting your legs over his shoulders.

Hyungwon slowly begins to slide into you, stretching your walls as he fills you up.

"Holy shit" you moan, as he pushes himself into you.

"Fuck you're so tight baby" he growls.

Giving you a second to adjust, you tell him to begin moving. He starts out slow, pumping in and out of you.

"Faster" you cry.

Hyungwon quickens his pace, thrusting himself in and out of you. Looking up you see his eyes growing darker and darker.

"Tell me when you're going to cum, the bite will hurt a little less" he growls, his pace becoming faster.

You reach down, rubbing your clit as Hyungwon pounds in and out of you. Your cries of pleasure becoming louder and louder.

He reaches up, pinching your nipples between his fingers, making the knot build faster again.

"Shit shit" you cry, you can feel it coming.

Hyungwon let's your legs go, each one beside him. Leaning down, he kisses your neck, you can feel his fangs grazing across your neck.

"I'm gunna cum" you cry out

"Ahh fuck" he yells, as his orgasm takes over, his cum coating your walls. Looking up at him, his eyes are dark, his fangs protruding. He snarls before plunging down, sinking his teeth into your neck as you cum.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as his bite amplifies your orgasm.

"Fuuuuck" you cry out, going in and out of the darkness.

Hyungwon pulls out of you, and starts stroking your hair, as your eyes begin to slowly close.

"You'll wake soon and then we'll be together forever, my love" he whispers.

"See you soon" you whisper before fading into the dark.

When you awaken, a few days later, it's dark outside. Hyungwon is beside you, rubbing your hair.

"Hello baby" he smiles at you.

"Hi" you whisper, the burning in your throat very noticable.

Standing up, you walk over to the mirror and you barely recognize the person there. Your skin is smooth and flawless, your eyes bright red, your protruding from your mouth.

Hyungwon walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Ready to be together forever?" He whispers in your ear.

"Forever and always" you smile, turning to kiss him.

You were always told never to trust those with red eyes. But now you were one. You were now a creature of the night.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

The End.

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miu15 · 5 years ago

Text

Petunia (WCB prologue thing)

He bats his hand away from the buttons."No, no, just hold me tighter Witt." There is no change in pressure. So he pushes himself onto the other with more desperation. "Witt, please" he whines.

"Shh." Witt hushes onto his lips and continues with a gentle hold on the others hips. Anger boils in Yogi's chest, passion fuels it and he bites Witt on the bottom lip and holds it hostage. Witt cries out as blood drips. Yogi lets go but before witt can protest his attention is yanked abruptly to meet yogi's. Yogi's grip on witts chin will leave a bruise but that seems to be the least of Witt's problems however.

The fire has reached his bright green eyes. "Youre not paying attention to me." Witt lowers his eyes away from yogi. Yogi refuses to be ignored and yanks his chin again. Witt makes a grunt of annoyance. But meets his gaze straight on.

Neither makes a sound, its a challenge for the other to make the first move. Unlike his usually self, yogi hesitates and his green eyes burn into witt's blue. Witt gaze is daring, its not as mysterious as he would of wished and it takes only a minute for yogi to figure out what everyone has been spending a week searching for. The traitor.

"You son of a bitch." Yogi growls still holding Witt's chin. Witt makes no sound or movement to escape. " you son of a bitch!" Yogi yells louder. He yells as if the louder he scream, the quicker itll be for the past to change. The green burns brighter but yogi doesnt use the fire on witt. Instead he throws his chin to the side and yells more. "Do you know what you've done!? Do you ever fucking think?"

"Yogi-"

Yogi picks up a glass bottle and throws it next to Witt. Its not meant to harm him, its simply a warning.

"Shut up! You fucking idiot" he groans and buries his eyes as deep as he can into the palm of his hand. "You fucking screwed me Witt. You fucked me over and you- you- never think!" He takes out his cigerette and lighter but the lighter wont light so he throws it across the room and crumples the cigerette.

"I dont regret it."

Yogi rounded back to him. "So I have to!? I have to regret for you? I always have to clean up after your shit." He jabs his finger at Witt.

"Nothing will happen to you Yogi, you didnt do shit."

"Exactly Idiot! I didnt do shit! You made sure of that!"

"What are you talking about?" Witt wraps his arms across his chest and sinks down the wall onto the floor.

"Im in charge of you and the other idiot. You only thought of yourself!"

Witt stayed on the floor but he didnt need to stand to for the anger to be intimidating. Witt doesnt get angry. He gets annoyed, he gets fatigued, but he doesnt get angry. Its not explosive like yogis. Its silent and yogi doesnt understand it placement in the first place.

"Yogi this may have been one of the least selfish thing ive done. Forget our line of work, that! That was evil and made us just as bad the enemy. We watched in safety while he hurt her every day. Damn the consequence I'd do it again, tell him. Make it easier on yourself. Let amir kill me."

Yogi stopped pacing and lowered to witt slowly. "Kill you? You think, he'll kill you?" Yogi slowly unbuttoned his shirt and made sure witt focused when he tried to turn his head away. "I would lie about it. Tell a fun story, make everyone jealous." He scoffed. The purple line glinted catching Witt's whole attention. "You left 'to search and be a good blood hound.'" Tenderly he shrugged the shirt off thin lines of bright purple and red ran in chaotic paths across his arms. Around his chest was a set of fresh gauze. "Its not just one," he laughs. "He like her, as confusing as it is."

"Yogi-"

Yogi shoots him a glare. " No Witt." And he continues to unwrap. "You want death? He wont give you the pleasure." The red lines grow thicker and more mared. There's purple and black and red and green and blue. But theres so much red. Witt gently pushes away the bright strands of Yogi's long hair. Yogi in turn puts it in his usual ponytail. The signs were all there. The thick jackets, the hair being left down, the clothes on whenever theyd- "dont start feeling guilty now idiot. Some of them arent just your mistakes." There were older scars circular on his sternum, but they werent scars they were burns. But it all went dark black as it got closer to where his heart should be. Over it was a single gauze taped into place.

His body was marred with lightning and burns and scratches from beastial claws. It was a wonder he moved a gracifully as he could.

"H-how?"

"How, what? Hm? How am I still living? Amir needs me. Not me exactly but my role. And i know too much to easily replace. Who knows maybe youll take it when you know enough. He has friends Witt, he cant afford to kill. So he wont. He needs my eyes my hands my arms my mind and my body. So he makes sure it works. He assures me I'll work at the end of the day and I love him for it. I love my role and I dont try to run from it." Carefully and painfully he removes the gauze. A single glowing purple flower with crystals encrusting it are all embedded where his heart should be. "I cant run from it. There's nothing to run too. Im already dead." Witt reaches out to touch him but once again yogi bats away the hand. He forgets the wraps and puts his shirt back on and gets up. He retrieves his lighter and lights a cigarette on his second try.

He breaths out the smoke and the worry with it. "I wont say anything. You shouldnt either. Let him keep wandering." Witt nods. "She safe?"

"I lost her so she is."

Yogi nods."keep it like that." And he leaves Witt to his thoughts.

#wcb #when color bleeds #story i wont write because i cant write #yogi #witt #warning for #blood #bruises #abuse #one day #one day i promise to write something happy #maybe one day

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magallanica · 6 years ago

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sugar rush

in which the paladins make a quick stop at earth, lotor tries hot chocolate, and keith gets a long overdue gay awakening.

written for keitorsecretsanta

a/n: hello @parslynne, i’m your secret santa, i hope you like this fic!! i tried to fit in the stuff on your wishlist, but i think it turned out more gen than shippy, sorry >_<

happy holidays!

—

earth, lotor thinks, is a very small planet. it’s a wonder how the empire hasn’t crushed it yet, given how behind it is in terms of technology development, if the paladins’ amazement at galra machinery is anything to go by. he is wise enough to keep these thoughts to himself though, as they are briefed on a new mission in the main bridge.

the instructions are simple — mingle with the population, gather intel, find out if the leaders are willing to form an alliance, and maybe plant a few surveillance drones around if the opportunity arises.

“well,” pidge scoffs, and lotor does not need to look to know that she is pushing her spectacles up the bridge of her nose, “alliance talks might take a while, unless the united states has a new president.” lance and hunk both make a face at this, “and they’ll have to contact and discuss this with the leaders of all the other countries as well, so i think we’ll have plenty of time to mingle!” she smiles with barely-concealed glee.

“you are not run by a single government?” he finds himself asking, and gets treated to an extensive lecture on earth’s politics, not that lotor minds, of course. he’ll need all the help he can get to manage an empire that refuses to acknowledge him as its leader. the conversation soon derails to other things, like supplies and clothing. the paladins are scandalised when they realise that lotor’s idea of casual wear is simply just his flight suit, but with less armor.

“that’s it,” lance decides, “we’re going shopping.”

—

shopping, lotor thinks, is probably more trouble than it’s worth. they make it to the mall relatively unscathed, save the occasional stares and questions about his ‘cosplay’ that confuse him to no end. his ears are natural, thank you very much. so is his skin, and — “why do they think i’m wearing a wig?” he frowns, as lance makes a very valiant effort to not, in his own words ‘lose his shit’. lotor still doesn’t know what excrement has to do with laughing, but he chalks it up as one of those ‘earthling’ things that he will perhaps never comprehend. even keith, the former red paladin, looks amused at his plight, lips twitching in amusement as lotor ducks away from yet another round of staring passers-by.

“here,” pidge hands him a small, flat compact, filled with some sort of peach-coloured powder. lotor prods at it curiously. “use this. it’ll help you mask the colour of your skin,” she explains.

now this, he understands. while it has been relatively well-established that he is an ally of the coalition (although many of them are not too happy about it, if the wary, borderline hostile, glances shot at him say anything), his appearance would only serve to garner them attention, and that was the least of the things they wanted to deal with right now.

(he does not know how old the paladins are in galra years, but he does know that most of them are still children, thrust into the middle of a conflict none of them should have been involved in. this break would be good for them.)

they are dressed in what appears to be casual earthen attire — terribly unsuitable for combat, but then again, lotor supposes, there is no need for that at the moment. lotor is handed a large top, something hunk calls a ‘sweater’. he tugs it on, examining the stitching with visible curiosity. it is much unlike the form-fitting fabric used to make their combat suits, or the sturdier fabric of their armor.

the weather on earth, he soon realises, is a lot more unpredictable than on any other planet he’s visited — and he’s been alive for hundreds of decaphoebs. the wind today, in particular, is terribly strong, and he winces as his hair whips around his face, obstructing his vision as he follows the group down the city streets. pidge, lance and hunk take the lead easily, with the green paladin chattering excitedly about finally getting some “good fucking food”. lotor fails to see how… intercourse, of all things, is related to food. it must be another one of their earthling things, he decides, pulling his hair up into a much more manageable ponytail.

—

keith likes to think that he is a good person. he pays his (figurative) taxes, eats his alien veggies, does his best on missions… so what on earth did he do to deserve two years of repressed teenage hormones slamming into him like a freight truck when he watches lotor sweep his hair back into a tight ponytail. he swallows, feeling like it’s suddenly much too hot in his coat, despite the chilly winds buffeting them every few steps.

(and then, the memory of their only interaction replays in his head. specifically, the exact moment keith had tackled lotor to the ground in order to save him from getting caught up in an explosion. even more specifically — of how they had been pressed together for those few seconds, and how the way his heart had sped up might not be entirely because of the situation they were in.)

oh, he thinks, with growing dread, oh no.

is this some sort of delayed galra puberty thing? he wonders, and makes a note to ask krolia about it later. he’s dealt with enough human puberty shit, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to deal with galra puberty, if it’s even a thing.

they make a stop at a cafe to grab some hot chocolate. “we’ll go on ahead first — there’s no hot topic here, sorry keith,” lance snickers, throwing an arm over hunk as they head back out into the cold, while pidge eyes him, and then lotor, calculatively, like he’s a gadget she’s trying to tinker with. keith does not like that look. not one bit. he resolves to keep a close eye on her, just in case.

he turns his attention to his companion. aside from the tips of his ears, lotor looks like a perfectly regular human. he eyes the cup of hot chocolate in front of him with undisguised curiosity, blowing cautiously at it before taking an experimental sip. then he takes another. and another, looking absolutely starstruck. oh no, keith thinks, that’s cute.

lotor continues to sip at his hot chocolate, completely unaware that keith is probably, in pidge terms — astral projecting, as they drink. with nothing else to do, they make stilted conversation, and it is only when keith asks a tentative question about galran customs that the ice between them is broken completely. lotor comes to life before him, his eyes practically sparkling as he speaks of social norms and etiquette — less bloodthirsty things that the galra were known for. it’s terribly endearing, keith realises.

there is something different about talking to lotor, now that they’re on the same side of the war. questions spill out faster than his filter can stop them, and he finds himself listening avidly as tales of his galra ancestors fill the space between them.

all in all, their trip back to earth has been fruitful, he thinks, as they’re walking back to their lodgings together, their shoulders occasionally brushing against each other as lotor leans down to tell keith about the galra equivalent of something on the streets.

(unseen by them, pidge chances a glance back, and smiles.)

—

#vld #keitor #keitorsecretsanta #scribbles on the sand #lokei

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the--blackdahlia · 6 years ago

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This Life Chapter 16

Title: This Life Chapter 16

Summary: Dean Winchester is the Vice President of the motorcycle club The Hunters. After almost 7 years in prison, he's free. But things have changed and Dean has to figure out how to put things back together.

Warnings: Language, mentions of drug use, this chapter is pretty sad

AN: Thank you to the lovely @sams-serialkiller-fetish . The song for this chapter is Come Join the Murder by The White Buffalo & The Forest Rangers

Sam was curled up in the passenger seat of Baby as Dean drove them back to Wolfpine. He had his arm cradled against him and his eyes were closed. Dean kept casting glances over at him. The kid had worked himself up the minute Ellen stepped out of the truck and asked where Benny was. Jim had forced him to take a couple pills from the med kit that Bobby kept in the truck and before Dean knew it, his not so little, little brother was snoring softly beside him in the Impala.

Dean was exhausted. He couldn’t wait to get back to Wolfpine and collapse onto his bed. And he had the pull out couch for Sam to sleep on for the night. Unless he decided that they needed to spend the night in John’s old house. But Dean didn’t think it was a very good idea. Plus, they had the Wayward Sons following them to Wolfpine to think of a plan in case the remaining Horsemen decided to retaliate for Azazel’s death.

Bobby had called in some favors with a couple sheriff’s who owed him a thing or two. Benny’s body would be returned home, and the bodies of Azazel and the henchmen would be dealt with. Jody assured Bobby of that. Bobby could focus then on putting Benny to rest. His dad was currently drinking his way through Atlantic City, and his mom was on her honeymoon with her new husband in Europe. Bobby doubted that either would be there to say goodbye to their son.

And then there was Sam. That kid had been through more trauma in the past year than any of them had. He had watched as a fire destroyed everything, he watched his dad shot in the chest and was left for dead, and then he was chained up to watch as a man who was like a brother to him was shot in the head and killed. Bobby didn’t know about what Azazel had told Sam, and neither did Dean. Bobby didn’t know about Sam’s downward spiral into depression that John managed to pull him out of. Dean was afraid it was going to happen again.

“Sammy.” Dean said gently when he parked Baby in Winchester-Singer’s lot. Sam groaned and slowly opened his eyes. “Hey, we’re at the garage. I thought we could stay here tonight then head to my place tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Sam said softly, opening the door and slowly getting out, stretching his long legs as he did. He had been asleep when they stopped in New Mexico. He didn’t even remember Dean making him get out of the car to use the bathroom and forced him to eat a little something that the medicine in him wouldn’t screw him up too much.

“How’s your arm?” Dean asked, coming around to look at Sam.

“It’s fine.” He whispered, but he was holding it close to him. Dean was sure that it was probably hurting. He followed Sam to the building. He could hear the others pulling in. But Dean knew that Sam needed time away from all of them. Hell, he needed time away from all of them. So they made their way through everything to the room that Dean used to sleep in when he just couldn’t handle being around John, until he got the apartment that was. It wasn’t much. A large bed mainly. But that’s all they really needed. They needed sleep.

“Let me look at that.” Dean said when he closed the door behind him. Sam held out his arm for Dean to check it out. He knew basic first aid. And he knew how to change bandages. He was going to make sure that they were always clean and taken care of. “It looks fine. It should heal nicely.”

“Thanks.” Sam sighed and set down on the bed. “You want the bed?”

“I think there’s enough room we could share.” Dean laughed. “And I’ll even keep my boxers on.”

“God, you’re ridiculous.” Sam said, kicking off his boots and laying back on one side of the bed. Dean kicked off his own shoes and his vest was next. He tossed himself down on the bed.

“God, this thing stinks.” He shook his head, not wanting to know what had been done on this bed. “I’m replacing it once everything is done and over with.” Sam didn’t answer. Dean looked over to find Sam fast asleep. He couldn’t help but smile. “G’night bitch.” He said, turning over and falling to sleep himself.

****

The next morning, there were not alarm clocks. Everyone slept in as much as they could, just enjoying their moments of peace. They knew that war was on the horizon, especially once the other princes found Azazel. They also knew that they were going to have to bury Benny. Bobby had tried over and over again to get a hold of either of his parents, but nothing.

Sheriff Mills came by in the afternoon. Dean was out in the garage, trying to focus on a car to keep his mind off of everything. The Wayward Sons were staying at John’s old home for the night. Bobby had never sold it, figuring that Sam might want it during the summers or something. Or that Dean would get tired of that apartment and want a change. Lucifer, Andy, Gabriel, Ruby, and Meg were all there, waiting for the other shoe to drop and war to break out.

“Dean Winchester.” Jody said, walking up to him. Dean smiled some.

“Hey Jody.” Dean said, wiping his hands on a shop rag. She could tell that his smile wasn’t reaching his eyes though and she immediately hugged him. She might have been on the Hunters payroll, but she was also a friend. That’s what made it a little easier to look the other one every once in awhile.

“Benjamin Lafitte has been released to the North Star Hospital Center.” Jody explained to Dean. “So you guys can arrange…” Dean nodded.

“Thanks Jody. We really owe you.” Dean said. Jody looked up then and smiled some as Sam came out into the garage, favoring his arm.

“Sam.” She hugged him, careful to miss his arm. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks Jody.” Sam said softly. “Hey Dean, have you seen Jim?”

“No, not yet. Your arm hurting?” Dean asked. Sam nodded. Dean was about to say something when some new bikes pulled into the lot. Jody was a little on edge. “It’s ok Jody, they’re friends.” Dean said. Andy took his helmet off and looked over at Sam and Dean.

“You okay?” He asked, walking past Jody.

“I’m fine.” Sam sighed. Jody took this time to size up the Wayward Sons. Andy seemed okay. Meg and Ruby weren’t too bad. Gabriel looked a little rough around the edges. Lucifer was fucking scary.

“I could score you some Demon Blood man.” Lucifer said. “It’ll stop all the pain.”

“Yeah, and it’ll stop him from being a functioning human being.” Ruby hissed. “Don’t even bring that shit around here.”

“Demon Blood?” Dean asked. “What the fuck is that?”

“Street drug and nasty.” Jody told him. “I just had to interview a couple of girls who had been slipped it in their drinks.” Dean watched Ruby awkwardly rubbed her arm as Jody spoke. “Moderation shouldn’t cause any life altering effects. But too much and overdoses can really fuck you up.”

“Can we change the subject?” Sam asked. “I don’t need Demon Blood. Just some low grade, over the counter painkillers and I’ll be good.”

“What happened anyway?” Jody asked.

“I got shot.” Sam said dismissively before he headed to where Ellen and Jo were to see if they had anything.

“Well, I guess you guys have things to attend to.” Jody said. “Let me know when the funeral is. I’d love to pay my respects.” She patted Dean’s arm and offered a small smile. “And tell Bobby to give me a call.” She left then. Dean went to go make the arrangements to have Benny buried. He didn’t want him to lay there and rot because his parents couldn’t give a shit about him. He also needed to research whatever this Demon Blood shit was.

“She was addicted to it.” Andy said to Dean, startling him some. “Ruby was. She was kicked out of her home, lost her job, everything. All she wanted was more of it. But she pulled herself out and is very anti Demon Blood.”

“Why is it called that?” Dean asked.

“No matter what form it’s in, it’s a deep red. It looks like blood. And it causes the user to hallucinate. A very common side effect is they believe they have powers.” Andy looked over at Lucifer, who was talking with Meg and Gabriel. “Lucifer OD’ed on it. That’s why he’s insane.”

“That did that to him?” Dean asked.

“Gabriel said he had a slight mental illness anyway. And he got hooked on Demon Blood. And he just took more and more until his body couldn’t take it anymore.” Andy explained. “Sam got lucky. He took it once and it made him sick and he promised to never take it again.” Andy realized as soon as the words left his mouth, he shouldn’t have said them.

“Wait...what did you say?” Dean asked.

“Nothing.” Andy shook his head.

“Sam took this drug?” Dean asked. Andy sighed.

“Once, as a moment of weakness. Right after Jess died. But he got so sick that the benefits were overshadowed. And he promised all of us and God himself that he would never do it again.” Andy could see the anger bubbling away under Dean’s skin. What else had Sam neglected to tell him? Instead, Dean stormed off, leaving Andy there. He went to find Bobby so they could get ready to bury Benny.

****

The funeral home was quick to have things set up. So it was the next day and they were ready. Benny was prepped and placed in a closed casket. It was sunny and warm. Every trope in movies said it was supposed to rain. So it couldn’t really be a funeral.

It was a graveside service. The funeral home did bring Benny to the cemetery via hearse, and the Hunters and Wayward Sons were the pallbearers. While the Wayward Sons had only known Benny a couple of days, they felt obligated to stand there by the Hunters. Ellen and Jo sobbed. Especially Ellen. She had watched Benny grow up from a chubby toddler to a man.

Sam was one of the first to leave when the ceremony was over. He had to get away. He needed air. So he stormed off, running away to a club of trees where he could sit and be alone. But he wasn’t, because Dean was right behind him.

“Sammy…” Dean said. “We got revenge for Benny and for dad.”

“You think that Azazel planned this all on his own?” Sam asked. Dean was about to speak up. “There are three more princes out there, plus their fucking henchmen. Dean, we have to stop them all.”

“And we will in due time.” Dean said. “We just buried Benny.”

“They won’t care.” Sam told him. “And if what Azazel said is true…”

“What? What did he say to you?” Dean asked.

“He told me that he slept with mom when her and dad were separated and that I have a good chance of being his kid.” Sam told Dean. “I don’t believe but…”

“Dad told me about that.” Dean said. “You’re not Azazel’s son. Even if you were, it didn’t change anything. Dad loved you so much.”

“But…”

“No buts Sammy. You’re a Winchester, that’s all there is to it. You ain’t getting out of this family that easy.” He smirked at Sam, who rolled his eyes. “Come on. I think a trip up to Austin for a burger is in order. My treat.”

“Can we take Baby?” Sam asked.

“Of course. Probably hard to steer your bike with that arm anyway.” They headed back to the others. They had gotten a ride with Bobby. Dean didn’t mention anything about what Andy had told him about Demon Blood. He just wasn’t in the mood to fight with Sam. He got his brother back and he wanted to keep it that way. He didn’t want to push him away.

And a trip to Austin really could do them both a lot of good.

****

Aguila, Arizona

Azazel’s body laid on a table as Asmodeus, Alastair, Ramiel, Lilith, Abbadon, and Dagon stood around. It had been chaos when the princes had came back from a run to Mexico and found their fourth dead on the ground. This just stunk of Hunters. Alastair was sure of it.

“They’re all dead.” Asmodeus finally said. “The Hunters have to be exterminated.”

“What do we do?” Ramiel asked.

“We slaughter them like the pigs they are.” Lilith hissed. She held Azazel’s favorite pistol in her hands. “I want to kill at least one of them.”

“Lil, just breathe.” Abbadon said. She looked at the others.

“Actually, I think it would be a fantastic idea to include the girls.” Alastair said. “They have a moral code. They’re not going to willingly shoot women. And they don’t have women in their group. It would be the perfect distraction.”

“Then let’s get ready.” Asmodeus announced. “I want the Hunters dead by the end of the week.”

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @i-would-die-for-woodland-demars @dekahg @marvel-af @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogaruke @xxwarhawk

Dean Winchester/Jensen Ackles Tags: @luciathewinchestergirl @sheris532 @bobasheebaby @flamencodiva @bella-ca

This Life Tags: @soulslaststand @jamielea81 @caplansteverogers @becs-bunker @colie87

Supernatural Tags: @bandobsession98 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @fangirlsencyclopaediaofweirdness @ilovetardis @missihart23 @cloudyskylines @supernaturalwincestsblog @sams-serialkiller-fetish

#this life #sam winchester #dean winchester #supernatural #Jared Padalecki #Jensen Ackles

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siodymph · 6 years ago

Text

“The Before and After”

Hey there @pirably ! I’m so sorry this is getting to you so late! I can’t thank you enough for participating in the gift exchange, and I hope you enjoy my take on your prompt!

Feel free to read your story under the cut or over on my ao3!

“I can’t believe you!”

“What?”

Sighing, Stanford took a deep breath. His neck was starting to feel pinched from looking up at so long. “I said I CAN’T BEL-”

“I heard what you said! What’s not to believe?”

“Just… Everything about this! There’s no way this is safe!”

There was a long pause as Stanford waited until he finally heard Fiddleford respond. Voice echoing out from somewhere near the top of his gigantic creation.

“… Probably not!”

“Then why do you insist on working like this? Why put yourself in life-threatening danger!”

“Cause!” Fiddleford called back, huffing. “I work best directly with my hands. And there’s no way I could tip this darned thing over without risking it all breaking! All for some shiftin’ wires!”

“You could build something to help gently set it down then stand it again!” Stanford tried to add.

“Ugh! But that’d take even more time! Not to mention I’d have to build that first!” Fiddleford yelled. “Now hush up! I’m trying to work here Stanford!”

If someone were to see Stanford at that moment, they probably would have said he was pouting. But Ford would take to his grave if he had to. “I just want you to be safe…”

“I’m harnessed to the swing, which I rigged up myself! Checked the pulleys and everything this morning! I’m the safest I’ve ever been!” Fiddleford called out one more time. “And you’re one to talk! Where was all this fussing over safety when you were in Dr. Jenret’s class and you almost poured acid on yourself?”

Stanford could only smile and shake his head in response. As always Fiddleford was able to win him over when he least suspected it. As inevitable as it was, it still caught Stanford off-guard. Growing up there had been no one like that in his life. If he ever got into arguments or debates with kids they’d always either eventually concede or just completely give up. Or they’d just hit him out of annoyance. If it was his brother he’d do a combination of the last two.

At least Stanford used that excuse as to why after knowing the man for years now, he still managed to surprise him when they got into debates.

To this day Fiddleford was probably the only person he knew who could get him to shut up and see things from a new perspective.

So now knowing there was nothing he could say Stanford decided to just sit back and watch the show Fiddleford was putting on. The man may be stubborn as a mule, but he was equally as cunning and brilliant, and he certainly made a performance out of his larger-than-life projects.

There was no denying Fiddleford’s brilliance. He had the most engineering and mechanical skill out of anyone Stanford knew. Even better than himself, which was something he seldom admitted to anyone. But it was the truth. Fiddleford Hadron McGucket was by far the best of the best in the world of robotics. And anyone who said otherwise was wrong.

Just being able to watch Fiddleford work was a treat itself. As his creation came together it quickly collected height. So much so that he soon had to resort to rigged swings and climbing equipment to finish the job. As he worked up off the ground like that Stanford couldn’t help but think of those old photos from the 1940’s of construction workers building the first skyscrapers. So high off the ground, only a pair of overalls and a utility belt for protection, and yet seeming so at ease. There was almost a beauty in how effortless Fiddleford made it seem. A grace he had while swinging from rig to rig, climbing up the structure with his hands and feet.

But when the light hit his face just right and Stanford could see Fiddleford’s hair shine golden, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat from his hard work, Stanford knew in his heart his feelings for the other man hadn’t changed at all.

He found he’d only grown to love Fiddleford Hadron McGucket even more...

Two hours later, Fiddleford came swinging down. Overalls covered in a layer of grim, hair frizzled and frumpy, face red and sweaty, and a satisfying smile that just looked ethereal on Fiddleford’s face.

“How’d it go?” Stanford asked as he ran back over from his own work to meet him. Handing the other man a towel.

“Pretty good I think!” Fiddleford sighed gratefully as he started to wipe off his face. “Got that wiring all straightened out! Now all that’s left is testing her out!”

“That’s wonderful! We should test it now!”

“You know Stanford it’s a good thing I like ya so much.” Fiddleford said with a tired smirk. “Been up there all day, and as soon as I get down you want me to keep on working!”

“You know you want to see your new invention just as much as I do!” Stanford replied. “Don’t even kid yourself Fidds.”

Chuckling to himself, Fiddleford went over to his work bench and grabbed the remote control he’d built for this his invention. He let his finger hover over the main controls before looking towards Stanford.

“Hang onto your butts…”

All at once, the remote buzzed and the colossal machine burst to life. Inbetween metal panels, there was a bright green glow. Panels began to bend and shift. Massive wings unfurled from either side of the robot. For a moment the creature turned its head to look at its master. Green eyes glowing with a light that feuled it from within. Then after Fiddleford pressed another button the remote buzzed again and the creature tilted its head back at gave out a massive prehistoric screech that made Stanford’s entire chest rattle.

“Not too bad for someone who said they were moving onto computer-work only, huh?”

Stanford looked up at the massive mechanic pterodactyl in awe. “Fiddleford… Fiddlford that was nowhere close to ‘not bad’. That was… That was amazing!”

“Aw shucks,” Fiddleford mumbled.

“No, I mean it!” Stanford continued. “This is a piece of history in the making here. This won’t just change the world of animatronics, but the entire world of robots and engineering itself!”

“You really think so?” Fiddleford asked.

“I know so!” Stanford tried to contain some of his excitement, sometimes he could get rather loud when he got carried away. “And Fiddleford? I couldn’t imagine this being made by anyone else but yourself. You really did a… a fantastic job here. There’s no way you won’t take first place in Dawngrove next week!”

“Aw, I don’t care about none of that.” Fiddleford sighed as he turned off his robo-dino. “I’m only doing this for lil’Tate. He’s the one who asked me to do all this after all.”

“And I’m certain Tate will adore this too.”

“I hope so...” Fiddleford said with another sigh. Looking back up at his incredible invention. “Ever since me and the missus split I feel like I haven’t seen him as often. When we are together I gotta make it mean something. For the both of us.”

Gently, Stanford took Fiddlford’s face in his hands, pulling him away so they were looking eye to eye.

“Believe me Fiddleford, next week Dawngrove’s Robotic Royal will be a day no one could ever forget!”

Leaning in closer, Stanford kissed him. And closing his eyes, Fiddleford could feel himself relaxing.

Slipping away. If only for a few moments...

~~~

Sometimes it truly amazed Fiddleford how everything was coming back to him.

At least physically if not completely mentally. He was still working on that.

He counted it as a small success though when Stanford showed him a massive mechanical pterodactyl and he got the inkling of a sensation that he’d seen it before.

Raising one hand up, he touched one of its massive wings. It felt rougher than he’d expected it to. No doubt the metal had eroded some after years of hiding it away in such an abandoned place.

“I know I’ve seen this fella before…” Fiddleford pondered out loud, still lightly rubbing over the metal as if that would help him reveal the answer. He knew he’d made robotic pterodactyls before but this one didn’t seem as familiar. It definitely wasn’t the one he made for revenge after his retirement-party-fiasco. “Did we make this together?”

“Not really, I just watched.” Stanford answered. “You made this one on your own. It was for this competition out in Dawngrove California.”

“Dawngrove…” Fiddleford said slowly.

“Yes, does that town sound familiar at all?”

Fiddleford hummed a little before shaking his head. “It ain’t there right now, but it’ll come back. I can feel it rattle’n around in there.”

Stanford seemed a little disappointed, but decided to move on. “Well you and I brought that in for a robotics competition. A battle royal actually. You ended up getting first place. Your ex-wife and your son even came and we all cheered you on.”

The mention of his son brought a smile to his face. The details over everything were hazy but he always knew who Tate was. “He would have been around eight or nine right?”

“Yes, he was nine!” Stanford said.

Fiddleford chuckled at the thought. “He was such a little squirt back then. Always hiding under that big mop of hair…”

Stanford grumbled as he looked around. He wished he had more photos from that day. In his experience with Stanley photos help jogged Stan’s memory the best. Unfortunately he didn’t have any photos from that day. He was however able to find a few newspaper clippings he’d held onto from that day. Carefully picking it up the fragile paper so it didn’t disintegrate, Stanford brought it over for Fiddleford to see.

“Look here,” Stanford pointed to the main picture under the headline ‘Super Scientist and Father Wins Grand Prize with his Dynamic Dino!’ where there was a black and white photo of the Pterodactyl back in its golden years. “If you look towards the bottom near the pterodactyl’s feet you can see a few figures. That’s me on the right, you on the left, and you’re holding Tate in the middle of us.”

The article itself was so damaged it was illegible. But Fiddleford could just make out their figures Stanford was pointing to in the picture. The picture was so old the image had begun to fade some too, mostly on the left side. His whole body was faded out. But with enough focus he could just make out Stanford and Tate’s faces. Both were beaming at the camera. Grinning with pride. Fiddleford realized they’d been proud of him.

“You two sure seemed happy…” Fiddleford said with a sigh.

“And we still are.” Stanford continued. “You have no idea how happy I am to be here with you. To have a second chance at making things right with you. With everyone.”

Fiddleford nodded but didn’t look up from the picture. As if trying to memorize their faces in case this memory never came back to him. When he didn’t focus as hard he could almost recall some things. Mostly phantom feelings. Like holding a giggling Tate close to his chest. Or swinging up on a rig, shouting to Stanford down below. Walking hand in hand with both of them…

“I’m happy I get a second chance too.” Fiddleford replied softly.

Eventually they’d seen everything they could and together, hand in hand, they walked back out of that old warehouse back into the world. They’d been in there reminiscing so long they’d missed sunset. It was already night and the moon hung low in the sky, darting out from behind trees as they walked.

Stanford’s six-fingered hand felt so warm in Fiddleford’s own. How he’d spent all those years alone, Fiddleford didn’t know, but now that Stanford was back in his life he knew he couldn’t bear to go back to the way things had once been. The world had changed so much, and they’d both changed so much with it. But Fiddleford could feel it in his heart that what they had between themselves was still as special as it was back then.

And when the light hit his face just right Fiddleford could see Stanford’s hair shine silver, and his eyes practically sparkling under the moon, Fiddleford knew in his heart his feelings for the other man hadn’t changed at all.

He found he’d only grown to love Stanford Filbrick Pines even more.

#fiddauthor #fiddauthorgiftexchange #fiddauthor gift exchange #pirably #fiddleford mcgucket #stanford pines #fiddauthorgiftexchange2018

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antihero-writings · 6 years ago

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The Things We Say Aloud—Pandora Hearts Fic for Phmonth18 Rainsworth Trio Week—Prompt 2: Family (Full Fic)

Fic Title: The Things We Say Aloud

Fic Synopsis: The Rainsworth Trio has a tradition of midnight snowball fights. But what if this is Break’s last?

Notes: This is another fic I wrote last Christmas (for the prompt “Rain”), but I think will work well for Phmonth18. I think it works best for the Rainsworth Trio Prompt 2: Family. You don’t have to have read the previous Christmas fic to understand it, but they are supposed to take place in the same year, and there are a few connections/references between them. (The other one is called “In Plain Sight” and you can read it on this blog, and/or at I_prefer_the_term_antihero ‘s Ao3!)

Out of all the PH fics I’ve written so far, this is honestly probably my favorite. I would deeply appreciate it if you commented to let me know you enjoyed it!

I feel like the Rainsworth Trio–especially Sharon and Break–don’t really talk about Break’s death, even though they know it’s coming. I thought it would be interesting to explore how such a conversation would go, and almost made myself cry writing it!

Also, point of interest, a song that I think works really well for the section of this fic where Break is pondering if it will be his last Christmas is “Into the Open Air” from the Brave soundtrack.

P.S. This is a repost of an old fic!

Fic:

Rain pounded its tune on the roof. It was the kind of rain that swarms the air, making it misty, grey, and cold with the buzzing of a thousand tiny drops.

It wasn’t that he disliked the rain. There will always be something about the rain that’s soothing to people dealing with sorrow. But rain like this; that pounds, and pounds, and doesn’t dissipate, sometimes serves to extend the mistiness inside too. Though it could be a rest, a relief, people like him always pray for the sun to come back. For sunny days and summer light were something people like him, with red eyes, and a past full of sin, knew they didn’t deserve, but couldn’t help seeking all the same.

Xerxes Break walked through the hallway of the Rainsworth manor. He wore his turquoise and gold outfit, half of his white hair falling across his shoulder, the other, shorter side, messily added to the covering the bandages provided—bandages over the place where his left eye should have been, though it rarely bled anymore.

As he passed by one of the rooms, he saw Sharon. She looked so small, but so regal, sitting on the windowsill, with her back to the glass, now frosted with condensation. Her chestnut hair was pulled back with a ribbon, and she was wearing her little pink dress. The little girl was pouting, staring at the ground, her arms folded over her chest in the characteristic expression children wear when they don’t get their way.

He paused, resting his hand on the doorframe.

She lifted her head.

When she met his eyes, he remembered very quickly that was not in his skill set to comfort little girls.

When he glanced back, she was giving him a look that said Well? Aren’t you going to come comfort me?

He knew better than to disobey such a look. He took a deep breath and walked in, hopping up on the windowsill next to her.

Like the rain, it wasn’t that he disliked kids, he just didn’t know how to deal with them. When they cried and threw tantrums…in short, he didn’t know how to deal with emotion (well, strong ones anyways). He couldn’t help hoping that kids like her could stay happy, and innocent forever. Like he had hoped for his young mistress from another time, and seen it go so very wrong, then later heard, through his own interference, that he had made it go far worse. But children would have to get hurt, they would have to grow up, some day. And in turn, they would become the kinds of creatures who hurt, and caused pain, who even killed, and made excuses for it…creatures like himself.

Luckily, he found that Sharon was a much happier, much kinder, much stronger child than most.

When she didn’t speak—(he didn’t dare ask, for fear of making it worse)—he turned to look outside the window.

“Xerx-niisan,” she began at last, “Why is the sky crying?”

He turned back to her, raising an eyebrow. “Huh?”

They weren’t siblings; they weren’t even remotely related. But for some reason, the name fixed itself in her mouth, and nothing he did or said could change that.

She could be a little tyrant sometimes.

At his misunderstanding, she continued to pout, averting her eyes. Then she jerked back to look at him, (he flinched a little), and said in a high pitched voice, “It’s almost Christmas! Why is it raining? It should be snowing!”

“Oh,” he relaxed a little, contemplating his response, “Well…it’s not going to stop raining just because you want it to. Sometimes,” he gave a sardonic smile that was more painful than the frown that seemed fixed on his face, looking away into the rain, as if he would find answers reading the drops, “things…people…that should be happy, just can’t be. And no matter how much you want something…”

He trailed off, and when he turned back, he saw tears welling in her eyes.

Nice going, Xerxes, you barely have to open your mouth to make a little girl cry.

There they were, brimming to the surface: all those emotions he didn’t know what to do with. He could only sit there, waiting for her own brand of rain to start, wanting more than anything to escape, to not have to figure out the right words to fix her.

It was the crying he hated the most. Maybe it was because it reminded him too much of a certain day, long ago, of a certain girl…but the snow did fall that day…

Still, he wasn’t going to tell her that if she just wished hard enough, if she believed in hope, the-general-goodness-of-the-world-and-its-inhabitants, and maybe a little bit of magic, that the snow would fall, that she could change things. Wishes were dangerous things, and he didn’t suggest anyone make them. You never know who, or what, might be listening.

Fortunately, before the tears reached her cheeks, Sharon’s mother, Shelly Rainsworth, appeared at the doorway. She looked almost exactly like an older version of her daughter, the same chestnut hair, the same smile that shined with a light of its own.

Upon seeing the tearful look on her daughter’s face, she marched into the room, put her hands on her hips, and turned to Break.

“Xerxes,” she said his name like he really was Sharon’s brother, “what did you say to her?”

“Why do you assume it was my fault, Shelly-sama?” he muttered, sounding like the child she was calling out.

“Let’s just say you have a habit of stepping on people’s feelings.”

He sighed. “I was only telling her that it won’t start snowing simply because she wants it to.”

“It’s almost Christmas, mother!” Sharon said like she was pleading her case, the tears reappearing in her eyes.

Shelly smiled, shaking her head.

“What am I going to do with you two?” she crouched down in front of Sharon, and paused, contemplating her own question for a moment. “Tell you what, sweetie; I can’t promise it’ll start snowing because you want it to, but I can promise this:” she pushed her daughter’s tears away, “The moment it starts snowing—or, I suppose,” she interrupted herself, “the moment there’s enough snow on the ground, but no later!—we’ll go outside, and have a snowball fight. How does that sound?”

“Really?” Sharon raised her head, the sadness lifting a little.

“Even if I’m busy, or it starts snowing in the middle of the night,” Shelly elaborated, grinning, “No, especially, if it’s in the middle of the night,” she placed a finger on Sharon’s nose, at which the little girl giggled, “I’ll wake you up—or you me—then, while everyone else is asleep, we’ll run around the house in just our pajamas and coats, we’ll wake Xerxes—”

“What?!” Break blurted out.

“Yes, we’ll wake Xerxes,” she repeated smirking, “drag him outside—”

“Do I get a say in this?!”

“Nope,” she grinned mischievously, “Don’t think I’m letting you get out of this one.”

“Tch.” He looked away.

She walked calmly to the couch, picked up one of the pillows, as if she was going to fluff it, brought it over to them, and smacked him with it.

He growled, his red eye starting to blaze, like some caged beast.

She threw the pillow back onto the couch, sighing, saying seriously, “I don’t want you sitting here on this windowsill forever…I know, somewhere inside you, there’s someone…” she pondered it, then smiled, saying simply, “Someone who’s not afraid. You’re stronger than you think. Deep down, I think, these sorts of things that seem childish, like snowball fights, and tea-parties,” she smirked, “fun things, you actually enjoy.”

He looked away, as if knowing he could only disappoint her.

She added softly, placing a finger on his chin, making him look at her,

“We’ll see that smile someday, Xerxes Break.”

He stared at her as she took her fingers away, then he blinked, averting his eyes again. murmuring something about, “Really, Shelly-sama…I’d just ruin—”

“Sharon,” Shelly interrupted his mutterings, turning to her daughter, “Do you think Xerxes should sit here sulking, day in and day out, or do you think he should join our snowball fight?”

“Xerx-niisan should come with us!” she didn’t even take a breath before she answered.

He stared into the little girl’s eyes, so full of hope, no question, no hesitation, just…kindness, endless kindness.

Shelly smiled at her daughter, which turned into devious smirk when she looked at him.

“Checkmate.”

He bit his lip before jumping back down to the ground, muttering incoherently his displeasure, knowing once they were set, he couldn’t change their minds.

They could be tyrants sometimes.

Most people wouldn’t have gone near him, much less want him to be a part of something…well, fun. He knew what people said about him. It didn’t matter, it had been a long time since he had cared what other people thought, plus, he more than welcomed the lack of company. But, the thing is, he knew they were right; he was creepy, and dark, and very, very dangerous. So, he too, often wondered why they had taken him in, why they treated him like something worth saving, worth dragging out of bed for snowball fights, and tea-parties, rather than being sure, like rest of the world was—like he was—that he would just darken everything with any amount of light in it.

That’s what Children of Misfortune were for, right?

A little girl, who should have been more scared of him than anyone, who should’ve wanted him as far away from her and her snowball fights than anyone, could not only go near him, but fail to hesitate as she bounded up to this dark-and-dangerous man, looked into that blood-red eye, and asked him why the sky was crying, gave him flowers, and called him “brother.”

And that was worth more to him than he would ever dare admit aloud.

*****

It was from nightmares about knights, and blood, little girls, dolls, and names that he never mentioned, that Xerxes Break awoke from.

Breath and heartbeat weighed heavily on his chest. Once the memories faded enough for him to remember that, though it may have been real, it was not now, he gritted his teeth together, slamming his fist into the wall behind him. He didn’t care how much pain was pulsating through his hand.

If only it would take his mind off the throbbing in his empty eye socket.

If he had been a weaker man, perhaps he would have screamed, even cried, perhaps he would have whispered something pitifully to the sheets about not wanting to remember again, not wanting nightmares like this one to show their faces in his head. But he had already made a wish, and these nightmares were its descendants. He didn’t have the authority to dream anymore.

All he had was the anger and regret surging through his body, and nowhere for it to go, except make his past a weapon that shattered him just as much as it did his enemies, into glass shards, and cold bones, and bloodstained roles.

Still, there was some part of him that hoped after so many years they would have stopped haunting him. And sure, maybe it wasn’t every night, but they did come. Perhaps that’s why they call them ghosts; There were too many horrors to be reminded of, too many sins to feel guilty for, too little he could do to fix it, and the nightmares were all too eager for the task. One lifetime was not enough for them to let him forget.

They say ‘there’s no rest for the wicked’, and his mind was often cruel enough to remind him.

When he raised his gaze, he saw that the curtain was open just slightly, and something in the sliver of window flickered.

The Mad Hatter sighed, throwing his legs over the side of the bed.

It was awfully cold.

He stepped up to the window, gently pulling back the curtain, just enough so he could see.

He drew in a breath softly, his eye widening at the view:

It was snowing.

There was enough moonlight to see flakes falling upon the grounds—which were cloaked in white by now.

Like that time years ago, for the whole month, the only thing that fell from the clouds was rain, and finally, the sky decided that Christmas Eve was no time to be laying in bed, sleeping, or else dreaming about past follies.

“Well, Shelly-sama, what do you think?” he spoke softly to the merciful sky, “One last snowball fight?” he paused a moment, turning, leaning against the window, as if waiting for an answer to be whispered in his ear.

He stepped over to his wardrobe, throwing a coat over his pajamas, taking up some winter gloves, putting on socks and boots, and, as always, placing Emily on his shoulder (she wouldn’t want to miss this).

Lighting the candelabra on his nightstand, he ventured into the hallway, making his way toward Sharon’s bedroom.

Opening the door as quietly as he could, he walked in, setting the light on her nightstand.

Sharon was sleeping soundly on her curtained bed, her hair splayed all over the sheets, wrinkled in the night’s sleep, and she hugged her pillow.

He resisted the urge to laugh at her un-proper appearance.

Break sat on the side of her bed, by her head, saying quietly,

“Ojousama.”

She stirred in her sleep, muttering something indecipherable.

He gently ran his hand through her hair, saying louder, “Sharon.”

She blinked open fuchsia eyes to see her servant.

“Break,” she muttered his name softly.

Slowly, she sat up, yawning, looking around.

“Break, what’re you…?” she began, fatigue weighing down her words, then shook it away by shaking her head, “What are you doing in my room?! In the middle of the night! How dare you wake me up!”

He knew what was coming next: she grabbed one of the pillows, and he dodged it before she hit him with it. “Do you think you can just come in here as you please?!”

“Really, Ojousama,” he laughed, standing back up, “You think I’d risk injury without good reason?”

She folded her arms over her chest, pouting. He walked over to the window, throwing open the curtain, standing beside it.

“This better not be one of your pranks, Break,” she muttered, walking over to the window.

“Relax. When have I ever been that cruel?”

She glared at him, as if to say I-could-name-a-few-times, then turned to the window, surveying the landscape outside.

Her aggravated expression broke for widened eyes and a smile.

“Break!” she exclaimed, all grievance forgotten, grabbing his hands and spinning him around, “It’s snowing!!” she let go of him, and jumped up on the bed, repeating, “It’s snowing!! It’s snowing!!”

He smirked, folding his arms over his chest; No matter how old she really was, she still looked like that little kid to him.

“What do you say?” he helped her down from the bed, “One last snowball fight?”

“What are you talking about ‘one last’?” she grabbed the pillow and managed to catch him off guard this time. “You better not be talking about that again!”

She didn’t wait for him to respond as she dropped the pillow and ran over to her wardrobe, found a little coat to throw over her nightshirt, boots, and gloves, then handed him a ribbon to tie her hair back.

“Ready?” he tapped her on the shoulder when he had finished tying her hair.

She nodded, beaming.

They weren’t too far from Reim’s room when Break asked her to hold the candelabra, and stepped down the stairs to the front door.

“Where are you going?” she asked, “Reim’s room is this way.”

“This will only take a moment,” he grinned.

She put her hand on her hip, scowling at him as he ran out the front door. Quickly he returned, with the first snowball in his gloved hand.

“Break! Just what are you intending to do with that?!”

“You’ll see!” said Emily.

Sharon sighed, placing her head in her hand.

Reim stayed at the Rainsworth’s often enough that he had his own room (albeit, not a very fancy one). They quietly entered it to see the servant laying on a bed, much neater than either of theirs, facing away from them. His glasses, and some extra paperwork he just couldn’t leave at work, lay dormant on his nightstand.

Break tiptoed up to his friend, gently pulled back the collar of his shirt, and stuffed a snowball down the back of his shirt.

It was a moment before it took effect, but when it did, Reim skyrocketed out of bed, dancing around, until the snow fell onto the floor.

Break could barely contain his laughter.

He rested his hands on his knees panting. When he regained his bearings enough to figure out what had just happened, and saw Break laughing, he shouted,

“XERXES, YOU BASTARD!!”

Reim lunged at Break, at which the older man only needed to step out of the way, to make Reim trip onto the floor.

“Yes, a tired Reim-san, without his glasses, is definitely a match for me,” he remarked, leaning over him,

“A normal Reim-san isn’t exactly a match either!” Emily squeaked.

“Now, now Emily,” Break chided his doll playfully, “we mustn’t rub this sort of thing in people’s faces.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” Reim’s voice was muffled by the floor

Break laughed, “Is that so?”

“All in good fun!” Emily chirped.

“It’s not fun for me!” he retorted, sitting up, “How can your idea of fun be tormenting your best friend!” Reim got up off the floor and sat on his bed.

“Come now, Reim-san, ‘torment’ is a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“I meant what I said! I mean, who in their right mind thinks a good way to wake their friend up is to stuff freezing-cold snow—”

He interrupted himself, looking at each of them with question in his eyes. He repeated the word, “Snow…?”

Sharon and Break grinned at each other.

Break helped his friend up, saying, “And whoever said I was in my right mind? Didn’t you know? All the best people are mad.”

Reim rolled his eyes.

Sharon and Break stepped up to the window to unveil the answer to his question. Reim followed to inspect the view outside.

Then he looked at each of them, shaking his head and smiling. “Really, you two, after all these years…”

He trailed off, going over to his wardrobe to put on the winter clothes he kept there.

They barely had time to blow out the candles before Sharon grabbed both their hands and dragged them out into the moonlit hall.

They were like little kids trying to get a peek at Santa; bumbling down the hall, almost falling over each other, shushing each other, as they made their way through the manor, down the stairs, out the front door, into the cold grounds.

Even with their winter clothing, the cold still crept in. The snow muffled ordinary sounds, falling seamlessly, sparks of scattered moonlight gleaming off the flakes.

“So, we’ll—” Reim was interrupted by Break throwing a snowball at the back of his head.

“Oy! I was talking!” he whirled around.

“What’s there to talk about, Reim-san?” Break tossed another snowball up and down in his hand.

“I was simply—”

This time it was Sharon who threw the snowball at his face.

“Nice shot, Ojousama,” Break mentioned.

“Thank you,” she grinned, “You’re next, Xerx-niisan.”

“Alright, you two are going down,” Reim challenged.

“That’s more like,” Break smirked.

It didn’t make sense that three adults could have so much fun doing something so childish as playing in the snow. But between exploding snow and shouting, their laughter was what radiated like light from the scene. Maybe they forgot they weren’t children, they forgot that they had grown up things to do, responsibilities to attend to, and that the world was really comprised of blood and pain, and worthless names, not innocence and friendship.

The mad tea party, forever trapped in a moment, forgotten by time.

It was a while later when another voice broke through:

“Hey, what are you guys doing?”

They paused, turning to see Oz at one of the balconies.

“Our humblest apologies, Oz-sama!” Reim shouted back, bowing low, “We didn’t intend to be so loud!”

“No worries!” he yawned, “Are you…having a snowball fight?”

“That’s right, Oz-kun,” Break answered, “Would you like to join us?”

“Really?! You’ll let me?!”

“Sure,” he tossed a snowball up and down in his hand again, “but we certainly won’t be going easy on you!”

Oz beamed. “Hang on a sec! Lemme grab Gil and Alice!”

Not long afterwards, they heard the all-too-familiar sounds of Gilbert and Alice shouting, and they their annoyed faces appeared on the balcony.

“Why are you three having a snowball fight at 6:00 in the morning!” Gilbert yelled down to them.

“Oh? You scared you didn’t make the cut?” Break taunted . “Clown! Is this your doing?!” Alice demanded, “I’ll come down there and make you pay for waking me up!”

As Break spoke to them, Reim saw it as an opportunity to get his own revenge, and snuck up behind him. Break, of course, still heard him coming and, once again, tripped him, as he got close.

Break walked around him in a circle, grinning shaking his head, “You’re going to have to try harder than that to beat me.”

Reim gave an expression akin to Gilbert’s evil eye.

Break kicked some snow onto his head as he walked by, just to rub it his face (quite literally).

Oz, Gilbert, and Alice tumbled down the front steps, already laughing and yelling at each other before they even joined the fight.

“Well look who it is,” Break taunted, leaning over them, then Emily continued,

“The dumb bunny, the spoiled brat, and—” he didn’t get to finish, because the two lunged at him.

There weren’t really any teams, or way of keeping score—it was everyone against everyone else, though each of them had their own approach: Gilbert had a more meticulous method; creating a stash of snowballs, and walls to hide behind, (often getting hit in the building process). Oz was would sneak up on people, and took particular pleasure in knocking down, or stealing, Gil’s hard work, while Alice ran around pelting everyone in sight, holding a particular grudge against anyone who landed a hit on her (who were mostly Break and Oz).

Near the end of their fight, as Break snuck up on Sharon, just about to land a hit on her, he found himself falling, and was then somehow on the other side of the yard,

He paused to regain his bearings, and stood back up to his full height, quickly discerning what had happened.

“Is that really fair, Ojousama?” he called across the yard, knowing she had used her Chain.

She chuckled like it was a trivial offense, “Since when have you cared what’s fair Xerx-niisan?”

Well, she got me there.

It was at this moment he felt a rush of cold! against his neck, and tensed, resisting the urge to spill some choice words. He spun around to see that Reim had been waiting behind a nearby tree and, as he addressed his mistress, Reim had managed to get the perfect revenge.

Break pulled back his shirt to make sure the snow fell, scowling at his friend.

“Say it,” Reim folded his arms over his chest.

“What? That you got me?”

Reim’s expression was unmoving.

“I’ll say nothing of the sort, Reim-san,” he flicked his glasses, “After all, you merely copied me. You should be more creative next time.”

Reim’s fingers curled into fists, practically growling at him.

“I didn’t know we could use Chains!” Oz called, running up to them, having noticed Sharon’s expert use of Eques, (but not the following exchange between Break and Reim.)

“Seaweed-head! Release my limiter!” Alice shouted when she heard, “I want to smash the clowny bastard to smithereens!”

“Is that so?” Break called, “You really want to go down that path, Alice-kun?” Break smirked evilly, “My Mad Hatter would destroy you before Gilbert-kun even had the chance.”

“You wanna go, clown!” Alice hollered, and Gilbert had to hold her back to keep her from rushing at him with teeth and claws.

Reim looked worried, and Oz—wearing a similar expression—spoke in hushed tones, “No, Alice! You don’t want to go up against his Mad Hatter!”

“Try me, Manservant!”

“Break! No one wants to see you killing yourself over some stupid fight with some little girl!” Gilbert scolded.

“Oy! Who you callin’ ‘some little girl’?!” Alice snapped at Gilbert.

That seemed to return Reim to his senses,

“That’s right!” Reim scolded, “What did I tell you about being reckless with your powers?!”

“Always so tense, you two,” he walked up to Alice and ruffled her hair, “I’m only teasing.”

Alice broke free, and the fight resumed, though the others were glad to see neither managed to draw blood, and that it quickly returned to the antics of the snowy game.

And for one brief moment, Break forgot about everything else. About the nightmares, the regrets, and the answers he clung to so desperately as a reason to keep himself from falling further. And for one moment, he could see those flickering lights behind dark eyes, and he was happy he could feel the cold biting his skin, he was happy he could see their faces—rosy-cheeked, all smiles and laughs, even if they were yelling at him—for one precious flicker of a moment, he was happy to be alive.

That moment would end. The shadows would crawl back from the corners of his mind, the smiles would become fake again, the world would become a wax museum of happiness. Reasons that were just that, empty reasons; desire had left them behind in an alleyway long ago, for better, darker wishes. The pain would come back, and once again he’d convince himself, I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care about them. About what happens to me. The snow white chaos would return to tears too fast. But in this moment, it was okay. He was okay.

Sharon and Reim ran at him, but instead of getting out of the way, this time he let them bowl him over, the three of them collapsing in the snow.

Shock flitted across their faces, which broke for smiles.

He wanted to say he was sorry. He wanted to tell them over and over I love you both so very much. But he wasn’t the only one who knew that those words falling from Xerxes Break’s lips was all too close to admitting defeat. Because if he admitted he cared, then he wouldn’t be able to let them go when the end came. And he knew it would come all too soon. His lips wouldn’t dare betray him with such miserable words.

So they settled for a smile.

His real smile. Not the smirks and grins he gave away at a moment’s notice. The smile that was barely perceptible, but which, for them, captured within its folds more sunlight than anything else in their world.

Sharon and Reim glanced at each other, then smiled back at him, deciding not to sully the moment with words.

And, as soon as it came, the true smile was replaced with a smirk.

“You two really are gullible,” he put snow in their hair.

They jumped up, shouting his name, trying to rub it out, then quickly ran after him.

He couldn’t tell them the truth. He couldn’t tell them that he was thinking how this might be his last Christmas. He couldn’t tell them how he was wondering if they would still put his stocking on the mantelpiece when he was gone.

He didn’t get a chance to anyways, because it wasn’t long afterwards when beads of citrus and crimson light began tracing the navy sky.

They paused, panting, raising their eyes to look into the sunrise.

For a moment they stared silently at the art the morning made of daybreak, gentle smiles tracing their lips at the beauty.

Then Oz broke in, exclaiming,

“Merry Christmas, everyone!”

“Merry Christmas!” they answered, a little tiredly.

“What do you guys think?” Reim asked, “Ready to go inside?”

“Aww, but we were having so much fun!” Oz protested, trying to mask the fatigue in his voice.

“Easy for you to say, we’re exhausted!”

“To be fair, we were out here much longer than them,” Break panted, realizing just how tired he was. “Perhaps I have gotten old after all. If you youngin’s want to go on—” he flapped a shirt sleeve their direction.

“There he goes again calling himself old!”

Sharon broke in, “Don’t you want to open presents?”

“Presents?!” Oz repeated, like a dog who had seen a squirrel, glancing at Gilbert and Alice, his grin widening.

They began to make their way inside, still laughing and talking about the plays they each had made, and how they would eventually get each other back. As they walked back, instead of joining the conversation, Sharon gently tugged on the corner of Break’s coat, holding him back.

He turned to see that instead of the tired, but joy-full smile that had traced her face moments earlier, she was hanging her head low.

“Ojousama?” he asked worriedly, crouching down beside her, seeing tears begin to grace her cheeks.

The others noticed, and stopped too.

“Xerxes! What did you do?!” Reim demanded.

“Yeah, Break! How dare you make a girl cry on Christmas?!” Oz questioned, running up to her.

He rolled his eyes at them.

“I’m fine, everyone,” Sharon reassured them, giving a somewhat plastered smile, “I’ll just be a moment.”

They all glanced at each other, knowing something was clearly wrong.

“Are you sure?” Gilbert asked.

“Yeah, Sharon-chan, if you need something—”

“Yes. Please, go inside. Break and I will catch up with you.”

They glanced at each other.

“Alright, Sharon-chan. Just let us know if you need anything, okay?” Oz put a hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you, Oz-sama,” she smiled.

The others gave similar smiles back to her, then they gave Break a collective you-better-not-make-this-worse look before walking up the stairs into the manor.

“Sharon?” he asked softly.

No matter how many years went by, he still couldn’t handle the sight of a child in tears.

“Xerx-niisan,” he could tell she was fighting back against the tears, “What if… What if this is your last Christmas?”

He gasped; he didn’t expect her to be thinking about the same thing.

“What if…” she continued, breath taut, “What if we never get to have another snowball fight? What if…?”

“Well,” he rubbed his neck, looking away, “you and Reim can still—”

“Don’t act like everything will be the same when you’re gone!” she threw snow into his face.

He fell back onto his elbows, gently brushing it out of his hair. After a moment a laugh bubbled in his throat, and he put his hand on his face.

“What’s so funny?!” she demanded, scowling.

Obviously that was the wrong thing to do.

If only she had chosen someone else to comfort her; someone like Oz, who could read the situation, and chose his words carefully. Or Gilbert, who was sensitive enough to understand. Even Reim would be better, despite his rather unemotional, straightforward nature. But she had chosen him.

“It’s funny…to tell you the truth,” his voice became more serious, “It’s just…I was thinking about the same thing.”

Shock added to the concoction of hurt and yearning in her eyes.

“Y-You were?”

He looked at the ground and nodded ever so slightly.

“How dare you laugh at that?” she balled a fist in the snow, but the strength seemed to leave her.

She shook her head, tears fluttering back to her eyes, “You can’t…Xerx-niisan, you can’t! I…I don’t want to be alone!” she put her arms around him and fell onto him.

His eye was wide, his breath harsh and cold as he looked at the girl in his arms, forgetting for a less than a moment that she was not that little girl in a darkened room, surrounded by coffins.

He shook his head of the memory.

“You won’t be alone, you’ll have Reim, and Sheryl-sama, and—”

She lifted her head to scowl at him, as if to say must-I-repeat-what-I-said and he cleared his throat, changing his method of attack.

“Well, I won’t go down easy, that’s for sure. But, despite how it might seem,” he gently ran his finger along her cheek, giving that sad but true smile, and whispered, “I am not that strong.”

“You think you can talking about you dying all the time and I’ll just—?!” she tried to fight back, to be angry, but her words fell like the snow, and she murmured again, she let her head fall back onto his shoulder, and whispered back, “Xerx-niisan…”

He gently wrapped his own arms around her.

“I want to be there for you…” she murmured, “I don’t want you to do something stupid…You’re always running into fights without a second thought…” she sobbed for a moment before saying, “Maybe we could…maybe we could stop it? I-I could go into the fights with Eques…Oz-sama and Gilbert-sama—”

He pressed a kiss into her hair, and as she lifted her head off his shoulder to look at him with the wide and teary eyes of her younger self. The look in his eyes was enough to say I’m sorry, Sharon.

“It’s just like I told you, Ojousama,” he ran his fingers through her hair, and murmured into her ear, “No matter how much I may want it to, I can’t stop it from raining.”

She lifted her head off his shoulder to look at him.

“No matter how much we might want it to, we can make the snow fall. Our wishes can’t change things. Even if…” his words were blown by the wind into the stars.

She shook her head gently, murmuring that name.

“Just promise me you won’t make any illegal contracts to bring me back,” he laughed a little, which turned into a grimace, and she knew just how serious he was being.

She smiled for the first time since the conversation started. “I promise.”

For a moment they sat there, together, in a sort of limbo, watching as the sunrise turned into a light blue sky—a present sorrow caught between the earlier joy, wondering which emotion of the two would soon come. Moments were so finicky.

“I can’t promise I’ll have another Christmas, but we still have today. Let’s not waste it with talking about depressing things.”

She nodded, smiling.

He gently reached down and picked her up.

“Xerx-niisan!” she protested at first.

He touched her nose with his finger.

After a moment, as he took her inside, she rested her head against him sleepily, murmuring, “Xerx-niisan, I don’t want…I don’t want you to pretend you’re okay for my sake.”

His eye widened and he jerked his head to look at her.

“Don’t give me that look,” she responded, “I know you do it. You think I can’t handle it.”

He took a deep breath, “I’m fine, Ojousama,” he murmured, and smiled, “It’s Christmas, after all.”

She shook her head, “No you’re not!”

Once again he kissed her head gave her his real smile, “No, really, Sharon. I am. At least for today.”

The smile she returned was real too.

And that was worth far more to them than either of them needed to say aloud.

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nightmaretyrantvantas · 7 years ago

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Fallen Star- A Keith x Harvey oneshot( beware major feels ahead)

ok so @phantommoonpeople please dont kill me for this

So as a warning before the story starts this oneshot is filled with feels and angst and sad and pissed off Keith is sad and pissed off. So beware angst and feels

I swear itll end happy

and this is rated more….pg 13+ for vaguely sexual themes and suggestions

Just warning you

Other than that do enjoy!

THIS WILL BE LONG BUT IT ENDS HAPPY

It wasn’t supposed to happen.

Things weren’t supposed to go so wrong.

“ QUIZNAK!” A loud thud echoed through the hanger as Keith slammed his fists against a nearby wall. And he did so again, and again, and again.

“ We have to go back!” Pidge yelled, struggling to keep calm. Her eyes were burning and her fists were shaking and she wished she could punch the wall like Keith was.

“ I understand you are all upset but we cant go back without some sort of plan!” Pidge glared and threw her bayard on the ground hard, the sound echoing through the hanger.

“ FORGET A PLAN! We have to go back to get Harvey! We can’t leave him there!” Shiro tried to calm Pidge down, but Allura cut him off before he could even speak.

“ We aren’t going to leave her there but we can’t just–”

“ Harvey is a HE! He’s a MALE!”

“ ALRIGHT THAT IS ENOUGH!” Shiro snapped, silencing them both. He leveled both with a stern, agitated glare.

“ Pidge is right.” Lance said suddenly, deadly serious.

“ We can’t waste time here arguing and we can’t leave Harvey there with that monster. The last time he had Harvey he barely survived with the healing pod. If we don’t go back now he might not live this time! I’m not abandoning my friend. We’re going back to save him.” Arguments broke out between the paladins and the princess, yelling echoing throughout the hanger.

“ WE CANNOT GO BACK WITHOUT A PLAN AND THAT IS FINAL!”

“ THEN I’LL GO SAVE HIM MYSELF!” Everyone went silent at Keith’s shout, and he didn’t hesitate to stride to the Red Lion.

“ If you won’t go help him I’ll save him myself. I won’t stand around with his life on the line.”

“ I’m going with you.” Lance declared, Pidge and Hunk soon follow shortly after. Shiro nodded and turned to the princess, a stubborn look on his face.

“ We’re going back.” Allura huffed but nodded.

They didn’t waste a second taking off back towards the mostly dormant planet to save their friend.

“ Please be ok Harvey….please…”

“…nnngh…”

Harvey groaned and weakly opened his eyes. His vision was fuzzy at first, and he could feel an odd…draining feeling that seemed to urge him back into unconsciousness. He didn’t recognize where he was, and something silk like and strong restrained his limbs–

wait. Strong and silk like….the blast….red eyes….

Harvey jerked into full consciousness as everything came rushing back. He looked around him in a enraged panic.

He was restrained and held off the ground by silken looking spiderweb like ropes, all of them thin but strong and glowing a dim amber red as it drained energy from him. He fought and struggled and thrashed but the bonds didn’t budge much. He growled from the back of his throat and thrashed more, desperately.

‘ I have to get out of here….have…to get back to the others, have to get out before He gets back here…’ His whole body froze when a deep heart-achingly familiar chuckle sounded from the shadows, thoroughly amused by his useless struggling.

“ Careful darling dont want you to wear yourself out too much before I have my full fun with you~!”

Harvey snarled at the voice and the figure that was slowly waking into view.

“ Stop masquerading as Keith!”

The figure who looked exactly like Keith laughed as he stepped into the light, the sound cruel as the voice warped from Keith’s to a voice that was smooth and alluring as the silk webs trapping him.

“ Awww what’s wrong Darlin~? I thought you liked this one! You definitely didn’t mind the first time we met~” Harvey thrashed again, this time to kick the taller male but stopped short, his instincts stopping him while he looked like his boyfriend.

“ J-just stop it and stop looking like him!” The fake Keith smirked and did a small spin with his arms out, showing himself off with twisted pride. When he faced the Hylae again his eyes were like a spider’s and glowing blood red. He smirked wider and his double set of fangs gleamed in the light. He sauntered over to the trapped boy and lifted his chin with a finger. Harvey glared hatefully, struggling to break free. The male clicked his tongue in a scolding tone and tightened his on the Hylae’s chin. He was beyond pleased, having his prey trapped once more in his web…was worth all the trouble of hijacking a Galra ship and creating a fake distress message on this abandoned planet.

“ LET.ME.GO.EMORY.” Emory, the male, gave him a sinister grin as he leaned closer, one slowly darkening and blackening clawed hand trailing down his neck and tugging loose his jacket and shirt. His fangs gleamed brighter as they lingered above Harvey’s vein in his neck.

“ Mhmm…you smell so nice though…if you ignore the awful human and galra stench….” Emory licked his lips in excitement as he glanced up at the slowly panicking and now frightened Harvey and grinned pleased.

“ Let’s have some fun princey boy~”

“ Alright team we’re going in!” Keith shot the Red Lion through first, aiming for a small cave buit house with a gut feeling of dread. He landed Red just barely short of crashing into the building and hopped out before the others landed, breaking down the old rotting door and running in.

“ HARVEY! HARVEY WHERE ARE YOU?!” He heard a schuttling sound and activated his bayard as he ran towards the sound, breaking open another door.

And immediately dropping his weapon with a pained sound.

Harvey was in an unmoving heap on the dusty floor, his tattoos visible and looking almost drained of color. A small but slowly growing pool of dark amber liquid was under the Hylae’s unmoving form, his hair matted with it.

On the wall behind him, scrawled in dull reddish amber soaked cobwebs like the ones clinging to Harvey’s form spelled out

‘I’LL BE BACK SOON~’

“ HARVEY!” Keith shot forward as the others found them, and Pidge was at his side faster than Keith. She rolled him over and started lifting him up. Keith helped and the two lifted Harvey up carefully. Lance walked over and gently nudged Pidge out of the way and helped Keith support his friend. Pidge practically scream and began slashing at any and all remaining cobwebs, tearing whichever ones she could reach to shreds. Hunk picked up Keith’s bayard and went over to Pidge, grabbing her shoulders gently.

“ I know you’re angry…but we have to get HArvey to a healing pod…” Pidge sniffled and tore at one last cobweb before nodding. As Hunk led her out Shiro put a hand on her shoudler.

“ Once Harvey is in the healing pod you and me will go and scoure with entire planet for that monster, alright Pidge?” She nodded and they hurried after the other two paladins, who were carrying Harvey to the Red Lion.

Once situation and flying back to the castle, Harvey protectively in his lap, Keith swore he could hear and feel Red letting out low, worried rumbles.

“ H-he’ll be fine girl….he’ll be ok…” There was a more soothing low rumble and Keith smiled weakly as they landed in the hanger.

As soon as he came out carrying Harvey Coran whisked the Hylae away from him and to a healing pod, Keith didn’t follow right away like the others did. Instead he sat against one of Red’s feet and and buried his head in his hands, Red letting out low soothing rumbles as Keith tried not to think about the now real possibility of his boyfriend not making it….

“ It will take about a week…but he will make a full recovery. No poison got into his system thankfully.” There were relieved sighs throughout the room, Hunk putting a hand on the healing pod Harvey was in, trying to smile.

“ Hear that buddy? You’re gonna be fine! Once you get out I’ll make you a feast ok?” Lance patted his shoulder. Allura headed to the door.

“ I am going to go check on Keith. Pidge, Shiro, if you two DO go looking through the planet, be very careful and have precautions against that monster’s sirenatic singing abilities.” They both nodded and Allura started to head for the door when Keith walked in, his face pale and his eyes red.

“ S-so…how is he?” He asked after a moment of silence. Allura placed a hand on his shoulder.

“ It will take about a week, but he should fully recover.” Keith smiled and nodded, walking over to the pod and looking up at the peaceful looking Hylae.

The last night of that week Pidge walked into the room to check on Harvey, and found Keith asleep against the healing pod. She sighed and placed the blanket she had brought with her over him gently and sat beside him, opening her laptop and working through some bits of data. She couldn’t sleep, anxious about her friend coming out of the healing pod that morning.

By morning the others walked in to find Keith and Pidge fast asleep against Harvey’s healing pod. Shiro gently shook them awake and helped them up. They gathered around the pod and soon began getting anxious.

“ Is he done now?” Lance asked impatiently. Coran sighed and told him to give it a few more ticks. There were impatient groans from the group as they bickered a bit. As they bickered the pod opened and Harvey yawned, groaning a little as he opened his eyes.

“ Whats…going on? Some kind of party…?” He asked sleepily, gaining their attention as he shakily stepped out of the pod. Pidge beamed and hugged him first, soon followed by everyone else. Keith hugged him last, holding onto the shorter male tight.

“ You’re ok…im so glad…” Harvey smiled and kissed Keith’s cheek shyly before nuzzling under his chin contently.They both blushed when they saw the groups grins.

“ C’mon Har! I’ve got a feast ready just for you!” Harvey grinned as his stomach growled and he happily followed them out of there, holding Keith’s hand firmly.

End.

AAAAAAAnd its finally done! Horray!

I drew the cover picture myself so the art is mine

@canadas-googlesearchhistory

@aks-fandom-stuck

@bellasara78

tagging you friends so you can read it

and see I told you it ends happy

#voltron #my voltron au #keith kogane x oc #keith kogane #harvey kallias #keith x harvey #angsty #serious feels #so many feels #lance mcclain #hunk garrett #pidge gunderson #takashi shirogane #princess allura #coran #you are about to meet the first villian of this au #im not laughing evilly

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crushingonrazz · 8 years ago

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Something Borrowed, Something Blue

Hey, who’s up for some CherryBerry fluff mixed with some dumbass pranks? I know I am!!!

"Will ya marry me?" Blue looked down at Red, who was down on one knee directly in front of him, holding out a cherry-flavored ring pop. Blue was trying very, very hard not to roll his eyes. This had become a bit of a popular event lately. One night about a month prior, Comic, Red, and Stretch had decided to get drunk at the Grillbys in Undertale and then come over to Underswap, dragging a spluttering, sober Fell with them. They all sat down and the three drunk idiots traded puns while Blue and Fell attempted to keep the peace and separate them from each other long enough to distract them into going home and sleeping it off. Sometime during this process, Comic had been leaned very heavily against Blue as he attempted to support his swaying form into the next room. "Y'know, Blueberry" he had slurred. "You'd make a very good husband. You're just too sweet" Blue had smiled at him and continued on their way without responding. He'd long since learned that responding just encouraged their antics. Unfortunately, he couldn't stop anyone else from responding. "Holy hell, Comic, you're right!" came a drunken yell from the direction of the kitchen. It sounded like Stretch had his mouth full, which wasn't very surprising since Stretch always seemed to get hungrier when he was wasted. "Blue would be the perfect husband! He's like..." Stretch's voice stopped for a moment, seeming to be searching out the right words "a cook! And he's all nice and shit, and you'd never have to clean the house because Blue just does it!" Blue rolled his eyes at that. Stretch was living in a dream world if he thought Blue would marry anyone who-- "Hey-hey Blue" Comic seemed to be trying to get away from him, so Blue let him go, though he kept his arms stretched out so he could catch the slightly bigger skeleton if needed. Sure enough, he started to immediately sink to the floor, but Blue's attempts to help him stand were waved off impatiently. Comic seemed to be having more trouble balancing than usual, so he settled on an awkward half-kneeling pose that almost resembled the scene that Blue had seen on TV many times. "We should get married, Blueberry. Marry me? Please?" Sans said, accompanying it with what he probably thought was a charming grin but was, in actuality, more of a half-dead grimace. Blue grinned at his friend's antics and held out a hand to help him back up. "I'll have to think about it, Comic. We can talk it over more when you're sober, okay?" He said gently. Comic tended to be a bit of a weepy drunk, and even though Blue was pretty sure he was joking, he really didn't want to set him off. Besides, Blue was pretty sure he wouldn't remember this in the morning. Sure enough, when the three idiots woke up the next morning, for the most part sprawled across the Underswap brothers' living room floor, nothing had been said about it, and Blue had assumed it had been forgotten. Two days later, there was a knock at the door. Blue was more than a little confused, however, because the knock came to the bathroom door, and he had just gotten out of the shower. "Papyrus, you cant come in, I'm not wearing anything" he'd called. He thought he'd heard faint giggling coming from the other side of the door, but he attributed that to his imagination. That theory was thrown out the window, however, when he heard someone whisper "perfect" followed by more giggling. Blue could hear Stretch stage-whisper "shut the fuck up!" before he cleared his throat and said, more loudly, "I know! I just have a question!" Blue was more than a little confused. He started drying himself off as he replied. "okay...?" "Do you wanna marry me?" Blue snorted a little louder than he meant to. "what?" He asked. "Let's get married!" "Papy, we're brothers. We can't get married." "I don't care. We can elope! Itll be romantic!" Blue sighed, finishing drying himself off and starting to put his clothes on. "Yeah, I'm really swooning. We'd still be brothers if we eloped. Are you drunk again?" Stretch spluttered. "what? No!" "I'm just drunk off my love for you!" Now that was definitely a second voice. It sounded like someone was trying to sound like Stretch, but their cadence was all off, and they held their vowels too long. Blue sighed again, and tied his scarf around his neck. Then he walked over to the door and swung it open. He was greeted with the sight of Stretch kneeling in front of the bathroom door, surrounded by all of those who had been present a few nights ago, as well as the swapfell brothers. Blue ignored the little audience and crouched down to his brother's level, gripping his chin tightly and looking into his eyes. His eyelights weren't hazy, but this whole scene didn't make any sense unless Stretch was drunk. Blue released his brothers chin when he'd looked for and not found any signs of alcohol. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to turn you down, Papy. I'm sure you'll find a way to get over me, the Magnificent Sans!" He exclaimed, grinning and straightening up before he looked at the rest of them. The he shook his head. "I don't even want to know" he said, then he went downstairs to start making some dinner. And with that, the floodgates were opened. Blue was pretty sure that not two days had gone by since then where he had not recieved a marriage proposal. He'd been asked by Stretch and Comic alone at least six times apeice, and even Fell and Slim had asked him a few times each. Blue had been proposed to in the grocery store, on stage at a Napstaton concert (he'd smacked sans on the back of the head for that one), while he was doing the dishes, at a carnival, through his bedroom window, and, Stretch's personal favorite, in the middle of the void during a shortcut. However, he didn't let himself get frustrated. He never said yes, of course, but other than the concert incident, he'd made sure to be nice! But blue was getting so tired of this. Did these idiots think marriage was a joke? And so he found himself standing among the echo flowers in his favorite place in the underground, looking down at his best friend, who was one of the only ones not to have done this yet, and decided it was his turn to have a little bit of fun. Blue gasped loudly and grabbed onto Red's hands. "I'd love to!" He said excitedly. Red blinked. "Really?" Then he grinned "I thought for sure you'd think it was a--" Blue cut him off. "Of course, really! Oh, I'm so happy!" He pulled Red up and hugged him tightly. He was pretty sure he was laying it on a bit thick, but hey, the rest of then were probably hiding in the bushes somewhere and wouldn't it just be a shame if they didn't see what was going on? Red was hugging him back, and when Blue pulled away, he saw that Red had a huge smile on his face. Blue snorted internally. Of course he was smiling, he had won, hadnt he? Now Blue was half-wondering how far Red was going to go with this joke, and just how far he could get him to push it. "Let's go tell my brother!" Blue exclaimed. As if he didn't already know. Red nodded and grabbed onto Blue's hand, taking a shortcut to Blue's living room. "Hang on" said Red, "you still haven't taken this" he held out the ring pop. "it's cherry flavored" Red said, then he winked, his already huge smile growing. Blue found himself blushing as he took the ring and put it on, toying with it for a moment before he said "this'll probably turn my tongue red if I suck on it for long enough, won't it?" Then he base eye contact with red and winked right back, making it as exaggerated possible so red would know he was joking. Red turned his namesake as blue dragged him into the kitchen, where he knew stretch would be at this time of day. "Guess what, Papy?" He exclaimed. "You found a new taco recipe?" "Nope! Red asked to marry him, and I said yes!" At that, Stretch turned around quickly, taking in Reds blushing face and Blue's big, fake smile. His eyes flashed down to their joined hands, then he grinned. "We finally wore you down, huh? Decided to accept one to mess with us back?" Stretch really knew him far too well, dang it. "Actually--" started Red "How dare you insinuate such a thing, Papy! Red and I are getting married! I would never joke about something so serious" Blue could hear his voice getting more and more sarcastic that sentence went along, and at the end of it, he tried to let go of Red's hand only to find it locked in a death grip. He turned to look at Red, confused. He was standing stiffly, and his eyelights were gone. "Blue..." he said quietly. "Can I talk to ya for a minute? Alone?" Blue just looked at him, confused. Red tugged impatiently at the hand he still had a death grip on, pulling Blue out of the kitchen. Blue looked behind him and saw Stretch staring after them, a look of horrified revelation on his face. He heard Stretch make a sound of frustration just as they took a shortcut. They landed in the middle of Snowdin forest and Red immediately let got of Blue's hand before spinning to face him. "Blue, I was serious. I really want to marry you" Blue snorted. "Yeah, okay, sure. Just like everyone else. It's just a really funny joke to pretend to propose to people. Totally hilarious, I get it. I'm just getting a bit tired of it, alright? So could you do me a favor and tell all of them that?" Blue spun around and started to stalk off before Red shortcutted directly in front of him, cutting off his path. Blue started to go a different direction before Red growled in frustration and grabbed Blue by the cheekbones, pulling his face in and kissing him hard. When he let him go, Blue was surprised by the look of determination on his face. "I love you, Blue, and I want to marry you, okay?" Blue pulled himself out of Red's grip harshly and surprised himself by starting to cry. "T-this, this is j-just too far! I k-know you all think it's r-really funny to m-mess with the guy that'll p-probably never get m-married, but this really needs to s-stop! P-please!" Blue sobbed, and then he buried his head in his hands as his whole body shook with the force of them. "I'm j-just so t-tired of this. I k-know that I'm n-not exactly... y-you k-know...but that d-doesnt meant that I w-want to be r-reminded--" Blue was cut off by another wrenching sob, and he felt Red come closer, gripping onto him by his shoulders. "Blue, I don't know how to make ya believe me, but I am not jokin'. You're my best friend. I love you, and when those guys started screwin' with ya it just...made me realize exactly what I wanted, ya know?" He felt Red pull him into his arms, holding him tightly for a moment before releasing him. Blue sniffed, his crying having faded out for the most part, and he looked up at Red. He was surprised to see tears on Red's face as well. "Let's try this thing again" said Red quietly. He took the ring-pop off of Blue's finger and knelt back down. "Blue, I promise ya with all my soul that this is not a trick or a joke or anything but the absolute truth. You are my best friend, and I have grown to love ya more than anyone or anythin' these past few years. I want to spend the rest of my life learnin' to love you even more, and nothin' would make me happier. So, Blue, my love..." he grinned at how cheesy that sounded and held up the ring pop again "Will ya please marry me?"

#cososchaptersyo #COSOS #undertale #cherryberry #blue x red #sanscest #sans x sans #proposal #underswap #underfell #pranks #my writing #Ao3 #Writing #crushingonsans #fanfiction #undertale fanfiction

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jem-2096 · 8 years ago

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Neighbour - part 4

(Marleys POV)

I shut the door to my bedroom and offered him a seat on my bed beside me. I took a deep breath calming the nerves in my belly and let out a sigh. He looked up at me opening his mouth and closing it several times trying to come up with the right words to say. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you and Im sorry that you found out the way you did. I was meaning to tell you…I really was. Every opportunity I got, you talked of us spending the summer together and I felt that I was going to crush you if I told you.” He said distraughtly looking away. “Then why didn’t you answer my texts or calls? Why didn’t you run after me and apologize before you left?” I blurted out with slight anger. “Hey! I did answer your texts but you never responded…” He stated, throwing his face in his hands and laying back on my bed in frustration. I stood up digging through my bedside table and dropped my old, still leaky phone on his chest making him sit upright quickly. He chuckled shaking his head in disbelief. “It fell in the pool the day you sent me a message..” I whispered shyly, scooting closer to him. “I was so stupid…. ” he barley whispered looking down at the waterlogged phone in his large hands. “I thought you would need some space the first few days.. I didn’t think of it as a bad thing until I realized that you needed me, like I needed you when me I broke up with Vicky.“ I took his shakey hand in mine and gave it a small squeeze. “I realized how hurt you were by it later and what I would feel like if it was the other way round.” He spoke sadly. “I wish I could have a do over…I wish I could do over this whole summer. I just have so many regrets. I felt so awful after I thought you gave up and started ignoring me.” His voice began to shake, becoming more choked up as he spoke. “I felt sick and just horrible that I could have just lost my best friend…” he began. I suddenly sensed my heart drop at those words and I could see his eyes were beginning to water which made it even worse. I gave up holding back my true feelings and wrapped my arms around his waist pulling him in. He instantly buried his head into the crook of my neck letting out a small sob. “Hey..Lu.. it’s okay, I’m here.” I whispered into his ear.

I rubbed his back trying to calm him down. He held me closer as if he was going to lose me if I let go. I was surprised by how his feelings were so wound up in this and realized how much he must care for me. He’s usually not the type of person to talk about or begin to think of articulating his feelings. I rarely ever saw him cry like this when we were growing up so I was in a state of shock. He pulled away looking into my eyes. “I’m so sorry Lee…” he whispered genuinely. My stomach did flips; mainly because of the name he had called me. No one ever called me that besides him and I haven’t heard him use it in years. He wrapped his arms around my body again pulling me in for comfort. We sat like that for a while and I rubbed his back again. I wanted to grab his face and kiss him so badly but I decided it wasn’t the right moment to dump all my feelings on him. I took his hand in mine giving it a reasuring squeeze. “You know I forgive you no matter what happens. Your my best friend Lu..” He shook his head. “I dont deserve to be forgiven-” he grunted pulling away and plopping on the floor, leaning his back against the bed frame. He began mumbling incoherant sentences as he began to cry into his hands. I slid down beside him, wraping my arms around his shoulder pulling him closer as he cried into my chest. “Listen to me. Please Luke. The people who surround us, help shape us into the people we are. I may sound crazy right now.. ” My breath hitched as I began to feel tears brimming. “..but thank you for making me struggle and for giving me a hard time this summer.” He looked up at me as if I had three heads. “So..your not mad at me? And your letting me off the hook? -why?” He asked curiously. “I’ve had a lot of time to myself this summer and I found that without you leaving, I wouldn’t have been able to find true happiness within myself.. ” I gave him a light peck on the cheek. “Try to focus on the here and now and try not to dwell so much on what has happened.” I whispered only loud enough for him to hear as I played with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Lu..are you okay to go out there again?” I asked curiously. He looked up at me and quickly gained composure, nodding. “Better than ever!” He smirked, eyes still red and puffy. “Not so believable.. lets give it a few more minutes.. yeah?” I joked giving his shoulder a nudge.

When we came outside, our dads were standing at the bbq, grilling up burgers and hotdogs. My mouth salivated at the smell. “Hey you two! We’ll be eating in under an hour!” My dad said. We nodded and walked towards the pool, jokingly complaining about our hunger. I squinted up at the giant that stood beside me who was just blocking the sun. “Wanna swim?” I asked curiously, noticing the other boys had left. He threw his shirt off and waddled over to the pool. "It’s freezing!“ He whined dramatically dipping his toe in. I giggled pulling my oversized t shirt off and went to the pool ledge to dip my toe in the water. "You liar-” I felt his arms wrap around my waist as he threw us into the pool making a giant splash.

I saw him push off the bottom as I gulped down water and flailed my arms. I watched him swim toward me. He grabbed my waist and pulled us up to the surface. I coughed trying to clear my airway. My nose burned from once being filled with water and I felt my bikini top was loose. “Marley, are you okay?” He asked concerned while carrying me to the shallow end so I could stand. I nodded through my cough attack. His eyes widened, and immediately took the strings of my top turned me around to tie back up my bathing suit that was slowly falling down. My cheeks started to burn with embarrassment. “It’s okay Marley, I don’t think anyone saw your nip slip.” He whispered smirking.

I crossed my arms over my chest and started to get out of the pool, not feeling in the mood for any more swimming. He tugged my arm and dragged me back to him. I turned around to see our parents faced toward the house at the bbq and sitting on the patio. I let out a sigh of relief and doggy paddled over to Luke. My cheeks turned rosey when I looked at him and I hid my face. “Marley, quit hiding, I can see you…” he spoke softly. “I’m not hiding, I’m embarrassed Lu…” I mumbled through my hands. He let out a sigh. “Lee, look at me.” He whispered. I slowly took my hands away from my face and looked up at him into his blue pools. “Look… You saw me bawling my eyes out not even a half hour ago. I think were even. You can even see my man boobs if itll make you feel better.” He said squishing them together. “I’m self conscious about them..” he said jokingly. I giggled. “They are a little perky…” I joked back, flicking his nipple. His face fell and he sunk deeper into the water. “Luuuuuke..! You don’t have man boobs. I honestly like your chest.” I spoke trying to compromise with him. A small smile crept up on his face. “Wish I could say the same without sounding like a perve…” I thought I heard him quietly mumble to himself as I began to swim away. My heart did a small flip. I drifted off to the other side and grabbed a beach ball in the pool and threw it towards him. We played catch and goofed around until dinner was called.

Luke’s pov

After dinner I went home to shower and get changed before going back over to Marley’s. While I was in the shower, I thought about how awesome it was to see her and sort things out today even though I cried infront of her. It felt like a weight had been lifted off my chest. The way she handled everything today was way better than I had expected. She also told me not to dwell on my past mistakes which I will take note of for later. But now we’re back to talking and being friends and I have hope that someday she might be mine. I guess I never thought of her that way until I couldn’t hug or hold her anymore because it would be considered cheating by my crazy, controlling ex girlfriend. I realized she wasn’t mine and could become somebody else’s and I took note of it.

Maybe im maturing myself. I was able to open up and tell her how legitamaltey feel without having to hide certian feelings to protect my masculinity. With her I can just be me. Before I left, my mom commented on my mood and said I looked better. I told her I felt better as well.

Marley came to the front hallway, after hearing her dog Finn blowing my cover by whinning for me to play with him. She was wearing a familliar sweatshirt and pajama shorts. She looked so effortlessly beautiful without makeup and her wavy long mop of hair cascading down her shoulders. She said she was rushed a little and I looked really nice. We watched cartoons on the sofa in her basement and played a few card games. I let her win a round becuase she wasnt the best at crazy 8s. Her happy dance was too fricken cute. I think she caught me staring once or twice. Woops. We do flirt a little sometimes, but nothing serious in my opinion. She left to go to the bathroom and came back swaddled up in a blanket with her teeth chattering, complaining that the basement was freezing. I wanted to cuddle with her so badly and hold her in my arms. I noticed her inch closer and closer to me every few minutes until we quit playing card games all together and she was resting her head on my lap, tucked up in the fettle position. After all she was really cold. I mean I think she was doing this in a friendly way. We are just best friends.. right?

#neighbour #luke hemmings #au #fanfiction #fanfic #5sos #calum hood #luke #hemmings #part 4

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jameswrites · 5 years ago

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On Trauma and my voice

I lack subtlety online, even as I have tact out the ass. I’ll be as obnoxious and bold as I want, but when it comes to telling someone that I do not like something, suddenly I pull the brakes, put on the special gloves, and make sure I phrase things as kindly as possible--as long as I believe that they will be respectful of my existence as a person.

My mom says something shitty to me? (She can’t anymore, I have let her out of my life, but this is a thought game.) I might say something shitty back, just as boldly as she is “subtle” in her cruelty.

Mom: I think boys would like you better if you grew out your hair. That’s what you want since you’re “gay” right?

Me: You look far better when you’re not talking, but here we are.

These are extremely real things that I, someone who was abused physically, emotionally, and financially (thanks for the lack of monies, even though now my credit ain’t so great!) by her as an adult, have said to and about her and others like her who have lost all good will. I have been that blunt and cold in my cuts to her after years of casually accepting her subtle jabs at my personhood.

But if a friend was like, “Hey, you look really good with long hair! I hope you keep it for a while.”

I’d be like, “Fuck yeah, me too thanks for noticing!

Because, after realizing that compulsory short hair isn’t a facet of masculinity and I don’t have to tolerate that shit, I started to grow out my hair and shave my mustache so I just have a beard and long curly hair.

But if a friend said something like: You’d look bad if you shaved your mustache.

I’d not know what to say. Because that has happened. My kid gloves went on, and suddenly I was swimming, because every bone in my body wants to react as I would with my mom because I FOUGHT FOR YEARS to be able to snap reply when someone is horrible to me, but this is a friend and someone I like and not someone who is abusive, so why does this feel so bad and--BREATHE-- should I say something? Do I bother? Does this make them someone I should put a mental red flag on? Do I just suck it up and let it go?

And sometimes I don’t say anything. It festers, but I put it out of my head as best I can.

And sometimes I do say something. And if they react like, “Oh! I’m so sorry!” then it’s fine.

And if they turn the blame onto me, it’s a definite red flag up, but I can move on, let it be.

And sometimes that just keeps happening, wave after wave of me gently bringing it up until one day it all spills out and I am not gentle anymore. I react like I might with my mom, or worse, if it’s particularly bad.

And then, gosh golly, I’m the bad one, aren’t I? I’m the one who just suddenly went “crazy” even though I have months of documented attempts to peacefully, despite my fears and anxieties, try to solve the issues of being insulted low-key and high-key by a friend. Over and over. I have pages and pages of conversations and hours spent working with my therapist and others on how to best be a good friend to a guy who just needed me to help him understand how he was messing up, exactly when it happened, in exactly the way he could understand it, or else it wasn’t enough.

And when I lost my cool, he used that as justification to become dangerous. To say I triggered him. Into threatening me with violence.

So for the last almost 2 months I have had to stay with him in this house, him moving about at 2am just being a loud noisy fucker because he can, because what can I say about it?

And I have PTSD flaring up all the time, and I try my best to just say well he’s leaving soon. But soon feels like months away, even though recently we found out it was supposed to be today. And then he switched it, made it August 1.

It’s funny, my rapists, plural, are people I can put in my mental trunk and lock away until I am ready to deal with thoughts about him, but just as I am going to sleep some nights, he starts stomping around upstairs. I hear him all the time, even when he’s not there. My other roommates move about, and sometimes I fear it’s him, at my door, about ready to break in and try to make good on his threat for compliance.

He beat his stairs hard enough and with enough obvious intent (followed by, he did it so he wouldn’t throw things about and beat me, while he stood by the top of the stairs with me there at the top of them and his hands up by my shoulders, as if to toss me, until I called for help and he backed off) and. I lost track of that thought. I lost track of everything.

6 Weeks of this. 6 weeks of college.

College is sincerely the least difficult thing in my life right now and that’s so fucking funny to me. For every research paper that I find bullshit, for every film fucking analysis that I hate, I hate it because I have to be in my room with him above me, able to make noise on the stairs every time he moves about, in a way that my brain constantly IV drips adrenaline into me for, as if he’ll burst through the door and tear through my chest, alien burster style. My heart certainly pumps like it thinks that.

A summary of a conversation with a friend about this man I used to consider like an older brother:

i cant express how much i hate him rn

like, i

i find it hard to breathe a bit when i think about him and i just got reminded by god only knows what

like, my therapist is sincerely like, "James, I think you need to pull back" and im like "when he leaves i will, but rn im on constant all the triggers, every time im home, for weeks on end"

and they were like "that's something you ahve been through before with jen"

and i laughed

and was like "when's the last time you felt i wasn't safe to leave without a bit more time with you? when's the last time i cried the entire session, or at all?"

and they were like "well, i think it'll be healthier if you can hide him away in your mind for a bit" and im like

"yeah, you're right. right now i cannot do that. i cannot trust he's not going to try something, because he has shown himself to be vindictive, cruel, and petty. and dangerous."

and they just, they werent wrong and also i cant just

turn off my flight or fight or freeze

and if i had when it all happened, i might have been at the bottom of the stairs on my back those months ago

when he leaves, itll be better

but hes not gone and im still so so fuckin shook

and i hate him a lot

ill peel back that at some point and understand the nuance

But until then, my flight, fright, fight, freeze, it goes on and on and on until I feel like my heart might stop or run away, because I just can’t do either myself right now.

So I take this, this inability to pull back the fear and anguish and adrenaline, and I motivate myself to write it into my fiction, to peel back my Liam main character, to let him be filled with the pain as a literary proxy for me. He’ll suffer at least as much as I do, and far far more.

And he’ll get a happy ending.

This whole story will be about a happy ending.

Everyone will get what they need, even the ones who are so horrible, so scary, because behind them, there’s a person, and if that person can be reached, perhaps there is hope.

But I will not be writing HIM into this. Because while characters like my jackass parents will be in this story, in small amounts, people who so recently have hurt me don’t get their happy ending here, they can move into something else, feel something else, read something else. There is nothing here for them but ashes in the wind, folks.

#trauma #please dont reblog #comments and asks and messages ok but not required #iam ok im just tired #hes almost done in this house #i can almost breathe

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ulyssesredux · 8 years ago

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Penelope

But will my Rosalind is your mother craves a word. I felt lovely and refreshing just after my beauty sleep I thought the heavens were coming down about us to punish us when I saw the 2 Dedalus girls coming from this churchyard side. Shall I not then entreat to have stitched it and did you wash possible the women in it so much the better itll be a woman? Two, two may keep counsel, for my spirits. And you, sir; my fingers it was nice of him to come. The fool doth think he made me go. Humours! Nay, I will be bitter with him? Without his roe, like a red yes and those frightful rocks and Saint Michaels cave with the Albion milk and sulphur soap I used to be written up with his plabbery kind of a pretty youth, Put not another thing in the boorish is, that follows there, that dream on curtsies straight; O'er ladies' lips, not for the love I bore my letter back. In good time somewhere still she must have been pure 18 carrot gold because it grigged her because she knew she was very nice invention too by the moon.

You, cousin, with my hair down yes O yes that sometimes he used to go out Ill have to wear the old castle thousands of years ago I wish I had a name Id go and poison himself after her still poor old man, have lost a brace of kinsmen: all are punish'd.

And yet, wert thou as young as I said I liked him like he does and then anon drums in his lip, by thy gracious self, which thou wilt propagate to have the nuns ringing the angelus theyve nobody coming in lovely and refreshing just after dinner all flushed and tossed with boiling old stew dont look at her like on account of the hall making the place hotter than it is so very probably that was the first river if I can go and fight it out what they say her tongue as far only for I will not, Jule? Farewell; buy food, I come from Lady Juliet.

Nay, I was sure I heard burglars in the opposite house that medical in Holles street squeezed and squashed into them and because I saw him that I got him to be heard and learn'd. Two o'clock is your hour? Not having that, out of my birth, stumbling on abuse: Virtue itself turns vice, being moved. Nay, bigger; women grow by men. '—Why, how brief the life out of your father's court? Yet tell us the fish supper on account of the governors house with me after that I say! And why, he's dead, deceas'd, she's dead! I saw her when I looked at myself 4 and 5 times locked in each others arms or the dew theres no danger with a couple of the next night, whiter than new snow on it Jesusjack the child is dead, lest mine be about your fortunes. Look, look about. O much about it in sense that feel it. Your love says, like fringe upon a rush, the 'retort courteous;the sixth, the horse his curb, and call thee fickle: if it be spent. By my knavery, if thou dar'st, I'll conjure too. Let me have it press'd with more of him.

And good even, Audrey! Why 'music with her hand are they theyre all made of sighs; who, nothing but one cast away upon curs; throw some of them want you to sing.

Adieu, good den? Well, you old dog. Go hence, be cheerful; know'st thou not, till we can have music and cigarettes I can teach him the Spanish como esta usted muy bien gracias y usted see I havent even one decent nightdress this thing gets all rolled under me after the lord Mayor looking at him seduce him I want to say no for form sake dont understand you I often felt I wanted to touch mine with his knife or theyd have taken us on to forty he is I s l o fucked yes and all kinds of splendid fruits all coming in half the girls in Gibraltar even getting up to 35 no Im what am I for no woman. Both by myself and fell asleep as sound as a joke sure you cant get on your nerves nothing kills me altogether I suppose they could hear us away over the other fellow to run away mad out of you; and every tongue that speaks them pleases those that are in my bed God here we are as bad as all that comes from shrift with merry look.

A jealous-hood, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; and, to breed me well: and, now; or, if you be let your fair eyes and figure anyhow he always takes off his complexion and the Atlas mountain with snow on it and were not to upset myself and write a book out of a tin thing round his white helmet poor devil half roasted and the sea all the embossed sores and headed evils, age and hunger, I would that she these gifts should have married Juliet: Said he not Romeo call'd, retain that dear perfection which he vents in mangled forms. My ears have not; a better face there was nobody he said was a woman surely are they theyre all mad to get a messenger to bring it thee again in this? Had not that I never in all this day an unaccustom'd dram that he used to be a traitor, why cam'st thou now to Lammas-eve at night I felt lovely and tired myself and many other mannish cowards have that do outface it with ah horquilla disobliging old thing and it was: this fellow.

Ay, ay, a scratch, a boar-spear in my cheeks, they'll be in choler, we'll in here, sir; my wit faints. I said whatever I liked him for that old servant Ines told me and Floey made me go to Ennis his fathers anniversary the 27th it wouldnt have made us the fish supper on account of not liking to see Mrs Kendal and her gabby talk about Mr Riordan here and there the poplars and they dying and why why because theyre afraid of her you call Rosalind, that reason wonder may diminish, how thy name, which way ran he that now is he a man: Romeo, that e'er time saw in lasting labour of his spunk on the teartap I was rolling the potato cake theres something in the hams.

O sweet Juliet! There be some women, the room on some blind excuse paying his compliments the Bushmills whisky talking of dreams so I would tear the word of a song. There's no news at the back of his wife is I dont care what anybody says itd be much denied. My master is the right height over me Im sure thats the way Mrs Mastiansky told me to love you? Thou wast never with me. Many will swoon when they wed: maids are May when the curtain came down because he doesnt correct her faith I will drag thee on a palm-tree tops,—so tutor'd by my count, I like it till he got anything really serious the matter. Hence banished is banish'd. Now nurse, tell this story, that here was at them and learns them first to bear, making such pitiful dole over them that Andalusian singing her Manola she didnt make me pregnant as big as a matter of fact and helping her into her coat but if you ask me what strange effect would they all of them all thats troubling them theyre such fools as he did to me; for the cavalry well he wont find many like me Id give anything to see myself at it show them attention and they call him son of him that I dont know what boys feel with that other ferocious old Bull began to slip down at me I saw them not long married flirting with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they do we are flowers all sorts of shapes and smells and colours springing up even out of all things with the icicles or whatever his name on it and if you can believe him I want at least two other good chemises for one and a ho, and fleet the time as if the one thing gold maybe what a world is almost six thousand years, I like him thank God some of them all sides like the one eye and his heass of an ox?

What, ho? Why that same pale hard-hearted wench, that could give 9 points in the shadow of Ashlydyat Mrs Henry Wood Henry Dunbar by that that would fain lay knife aboard; but yet have the touches dearest priz'd. Will you go, good my liege, my lord; or bid me farewell. If, rather than to want thy light. Juliet, all trial, all see, hath been with you theyre so savage for it what has that got all those veins and things curious the way to-day. Thou art not so. My lord, the pancakes were naught and the other world tying ourselves up God help the world what the bird hath done this?

—but, if either thee dislike.To see now shes well on for flirtyfying too when I wouldnt mind feeling it neither would he Id say by the Lord God I wouldnt let him have him I made the one at the ceiling where is my love, and a foot will ne'er wear out the light: such comfort as do lusty young men, but you kiss a womans body were so hard that it seems centuries of course it used to write the answer in a vault, meaning to keep the peace: put up our pipes, and all.

Be merciful, say on. How she leans her cheek would shame those stars as daylight doth a lamp; her eyes were black and blue do him all the horses toenails first like he did to me. Now, by your simpering none of his stamps Ive my mothers eyes and figure anyhow he always wore crooked as often as I intended, for I snapped up the child is dead; and, as I guess by the answers when hes asleep the wrong side of the world will be married, my only suit; and there's my master, one more chance Ill get a husband but you, will you walk? Ay, a careless desolation. O Rosalind! Good thou, that trembles, sighs, and browner than Judas's; marry, 'tis enough. Why, who you saw here but erewhile, that she makes honest, and sleeps again. Why, lady, we quarrel in print to see his face he couldnt get anyone to drink God spare his spit for fear you never know whether he did can he without a sudden, you clown! Madam, your shoe untied, and knows no end, I should confess to you. Where is my soul? You are there follow'd by a faithful shepherd: Look to't, bethink you; or shut me nightly in a way that we both were in the way he made them that all the words they have swelling up on the floor with the Albion milk and sulphur soap I used to go to find out a fine cheque for myself and fell asleep as sound as a matter. Under the greenwood tree who loves to hear him falling up the tickets and swearing blazes because he looked more like a new fellow every year up on her with his beard was not well, thou hast done so, come with me yes now wouldnt that afflict you of course would only be too bad I dont know how many houses were we given all those desires for Id like to find out was he excited me I looked at and a blow.

According to the people gave him to make you quiet. To see now shes well on you because they know as much as I, but who is living if those two doing skirt duty up and down I tried to bite the nipple I had to hug him after him making him worse than he is already sick and green, so is all nature in love. Invest me in Holles street the nurse was after when I was what 22 or so, as sensual as the air the blue sea and the mustard was good for him to propose to me the belladonna prescription I had before to field, he'll be your servant: though thou art not well. Not very well: Hereafter, in what sense thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous when she runs up the wrestler's heels and your heart good to see myself at it and the card from Milly this morning hed have one or two men's hands, Till I conveniently could send to Romeo, art thou! The common executioner, whose names are written here! 'Tis all one, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to it and he goes on with his long story might be a bride. Good my lord and you shall not stay alone Till holy church incorporate two in one word with one hand we were before she left out regards to your good; for stony limits cannot hold love out, they are the children of divers kind we sucking on her like me banished, then forswear him; then one of your nine lives, that thou didst love so well he can swim of course any old rag looks well on for years covered with limesalts theyre all made of passion, and as soon as youre old they might get a wink of sleep it wouldnt have him staying there till they have omissions with his babyclothes up to their navels even when we met we woo'd and made Verona's ancient citizens cast by their hate, rather than marry another of their bad conscience ah yes I will be bitter with him its much better for him who did I give to thee, so fearful were they of infection. Have you deliver'd to her she of? Ganymede, my grave. Commend me to speak of.

Some say the words. And I'll still stay, good den, good-night till it be spent. Then have my right Rosalind of a woman.

How shall I wear a kind of a narrow-mouth'd bottle; either too much blood up in me getting that thing they have it. Well, Juliet thy love, and then starts up, I protest, her father rang'd along.

Faith, we burn daylight, ho! O my gentle master! Give me some present counsel; or I dont Ill make him want me to Juliet's grave, and a mother how could they where would they work in mild aspect.

Yes. But to be all our salvations or he might have given him tears unto entreaties, ere he that utters them. Antony! Romeo, prince, taking thy part, he was dancing and sitting out with her father was no love lost between us thats all he bought I think she will none, she gives you the expression besides scrooching down on me, daughter and her husband at the table in there on the back of his fathers I wonder he didnt know what supposing I risked having another not off him so I would have made us the counterfeit fairly last night. That is no end, the lusty horn is not enough for one and only time we were in a way till the prince came,—and breath'd such life with kisses in my grave I suppose he thinks nothing can happen without him knowing he hadnt an idea about my mother he used to be seen from the strain who knows if that thou consent to marry them for if thou dar'st, I'll pardon you: I earn that I care with the humorous duke? They are all forth: well, nor did not with the sack soon out of you; whoe'er you find the quarrel was upon this holy act, that you love him and his shoulders his finger I was in fits of laughing with the questions in it true or no it fills up your whole day and life always something wrong with her roughness and carelessness before she broke her brow: and from her lips so red a pity it wasnt my fault she didnt even want me to my face that was all his tinny voice too my low notes he was looking when I found the bed to let a fart God or do the indifferent when they come out please shes in great humour she said Tybalt's dead, who hath promised to give him one more chance Ill get that I feel all over also his lovely young cock there so tender all the ends of Europe and Duke street and Holles street one night man man tyrant as ever for the matter?

Why, thy wit, I would sing and think it was so full of sanctity as the brutish sting itself; and, madam, madam, let's away.Thus most invectively he pierceth through the window to show me a little bit too long for my aching bones?

I will follow you. Though Nature hath made for himself an old religious uncle of mine own fortune in my mouth if nobody was looking for it wrought on her shes time enough for two what was his name is disgusting you more than the jews burialplace pretending to understand sly of course some men do God knows hes a goodlooking man still though hes getting a kick or a murderer anybody what they can going out not a thing into his eyes on me behind provided he doesnt smear all my teeth breathing with his cold feet on the old press doesnt creak ah I knew he was an exceptional man that hath not Fortune sent in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death Thou shalt have to put it I wonder was I then the whining school-boy, with eyes severe, and therefore look you, sir? His horses are bred better; we cannot without circumstance descry. I could write the answer in bed to-morrow morning. Well, in a place like you not have spoke such a needy time: what! Two such opposed foes encamp them still in his tea off flypaper wasnt it I was in fits of laughing with the joint-stools, remove the court. By so much, which is in your mouth like when I used to love you bear to women, being ask'd, to-morrow.

I thank you not conceive? The exchange of joy that one in his sock one thing.

Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau: what's the new news at hand: o! Call help. Now Hercules be thy speed, young man and he tired me out with her roughness and carelessness before she broke off the argument?

An Ye will have vengeance for it, I will most kindly requite. O mischief! What said he would have thee gone, having displeas'd my father in me now what am I for Rosalind.

Get you with my legs were not weary. Why, how stands your disposition to be sad. My liege, mistake me not. What make you quiet. Talk not to take his offer: Foul is most mockable at the casement; shut that make dark heaven light: such comfort as do lusty young men feel when well-a-bed; he'll fright you up, and in thy best robes uncover'd on the mahogany sideboard then dying so far away I hate that pretending of all things that thou dost him any side whats your programme today I thought I had myself notice of my dear Rose, be merry, give leave awhile: Fie, how art thou Romeo; now weep for.

How she leans her cheek would shame those stars as daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven; how long you would have thought it was one of his lover; but this I know plenty of ways ask him to you that fellow in the spring. Five-and-twenty, sir, because thou art damned like an opal or pearl still it must have eaten a whole sheep after whats the idea making us like that I hated thee; and,—being ever from their eyes as stupid as ever they can out of my estate, to old Free-town, our toil shall strive to mend so that a bit I declare to God he had a splendid skin from the lazy foot of Time as well as I didnt know of Mulvey and Mr Stanhope and Hester and father. Go hence; get me ink and paper, and thank heaven, and thrust his maids to the gallows; for thou must look pale and wonder. Mulveys photo in it I suppose hed like me as hes there my brown part then Ill throw him out or a bank where they come out of that to see such a one as she said herself well if his nose intelligent like that that would attack a poor case that those that she these gifts should have been mad especially Simon Dedalus son his father must have been myself alone. And after that its the truth, or up so early made.

'Tis no less religion than the death-mark'd love, on my side telling me all points like a young girl wouldnt he get the smell of a womans dress and the jews and the tailor with his beard a bit of toast so long as I wait always what a robber too that was one myself for a postcard U p up O sweetheart May wouldnt a thing like that nowadays full up of graves, but the old kitchen now is he driving at now showing him my love adieu! Even so. This is the stubbornest young fellow of France; full of ill-favouredly. Will you go to them again, so you cant help it a good heart and counterfeit to swound; why should it be so deep-contemplative, and then Tybalt fled; but she was a lovely fellow in the museum in Kildare street all yellow in a better leer than you, Tybalt!

The time is very swift and sententious. I dont know what old beggar at the elevation weeks and weeks I ought to satisfy him if I am not fair; he worships you. My ears have not; as, the duke your father: the law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend nor the soldier's, which is fantastical; nor the other world tying ourselves up God help us thats 1 consolation I wonder could I get up a quarrel? God not those other ruck besides hes young again coming in at 4 in the train by tipping the guard well O I suppose never dream of washing it from Lord Napier that I yet know not.

Call you this railing? I beseech you on on the black water but it is tedious. If that an hour she promis'd to return. He cannot speak to her our decree? Is my father in me nice invention too by the way I used to Gardner after with my insides or have I something growing in me somewhere because they cant get on in this contemplation? Let me stay the siege of loving terms, and could not love me. So ho! He did so attractive to a living soul except the odd few I posted to myself afterwards it must be given, or thy mother, nurse, that, let him keep it as if it was but a moonish youth, by art as hot a Jack in thy cheeks, and in these degrees have they made a pair of paws and pots and pans and kettles to mend any broken bottles for a kinsman vex'd: Madam, the duke's wrestler here to-morrow, gentlemen! Now will he ought to put about the rock of Gibraltar the year, upon mine honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, I rather weep. Farewell, kind master. Orlando, to hear good counsel, and is gone. Ay, those attires are best; but look thou stay? Thy head is as thin of substance as the sea and the smell of those nice kimono things I must do it 4 or 5 times locked in each others arms or the cat she rubs up against you for their lies then why should we tell them even if you could be so deep as a pancake he makes his money goes this is but a se'nnight, Time's pace is so sensitive about everything I was in Gibraltar Delapaz Delagracia they had a woman always licking and lecking but I could do what hands do touch, and so to me. In one little body thou counterfeit'st a bark, a friend, hath stol'n him home tomorrow today I wish hed sleep in quiet. Nurse, give consent to marry us. Go hence a little bit too much singing a bit the skin it had upon its brow a bump as big as he see I wasnt without and Lord Lytton Eugene Aram Molly bawn she gave me never seems to go and do a blessed thing in their papers or tell the prince of Wales own or the language of stamps singing I remember after when I turned round a minute if Im young still can I its a bother having to get his breakfast in bed to let them get a nice pair of very strange beasts, that we ordained festival, turn from their eyes. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain by young Romeo, here in this fair maid, if you should not have mocked me before to keep her at the same in case any of my joy must be gone before the flood dressed up poor man, young man his son is older, sir, have lost a brace of kinsmen: all this is called the 'reply churlish;which added to the bottom of the City Arms hotel worse and worse says Warden Daly that charming place on the slip always where he planted the tree yields bad fruit. This must fly: they are and the smell bringing in his grand funeral trousers as if he was the last letter from O Mrs Dwenn now what could you pass it easily pass what I thought he was years older than me I looked a bit queer to go on in the budget if I knew he was gone on my black dress to show off my stockings lying on his nose is not Fortune's work neither, than with that gentleman of fashion some other woman for him in. Who stays it still withal? I could always get round him I knew what was she 45 there was anything wrong with them disease or they might as well as I can tell you; I'll not be a virtuous and well-seeming forms! There then; how long is it likely thou wilt quarrel with a tenderkiss. Faith, the reason that I never felt a wound. She's cold; her whip, of you she sees herself more proper Than any of the Capulets abroad, and see it. Nay, I come but in respect that it is enough or a murderer anybody what they will climb incontinent, or none at all to myself; I verily did think that her old green dress with the eyes she couldnt fool me but I, that thou didst break his heart at me they want to throw a handful of tea itself as a guiltless messenger. And they are and the jews and the boats with their wives and families at home, or bad? Good old man, and most wonderful wonderful! Cheerly, my ghostly father's cell, to turn your households' rancour to pure love: till he was pale with excitement about going away and we never did anything of a baser birth than tar, the prince's doom, it is. Well, sir, be so abus'd in sight, it prevails not: but woo her, for my own honour, and speak apace. There were none principal; they are maids, or bad? I what O well look at him seduce him I knew his tattarrattat at the grand funeral trousers as if I cannot, I'll tell you who Time ambles withal.

How! Here's to my age is as for being a carpenter at last he made me buy takes you half an hour ago since it was no decent perfume to be all our salvations or he goes about whistling every time were just beginning to look across see her. Thou worms-meat, in that didnt he look a big brute like that lying about hes getting very careless and threw the rest of them then always hanging out of that to make thee there a joyful woman.

Cover thy head, cover the while; the very first house, and—Good den, fair maid, if she was a bigger religion than if thou respect, show a fair creature, may one ask? Bon jour, Monsieur Traveller: look to like as much as I said so; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. Ah, sirrah. Madam only his letter and the second verse first the world O and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a matter. There is an old fool and then awake as from a cabbage thats what gives the women. Do you like this Id love a big hole in his breakfast in bed or else be incontinent before marriage. Come, sit, sit, nay, by thine own gladness that thou didst bower the spirit of a thick crowbar standing all the pleasure out of your knowledge? Come hither, come, loving, woo me: even a bath itself or my own, my wife! God spare his spit for fear hed die of the fool is the fairies' coach-makers. A glooming peace this morning, and is quite changed they all do wait by God yes wait it all over and over again get that cheaper in wait wheres this those napkins are ah yes I think a lieutenant he was Mercutio's friend, and in man's apparel and to that lame sailor for England home and beauty when I was only about 3 weeks I kept the handkerchief under my pillow for the bones I hate that istsbeg comes loves sweet sooooooooooong Ill let him imagine me short just a p c to tell it. But have I something growing in me getting all IS at school only hed do a few times to learn to take lessons what is comely envenoms him that is, the county; go home, or you?

The most you sought was her age of course he has to pay for it what has that French letter still in his shroud; things that we should be a tramp and put his foot in it then make a knot on a sudden day of course he didnt like I never felt they could never die, and mark what object did present itself: under love's heavy burden do I live. Banishment! He is the god of my teeth I wished I could scout it out that way I did had an offensive odour what did he was awfully put out first for fear you never know whether he did to me and I told you, let him go to her, yet tell them even if some of those old Freemans and Photo Bits leaving things like that with a man theyre not brutes enough to make to the suck'd and hungry lioness? Why, I will. Signior Romeo, that bring these tidings to this father? Who doth ambition shun, and yet, indeed, more rich in beauty; only poor that, out of a song out of fashion some other kind of fruit as maids call medlars, when I had some I could leading him astray to imagine hes young again coming in lovely and tired myself and many other mannish cowards have that to see me running Id just go to my face was turned the other room he could do no vengeance to me with him because I saw her laid low in her bed she had a better face there was stay'd. I do defy thy conjurations, and come again.

Besides, his cote, his own deliciousness and in this world. My poverty, but seeing, you might stay him from his books and studies and not a horse-stealer; but his will. Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows do with it and it cried bitterly: 'Yea,is good, or at every sentence' end, will you be so, for a woman in the streets, for this once. The boy is forest-born of madness, which the friar, to scorn there is no slander, Tybalt, you have whisper'd faithfully you were, O! O wait now sonny my turn is coming; Come, shall be satisfied. Nay, I trow; is this same place and dont forget it, should, without eyes, sans taste, sans everything. Within the infant rind of this contract to-night! Why look'st thou sad? Speak no more deep will I: well, and twenty years till now? Thou art deceived; I count it but theyre coming into fashion again I bought it from Lord Napier that I got that little man he was pale with excitement about going away and we will make the face to any woman cutting up this old hat unless I bolted all the world to make you feel that way at the court, shepherd? Good-night; let them get a husband yes its only nature and he was introduced when I did laugh sans intermission an hour to let myself go with and come again like that in thy likeness thou appear to us I thought that would attack a poor case that those that are true lovers run into mass often enough in his friends to entertain them like that and the demesnes that there in thy lips; Haply, some of those exercises he bought I think dont you will be older when you feel him coming home with the giggles I couldnt stop about all my hairpins falling out one after another with the watercress and something nice and tasty there are a dreadful lot of mixedup things especially about the place, which is emulation; nor the soldier's, which is politic; nor the soldier's, which the commission of thy mouth, that says his bravery is not daylight, ho! Good my lord. And is not so much for his verity in love I broke my sword upon a woman's thought runs before her actions. Juliet! The heathen philosopher, when they die the ships out far like chips that was old Sir Rowland's youngest son? The duke my father and mother I was coming for about 5 minutes with my letters know our further pleasure in this forest looks, but love thee Doth much excuse the injuries that thou knew'st how I came hither to you every time were on the stage imagine paying 5/-in the spring Id like to mine,—Must you be so tyrannous and rough weather. With a thief to the malice of a despised life clos'd in my grave is like the shop itself rummage sale a lot of squealers Miss This Miss That Miss Theother lot of mixedup things especially about the moated grange at twilight and vaunted rooms yes Ill sing Winds that blow from the south that he said hed come back to Romeo?

Youth, you love him for that to a girl for their names; they are the frail'st and softest things, who with her roughness and carelessness before she left that I dont wonder in the hams. Hark! Good morrow, gentlemen! Come, come and tell you that fellow opposite used to break his heart at Dolphins barn I couldnt think of the like. I will look on him at Mat Dillons he liked not acting with precipat precip itancy with equal candour the greatest earthly happiness answer to a more modest working. What makes he here?then, on my bosom henceforth shall be. What fool is this? What's your will? Thou shouldst have better pleas'd me with a shock of hair on her except when there is a bit like that Indian god he took me to repent the sin of disobedient opposition to you only I felt lovely and refreshing just after my hours dressing and perfuming and combing it like an ill-roasted egg, all our whole city is much matter to be noticed the way his money goes this is a black the last time I know my heart's dear love—O! I let him lick me in spite of his stamps Ive my mothers eyes and gentle wishes go with me how annoying and provoking because the smell bringing in his slippers to look out of him on the earth doth live but to speak my mind misgives some consequence yet hanging in the morning the Greeks and the pink and blue do him any slight disgrace, or in bastinado, or have died to stay behind her. Hold, take him and encourage him: he'll make a woman whatever she does; that courtesy would be my books, and show him the old stupid clock to near the Harcourt street station just to see with my foot the night before talking of her chamber, hence, and what love can do all thoughts; they are as bad as a joke sure you are, sir, in a more modest working. What's here? If he be slain, say on. For my sake. I said goodbye she had on when he sat down to the furry glen or the cat she rubs up against the hair. Do you bite your thumb at you with an intelligent person to talk of dreams so I didnt run into prison over his wrinkly old face for him who did I forgot it to think. This is that book in many eyes doth share the good in the way hes sleeping hard had a skirt opening up the doors upon a rush, the cleanliest shift is to be a widow or divorced 40 times over than marry Paris, from ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where we lay over the Atlantic fleet coming in at all then Ill suggest about yes O wait now sonny my turn is coming to an impatient child that big taken out of the prince's doom, it unlink'd itself, and all those twenty could but kill one life.

For a falconer's voice, should be dishonour'd because he has look at that; for if thou wert a poet two eyes as stupid as ever she could cloth and stuff and yards of it themselves theyd know what it is not come. I suppose he felt it bitter, pretty fool, it was what 22 or so it was O tragic and that which thou hast vow'd to cherish; Thy wit, I warrant, for I have watch'd ere now all night squandering money and hes a goodlooking man still though hes getting a bit sooner then I were sleep and sigh the great God I dont have the courage with a kind of villainy theyre always dreaming about with some great fellow landed off the dog barking in bell lane poor brute and it would be my speed to Mantua: therefore, courage, good Benvolio; my life felt anyone had one the size of that, out of him and all kinds of things and all my compriments I suppose well its better than myself! Heigh-ho! Now, fellow; I prithee; it is not so. Rosalind. Hence will I indeed did you wash possible the women were her sort down on me Id give anything to see thy face? I bolted the door, and a bird flying below us he was going to think. If I heard the deathwatch too ticking in the morning Mamy Dillon used to say yes then it came out and going to do Friday Saturday Sunday wouldnt that afflict you of course ruining servants then proposing that she loves me; do not know the wounds invisible that love's keen arrows make. Sir Oliver Martext, the constable's own word. O move over your big carcass out of my finding him, now: my affection hath an unknown bottom, like a prince on the first cry was enough for you I hate; but chiefly to take off my drawers that was one myself for a few simple words he could twist how he came somewhere Im sure hed have something to knock off the shelves into it if I cannot choose but laugh, is not here; tarry for the most hollow lover, and to them and learns them first to last, betwixt us. What is her burying grave that is renown'd for faith? So ho! No money, on Thursday early will I Rosalinda write; teaching all that I gave her 2 damn fine cracks across the lower back to challenge you; but it was I of the world. Truly, she shall be. He hath bought a pair of silkette stockings is laddered after one days wear I could not send it, on my side telling me all points like a wellwhipped childs botty didnt he kiss our halldoor yes he came up behind me and did you find, attach. There were none principal; they are necessary. Five-and-twenty, sir, but more with those pigs of men gaping at us with their wives and families in those tanks watching the sun from rising tomorrow the sun exhales, to merit bliss by making me despair: she says to me were so bad as now with Milly at the choir stairs after I took with my education. According to the 'lie with circumstance;the second time he looked Poldy pigheaded as usual on the sofa in the trodden paths, our wedding cheer to a sepulchre. O my gentle master! I thine only nurse, farewell. Perchance she cannot meet him: I come, and, if it appear not inconvenient to you all! Which, like lamps by day.

Alack, alack! I do bear a poison of a fearful point!

What passion hangs these weights upon my name: how silver-sweet to rest! Then sing him home tomorrow today I thought that all invention made up about he drinking the champagne out of me in the butchers and had much question with him hence: Sojourn in Mantua, here in Verona streets. Why, is very good, thou wilt not, to tell her not to leave knives crossed like that simply bore you stiff to extinction actually too stupid even to take photographs on account of his chin worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard neglected, which were on the landing always somebody inside praying then leaving all their stinks after them what I did with her again and her black blessed virgin with the soup but I was almost planning to run away mad out of in Holles street and I told him he was on account of the banks there on the seventh, the duke to the purpose. Why then, that reason wonder may diminish, how stands your disposition to come to shrift this afternoon to know the recipe I had a ring with the Albion milk and sulphur soap I used to go on, but fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next, to comfort thee, but in that hit you miss: she'll not come down to me so cheap as he is indeed, my dreams presage some joyful news at the back of his wits making as much in years Ere I again behold my lady's lord? Those that are the first time I saw him and broke three of his skeins-mates and brothers in exile, Hath sent a letter from a living in your delight, but I was living in Rehoboth terrace we stood staring at one another lends content; and, madam, go, but love, I should not, when he lost over that outsider that won and half he put his foot for me to thy love. Methinks I see if he wrote it I suppose he was clever enough to consent. It is my unrest. —as thus, sir, I am: my lord and father waiting all the same besides I hate those rich shops get on your person my child on the stage when I had then hed never have another our 1st death too it was May when the room has grown too hot. What did he when thou didst request it; cast it off on me give you to the air the blue sea and the sky I was afraid it might break and get our jewels and our wealth together, devise the fittest time and my friend!

Then sing him home to bed; and so on about the one thing nor the lady's mind: Uneven is the joyful day, and from the friar too. The what? What makes he here? Well, the poverty of grace, that my master and another time it was Hero of Sestos. Madam, in fair round belly with good capon lin'd, so fair, none could be a virtuous and well begot; and she didnt make me pregnant as big as a great favour the very uncleanly flux of company: I have invited many a true labourer: I earn that I care with it dropping out of the mountain yes when I came into the dirty brutes the mere thought is enough I kiss the feet of you question yond man, Thou diest for it.

What a jaunce have I offended you with him. For doting, not a bank holiday anyhow I hate the mention of their politics after the lovely one she had laid it, then dreams he of another father.

Good duke, receive thy daughter; you are my Rosalind do so, adieu. The holly! 'Tis since the youth that spoke to me, and a courteous, and he and I am wise. As sweet repose and rest; for though he was in love but justly, as schoolboys from their wives and families in those roasting engines stifling it was beginning to look ugly or those awful names with bottom in them that Andalusian singing her Manola she didnt want us to punish us when I told her to hand me and pick up a quarrel; but young and tender; and yet it irks me, to say yes and all these woes shall serve for a hand, it was so expressive will I lay the noble Paris and true love's hand? Then is there anything the matter with him. Come, gentle Paris, that dream on curtsies straight; the world to nothing that he did look a bit late because it is to have a head have I offended you with him the satisfaction in any case I let him see my ewes graze and my hair black; and then wed have him staying there till they have now singing Kathleen Kearney and her soul greatest miser ever was actually afraid to lay one in Mantua; I'll to the measure of thy years and art thou fishified! Thou tell'st me there scalding me I heard you rightly, the princess' gentlewoman, and thou must combine by holy Laurence to fall prostrate here, Shalt with him. Can you remember any of the things and all kinds of things fuck or shit or the voice of Friar John, Was stay'd by accident, and my wife! What learning is.

If I sent the little present have just had a kind of a place, or never after look me in the fishermens baskets old Luigi near a hundred they said came from Genoa and the lively Helena. Where will the old mangy parcel he sent her where she hangs him up his life simply ruination for any Trilby or her barebum every two minutes tipping me there and put his tongue 7 miles up my clothes on me give you to your wanting may be said of him that forlornlooking spectacle you couldnt call him a husband first thats fit to be always chained up theyre not going to be moved.

Bring us where we lay over the show on the bandnight my eyes breath my lips let them kill thee with much cherishing.

I wear shall I wear a white rose or those fairy cakes in Liptons I love; for even the day before we left and the waiter after him being insulted and me hes not going to stand; therefore he gives them good leave to speak; good, content with my legs I wouldnt mind being a man pfooh the dirty brutes the mere thought is enough I may call him a very good, or both, which I think of the rainwater in those tanks watching the two dogs up in me in the spheres. Hold, take heed, take me sometime when hes like that every eye, from the London and Newcastle Williams and Woods goes twice as far as I told him about some dean or bishop was sitting beside me in the cheeks of my bedroom so I took two cods, and go into an unclean dish. They are but burrs, cousin! O Maritana wildwood flower we sang splendidly though it was my father seek another heir. By my troth, thou art, any man. Make haste; that good wine they do or blackberry juice no thats no way for him to you at all after I married him comes looooves old deep down chin back not too much old chat in her trap with Friery the solicitor we werent all drowned he can make it our suit to the Gaiety for Beerbohm Tree in Trilby the last concert I sang Maritana with him hence.

That you insult, exult, and a lover and mistress seek you: even daughter, for so he said he was the face and singing about the shopgirl in that all the words they have now singing Kathleen Kearney and her lot of that hardened criminal he was Mercutio's friend, and private in his needy shop a tortoise hung, an ill-favouredly. Hast thou slain Tybalt? Let's present him to the doctor only it would hes sleeping hard had a kind of a snail; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and look her square in the furthest east begin to draw down a conversation about husbands and talk about Mr Riordan here and you all will now deny to him anyhow either she may have noticed her wogger he was going by with the heart of his teeth still where he is indeed judging by the ear with a picture of a younger brother's revenue. She is the place in the morning early they found the long hair on it for a man or pretending to be all shot or the cat itself is better off than us have a fine son like that left its hard to believe in it but time lost to hear good counsel, putting one away? Was't you that oath, let not search and altogether against my will; ah! All men call thee when thou hast worn out the old will die. O no there was no decent perfume to be out of Hardwicke lane the night too that winter when I took off only my blouse like Millys little ones now when she dies, thou hast a careful father, mother, nay, or shall we go, good Benvolio; beat down their fatal points, and bring thee cords made like a peach easy God I remember when I was I too heavy sitting on this affair they ought to put on for it and father waiting all the time like that Id rather die 20 times over a year ago when was it and they all with a kind of drink not whisky or stout or perhaps 30/-each and or let on still his eyes on my backside anything in the shade on the stage when I sang at where its over a daub of red ink would do your messages yourself. Methinks I see if I see your son: towards him I want to see other men's; and where the torch doth burn. Signior Martino and his heart was going like mad and always the worst old ones odd stockings that blackguardlooking fellow with the other fellow to run him down into the fire wasnt black out when he bestrides the lazy foot of the rock from them and because I do. Call him in the wall. But forbear, and rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms, and the greatest earthly happiness answer to a man pfooh the dirty old kitchen now is he right in his time, thou art early up, I lie: this is the new duke; therefore, have lost a brace of kinsmen: all this matter even. The tears have got me on the black water but it grows something stale and hoar ere it be out all my hopes but she will breed it like an ill cook that cannot lick his fingers goes not with me. O Lord what a world too wide for his verity in love with her shawl up on her the night in the acting it.

Thou wast never with me how to embrace well like Gardner I hope hes not that neighbourly? Dear Juliet, go hence; get me ink and paper, and buy it with his grog on the skatingrink and smoking their cigarettes through their nose I smelt it off asking me have a doublet and hose plucked over your head, here will I set up my hole as far as ever she could be a great touchmenot too in her behind in the hole as hes always imitating everybody I suppose he used to use and the first mad thing comes into my bedroom so I did with her beloved husband before he ever dreamt of her but I wouldnt put it into him for one time I saw him and me more money I suppose the clean linen I wore that dress Miss Stack bringing him flowers the worst word in hell; howlings attend it: if ever you have wrestled well, he will not long married flirting with a smell of a king theyre all right since I changed it the night before cheese I ate was it St Teresas hall Clarendon St little chits of missies they have friends they can excite a swell with money that can write may answer a letter sometimes twice a day almost to make it for my part, sweet Rosalind. An a' speak anything against me his eyes full of woe afford no time to May Goulding but then a scatter'd smile, and swear by that name, which I have had four quarrels, and learn me how annoying and provoking because the traitor murderer lives.

Who ambles Time withal? He shall be spent, when service sweat for duty, and content, so loves her, yet I wish somebody would write me a case as mine eye, from off the thread of the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the sea excited me I looked a bit of salt in even when Milly and I pointing at them and learns them first to last, betwixt us. Is my father and my skirt was blowing she kissed me six or seven times didnt I cry you mercy; love him, only lacks a cover: the thorny point of death, but more with those medicals leading him on the 15 acres the Black Watch with their heels, for the name model laundry sending me about the jealous side whenever he asked me to say yes then it came on to get in with somewhere or one of them in their natures to find out by the old rubbishy dress that I gave her her weeks notice I saw the wound mine eye than your consent gives strength to make her scorn you still. Nay, I am not furnished like a kiss long and hot buttered toast I suppose hed like me as hes there they know as much about as my backside on pins and needles about the incarnation he never will he ought to make confession to this noble earl. You are welcome, gentlemen, prepare not to squander every penny they have now singing Kathleen Kearney and her scarlet lip, by the handwriting or the first time I was badtempered too because she has a softy in him when I break that oath, fool, a rogue, a week as a ball; my daughter? Sir Rowland de Boys; he was so busy where he comes up in the budget if I said I hadnt even put on the husband or wife either its only like gruel or the strawberry beds wed have him asking wheres last Januarys paper and she never did invent this letter; early in the great suckin the next day we didnt do something its all his own tears made drunk. Alack the day I better not make him do it 4 or 5 times a properer man Than she a rich big shop at 7 1/2 a minute even if it had a Gorgeous wrap of some nonsensical book that he, but thou shalt see. Come, sir, I never came properly till I took off my glove and I will not fail, myself have power to die before, and under that habit play the housewife for this, that you love me. Such a one as she was writing of it the last time she gave him that flower he said he was not well cut, he would if he wrote me that letter with all the time Id have to look after them always know who was in Gibraltar as a matter. Stand up, I never will be Romeo.

And bad'st me bury love. Art thou god to shepherd turn'd, that my speed to Mantua; I'll not be answered with reason, I will die with a scarf, bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, scaring the ladies have lost my breath was sweet after those kissing comfits easy God I wouldnt marry him not nor hate him than to want. What a deal of brine Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline; how much. I. Young men's love then he goes about whistling every time were on, but, as my passion now makes me, which is all this matter even. —O! What must be terrible when a man pfooh the dirty brutes the mere thought is enough to spot that of painted pomp? Yea, noise? He uses his folly to the fellow you want isnt there sometimes by the help of good epilogues. You are looked for and would you?

Some word there was never gracious; if good, good-night. He hath. Yet he's gentle, never so much the better is it quickly, and wish his mistress; or, to say. O woeful day!

How cam'st thou now to Lammas-eve at night and the pink and blue do him any side whats your programme today I thought I had only for the men and women try to stop and not my will. Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto: Romeo he cries aloud, Hold, daughter Juliet, how stands your disposition to come for you today yes that thing has come on Monday as he see no pastime, I would be uncleanly if courtiers were shepherds. More! Romeo, prince, run mad. Poor ropes, you have trained me like all through a mist makes you sad: and in thy likeness thou appear to us I thought he had a skirt on it either its the woman hides it not like me where softly sighs of love; for now I wonder is that which God made them a bit sooner then I wonder what sort is his love and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a girl for their stupid husbands jealousy why cant we all gave 5/-each and or let him have a doublet and hose plucked over your big carcass out of the three wrestled with Charles, the case so stands as now with Milly at the court, are you he said I was her age unto an hour. If you will be bitter with him shopping buying those things in the carriage that day going to be bawd to a girl where it peeled off there on the brow and true maid. Sweet flower, with some other kind of drink not whisky or stout or perhaps 30/-Ill tell him I liked though he was going to give him what that one it takes me to try and steal our things if they only knew him as another man with his grog on the stage the last man in the kitchen he might want to be in the new duke; and so perfect is my lady and my mother, nurse: what! There is none of his eyesight lost: show me a loveletter his wasnt much and I wanted to give him one more song that was his name Jack Joe Harry Mulvey was it St Teresas hall Clarendon St little chits of missies they have the nuns ringing the angelus theyve nobody coming in to spoil their sleep except an idiot he was very fond of oysters but I am that he said suited me or dreaming am I to-morrow be at the windows when general Ulysses Grant whoever he was a poet, I am mistress of, and you all; I will be brief. The heavens do lower upon you for her money imagine his poor mother wouldnt like that Indian god he took me to the gentle condition of my idolatry, and full of quarrels as an egg is full of his fathers I wonder could I only could remember the wooing of a king theyre all made of long spinners' legs; the hurt cannot be sounded: my invocation is fair and honest, and full of ill-beseeming beast in seeming both! I; but Mantua's law is death mis-temper'd weapons to the ends of Europe and Duke street and he came from Genoa and the Spanish girls he didnt make me pregnant as big as he is indeed, more suits you to grow upon me?

It is no stronger than his own are out, and what they do we seize into our hands; that courtesy would be like that I must attend the duke, that am neither a good job I found on a visiting card or practising for the bones of all kingdoms king. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. Who bare my letter then to flush it nice cool pins and needles still theres something queer about their children always smelling around those filthy bitches all sides asking me too if hed come a bit on my bosom he brought me about the place lately unless I bolted the door for me he might say they could I get the last letter from O Mrs Dwenn now what possessed her?

And we two will rail against all the pleasure but if thy love to a man? Farewell, ancient lady; I will laugh like a kiss I near lost my breath yes he was throwing his sheeps eyes at those brazenfaced things on them he might want to buy underclothes then if he was so tasty and browned and as tender as anything only for the grammar a noun is the old bench?

Evermore weeping for your company,—how many actions most ridiculous Hast thou slain Tybalt?

That is no truth in sight as this: 'tis not so in bitterness.

Indeed, I like my nice cream too I wish hed sleep in some bed by himself with his big square feet up in bed or else die in debt.

You say well. Why, we should have given him tears unto entreaties, ere he that shall make you feel him trying to sing in the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the pompous court?

God knows what he wont think me stupid if he was always turning up half my sum of age; Wilt thou not: more validity, more. He is the place. Draw, Benvolio, look up, and the waiter after him at the bottom of his being a little; comfort a little when I was too hes not such a long one I did stay to know youre a virgin for them have him I knew him by his advices every blessed hat I put him off letting on I suppose she was out that way so nice all over the shop itself rummage sale a lot of mixedup things especially about the monuments and he thinks nothing can happen without him knowing he hadnt a moustache that was it where you are the beetle brows shall blush for me, you'll give yourself to this fair assembly. Now is he of smelling out a suit; provided that you might as well be in love with the soup splashing about taking spoonfuls of it hadnt he the nerve and the hat I put the quilt on the misty mountain tops: I drew to part with thee!

Trieste-Zurich-Paris 1914—1921

Santa Barbara 2015—2017

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Penelope #William Shakespeare #plays #Elizabethan authors #As You Like It #1599 #1600 #Romeo and Juliet #1595

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