#since black non-mourning dresses were in fact a thing back then

[marzipanandminutiae]

costuming update

due to the recent development of a planned Halloween 1870s photoshoot, my historically accurate Elle Sheridan dress has been bumped to the top of the to-do list

1740s Belle will probably still be happening and I’d still like to have it for Arisia 2019, but the thing with the closest deadline comes first. so bring on the black and gray silk, beadwork, and bustle wire!

[pretchatta]

wartime traditions

Traditions are usually built over generations. In times of war and great upheaval, however, new customs are created and clung to like lifelines.

One such tradition was formed on Ryloth, when Cham Syndulla brought his captain home to his wife.

may i introduce you all to my new ot3? (no spoilers for TBB – set pre-o66)

rating: teen; howzer/cham syndulla/eleni syndulla; 1.4k words

---

Twenty-one twi’lek faces looked at Cham Syndulla from around the table. Twenty-one twi’leks, and one human.

The celebratory meal with his captains and commanders had become a traditional ending to the brief, intense periods of fighting that still plagued Ryloth. Every time they sat together, Cham would wonder when the next time they would be called up to fight would be. Even though the Battle of Lessu had resulted in Ryloth’s liberation from Wat Tambor, the Separatists weren’t giving up so easily. It often felt like for every attack they repelled two more would follow. There was no end to the fighting, only periods of respite after which they would return to the front lines.

But they were holding, for now.

And as the meal was becoming tradition, so too was Cham remaining seated until, one by one, each of the others rose and left, bidding him farewell until their next battle. The food was not noteworthy, the drink non-existent, and there was little to talk about other than war, so few lingered when their families and homes awaited. Only one stayed behind, and this was also their tradition.

The only human at the table, Captain Howzer led the clone battalion that the Republic had left behind to aid Ryloth following the Battle of Lessu. A clone himself, Howzer had proved himself worthy of Cham’s trust and respect a thousand times over. He was the only non-twi’lek other than Mace Windu to have sat at Cham’s table. But Howzer was more than just a soldier.

Cham knew the clones that the Republic had bought from Kamino were more than just mindless war machines. How could he not, after fighting with them for so long? Howzer was no different. He was his own person, as different to his brothers as Cham was to any twi’lek. Their time fighting together had made them understandably close, but something else had grown during the weeks of life-or-death situations. Now, there was more to their relationship than only the chain of command.

The two men stood to leave together, making the journey back to the Syndulla residence in a comfortable silence. Darkness was falling over the Tann province as the night drew closer and warm light spilled from the windows of the houses they passed. It was comforting to walk these familiar streets, but for Cham nothing was as comforting as reaching his own home.

It was different to how he had left it only a week ago. Some of the fighting had strayed uncomfortably close to civillian settlements, and one of their own Y-wing bombers had been shot down from the skies overhead. As General, Cham had received the impersonal, matter-of-fact report on the incident; they lost the pilot and the Y-wing, but with minimal structural damage at the crash site and no civilian casualties. It was a relief, but not enough information to sate his personal needs.

Later that evening, when he had made his usual holocall to his family (another new tradition) he had listened to Eleni tell him that the fighter had crashed mere meters from their own home. She and Hera had been on the other side of the house, thank the Goddess, and no-one had been hurt. No-one except the clone pilot, who was already dead when they pulled him out of the smashed cockpit.

He had told Eleni that he would deal with the wreckage when he returned, but seeing it now, he wondered if he would. It was a painful reminder of just how vital his fight for Ryloth’s freedom was. His eyes lingered on it as they crossed the courtyard to the front of the house, and he could tell Howzer was looking at it too. Howzer would have received the report on which brother he had lost that day. He would have mourned his loss in the barracks with his men, and then rallied them all to keep going, as the clones always did.

On the other side of the front door was a much more welcome sight. Eleni was waiting for them in the atrium wearing only a simple dress, but to Cham she looked radiant.

“Right on time,” she greeted them, crossing the room from where she had been sitting to meet them. Cham embraced his wife and kissed her, sweet and slow. He wasn’t truly home until he was in her arms. Here, he was not a General, and Howzer was not a Captain; the three of them could just be people enjoying respite from the war raging outside.

He drew back only far enough to press his forehead against hers. “It is good to be home,” he murmured.

“It is good to have you both back,” Eleni replied. She left the final word implied and unspoken: alive. Cham knew it was difficult for her to stay behind. She had been an active participant in the fighting following the Separatist’s first invasion of Ryloth, but fewer soldiers were needed to hold their retaken lands and someone needed to stay with Hera now that they had a house for her to live in again.

“I take it Hera’s asleep?” Howzer asked as Eleni slipped from Cham’s arms to his.

She twined her arms around the clone’s neck but paused before answering. “She was sent to bed,” she said finally with a hint of a smile. “Whether she is still there is another matter.”

“Is this something I need to worry about?” Cham asked over his shoulder as he crossed the room. From the cabinet there he drew three glasses and a bottle of amber liquid. As he removed the stopper from the bottle he glanced back to see Eleni greeting Howzer in the same way she had done him. It was a good sight.

“No, love,” she replied when she drew back, her hands moving to Howzer’s plastoid armour. Howzer was more than capable of removing his own armour but this, too, was now tradition. Cham poured their drinks.

“She pulled the astromech droid out of that wreck outside,” Eleni continued, her nimble fingers making quick work of the fastenings on Howzer’s shoulder plates, “and every night since she has been staying up to work on it. She thinks I have not noticed, but she forgets I can see the light from her room from the stairs.”

“You don’t tell her to stop?” Howzer asked, taking his armour from her as she moved to his vambraces.

“Of course not. There are much worse things she could be doing, and this way I know about it.” Eleni took the bundle of armour from him to set to one side. “Besides, I haven’t seen her this happy in a while. That little droid is good for her.”

Cham took a sip from his drink. “Then tomorrow I will ask her to show me what she has done. Perhaps this is something we can work on together, as father and daughter.”

“Tomorrow,” his wife said firmly. “Tonight there is something else you can work on.”

“The first being passing me my drink,” Howzer added.

Cham answered Howzer’s smile with his own as he brought the clone his drink. Eleni had knelt on the floor to work on his leg armour and Cham took advantage of her absence and Howzer’s immobility to take a kiss of his own. He’d only meant it to be brief, but that first sip of his drink was seeping warmth through his body and Howzer’s mouth was only adding to that. He was home, with the people he trusted and loved. Howzer’s blunt teeth nipped at his lower lip and the warmth solidified into a burning heat in Cham’s lower belly.

“As much as we are all enjoying this,” Eleni murmured from much closer than Cham expected, “you are getting in the way.”

Cham drew back, taking in Howzer’s dark eyes and flushed complexion that matched how he no doubt looked. Eleni had finished removing most of the clone’s armour and was now standing behind him; all that remained was his chestplate. Once Cham had given her space, that too was placed carefully to the side, and Howzer stood in only his blacks.

“How about we move upstairs,” he suggested, taking his drink from Cham.

“An excellent idea.”

This was, after all, their tradition.

[kiame-sama]

Could you do a forced lemon for zeno because I lowkey have to admit that he's hot asf please and thank you 🥰

Warnings; Drugged Reader, descriptive lemon, non-con lemon, yandere behavior, manipulative behavior, age difference, obsessive behavior,

~~~~~~~~

How? How was this possible? What form of nen manipulation was being put on him to make him see... Her?

He had only glanced in her direction once as she passed by and that was all he needed to know. Looking just like she had all those years ago when he last saw her alive. Before she had been taken from him far too soon. He remembered every distinct detail about her lovely (e/c) eyes and how they lit up when she smiled that sweet exhausted smile as she gently cradled their newborn son. Her body was spent and her only goal was to hold on long enough to hold her son before the sheer force of giving birth squeezed the last few beats from her heart.

It has been quite a while since that day, when his heart was wrenched from his chest in such a brutal way. He survived the pain, where his father before him had not. He lived on, raising Silva and hiding his mourning away from the world and from himself. But every ache, every pulse of blood, every fragmented memory he had shoved away came back in full force the moment his eyes landed on her.

It just couldn't be. He had to know. He had to find out.

He had gone first to Gotoh, learning what he could from the bits of information he had to go off of. Her name was still the same as it was all those years ago, (y/n). Even going as far as to compare a picture of his lost beloved with this new creature who had captured his attention, a perfect match. It was becoming increasingly clear that it truly was her. It was his (y/n). He didn't know how and he didn't honestly care. All that mattered was that she was back.

He almost believed it too good to be true, needing conformation from his grandfather who also agreed with his assumption. His (y/n) had been reborn and she had been in his reach for so long he was ashamed in himself for not noticing earlier. Apparently she had been working for the family for a year already and he only now noticed who she was.

She wasn't slipping away from him ever again. He may have aged and tried to carry on without her, but she looked as if she hadn't aged a day. She was still his young and spritely wife. He didn't know if she would remember him, as it was truly a life time ago for her when they last shared a moment together. That craving he had ignored for so long was gnawing aggressively at his mind, clawing to get free and to sink its teeth into her once more.

He needed to ensure that his little dove couldn't fly away from him the moment he sprang his trap so he decided to go to an extreme. She would forgive him eventually for what he planned to do. It would be cruel to make him wait longer than he already has in order to hold her at his side again, feeling her warm body against his own.

Changing schedules around was easy enough, no one brave enough to question him about the sudden changes he put into motion. The week would run her ragged, leaving her exhausted and in need of serious rest when it finally rolled around to his assignment for her. Something peaceful and boring. Sorting through old books that have already been gathered for her.

Just to ensure that she would be willing and defenseless, he already planned the perfect blend of chemicals to put into the tea he was going to offer her. It would make her such an easy target as it would force her into submission and make her so bothered that she won't try to say 'no' when he finally makes his move. He didn't care how morally wrong it was, he was just elated it was possible. He would have his only love back by his side after so many years without her.

A soft knock on the door rang through the room, right on schedule.

"Come in."

"Yes, sir."

A shiver ran down his spine as he heard her lovely voice call out, trying to not seem as hungry for her in order to keep her calm. When she entered the room, her eyes were cast towards the ground, refusing to meet his own. He was almost angry about it before he remembered that all staff were trained to keep their eyes on the floor out of respect. She looked exhausted, just as he had planned, and she seemed ready to fall asleep at any moment.

To some extent, he felt sorrow for putting his darling dove through such a rigorous week, but soon she would never have to work again. Soon, he can take her for himself and make sure to treat her like a queen, just as she deserves to be. She will never have to worry about working or trying to avoid the family, since she was to become his wife once again.

"Sit."

"Yes, sir."

"Your task is to organize these books."

"Yes, sir. Right away."

He wanted to scowl, pleased she was being so obedient but displeased she was so formal with him. Perhaps that would change and she would return to her sharp tongued self, snapping at him any moment she could get. The prospect of being able to tame her once again was an exciting one, looking forward to that innocent little blush of her's.

It only took a moment for him to realize he was still staring and to move his gaze away, not wanting to make her suspicious of him. He allowed her to work in silence as he held open a book in front of him, keeping an eye on the time and occasionally turning a page. It was clear that the rigorous week was beginning to affect her as she sorted through the books. She fought to keep her eyes open but it was clearly growing increasingly hard for her to do so.

She snapped to attention the moment the door opened, another staff member carrying in two cups of Jasmine tea, setting them down and quickly leaving without a word. It was almost laughable how easy it was to slip the mixture of medicine into the drink farthest from him without her noticing. She was focused exclusively on the task he had given her, trying to force herself to remain awake.

"Tea?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. Thank you, sir."

It was so cute watching her flustered expression as he spoke to her, seeing that sweet tint of color in her cheeks. She was unaware of his staring as she took a long drink from the cup of tea sitting nearest to her, gently setting it down as she returned to her work. He couldn't stop the triumphant grin that pulled at his lips, knowing it won't be long now.

It barely took a handful of minutes before her eyes were closing, head drooping slightly to one side as the drugs took full effect on her exhausted body. He can finally have her back in his arms, where she belongs. Her sweet and peaceful expression made him want to take her here and now, but his queen shouldn't be taken savagely on a couch. No. She should be wrapped in only the finest cloth and laid out on the softest bed, treated like the most delicate and precious treasure in the world.

He had to control himself as much as possible despite the fact that his darling was a lovely siren's song to his senses. Her body was warm and her scent was irresistible to him, making him reach his room in record time.

Everything was already set up for her arrival, the softest of blankets, plush over-stuffed pillows, new robes, new clothes, new bed, everything. It was all for her.

Of course, she will likely be scared when she awakens as she would be in a new environment and not where she last was. She will also likely be similar to a cornered animal, ready to lash out and escape the very moment it is presented to her. This is why he had a diamond chain added to the room, long enough to move around the room and bathroom freely, but not long enough to escape.

It would merely be a training tool until she calms down and accepts her new place by his side. Once she is docile and submissive enough to him, the chain will come off. The collar he had picked out especially for her will remain on until she proves she can be completely trusted. Until that point, it will serve as a reminder that she will be tethered back up if she acts out or retaliates.

But first things first...

It took only a flick of his wrist to rip open the suit jacket and dress-shirt she wore. It didn't look bad on her, but the sight that lay underneath was nothing short of a divine blessing. Her soft flesh beneath his fingers sent a carnal lust into his very being, as if a match had been struck and his flesh set ablaze.

She was everything he remembered... Her shapely breasts perched on her ribs, her soft stomach... Even as he ran his fingers over her delicate skin he couldn't help but lick his lips in anticipation. Slowly sliding off her black dress-pants, his heart began to thunder in his chest as more of her delectable flesh was revealed. Her hips lightly twitch beneath the soft drag of his nails skating over her lower stomach, closer and closer to his desired target.

Removing her underclothes took even less effort as they tore beneath his finger-tips, leaving her entire body on display just for him. His angelic darling... His beautiful dove.

It took all of his will-power to not take her then and there, knowing a few more things needed to be done first. Her collar was a perfect fit and beautifully complimented her warm skin, hugging her throat in such a way that it wouldn't take long for her to adjust to the feeling. Her figure was divine in the loose kimono he had gotten her, the sheer black fabric hugged her curves in such a way that it only accented her body, still showcasing the skin beneath.

He still had time before the drugs in the mixture responsible for keeping her asleep wore off, knowing that he should enjoy the peace now as she will take time to train. He would be able to enjoy all of her without hassle once he fully bent her to his will, but this moment is the only time he will be able to do as he wishes untill she's fully obedient.

He won't let anything keep him from his (y/n). Even death couldn't keep them apart. He's held himself back from ravaging her for long enough.

It had been ages since he last got to taste his wife so of course he had to begin with her soft pussy. Zeno started by slowly pushing up the expensive fabric until her warm heat was exposed to the cold air, sinking his tongue in as deeply as possible into her. She was every bit as delicious as he remembered her being and more.

Her soft little hole was so tight he knew she was completely untouched, just as it should be. He would be the only one ever allowed to stretch that small entrance, his cock would be the only thing ever allowed inside. He moaned ever so softly against her heat, savoring that mouth-watering taste with every slow lick.

Her breathing vaguely changed, becoming slightly more labored as he continued feasting on her sweet juices. She was just so damn good... He never knew he would be able to have his darling back in his arms like this. It seems some wishes really do come true.

He slowly eased two fingers into his love, tongue instead moving up so he could happily suck on her sensitive clit. A gasp came from her soft lips as she responded in her drugged state to the pleasure Zeno was giving her. He continued to work his fingers into her, stretching her tight walls in preparation.

Zeno knew she would wake soon, so he wanted to get all of the prep out of the way first. There was no doubt in his mind that his darling love would be afraid, confused, and likely hostile, so stretching her while she was still unconscious was the best move. He continued to lick up her sweet juices, knowing he would have to wait a while yet to taste them once his (y/n) awoke.

Her slight stirring and increased responses to the pleasure running through her veins told Zeno just how close his (y/n) was to waking. He slowly removed his fingers from her core and gave one last long lick over the entirety of her heat, then pulled back from her to allow her to wake slowly. Though he didn't want to wait for any amount of time longer to be able to feel her, he knew waking to such actions would leave a lasting and negative impact on her.

A soft hum escaped (y/n)'s lips as she began to stir, eyes slowly opening.

Fuck. She looked magnificent. Her confused expression as she tried to take in her surroundings almost make him chuckle, knowing that soon the other drugs he gave her would begin to affect her.

Her eyes widened as she became more alert, hand immediately on the collar around her neck. She sat up quickly, pulling at the collar before she realized she was also in such revealing clothes, choosing instead to cover herself with her hands. As she tried to find an answer for the strange way she has awoken, her eyes came to rest on Zeno. He had been watching her and gauging her reactions silently, coming up with the best way to tame her.

"Ma-master Zeno? What- what's going on? Why am I- why am I chained?"

"Because I want you to be."

"But... Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry, please forgive me!"

"You did nothing wrong, (y/n)."

"Then why..?"

"Because I don't want to let you fly away, my dove."

The fear was clear in her young (e/c) eyes as she stared at the elder assassin before her, hyperventilating slightly in terror. Zeno continued to watch his darling piece everything together- or at least, do the best her drug hazed mind could to piece things together.

He lifted a hand slowly towards her, frowning slightly when she flinched away from him, shaking as he gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. Her little heart-beat fluttered in her veins beneath his fingers, her skin slowly warming up as the secondary drugs began to kick in. A slight blush began to grow across her soft cheeks, her breathing slightly hitching from time to time.

"Pl-please... Let me go... I- I won't say anything, I swear..!"

"Not happening, my dove."

"Why-?"

"Because I finally have you back in my grasp. I'm not letting you slip away from me any time soon, so stop asking."

"..."

"Don't look so afraid, darling. I'll treat you as you should be treated; like a queen."

"But I don't want this!"

"... Don't raise your voice at me. I don't care if you want this or not. You are mine regardless of what you try to do. If I must break you in order to shape you into a willing wife, I will."

Though Zeno hated the fear in her eyes, he knew he was going to have to frighten her early on to make her submit more readily to him in days to come.

The aphrodisiac he had given her was doing a rather effective job in soothing her fear. Her eyes were becoming hazy and her entire body was heating up, suddenly feeling a pulsing need inside of her. Zeno noticed the change in her, sliding his hand down from her chin to her neck, watching her shiver in delight.

"M-Master..."

"Shh... Lay back, I'll take care of it for you."

(Y/n) lay back into the pillows, looking so vulnerable and sweet as she gazed up at Zeno, completely lost in the haze of pleasure and desire. He took a moment to savor everything, slowly untying the soft kimono and allowing it to slide open, no longer obstructing the beautiful body underneath. He quickly rid himself of his restrictive clothing, grinning slightly at the soft whine that came from her lips as he hitched her legs over his hips.

Hungrily pressing his lips against her own, he slowly slid into her tight pussy. His lips muffled her soft cries of discomfort as he settled within her, feeling that aching void in his chest closing up completely. It was as if it had never been there in the first place, as if he had never lost his darling lover or spent any amount of time without her. But he had spent years without her warm embrace. Years without her enchanting voice. Years spent completely alone.

Years of time he was going to have to make up for now that she was back in his arms where she belonged.

Pulling away from her lips, he slowly began to move is hips, exploring her warm insides once more. Still, soft whines and gasps came from his darling who lay beneath him, but he honestly couldn't make himself care at that moment. He was going to be selfish, just this once. He was going to enjoy everything she had to offer until he was satisfied, and not a moment before.

The way her tight walls clenched around him and responded to his deep thrusts made him growl in carnal desire. Her warm body twitched and writhed beneath him, her breathing hitching more and more as he went. Her gentle body spasmed and jerked as he angled his thrusts to press against her sensitive walls, grinning with each moan that he pulled from her throat.

He almost came undone when he felt her tighten suddenly around him, holding back for as long as possible as he continued to rut his hips against hers. After all, what kind of a man would he be if he took his own pleasure and denied his darling her pleasure?

It didn't take long for that growing pleasure to snap, flooding her body with euphoria and making her tighten up around Zeno's deeply seated cock. A deep snarl of pleasure took over Zeno's body as he gave a few more thrusts before releasing into his darling, blinded by the pleasure he had forgotten long ago.

As he took a moment to breathe and recollect himself, he realized that he wouldn't be able to lose his dear (y/n) a second time. And while his darling continued to drown in her pleasurable haze, he silently began to thrust into her once more, deciding she would never leave his side again.

~~~~~~~~

[leahseclipse]

The Reichenbach Fall: Aftermath - Chapter One: Happy Death Anniversary, Detective.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x GN!Reader (With some Fem mentions)

Warnings: S2 FINALE SHERLOCK SPOILERS, Major character death; death topic, mourning, suicide mentions, depression mentions... (lemme know if I missed stuff.)

Summary: Two years after the death of Sherlock, what could be next?

Word Count: 4.0K

A/N: Hey there! I've finally found the motivation to post my Sherlock fic here. If you prefer AO3, click here :)

++

Sherlock used to call at midnight, he never cared whether you were trying to sleep, or if you were actually sleeping- he’d just call.

Sometimes to complain that technology was futile given the multitude of defaults it contained (his phone, for example)- or to talk about an article in a newspaper, thinking we’d be interested in it.

It’s been two years since the last call. No one could bring themselves to delete his number since; and I understand the reason for it. We all had some hope inside us, it was small given all the time that went by, but it was there.

We all wondered if he wasn’t alive. Movies aren’t real, so the whole fake-death scenario couldn’t have been real but we all thought “why not?”, it could happen. That was over a year ago, but I still believed it, I wasn’t quite planning on giving up; and when my phone rang a bit after midnight, I still had a glimpse of hope, each time.

That glimpse was cut short when I read the caller ID. It was John. I did like him, he just wasn’t who I expected to see, but I picked up the phone, just to not be rude. Voicemail is awful. “John? What’s going on?”

"I...I don’t really know, actually. Guess I...needed to feel less alone. I don’t even know."

“Hold on.” I glanced at my bedside as I put the phone on speaker before sitting on the bed. "...so, you couldn’t sleep?"

"Yeah, I’ve been trying for an hour, certainly because of..." He stopped, hesitating with his words.

Who else other than Sherlock would it be, honestly. The man’s always been in our thoughts, and now that he’s gone, we have to be reminded that he’s stuck in our minds. The only way to hear him is through memories, and probably some of us are afraid to forget what he sounds like through time. He wasn’t the guy to make documentaries on him, film himself- hell, he rejected every interview he was offered. The only thing we have is pictures, which isn’t enough.

"It’s him, isn't it?" I presumed.

"Yeah, Sherlock." He confirmed. “It’s the anniversary of his death, in two weeks.”

See, that was the kind of thing I didn’t want to recall as it made me think of what I didn’t want to accept, but at the same time, if I stopped thinking about that, might as well forget Sherlock completely.

"It kept me awake too." I admitted.”I can’t believe it.”

No one really does, to be honest. We all wish that it could be fake, that’s what we would need, even if it’d hurt to see him while we mourned all this time.

"It still feels a bit weird without him, even after basically two years."

“It didn’t seem right without him, at first."

"It took us a bit to get used to it, and still...I think I didn’t get used to it fully to this day."

"Neither am I, John. I don't think I ever will. Time will make the pain less...painful, but it’ll never erase him, he'll be in our thoughts from the moment we wake up."

"I wish it was all a dream. I hate to wake up and not see him. He annoyed me sometimes but...he was my friend."

"He was annoying but a good friend, yeah.” I said, “It’s just...not right. Nothing is right. I feel like everything has gone cold. I swear that I haven't seen a single ray of sunshine."

"It's probably time fooling around, I don't know." He said.

"It could but, when he was there, there would be some sunny-ish days. I haven't seen one since. He left, and it's like he took the sun with him, John. The whole world is falling apart.”

"I felt that too, for a moment. But, I don't really trust whatever I think about these days. I don't pay much attention to whatever I do."

"You should be careful though, I don't need you to die because you didn't pay attention out there. And before you say anything, there's no joke in there. I mean it, Watson.”

"I wasn't going to say that, trust me."

"You better. I need you there."

"Same goes for me. You've been of great help since…"

"Yeah. Since." I paused. "It sucks."

"It does.” He agreed. “Well I...I’m gonna go back to sleep, I don’t want to bother you all night.”

“You didn’t bother me, don’t worry. It helped to talk. I could even stay a bit more, if you’re not planning on going back now.”

“Alright, then.”

++

It’s like the weather watched me plan the day, rain is on time. It couldn’t be more depressing on top of me dressed in black, but I just didn’t feel like coming in rainbow clothes would be appropriate, even if he wouldn’t care how I dressed anyway, even if he’s dead, yeah.

It feels weird to go, I always expected this was all a dream, or that it’d just...never happen. He’s the kind of person that outlives everyone, and Sherlock was this kind of person, he’s always been that person. He even used to say he’ll always be there, that he’d never leave, and now I guess we’ve both made mistakes, he’s not here anymore.

I never thought that would happen, I can’t tell how bad I prayed to whatever god to wake up, but that did nothing but make me a fool, nothing changed.

His apartment remained empty, as ours, he’d consider each house he could sleep at, his. I remember that he stayed at John’s for a week, before having to go back as John was “not entertaining” enough because he slept too much- As if we got to sleep all day.

He used to think everyone was like him, barely sleeping, barely tired, because I don’t think I’ve had the opportunity of seeing him elsewhere other than a room full of piles of papers.

He did sleep, but not at night, it was kind of like a cat, throughout the day, when possible. I always laughed about it along with John, and he never minded, he’d either pretend to not care, or join the conversation, and I already miss this kind of talks.

They’d either be incredibly short, or extremely long, you really had to clear your schedule for an hour or two when he’d talk. It’s not that it bothered me, it was more the others, those who didn’t know him. They’ve always found an amount of weirdness in him, which I had when I was like them, a stranger.

I never thought we’d get close, I didn’t even think anyone was close with him, he seemed quite the lonely guy, very private. Even after getting to know him, he remained quite private, as I thought, he wouldn’t share much, even with John and Mycroft; but, it didn’t matter that much, we still managed to have a great friendship, and I’ll always miss it.

Not any person will be like him, he was one of a kind. Not anyone could copy him without being seen as a fool. Sherlock Holmes was unique, he didn’t copy anyone to rise up, didn’t take anyone as a model, he did it all himself, he was a model himself.

He didn’t wish to be like anyone, it was the contrary, everyone wanted to be at his level, have the recognition he had, the fame, all the things that made him known, that made Sherlock be him. Even I won’t find a mentor like him, not any of them will be better, they’ll all seem ridiculous to me, even if they have more experience than him.

Nothing will be the same. This world won’t be the same without him being here, he’s gone now.

He took a big piece of whatever thing, when he left, and whatever thing he took was a big one, because it left us all empty. The kind of empty feeling that won’t quite go away, we’ve all been so used to having him around so much that it was a habit.

And now that he’s gone, nothing feels right, even living doesn’t feel right. It won’t ever feel right without him.

I almost feel guilty for being alive, I’m not as smart as him, I won’t contribute to anything. He was the smart one, we really lost an important person and I don’t think it wouldn’t have changed much if I had died instead, people would just be sad, I think.

It wouldn’t be that bad.

His death is bad to the point that the world he left behind can’t function as well as when he was alive. The whole puzzle is missing, hell, the whole world, if I go out of the metaphor.

...Sherlock would have been the corners of it, the foundations of it, what made it whole, what gave a start to get the rest of the puzzle.

He would have corrected me with hundreds of better metaphors if he could hear me, I really suck at this. He never did, though.

In fact, most of his talking contained metaphors, it was his signature, his day couldn’t feel right if he wouldn’t tell at least one.Now the whole ‘no day without a metaphor is a bad day’ is falling on us, and nothing or no one will make that feeling go away.

It’s strange, and funny that he managed to create all of those special feelings, memories, that we only felt with him. Sherlock’s had quite the special part in our lives. He changed our lives in such a spectacular way, and to be honest, life felt less depressing, even if our job is full of dead people and mysteries that make our sleep schedule non-existent, quite rare.

He made us forget all of that shit, whenever he could. That’s why I looked up to him, and thought about him so much. Whenever I had a problem, I’d call him first. Of course, I did call John, and Mycroft, but Sherlock was like my emergency contact, he’d always pick up, if possible.

Somehow, he always knew the answers to everything, and when he was clueless (which only happened twice, in five years)- he'd attempt to find something close to it, and even if his explanations didn’t solve anything, I didn’t care.

It probably made him sort of happy to explain it, share his big knowledge, so as long as he enjoyed himself, that was enough. I did hope he did enjoy himself, I never thought about asking and now that I think about it, I probably should have, it’s too late now.

If he can hear me, a sign would be great, probably. A good thing if he enjoyed talking, and a bad one if I annoyed him? It’d be nice to know even if he probably won’t answer, he must still be working; I know it.

He would be bored if he didn’t have his face in newspapers and whatever case. I always said Sherlock not to overwork, but he never listened. I hope he’s not doing it right now, that man was a total workaholic, right to his last breath, he never stopped.

I just hope he’s okay, wherever he is.

He deserves peace, enough things happened to him, he almost died a couple times, almost lost us if we hadn’t survived all of the wounds and things that happened, almost lost himself because of depression- all of these could have killed him.

He would have stayed alive, but he would have died inside, I just know it even if he didn’t show it much. But he did feel, he did have feelings.

I know he liked us a lot, even though he didn’t show it much; he did enjoy living even with all of the problems he had so, let’s hope he’s not in pain, stressing, suffering, whatever feeling that makes him feel bad.

You can take it easy now, we’re taking care of what you couldn’t finish for you, we’re taking care of the legacy you couldn’t pursue for you, we’ve got your back, Holmes. John, Mycroft, myself, and whatever person you know will tell you everything that happens so you don’t miss anything. You’ll be able to debate about the events, you won’t miss a single thing of what’s happening.

Even if I have my pride, and don’t want to admit I’m depressed about you being dead, I’ll tell you everything, I know you’d be here to tell me how to deal with the death of a person, the whole five stages of grief. You said them to me so much that I always have them in my head.

Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance.

I’d say that I’m at the last phase, but a lot of anger comes in it. I still wish it had been me, sometimes. It’s not fair it happened to Sherlock. I just hope he’s not too mad. If it had been someone else, he’d probably try to talk some sense into me, get me to tell more logical things.

If ghosts were real, I know he’d tell me to stop putting the blame on myself, even if I don’t even know why I blame myself, we don’t even know what caused him to jump from a damn building. And even if someone explains it, we won’t know if it’s real no matter how much they’ll prove it’s the truth.

The only person that can tell us that is gone.

So, unless we don’t find...a diary, or a note, proving it all, we won’t know.

The last thing we’ve heard from him was an apology, the ‘note’ he left behind was the call John received, which means the presumed note I mentioned doesn’t exist, only the call does.

After leaving his note, he fell from the roof and he died on impact, his pulse was long gone when he reached the floor, and it didn’t come back. I didn’t believe all of it happened, even when I heard John telling it, none of it seemed true...until I saw the death certificate.

The whole world stopped, and it still is frozen now. I wish the grave I’m standing in front of wasn’t real, I wish that my eyes were betraying me.

If only.

“Turns out you lied, Sherlock. You left.”

I hate you for what you did.

“You could have explained all of this a bit more. Even if I would have preferred not to, I would have prevented you from dying if you gave me a note...before.”

I wish I had known, I should have known. He didn’t have to die, he wasn’t supposed to die, certainly not like that.

Not now, that wasn’t his time. He was supposed to die of old age because of natural reasons, after all of us. Outlive us all.

Damn Sherlock Holmes wasn’t supposed to die at 35 years old. It's too young, too soon, Too much to bear.

“What am I supposed to do now, I mean- what are we all supposed to do? None of us can replace you, we’ll take twice the amount of time you barely took to resolve cases on our own, you left us in a really bad situation, you know that? It’s not going to be the same if you’re not here with us.”

And I miss you like a little kid.

“You could have made us take classes to become a close version of you, at least. I’m saying ‘close’ because no one will ever be like you. Not even that detective that had 30 years of experience, he wasn’t even close, really. I’d say he looked like a newbie, next to you.”

I even started to lose the habit of calling him when he’s not directly on the field and I hate this. I’ve only known him for a couple of years, and yet, he’s going to be ironed in my mind for a lifetime.

That man, I swear.

He didn’t think that sticking so close to us, getting to know us, sharing things about him would affect us so badly now that he’s gone. Real gone.

It hurts to say that, I wish I could just pretend he wasn’t gone, but that’s not really...healthy? It’s not really healthy in the way that if I pretend he’s still there- while he’s six feet under ground would drive me crazy, it’d completely destroy the whole ‘acceptance phase’ I’ve been working on. He’s dead, and there’s nothing we can do to bring him back.

That’s what my brain has to acknowledge, pretending he’s alive wouldn’t do any good.

Sometimes life gets to an end, and we have to accept that. I know that Sherlock, his brother and even John wouldn’t want to see me like this- ignoring reality, building a fake world to protect me from the real one.

Hurting sucks. Getting reminded that I won’t be seeing him anymore sucks, but everything sucks in life, and that’s what happens when you live. You can’t have a perfect happy life with all the shitty problems, that doesn’t exist.

But even if this sucks, I also get to remember all of the great things Sherlock has accomplished, the hundreds of memories we’ve made all together, whatever makes me happy- but there’s still a lot of hurt to go through before being able to think about them without crying because I miss them.

I wish that could be happening right now, I must have filled an entire bottle of water with all my tears. It’s even worse when that happens at 2am after you wake up from a dream about them.

Speaking of dreams, I don’t think I’ve ever had so many dreams with him compared to when he was alive. It’s as if he's haunting me, and even if I like him, I’d wish he wouldn’t do that so often, a little peace and quiet would be nice, even if I don’t want that to stop.

I’m afraid I’ll forget Sherlock if I stop thinking about him, block the memories to prevent me from the hurt that comes with it. I don’t want that to happen, he doesn’t deserve to have his legacy ignored because of my stupid feelings that hurt, he deserves to have his legacy remembered, discussed about, shared, not to have it trapped in newspapers, or in a corner of my head.

I like to imagine him being proud when I do that, even if I wouldn’t have known he was. He wasn’t the expressive kind, but he liked to show he was proud of you through a facial expression, a word, whatever could be ‘decrypted’. He wasn’t as cold as people saw him, he was extremely kind, even if he was broken in millions of pieces inside.

But yet, he overcame everything and came back even stronger. Every single time. He was amazing in so many ways, and that’s why I wish I could be like him.

So much.

I sighed, adjusting the grip I had on my umbrella, as I squatted down in front of his grave. “Did you know we went through your closet yesterday? There’s really not a lot, your clothes are so...similar. We can easily buy the same to be ‘like you’. But I don’t want to touch them, they’re kind of like precious pieces you can find in a museum.”

I hope he doesn’t think I’m crazy because of that.

“And...yeah, we went through your place because we can’t bring ourselves to sell it, I don’t want someone else to live in there and ruin it with their own belongings. But at the same time, living in it would be weird, I don’t know. I can’t find an explanation, just that it’s weird, living in the apartment of a dead person. Kinda creepy.” I explained, looking up from my umbrella as I realized the rain had gone down, letting a few rays of a ‘somehow’ sun. “Look, the sun listened to me. It’s coming up so I can give my emotional speech full of hope.” I sighed. “I don’t...I don’t even know what to say anymore. Kind of ironic as I always have something to say.”

I actually kind of know, but I don’t want to say it.

He’s gone. No miracle will bring him back, but I’ve kept hearing John saying it, I heard him last time we came; and even though I can’t bring myself to say that, I want to so badly. That’s all I’ve been wanting to happen since you died, I don’t want anything else and I don’t care about love anymore even if you always wanted me to be happy.

You’re what made me happy, you were the definition of love. Maybe what I’ve been feeling was that but I never brought myself to admit it.

I have loved you since the first day, but you always said that whoever fell in love with you should find better as you considered yourself a forever loner, unable to feel and give love, but I know you were capable of it, if you had tried, I believed you could have done it.

“Look at me, in front of your grave, exposing the feelings I’ll never have the answer to, I don’t even know if you liked me back. You really took all your secrets to your grave, huh? What a selfish prick, you could’ve shared that, at least.” I complained.

I don’t think I’ve ever known someone that hid so much stuff, he really was a whole mystery to himself, that man.

We can’t even solve what caused you to commit suicide, we’ll probably never solve it. You were the only one that knew why, and yet he can’t just pull a miracle and live again for a few minutes as a zombie to explain. That would be of great help, even if I’d prefer he’d live again.

That’d be an awesome miracle, even better than what happens at Christmas.

“Can you do that for me, though?”

Just that, I won’t ask for anything else.

“Just one more miracle, Sherlock, for us.” I said, putting my hand on the polished surface. “...don't be dead.”

It’s too easy, you can’t be dead, Nothing can kill you. I know John, and a shit ton of people saw you fall, but...let me believe all of that isn’t true.

Just a fake accident, Do that for us. Please. We need you more than you can ever imagine, you were so important to us, you were family.

A reason to fight for, to live for.

“Don’t be, please.” I pleaded, as I got up from the ground. “I uh...I’ll be back whenever I can, okay? Work’s been crazy since you’re gone, it’s incredible. I don’t know if it’s because we don’t have your help, or because it’s always been like that.”

Probably a mix of the two, I don’t really know, it’s been complicated to think properly these days. Sherlock would be the one to help with that, usually.

“I’ll have to ask someone else, I guess.”

I still haven’t found this ‘someone else’, by the way, It’s been two years, I know. But I still haven’t found someone that can help me the way he used to.

He still remains unique after all this time.

“I’ll be on my way, then. You’re awfully quiet today, guess you’re not in the mood, so I’ll go.”

I wish I still didn’t have to say goodbye, but this is the only thing I can say when I leave.

The weather had even gotten better, as if it only rained to have a full dramatic effect, there was only wind, which didn’t seem to announce a storm, for now. The sound of the leaves being crushed by my feet as I walked was to be heard, as no other sounds were around, it was very quiet today.

The silence did feel weird, I never liked it.

Not when it caused me to think of…

“Got time to spare for me?”

...him.

“Sherlock.”

++

|Chapter Two|

[inglourious-imagines]

The Story of Their Lives (Lt. Aldo Raine)

Requested by: @tealaquinn

Summary: The story of Lt. Aldo Raine and Sgt. Y/N Y/L/N.

Prompts: 9 - Don't you touch her. & 12 - No one would hurt you again, or I'd kill them. & 21 - I wanna see how you lose control. & 24 - He's a badass with a good heart. & 39 - Kiss me. & 93 - You make me feel... you make me feel.

Author's Note: This is damn long so I really hope you like it! Also there are some parts in Italian so I'd like you to know, I've never learnt this language so there might be some mistakes. Feel free to send request or let me know if you wanna be tagged in these ♡

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @radiantcade @meteora-fc @kyra3155 @real-fans @not-john-watsons-blog @im-in-love-with-queen

.

.

.

Y/N and Aldo never showed some kind of an affection towards each other. They respected, trusted, appreciated the other one but these traits were common among the Basterds.

It seemed so innocent at first, almost like a teasing and none of the Jewish American soldiers expected to become it something more.

•••

They met at the very beginning of the Basterd's missions. Y/N was a french spy, a very famous one so she obviously got their attention since they'd gotten to France.

The Basterds recruited her in a bar and she immediately became one of them. Y/N fit within the group perfectly, like she was always destined to be a Basterd.

•••

After the third successful mission, they decided to stay the night in a local resistance hotel to relax and prepare for another action. Everyone went to their beds as soon as they could but Donny persuaded Y/N and Aldo to gamble a little before the sleep. 

"C'mon, just one game!" Donny pleaded. It didn't take much and the trio was sitting around a table playing their fifth game.

"I thought you're better at poker, Lieutenant." Y/N laughed as she grabbed another money she won.

"Shut up, Sergeant. I just am a bit lenient with ya, that's all." Aldo fought back, trying to cover the fact he's worse with cards than Hugo trying to actually smile for once. 

"Show me what you got, Lieutenant. I wanna see how you lose control." she winked at him and dealt the cards.

•••

Something changed in Aldo this evening. At first, Y/N was just another soldier sticking up for her country trying to end the war. But now he saw her in a totally different light.

He noticed what colour her eyes have, how she always ties her hair in a braid. 

He noticed how her cheeks blushed when he praises her after a good work.

He noticed how she scrunches her nose when she disagrees with someone. 

All those little things were filling his head. Aldo was so full of it. It was during the other mission when he completely understood his feelings.

•••

One moment and his whole world flipped. 

Aldo was so angry with himself that he missed such an important thing.

Like a gun. 

The German soldier was just kneeling in front of Aldo when he reached in his pocket. It all happened so quickly then.

The German pulled out a gun and with one last defiance he pulled the trigger. But it wasn't Aldo who got hit. 

It was the woman behind him.

Aldo was like deprived of his senses. He threw away the piece of bread he was eating and jumped at the German. If Wicki didn't pulled him back, Aldo would probably beat the guy to death.

And that was Donny's speciality.

"Don't you fuckin' touch her! Or look at her!" Aldo shouted hitting his face with his fist one more time.

Y/N was so taken away by his behaviour, not really sure where the anger got from.

"What the hell, Lieutenant?" she frowned, "it's just a goddamn scratch on my arm. The bullet didn't even hit me properly." 

Aldo froze whereas Donny and Hugo looked at each other with knowing smiles. They finally realised what was going on.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he tried to brush it off, gesturing to the Basterds to continue with the scalping. "It's fuckin' bleedin' a lot!"

"It's fine. Nothing too serious, Lieutenant." Y/N replied.

Aldo just shook his head as he took off his scarf and tied it around the wound. "No one would hurt ya again, or I'd kill 'em."

•••

The Basterds got ordered to rest a bit because there was a big mission on its way. They didn't know what it was but they all welcomed a full night sleep.

But Y/N didn't feel like going to bed. Instead, she took her cigarettes and sat at the balcony of the apartment they got settled in.

It was a chilly night but she didn't mind. She actually liked cold more than heat.

"Aldo seems a bit off lately." Donny's voice broke the silence as he positioned himself next to her.

"What you mean?" she asked offering him a cigarette which he gladly accepted. 

"Remember how he beated up the German officer two weeks ago? I've never seen him like that."

"Oh Donny. He's just a badass with a good heart. I assure you, Aldo's just fine."

Donny shrugged but didn't say anything. This wasn't his secret to tell even though the change in Aldo's behaviour towards her was so damn obvious. 

Donowitz glanced at Y/N smiling a bit. He understood why Aldo fell for the female Basterd. 

•••

Bridget von Hammersmark was laying in front of them with a bullet in her leg while Hugo, Archie and Wicki were dead.

Y/N was standing in the corner of the room, lost in her thoughts, mourning for her lost friends. She knew something like that had to happen but she also believed in Basterds and part of her thought that they'll all come back home one day.

Y/N wasn't able to look at the actress anymore. She quickly left the room not looking at anyone while she lighted her cigarette. It'd been becoming too much to handle for her.

"Are you alright?" Aldo frowned as he walked towards her. "You still in?"

She laughed sarcastically at his question sheaking her head. "Yeah, of course, business. I'm in, Lieutenant."

"I didn't mean in like that and ya know it."

"Yeah, sorry. It's just-"

"I know, Sergeant. This whole event got me thinkin'. I gotta tell you something."

Y/N threw away her cigarette as she looked directly at him. She wasn't sure if it was the light or the sentiment, but Aldo's eyes never seemed so beautiful to her like they did in that moment. 

"The truth is," Raine began as he stepped closer, "you make me feel... you make me feel, Sergeant."

•••

When Y/N stepped into the room in a black plain tight dress, the conversation between the Basterds immediately stopped. They'd never seen her in anything but in uniform or the civilian clothes. Donny dropped the glass of whiskey he was drinking, Hugo's knife fell on the ground with a loud crash, Omar and Wicki stayed there with their mouths wide opened, Archie Hicox smirked and Aldo, Aldo was taken away and wasn't able to get out a word.

"Please, gentlemen! This is how you welcome a beautiful woman? She looks magnificent!" Bridget von Hammersmark exclaimed gesturing towards Y/N.

"It's so uncomfortable," Y/N frowned and tried to adjust the dress a little, "and so impractical." 

"I think it's perfect." Aldo breathed out and Bridget smiled in satisfaction.

Y/N truly looked like a completely new person. And Aldo's feelings mixed once again. She was so special to him, like water is special to desert. His life was dry without an excitment. She was the water that refreshed him after a long time of loneliness.

•••

Bridget, Aldo, Y/N, Donny and Omar stepped into the small local cinema, already so full of Nazi officers.

"It makes me sick." Y/N snorted as she looked around on the German uniforms. "I have two knives and a gun and I'm not afraid to use them right now."

Aldo laughed next to her and gallantly put his hand on her hip pulling her closely to him.

"Just relax, darlin'. We'll do that later." Aldo winked at her, not letting her go for a moment.

Bridget suddenly seemed like she'd seen a ghost. An older man approached their little group and Y/N immediately understood with whom they have the honor.

Bridget and Hans Landa shared a short conversation before they turned to them. Hammersmark formally introduced the Basterds and Y/N flinched a little under the German's look. Aldo noticed right away her change of attitude and stroked her hip gently.

"Sei assolutamente incredibile, signorina! Ho notato che molti ufficiali hanno voltato la testa dopo di te." (You look absolutely stunning, miss! I noticed that many officers turned their head after you.) Hans Landa grinned and Y/N thought it was the most disgusting thing ever.

"Grazie mille signore. Sono sicuro che stai esagerando." (Thank you very much, sir. I'm sure you're exaggerating.) Y/N faked a smile and clenched her hand in fist to remain calm.

All of the Basterds with Bridget jerked their heads towards her. Her fluent Italian took them away as well as Landa.

"Quanto amo la lingua italiana! E dalla bocca di una donna così bella, è una musica per le mie orecchie." (How I love the Italian language! And from the mouth of such a beautiful lady, it's a music for my ears.)

"Mi stai adulando, signor Landa. Non hai un brutto aspetto." (You're flattering me, Mr Landa. You don't look so bad yourself.) Y/N felt like vomitting any next second. 

Aldo had enough of Landa's fake attitude, especially how Y/N looked so stressed and angry. He decided he has to step in or she won't hold herself back. Aldo recalled the one sentence he learnt yesterday, just in case he'd need to interrupt a moment in a formal way. This was the time.

"Baciami, adesso." (Kiss me, right now.) he stated and pulled Y/N even closer than before. She didn't manage to prostest or ask a quick question and their lips touched. She returned the kiss immediately and ran her fingers through his hair.

Until someone coughed.

They pulled apart from each other, Aldo smiling widely like a winner and Y/N blushing harder than ever.

"Ci scusi signore. Il mio ragazzo qui è un tipo appassionato. Devi perdonarlo." (Excuse us, sir. My boyfriend here is the passionate kind. You must forgive him.) Y/N stuttered and but looked directly at Landa.

•••

Operation Kino was over and it was now only her, Aldo and Utivich. They lost everybody along the way. They stood together side by side through everything. They'd become something stronger than family, friends, lovers. They faced death together and nothing could break the bond they'd created over the years. It was time to go home.

Y/N stood on the ship that was taking the Basterds, or what was left of them, home. The wind was dancing on her hair whispering secrets in her ears.

"I never thought I'd make it back home." Aldo Raine appeared next to her with a cigarette between his lips.

"None of us thought so, Lieutenant." she nodded, "but the difference is, we were wrong. Not them."

"Smart as always." Aldo grinned as he turned to her. "You should stop calling me Lieutenant. The war's over."

Y/N giggled at his statement and he could swear he'd never heard something so melodic, something so right. 

"It kinda sticked with you, Lieutenant."

Aldo didn't answer, instead he threw away the cigarette and took some deep breaths. He needed whiskey, or anything else that would give him at least a bit of courage.

Aldo Raine fought in war, he saw his friends die, he was broken by everything he saw and still, asking Y/N a simple question seemed harder than surviving the bloodshed.

"Spill it out, Lieutenant." she laughed as she glanced at him. 

"I hate how ya always do that. But here it goes," Aldo replied, "I've never been good at this so I'll just keep it short."

He stopped for a moment and stared at the woman in front of him. As he stepped closer, his heart was already racing like it'd never before.

"Why don't ya come to the States with me? We can buy some little house in the Smoky Mountains and live there for the rest of our fuckin' lives." Aldo confessed in his Raine kind of way, looking at her with so much hope in his eyes. 

"Is this some kind of your proposal?" Y/N chuckled as she intertwined her fingers with his.

"Maybe."

"I thought you'd never ask! Of course I'll come with you! You're everything I have, Aldo." 

[mythgirlimagines]

It’s near impossible to miss this infamous taiko drummer! Nicknamed “The Summoner of the Rising Sun” by regular festival goers, introducing Myth Anon, the Former Ultimate Drummer!

—————-—————————————

BACKSTORY AND TALENT

Myth was born and raised in a heavily traditional family that prides itself on its traditional values, alongside her two older sisters (who quickly rebelled and started illustrious sports careers). If there’s one thing that Myth looks forward to every summer, it’s the annual festivals that come every year, with the boisterous taiko drummers being a particular favorite of hers. One faithful summer, one of the taiko drummers that she idolizes so much decided to take her under their wing, in order to become a fully-fledged taiko drummer. Before you knew it, Myth became a massive staple of festivals everywhere, thanks to her loud voice and bombastic stage presence. When not performing at festivals, Myth likes to cheer on her sisters in their respective sports competitions, or upload drum set covers on the internet (with the help of her more technologically-adept friends). Myth’s skills in both taiko drumming and set drumming gave her the title of “Ultimate Drummer”, once she hit high school age. As an adult, her drumming skills are still going strong, and she’s currently working on chaperoning a bunch of Ultimates at the Kibo-Con.

——————————————————-

RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Samurai

Myth’s family and Wyre‘s family have been formidable allies, ever since the dawn of time, and Myth and Wyre themselves are no exception, being two birds of a feather, when it comes to sheer energy and wildness, as well as their strict upholding of their ancestor’s traditional values. Historical enthusiasts like to call them “possible time travelers from the past” or “living relics”, whenever they’re seen side-by-side. Wyre is one of the most formidable warriors that her family has ever seen, and is a beast in both brute strength and swordplay, and has an unshakeable code of bushido to those that treat her with respect, underneath that wild, feral and almost dog-like personality.

Outfit: Cleanier and smoother hair with a Nippon Icchi headband around her head, a red oni mask on the side of her head, a green and light brown haori and an off-white obi that houses a brown scabbard over a black gakuran uniform, bandaged arms and legs, black socks and white zori sandals.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Delivery Girl

Scar’s parents are the owners of the “Witch’s Brew Kitchen”, which is a restaurant that is famous for its dark and fantasy-esque wares and the employees acting a lot like what the modern generation refers to as ”chuunibyous”, when on the job. When Witch’s Brew Kitchen eventually offered online -induced delivery, they sent their ambitious daughter to deliver food (along with a couple of other employees) to all of the homes of the hungry (if lazy) customers. Time after time, Myth just winds up befuddled by Scar’s various odd actions. But Myth regularly helps Scar with deliveries, for her muscular build owes very well to lifting particularly heavy orders, much to the overworked Scar’s elation. 

Outfit: A black delivery uniform with added spiked belts, and her hair in a ponytail, the scarf from her original design..

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Racer

Able to back up his extensive and nerdy knowledge of race cars and the race track with the ability to race down the track at high speeds, Fusion became famous for his superb skills, despite his age, and made a massive name for himself in the car racing circuit and as Hope’s Peak’s ”Ultimate Racer”. Fusion and Myth regularly protect and fuss over the other Ultimates, along with Scar. In turn, Fusion and Scar regularly watch over Myth, to make sure that her fiery attitude doesn’t get her into any trouble. Myth may consider bringing her oendan team to cheer Fusion on, during his races.

Outfit: A blue jumpsuit with yellow thunderbolt designs over the red t-shirt from his original design, yellow gloves, black and white sneakers, goggles on top of his hair.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Pinball Wizard

With a heavy appreciation for the hobbies and pastimes of the olden days, Fusion II made a name for herself as the top pinball champion in any arcade that she happens to find eye-catching and cool enough. In an attempt to be seen as cool by her peers, Fusion II attempted to adopt the image and fashion sense of a greasy rebel without a cause that were so popular in the mid-1900s. But upon seeing a fellow history geek (albeit, a fan of the the entirely wrong time period), Fusion II’s spiked greaser shell quickly broke and her geeky side just sprang out. The two girls love to talk about their respective time periods together, and Myth learned that Fusion II wasn’t as much of a troublemaker as she thought.

Outfit: Bangs greased back, a black leather jacket and matching leather pants and fingerless gloves over the undershirt from her original design, boots from her original design.

Just Anon, Ultimate Gunslinger

Being born and raised in a kill-or-be-killed world that could take advantage of his small and weak build (and his general laziness), Janon had to master the use of a certain weapon to make it out alive and into his comfortable bed. Janon specializes in quickly drawing a gun out of his holster, shooting it with mighty precision, and putting it back into his holsters, without anybody knowing what hit them. Janon’s sheer disrespect for everybody (apart from Curious and Iris, but he’d be shot dead in an alley before said soft spot is made public) really puts him at odds with Myth, and Janon just finds Myth (and her drumming) really loud and intrusive on his (extremely-long) beauty sleep.

Outfit: A black cowboy hat, a blue and pink poncho over the formal wear and mask from his original design, brown holsters that house his pistols.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Statistical Analyst

Blessed with a high intelligence quotient and a love for calculating statistics, Sparkle works for several global companies and helps prevent them from making foolish decisions that could cause their businesses to crash and burn. Assisting all of these high-profile companies gave her quite the large ego, and combined with her love of all things theatrical, you’d get a heavily melodramatic, self-proclaimed “SUPERBLY SPECTACULAR STATISTICAL SOMMELIER”, who regularly boasts about all of the random statistics that she can name off the top of her head. Myth seems to be one of the few people that can tolerate her volume, and thinks Sparkle would make an excellent addition to her group.

Outfit: A grey pantsuit over a pink dress shirt and matching heels, the cape and glasses from her original design.

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Thanatologist, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Revolutionary

While similar in aesthetics and their love for inserting out-of-left-field and cursed comments into otherwise normal conversation, Egg and Wet Sock are very  different in terms of personality and talent. Despite being superbly chaotic and almost too obsessed with the concept of death, Egg is surprisingly a great grief counselor to people in mourning, while Wet Sock leads a rebellion group with an iron fist and doesn’t mince their words when it comes to the terrible state of the world. While Myth was initially unnerved by the twins, Myth eventually found out just how kind and dependable Egg and Wet Sock was in spite of their cursed comments and less-than-conventional worldviews. 

Outfits: Skull masks (symbols of Wet Sock’s movement), black sweaters with white stripes on the sleeves and a red heart in the center, blue ripped jeans and spiked black boots.

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Fashion Designer

Curious was born into a family that was at the top of both the social and the fashion ladder, and Curious has been put to work designing clothes, ever since he started showing considerable skill in sketching out and designing clothes. In spite of their age, Curious is known as a fashion genius and a pioneer in the new age of gender-non-conforming formal wear, with the hybrid suit-dress being a particular speciality of their’s. Curious has a very gullible personality, and Myth regularly takes advantage of their gullibility to plan some mischief together and just toying with the fashion designer in general, much to the ire of Janon and the Freak Twins. Myth also loves modeling for them.

Outfit: Hair tied into a ponytail, a green tuxedo with white wedding dress material on the ends and white heels.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Priest

Born into an extremely religious family, Nerd’s family repeatedly drilled all of the God-loving philosophies into his head and trained him to become a professional priest (just like every other man in his family) for as long as he lived under their roof. While Nerd is patient and calm, when it comes to conducting religious ceremonies, he’s the complete antithesis of that, the second he steps outside of a religious building, or the second anybody disrespects his faith, being loud, violent, and vulgar. While Nerd initially had a disrespectful and terrible attitude in the eyes of Myth, Nerd and Myth eventually became closer, thanks to their protective attitudes and shared strong and unshakeable moral codes.

Outfit: Same outfit as the original, but with the addition of a golden cross necklace.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Mangaka

Too scared of the outside world to even leave the squalid apartment that he resides in, Eldritch, desperate to wake the world up to the fact that they live in a dystopia, decided to write manga under the pet name “Sheeple Savior”, which are usually about seemingly-normal towns suffering from horrible atrocities, that everybody (but the “chosen one”) remains completely blind to. Years of living in an isolated apartment, combined with his already paranoid and pessimistic mindset, means that he shows a hostile distrust to everybody, with Myth’s loud and overbearing attitude just scaring the miniature mangaka away. Myth also can’t handle all of the subject matter that Eldritch writes.  

Outfit: Long and unkempt hair, a white and baggy t-shirt with a spiral in the center, the shorts, socks, and slippers from his original design.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Barista

Originally getting a job at the local coffee shop to earn some extra pocket money, as Dream spent more and more time as a barista, she eventually became one of the most popular employees at the coffee shop, thanks to her cheery and peppy attitude and the sheer passion that she puts into making and serving coffee. Before meeting Dream, Myth has never had coffee before (due to her upbringing, she prefers tea), and Dream regularly likes offering a plain latte to anybody who never had coffee before. This has led to disastrous and chaotic results, as the taiko drummer went on an utter rampage, and it took several cups of green tea and Wyre to calm the drummer down.

Outfit: A grey ski cap, a green apron over a black t-shirt with a white illustration of a steaming cup of coffee, a pink flannel shirt wrapped around her waist, grey shorts, black socks and pink sneakers. 

Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Bed Tester

As a young and optimistic girl with very big dreams, she takes all of the tasks thrown at her seriously and with great gusto, no matter how ridiculous the side hustles are. But her most successful side hustle yet has to be a bed tester for a heavily influential bed-manufacturing company, called “Sweet Dream Industries”. Getting the Starry Iris Badge of Approval is how one knows that a bed is comfortable and satisfactory to sell. Needless to say, when Myth first met Iris and heard about her talent, she was outright cackling for minutes on end. Once she got over the thought of Iris’s talent, she began viewing Iris as a younger version of her, and is extra protective of Iris for that reason.

Outfit: Hair in two messy braids, glasses on top of her head, galaxy-printed pajamas, yellow ankle socks.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Card Shark

Though originally the scion of a very influential family, Purple’s parent ended up going bankrupt after accidentally getting tangled up in the criminal underworld. Now at the bottom of the social and monetary ladder, Purple decided to take to the gambling tables, in order to replace the riches that her family ended up losing. From there, the shy scion learned about her talent for deceit, and became known by many as the Ultimate Card Shark. Ever since Myth heard about Purple’s talent, the strong-moral-compassed drummer didn’t want to tangle with anyone who lied for a living. This makes Purple one of the few Kibo-Con attendees who Myth openly dislikes, much to the dismay of the timid gambler.

——————————————————-

PERSONALITY

Drummer!Myth has a very loud voice and an equally boisterous presence, which really helps her be heard in the festivals that she regularly attends, as well as leading her oendan group/band. Despite seeming overbearing, rough, and hard-headed, once you get on her good side, you have only the most loyal and supportive friend by your side. Despite being the youngest sister in her family, she often acts like a supportive and protective older sibling to the Ultimates and Jr. Ultimates. She loves using her strength to help anybody in need, and it gave her infamy amongst her hometown, for her helpful attitude and the physical abilities to back it up. Apart from drumming, Drummer!Myth also has a love for sports (thanks to her two older siblings) and ancient history and traditions (thanks to her upbringing), and wouldn’t tolerate anybody who disses either of those things. 

—————————-——-——————-

APPEARANCE

Drummer!Myth has wild and tousled brown hair in a ponytail held by a white ribbon with a pink headband around her head. Drummer!Myth simply wears her oendan/festival wear, which consists of a sleeveless robe that’s white on the left side and blue on the right side with a special purple pattern on the bottom, and tying it all together is a pink obi. Underneath the robe are white bandages that bind her chest and black shorts. The bracelets on each of her bandage wrapped arms match her shorts and she wears white socks and geta sandals that boost up her height.

——————-————————————

I honestly have no idea why, but I decided to go for a different drummer, as opposed to the kind that Max is. I decided to take cues from the two best fictional taiko drummers I know: Saeko from Haikyuu, and Tomoe from Bandori! I hope you like this design! Let me hear your opinions on this AU!

[talpup]

Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud.  He knew there would be trails.  He knew trouble would come his way.  Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant.  What he didn’t know.  Didn’t expect.  Was that literal Chaos would come his way.  That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble.  Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealously of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers.  For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Someone asked about Teris’ riding dress.  If interested you can go to my Tumblr’s homepage to see pics of what Fuegoleon and Nozel’s preferred choices were.

Chapter 73

When Nozel exited the dress shop yesterday to find a non-murderous Teris, he had been worried.  An angry Teris always meant one of two things. A murderous Teris.  Or a simmering silent Teris.  But Teris hadn’t exploded at him.  Nor had she given him the silent treatment that all but promised she was quietly letting her anger stew as she brewed plans of vengeance.

Instead she had done something more worrisome than any outrage or silence. She had spoken to him as if nothing happened.  Even Fuegoleon had been taken aback by that never imaged reaction.  Too unsettled, it had taken Nozel till supper to come to the dumbfounded realization that Teris wasn’t holding his knowledge of her measurements against him.  Simply put, Teris Nova was incapable of bluffing her lack of anger that well.

Still relieved the next the morning, Nozel sat to his Father's right at the breakfast table with Teris to his left.

“The Decoration Ceremony will be held this afternoon, followed by an informal gathering with finger foods so eat up while you can.” Nathyn instructed Teris and his children.

“Will my brother be returned by then?”  Teris asked.  It wasn’t so much that she wanted to see more of Fyntch; but being alone with the Silva’s felt a little too much like a sampling of a future she refused to be a part of.

“I don’t believe so.”  Nathyn answered.

In fact the Silva knew Fyntch wouldn’t be returning since it was he who had ordered the Nova patriarch away for the day.  Nathyn wanted Teris to arrive at court on his sons arm, not behind her brothers shoulder.  He wanted Teris and everyone else at court to be reminded who she was meant for.  Who she, despite Leonidas words to the contrary, belonged to.

Looking down the table at Teris, Nathyn assured.  “I’m sure your brother be back by the morrow.  I doubt he would want to miss your birthday.”

“If only all this could have waited a year.”  Nebra pouted.  “Then I too would get to stand before the court and be honored.”

“What makes you think that?”  Solid laughed.

“Because I would have been a Magic Knight and part of brother, Nozel’s, team.”  Nebra said.

Unlikely as that was, Nozel didn’t dissuade his sister her fantasy.

“One of the Kings men will be by shortly after breakfast to fetch you and walk you through the ceremony.”  Nathyn told Nozel and Teris.  “I doubt there will be much time to change after, so as soon as you’re done with your breakfast, excuse yourself and dress for the ceremony.”

“In that case.  Please excuse me, my Lord.”  Teris said, setting down her fork and wiping her mouth.

Nozel quickly stood, pulling out her chair and helping her to her feet. Nathyn and Solid stood as well, Nathyn’s eyes watching his eldest son excuse himself and following Teris out.

Appearing hopeful, Solid asked.  “May I be excused as well, father?”

“No.” Nathyn told, retaking his seat and turning his attention to the mornings paper.

Outside the breakfast room Teris sighed.  “I’ll be glad to be rid of dresses and stupid shoes, if only for a while.”

Teris had been surprised at how easy it was to be open and friendly with Nozel after Mereoleona’s words yesterday.  As much as their relationship strained every time Teris was reminded she was Nozel’s intended, or Nozel hinted at his romantic affection; Nozel truly was a dearly beloved friend.

Teris had thought of and occasionally mourned the lost she would suffer in Fuegoleon.  But she had foolishly never really considered how her friendship with Nozel would suffer once things came to a head.  Of course it would be so much worse between Nozel and her than her and Fuegoleon.  She would be refusing to wed Nozel after all.  With all the royals and nobles knowing they had been intended to wed since they were children, the hit to Nozel’s pride alone would create a rift that time would never fully heal.

“What do you mean rid of dresses and proper shoes?”  Nozel questioned.

“For the ceremony.  We’ll be wearing our squad cloaks.”  Teris said.

“Yes.” Nozel cautiously agreed.  After a beat, he said.  “Teris.  You are aware that you’re expected to wear the riding dress.  Right?”

Teris’ brows furrowed.  “What?”

“Why else would we have picked one?”  Nozel questioned.  “It’s not as if we had any plans of going out riding.”

“But I’m a Magic Knight.”  Teris argued.

“You are also a royal lady.”  Nozel replied.

“But I’m going to court to be recognized for my deeds as a Magic Knight, not as a royal.”  Teris said.

“Which is why you are allowed to wear a riding dress instead of a proper court gown.”  Nozel said.  “You know these things.  At least you should.  How do you not?”

Teris shrugged.  “I skipped a lot of ladies guild stuff before they kicked me out.  Even when I went I never paid attention.”

Nozel sighed heavily.  How could he love a woman as irregular and insufferable as this?  They were so different.  There were so many things about her that bothered and annoyed him to no end.  But as much as he wanted to mold and tame her, he didn’t want to change her.  Of course she’d have to look and act the part of his wife and represent the family as Lady Silva.  And he hoped that Teris would come to find some enjoyment in doing what was socially expected of her as Lady Silva.  But Nozel also wanted Teris to keep some of her wild and free ways.  So long as they were kept privately between them.

Still, this was a lapse in her teaching that shocked even him.  Did Teris truly think she could show up to court and stand before the King in her everyday clothes?  Granted she had been allowed stand in court like that the day the war had been announced.  But that had been a completely different circumstance.  Magic Knight or not, Teris was a royal lady.  And considering she would wed him, she would always be a royal lady.  The same couldn’t be said of her always being a Magic Knight.

Looking at her, Nozel bid.  “Riding dress.  Please.”

“Fine.” Teris rolled her eyes.

Was it the entire royal court or just the men of court that demanded the women of rank constantly be harassed by unyielding skirts.  Bound up in corsets.  And at the mercy of a mans assistance for the simplest thing such as sitting down and standing up because of such stupid uncomfortable shoes and garb.  At least riding dresses were less voluminous and bore far less unnecessary frills.  Teris repeated Mereoleona’s sagely words in her head.  Who knew if she’d ever be in court as a royal lady again.  Not that she would miss it.  But as Mereoleona had said, it was something that would soon end.  Never to happen again.

Teris gave Nozel a smile.  “Thanks for making that clear.”

Nozel blinked.  He watched her turn off toward the guest wing wondering if Teris had somehow traded places with a transformation mage.  His brow lifted.  The Black Bulls had a Transformation Mage.  His eyes narrowed.  No, he thought shaking his head.  Even Teris wouldn’t dare do such a thing.  Besides, Abril was far more ill behaved and lacking in proper courtesies than Teris was.

Continuing down the hall, Nozel turned the corner to his quarters.  He was quickly grabbed and roughly pulled.  Nozel cloaked himself in mana only to let the cloak drop when he saw his would be attacker was Fuegoleon.

“What in mana’s name?”  Nozel jerked free of the mans hold.  Noticing the Crimson Lions state of disarray and dark circles under blood shot eyes his nerves were put edge again.  “What’s the matter?”

Fuegoleon stepped to him.  “I have to know.”

Nozel stepped back.  His rival was not acting at all like himself.  Between Teris and now Fuegoleon, Nozel was beginning to wonder if he was experiencing a lucid dream or some sort of unfunny joke.

“Know what?”  Nozel asked.  He took another step back when Fuegoleon took another step toward him.

“I have to know.”  Fuegoleon repeated.  His violet eyes shot about the hallway, making sure they were alone.  “Did you know?  When did you know?”

“Know what?”  Nozel asked again, impatience rising.  He had an hour at most to prepare before the Kings man came to walk them through the ceremony.

“About Yami!”  Fuegoleon whispered harshly.  “Did you know your father tired to have him killed?”

Nozel’s eyes snapped around the hall.  Grabbing Fuegoleon roughly by the arm, he dragged the Vermillion to his soundproof chambers.  Closing and locking the door with a click, he spun around to face the Crimson Lion.

“Who told you that?”  Nozel demanded hoarsely, keeping his voice low despite the quarters soundproofing.

Fuegoleon shook his head.  “No one.  I heard it.”

Nozel’s eyes widened.  “Heard it?  From whom?”

“So it is true.”  Fuegoleon had hoped that his father and Mereoleona had been wrong.  Or that he had somehow misunderstood what they had been talking about.  Not that their words and meaning hadn’t been clear enough.  “Did you know?  Of course you knew.  You would have reacted differently if you hadn’t.  When did you know?”

Growling, Nozel gripped the Vermillion by his crimson squad cloak.  “Who did you hear it from?”

“I didn’t mean to.”  Fuegoleon told, feeling guilty for overhearing his father's private conversation.

“Who!” Nozel demanded.

“My father and Mereoleona were discussing it.”

Nozel looked away cursing.  Slowly, he let go of Fuegoleon’s cloak and stepped back.

“When did you know?”  Fuegoleon asked.

Unable to look him in the eye, Nozel spoke to the floor.  “My father summoned me to Silva Manor one day.  Had me sit in front of his desk and told me what was about to happen.  There was nothing I could do.”

Fuegoleon exhaled in relief.  “So you weren’t a part of it.”

Nozel’s head shot up.  “Of course I wasn’t a part of it!  You know me. How could you even think such a thing?”

“Sorry.” Fuegoleon apologized.

“Yami knows--”

“Yami knows!  He knows your father--”  Fuegoleon stopped, unable to say the terrible words again.

Nozel nodded.  “We’ve—talked about it I guess you could say.”

“And?”

“And...” Nozel sighed.  “Even if my father were to hire and send people a second time, I’m pretty sure they’d meet the same fate as the first.  As much as it pains me to say it.  Yami is a formidable opponent.”

“A second time?”  Fuegoleon repeated.  He stared a moment at his friend.  “So did you not know about the first time?  Or did Lord Silva try again without informing you?”

Nozel blinked.  “Pardon?”

“I heard them.  My father was rather upset about yours trying not just once but twice.  Even admitting that there could have been more that they weren’t aware of.”  He stared a moment, concern and dread coursing through him.  “Nozel.  Just how many times has your father attempted to have Yami taken out?”

Nozel shook his head, mind in a daze.  “I... only knew of the one.”

73.2

It was telling to how busy they were that five days after the war had ended Greywright was just now meeting with Sir Jorah to discuss King Morris’ ten minute talk with Teris.  The Knights Commander had already sent the Wizard King his report of the discussion; but reports didn’t allow for an incidents nuance or questions Jorah might have.  So a few minutes had been carved out for the Wizard King to ask those questions and Greywright to relay those nuances.

Jorah got right to the point as soon as the Magic Knights Commander entered.  “What do you think King Morris hoped to gain meeting with Teris Nova like that?”

“You read in my report saying King Morris tried to get her to agree to a conversation before I was ever brought in.  I’m sure he would have led their talk down a completely different path if I hadn’t been there.  But with me present Morris had to be more mindful.  Honestly, I think he was trying to get a feel for her.  You read the questions he asked.  More stuff a friend would pose.  Nothing overly alarming, other than his last words and the amount of detailed info he had about her.  But we already surmised he had spies watching her and Yami.”

Jorah nodded.  “Morris tipped his hand with that last question.  Purposefully so, I would image.  He’s smart.  And thanks to the disturbing amount of information he seems to have gathered on Teris, and probably Yami, I wouldn’t be surprised if he knows those two are in a relationship.  Likely knows the Nova’s and Silva’s intend for Teris and Nozel to wed, and Teris’ unruly plans to disobey her family’s command.  ’Would you consider coming to live here?’” Jorah repeated Morris’ last question and sighed.

Whether Yami Sukehiro followed Teris Nova into banishment or not; that was something the Wizard King could not allow.  His duty to protect Clover Kingdom and its people meant he would have to kill the girl before letting her be banished and go to either the Diamond or Spade kingdoms, possibly aligning with them. Light magic was just that rare and powerful.  And if Yami Sukehiro did follow her into banishment…

“You did good ending things before she answered Morris’ question.”  Jorah said.  Still, a seed had been planted in Teris’ mind.  ‘When the time comes, know that I would accept you and Yami into my kingdom.  Such powerful weapons would be a welcome addition to my ranks.’ Jorah thought of Morris’ parting words to the girl and sat back.  In two years time things could potentially be a real mess.  All because a spoiled royal girl wouldn’t do her duty and wed who her family told her to. “Do you think Morris was trying to appear friendly to her?”

“If it was anyone other than King Morris, I might be tempted to think so. Other than his parting words, there were a few questions he asked that stood out.”  Greywright answered.

“And those were?”  Jorah prompted.

Greywright glanced at Ellara entering and replied.  “Morris asked Teris how she liked being a Magic Knight.”  He caught Ellara’s eyes dart to him, her shoulders stiffening ever so slightly.  Was it the mention of Teris that had the Advisor reacting?  Greywright chided himself. Humoring Julius’ concerns about Ellara was making him paranoid.  He went on.  “Morris asked if she was happy here.  Happy with her family.  Had closed friends.  Basic, simple questions.  But also questions that would give him a better idea of her allegiance and contentedness here.”

“We already knew Morris was interested in Yami and Teris.”  Jorah said.

Greywright nodded.  “Like you said, Sir.  He tipped his hand with his final question and parting words.  Odd that he didn’t ask that last question sooner though.  Like you said, he’s smart.  He had to be as aware of the passing seconds as I was.  Yet he saved such a question for last.  Waiting till time was close enough for me to call its end.”

“You think Morris timed it thus?  Knew you wouldn’t allow Teris to answer?”  Jorah asked.

Ellara set down a stack of papers in front of the Wizard King and shuffled through a pile at the end of his desk.

“I’m sure of it.”  Greywright said.

Jorah clicked his tongue in annoyance.  “So Morris asked questions that gauged Teris’ happiness here to see if she could be tempted to the Diamond Kingdom.  Then remind her of the banishment she might face. And say that he would welcome her and Yami.”

“There’s little doubt in my mind Yami would follow her if things ended with Teris banished.  If Morris could get them to willingly seek refuge and home in the Diamond Kingdom—”

“That’s not going to happen.”  Jorah cut in.

“What’s that?”  Greywright asked.

“Teris being banished because of her unwillingness to do her duty as a royal daughter.  If that girl does remain a stubborn brat, and refuses to bend and obey her family's command, I may be forced to act.”

Greywright and Ellara shared a look wondering what the Wizard King would, or even could do.

“But that’s a possible problem for a later date.”  Jorah went on. “Right now I am more disturbed about King Morris knowing Yami and Teris are in a relationship.”

“Sir?” Greywright’s eyebrows knitted together.

“You think Morris and other ill intents wouldn’t exploit their relationship for their own aims?  That they wouldn’t take and threaten one to bend the other?  The Agents of Chaos already used similar methods against them and found success.”  Jorah shook his head in tired displeasure.  “The less people who know about their relationship, the better and safer it is for them and ultimately us.”

Thinking about Lord Nathyn Silva having hired two gangs of assassins to kill Yami, that they knew of, Greywright couldn’t help but agree.

“Sir, it’s time.”  Ellara said, looking at the timepiece behind the Wizard Kings desk.

“Yes, yes.”  Jorah got to his feet.  Straightening his robes, he told Greywright.  “The decoration ceremony for our acting Magic Knights Captain and his squad.”

“One of the few good things to come out of the war.”  Greywright commented, proudly.

“As trying as these days have been, I’m going to enjoy this.”  Jorah agreed.

73.3

Teris hadn’t been keen to arrive at court on Nozel’s arm.  A part of her wondered if that was why Fyntch had left for the day.  It was odd though.  While Nozel always took on an overly formal persona when in the Kings Palace, he never did so to this extent.  More than that, he had been acting odd since this mornings breakfast.

Nozel’s inexplicable distant quiet had turned Teris solicitous.  With the ceremony over, she and Nozel made their way with everyone else to the informal gathering held in one of the Royal Residences many gardens. Her hand fidgeted on his.  Short as the ceremony had been, Teris had figured Nozel would’ve been happy.  Proud.  They had done more than survive the trek into the Diamond Kingdom.  They had completed the task the King and Sir Jorah had given, winning peace for the kingdom. But instead, Nozel was lifeless, merely going through the motions.

After trying and failing to get Nozel to converse with her, Teris broke down and asked.  “What’s with you?”  When he didn’t respond but continued leading her to the garden in line with everyone else, she stopped walking and turned to him.  “Nozel.”

Nozel’s eyes slid to her, his face unreadable.

“Are you mad at me?  Cause I’m really trying here.  After what Mereoleona told me—ow!”  Teris winced.

Nozel’s hand turned under hers, clasping and squeezing her fingers too tight. Teris tried to pulled her hand free, the rings on her fingers bruising in his unforgiving grasp.  But Nozel’s grip remained firm.

“Excuse us.  Pardon me.”  Nozel said, his position and upbringing making him mindfully polite as he weaved between nobles and fellow royals, pulling Teris along.

Teris was half led, half dragged down the main hall and then rushed down a side hall.  Her skirts, tight corset, and stupid shoes making it impossible to keep up with his pace.

Nozel flung the doors to a withdrawing room open, startling two courtly lovers.

“Out!” Nozel snapped, barely giving them a look as he entered, pulling Teris in behind him.

The lady slapped the gentleman for whatever reason and stormed out.  The nobleman bowed.  “Your Highness.  My Lady.  Congrad--”

“Out. Now.”  Nozel growled dangerously, cold blue eyes turning on the nobleman.

“Highness.” The man gave a hasty bow and raced from the room.

Nozel closed the doors and turned to Teris, grabbing her roughly by the shoulders.  “What did Mereoleona tell you?”

Out of breath and confused, Teris stared up at him.  “I--I don’t-- What--”

“Tell me.  What did she say?”  Nozel commanded.  His hands tightened on her shoulders.  It was a struggle to take care and not shake her.

Teris winced and tried to free herself from his grasp.  “Nozel.  You’re hurting me.”

Nozel barely heard her, his racing heart roaring in his ears.  All he knew was that Teris hadn’t answered him.  Gripping her tighter, he demanded.  “What did the Vermillion tell you?”

“That this time was fleeting and I should enjoy it before it all changed in a couple years.”  Teris answered, her voice   trembling in fear. Body shaking in pain from his too tight hold.

Nozel blinked.  For the first time he took in her beautiful face filled with a mix of fear, anxiety, and pain.  He realized just how tightly his hold on her was and released her, the fabric of her dress keeping the divots where his fingers had clawed into her.

“S--sorry.” Nozel swallowed and took a step back.  Dazed, he reached behind him searching for something to steady himself.

Eyes glazed with fearful tears, Teris was about to tear into him until she saw how distressed Nozel was.  Her once fearful, angry expression softened in concern.

“Nozel? Are you alright?  Here.  Let’s sit you down.”  Teris stepped to him and guided him to a lounge.  Watching him carefully, she asked. “Should fetch a healer?”

Nozel wrapped a staying hand around her wrist.  “No!  Please, don’t. There’s no need for that.  I’m... feeling better.”

“Liar.”

“I don’t need a healer.”  Nozel assured.

Teris reached out a hand to comfort him, then thought better of it. Thankfully he was staring at the floor and didn’t noticed the canceled movement.  After a moment, she asked.  “What’s going on?”

Nozel took in a long deep breath and exhaled.  “Nothing.”

“There you go lying again.  At least when there was something I didn’t want or couldn’t tell you, I told you as much.”

Nozel lifted his head and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Mana, she was beautiful when she pouted and sulked.  He ran a still shaky hand over his mouth.  He didn’t know what he would’ve done if Mereoleona had told Teris the truth he was so fearful of Teris learning.  He couldn’t imagine what they would do if Teris ever found out what his father had done.  Had attempted to have done. Nozel was positive Teris wouldn’t differentiate between his knowing but unable to do anything, from him being complicit.  Not when Yami’s life was involved.

Heart rate slowing, adrenaline ebbing, Nozel felt silly for thinking Mereoleona would have told Teris about the hired assassins.  His relief made him laugh softly at his foolishness.

Teris’ expression of concern grew.

“It’s alright.”  Nozel assured.  “While I can’t say more.  I can tell you that much.”

Teris looked him over wondering what he wasn’t telling her.

“Stop it.”  He commanded with more bravo than he felt.  “You’ll ruin the surprise I thought Leona told you about.”

Teris’ brows furrowed.  “Surprise?”

Nozel nodded, wondering how he was going to come up with a surprise that even slightly justified his reaction.  Fuegoleon would have to help him.  After all it was the Vermilion's fault for coming to him this morning and dropping all this in his lap.

Worse than learning that his father had made a second time on Yami’s life, was finding out that others knew about it.  Nozel couldn’t help but wonder who else besides the three Vermilion's knew.  What if Yami had told his friends?  No, Nozel told himself.  Yami didn’t want Teris to know any more than he did.  Yami wouldn’t tell anyone and risk it possibly getting back to her.  But if Mereoleona and her father had found out and discussed it where Fuegoleon could overhear, what was there to stop Teris from somehow learning about it all as well?

“Nozel?” Teris prodded after a moment.

“I told, you that’s all you get.”  Nozel said, somewhat harshly. “Sorry.”  He sighed and gave what he hoped was an apologetic and reassuring smile.  “Still working out the details.”  He stood, offering her his hand.  “Shall we?  We don’t want to stay closed up in here over long.  People might get the wrong impression.”

Teris rushed to her feet and quickly made for the doors, swinging them open.  She sneered the small gathering that had been attempting to eavesdrop, watching them scatter like a flock of startled birds.

“That’s my fault.”  Nozel muttered, at her shoulder.

“Yes. It is.”  Teris growled, silently repeating Mereoleona’s words like a mantra.

“I apologize.  Your image and honor is of paramount importance to me.” Nozel told, truly sorry for any whispers about her this might cause.

Teris shrugged.  “Nothing happened.  If they were able to hear they’ll know that.  Even if they weren’t.  Who cares?  We know the truth.”

Nozel blinked.  Was her image and honor more important to him than it was to her?  He thought of how she had so openly cavorted with Yami the night of the Lava Springs and ground his teeth, trying to push the unwanted memory way.

“There you two are.”  Julius said, turning down the hall.  He had seen Nozel pull Teris out of line and had followed as best he could; but too many people had been in his way, many of whom he had to politely promise to find later because they had wished to speak with him. “May I steel my sister for a moment?”

“Certainly.” Nozel gave Teris a slight bow and headed off to the gathering.

Julius gently nudged Teris back into the room she had just exited.

“Stop shoving me.”  Teris snapped.

“I’m not shoving.  Lower you voice.”  Julius closed the doors behind them and turned to her.  “What was that about?”

“I don’t know.  He pulled me in here demanding to know what Mereoleona told me.”

Julius’ brows furrowed.  “What Leona told you?  Why?  What did she tell you?”

“Basically to have a better attitude and outlook on these stupid boring events and the hateful people I’m forced to deal with at them.  To enjoy the societal relations I have while I can.  Which,” she looked at her brother, “you’re making quite difficult to do.”

“And Nozel pulled you in here for that?”

“No. He pulled me in here mid-sentence.  I told you, I don’t know.  It was weird.  He’s been weird since morning.  Even by Nozel standards.”

“So it was nothing you did or said?”  Julius questioned.

Teris glared up at him.  “No, Julius.  It was nothing I said or did.  You got your message across perfectly before you abandoned me to my fate. Yet again.”  She regretted the last bit as soon as she said it but couldn’t take it back.

Julius blinked.  He couldn’t have been more stung if she had slapped him. Just when he thought she had forgiven him for leaving so soon after their mother's death, Teris went and said things like that. Swallowing his emotion, he apologized.  “Forgive me for thinking it was something you’d done.  Nozel isn’t the type of person that would do something like that without great reason.”

Thinking of the stolen kiss in the stables at Nova House and the bruises she’d likely have on her still aching shoulders, Teris muttered.  “You have no idea what type of person Nozel is.”

“What’s that?”  Julius questioned.

Teris shook her head.  “Nothing.”

“Has he done something like this before?”  Julius asked.

“No. Nothing like this has happened before.”

“Teris. You’d tell me if—if he had attempted anything untoward or overly harsh, wouldn’t you?”  Julius asked scrutinizing her every movement.

Teris sighed.  “Really, Julius.  You tell me that you’re busy and won’t be around, and now you pull me in here harassing me.”

“Teris--”

“May I go?  Or is there anything else you’d like to accuse me of disappointing you in?”

“You aren’t a disappointment.  Not to me.  Couldn’t be even if you tired.”

“I’m sorry for my comment about you abandoning me.”  Teris apologized. “It was more than untrue.  It was uncalled for and childishly mean spirited.”

Julius gave her a weak tentative smile.  “You’re a brat.

“Thanks?” Teris huffed, smiling back and making a face.

“Come here.”  Julius pulled her into a hug.  “You’re precious to me.” He told, resting his chin on her head.  “You’re the only thing that gives me pause when I think about possibly one day becoming Wizard King.  To not be able to call or even think of you as my sister...”

Teris’ heart seized.  It was too much.  Needing to lighten the mood least she tear up, she pulled away.  “It’s alright, Juls.  Whether you’re Wizard King by then or not, you won’t be able to do that in a couple years anyway.”

Julius smiled sadly at the effort she made to sound playfully confidant.  As much as she had left to learn, she had had numerous hard lessons in her young life and had learned quickly how best to deal with hardship, going on when others would have broken.

“You would tell me though, right?  About Nozel?”

Teris sighed.  “Julius.  If there was a problem like that, I’d take care of it long before you heard of it.  I can take care of myself. If you doubt me, we can head over to one of the training yards at Magic Knights Headquarters and I can prove it to you.”

He knew she was deflecting which only served to make him certain Nozel had done something.  He remembered finding her crying in the stables at Nova House and piecing together what had happened.  Hopefully that was the only thing Nozel had done to distress his sister.  But Teris was right about being able to take care of it herself.  She had done so in that cell when she and the rest of Nozel’s team had been captured.  It wasn’t that Julius doubted she could take care of herself.  It was that he didn’t want her to have to.  A selfish part of him wanted his little sister to rely on him even though he wouldn’t always be there for her as her big brother.  In any case, she and Nozel appeared to be getting along fine, most of the time at least.  So Julius figured whatever it was, Teris had indeed handled it, forgiven him, and trusted Nozel not to attempt anything like it again.

Given her persistently hard stance, Julius didn’t pressure her anymore and instead apologized.  “Sorry.  I’m well aware you’re a powerful Mage.  It’s only your third year as a Magic Knight and you’re already ranked as a Second Class Senior.  It’s just... Seeing you like this...”  He gestured to her outfit.  “It makes me think of you more as a young lady who may need assistance.”

Teris forced her small smile to hold in place, thinking that dressed in this garb made her feel more like a submissive lady who required assistance.  It was one of the main reasons she hated wearing such outfits.  She wasn’t completely herself in them.  That, coupled with her still dealing with the emotional effects of what happened in the cell was why she had been more frightened than fearsome when Nozel pulled her in the room.

“Then there’s the whole I’m your brother and all.”  Julius shrugged a shoulder and smiled crookedly at her.

“And an excellent, caring brother you are.”  Teris put in.

Becoming serious, Julius felt the need to say.  “But you can come to me. You don’t have to shoulder everything on your own.  As your brother it’s more than my duty to protect you.  It is my honor and privilege.  If anyone did anything that made you feel uncomfortable or threatened, I would hope you wouldn’t feel that you had to handle it on your own.”

Teris knew this wasn’t going to end unless she gave him that much, and so said.  “I know.  And if I wasn’t up to it I would most definitely come to you.  Without hesitation.”  Changing the subject before things became even more uncomfortable or sappy, she said.  “When Nozel and I first entered, there was a couple in here necking.”

“Really, Teris.  Gossip.”  Julius scolded.

“It’s not really gossip if it’s true.  Beside, I know you’re not gonna go around telling everyone.”

“Who were they?”

Teris gave her brother a playful censuring look.  “Really, Julius. Gossip.”

Julius smirked and opened the doors, leading her out.

73.4

Nozel stopped beside the nobleman talking with Fuegoleon.

“Your Highness.”  The man greeted Nozel, bowing slightly. “Congratulations on your Golden Clover Medal of Honor.”

“Thank you.”  Nozel replied, his eyes never turning to the noble.  “Will you excuse us?”

There was a slight moment of confusion on the nobles part as Nozel had been looking at Fuegoleon when he had spoken; but he quickly realized the words were meant for him.

“Yes. Of course, Your Highness.”  The noble bowed at both Princes. “Your Highness’”  There was another moment of awkward silence where the man realized that Nozel didn’t actually want be excused with Fuegoleon; but wanted him leave them.  He clumsily bowed again. “If Your Highness’ will excuse me.”

Despite his stress and the pressing need, Nozel gave a tired sigh surprised that they would let someone so lacking in courtly graces within the walls of the Royal Castle.

Fuegoleon turned to the Silva.  “Sometimes your rudeness even catches me by surprise.”

“Shut up.  I need your help.”

“Well that’s an interesting way to ask for it.”  Fuegoleon commented. “Don’t know how effective--”

“I need to figure out a surprise for Teris.”  Nozel said over the Vermillion.  “A substantial one, but nothing too big that will make her uncomfortable or refuse it.”

Fuegoleon’s eyes narrowed.  “What’s this about?”

“I messed up.”  Nozel confessed.

“You seem to do that a lot with her.  Something else that shouldn’t surprise me but still occasionally does.”

Nozel stepped closer to the Crimson Lion and whispered.  “I overreacted when she said she was really trying due to something Mereoleona told her.  I dragged her off and demanded to know what your sister had said.”

“Why?”

Nozel looked about.  Stepping even closer, he lowered his voice further. “You know why.”

“You thought Leona told her?”  Fuegoleon questioned, voice raising at the preposterous thought.

“Keep your voice down!”  Nozel whispered harshly.

“She would never do that.  Why would you think Leona would do such a thing?  What were you thinking?”

“I clearly wasn’t.”  Nozel growled.

“Clearly.” Fuegoleon huffed.  He went on, sounding offended.  “Leona would never tell Teris.  No one who truly cared about Teris would tell her. I can’t believe you thought Leona had.  Not to mention if Teris knew, she wouldn’t have been calmly speaking to you.”

Hearing Fuegoleon spell it out made Nozel feel all the more foolish, which he supposed was the point.  Irritated, Nozel questioned tersely.  “Are you going to help me or not?”

“I’ll help you.”  Fuegoleon answered.  “For Teris’ sake.  Not yours.”

“I don’t care why you’re doing it, so long as you do it.”

“Because if you screw this up,” Fuegoleon continued on as if Nozel hadn’t spoken, “Teris will wonder why you overreacted.  She’ll start poking around trying to figure out the real reason.”  He frowned at the Silver Eagle, hands curling into fists.  “I swear, Nozel.  If she finds out about all this because of your thoughtless paranoid reaction I’ll kill you myself.  You know it’ll only drive her further away and closer to him.”

Nozel’s jaw tightened at the thought of Yami Sukehiro.  Glaring at Fuegoleon, he clipped.  “Just help me think of something convincing.”

“First, I’ll need to know how badly you overreacted.”  Fuegoleon said.

Nozel made a face, thinking of the way he had grasped Teris.  The way his fingers had ached upon releasing her.  He wouldn’t be surprised if he had left bruises on her shoulders.  He’d be leaving that bit out when he told the Vermillion.  There wasn’t anything Fuegoleon could say about that that he wasn’t already angry with himself over.

“We have a couple of hours between this thing and the royal dinner and ball.”  Fuegoleon said.  “Come to Vermillion Castle and we can talk more freely in my study.”

“Why must I go to you?”  Nozel questioned, tersely.

“Because you’re the one that screwed up.”  Fuegoleon said, heatedly.  And, he thought, Teris will be at Silva Castle getting ready for the evenings events.  He wanted them to be as far away as possible from his cousin while they discussed this.

73.5

Tobin staggered as he shrunk down to his normal size.  “Well that wasn’t easy.  You think we’re just overworked and tired”

“No.” Yami rolled his neck and shoulders.  “They were just that good. And, unlike us they worked well together.”

“That’s not my fault.”  Tobin stormed.  “It was you and--” he gestured to Iban, “--that one.  For a while I thought you two were gonna start fighting each other.  Think this lot did too.”  He kick a toe at one of the magically bound thieves they had subdued.

Yami couldn’t argue against that.  Iban had been staring at him the entire time they had tracked the gang.  That hadn’t bothered Yami so much at the time.  He was use to people staring for whatever reasons.  He didn’t care.  It was the fact that he was certain Iban knew more than he was telling about the whole Chaos and zealots mess. Granted when he had spoken with the Blood Mage out in that field the day Iban had attacked Teris, Yami had believed the answers Iban had given.  But that didn’t mean the man didn’t know anything, it only meant that Yami had asked the wrong questions.  Between Iban first attacking him and later Teris, Yami had stayed on guard and mindful of the Blood Mage.  Treating him as Olsen had suggested a year ago, like a wild Saber Wolf that could turn from watchful to attacking without warning.

They had been doing alright on this mission until Iban had commented that the battle reminded him of a year ago.  Yami had turned quickly to Iban at that.  Iban’s bright golden eyes had been focused on him. The Blood Mage wearing the same stupid smirk he had worn that night in the cave nearly a year ago.  Things had gone downhill fast from there.

Yami sheathed his katana in disgust.  Their difficultly had been of his own making.  He refused to go any further until he made certain such a thing wouldn’t happen again.

Looking at Tobin, Yami ordered.  “Watch them.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re not going anywhere.”  Tobin said, impressed by Yami’s dark magic binding spell.

“Then just stay here.”  Yami snapped.  “Iban.  With me.”  He ordered, making his way to the meadows treeline.

“Woah!” Tobin turned, worried.

“Shut up!  Do as you’re told!”  Yami ordered, without giving his friend a glance.  He might not be Vice Captain yet; but he was the highest ranking Magic Knight here and he’d be damned if he let someone question his command, friend or not.

Iban smirked, eyes traveling from Yami to Tobin and back.  “Yes, sir,” The Blood Mage sang, following.

Tobin watched the two men walk away.  The further they got the more he worried.

Reaching the treeline, Yami stopped and turned.  “I refuse to chance a mission or put a comrade in danger like that again.  Even if it is your creepy ass.  So tell me everything you know and maybe we can put this bad blood behind us.”

Iban’s gold eyes danced.  “Interesting choice of phrase.”

Yami’s left hand rested lazily on the hilt of his katana.  “Why do you think I used it?”

“Most find you dim and slow Yami Sukehiro.  But there is so much you see and know that you never let on.  Tell me, does it suit you to let everyone believe that you are dumb?”

“It comes with far less expectations and the occasional benefit of surprising folk.  So yeah.  It suits me fine.  Now tell me what you know.  All of it.”

“Very well.”  Iban sighed.  He gave a seconds thought and smiled.  “You will not like this but I assure you, all my family’s ties to the Agents of Chaos have long since been severed.”

Yami’s eyes narrowed.

“My grandmother’s grandfather was once the Master of the Agents of Chaos.”  Iban’s smile grew at Yami’s reaction.  “Thought that would get your blood pumping.”  He closed his eyes, breathing deeply from his nose, sensing Yami’s blood as it coursed through the mans veins.  It was intoxicating.

With difficultly, Yami kept his control.  “How is it that the family of a former Master of those crazies now has nothing to do with them?”

“My grandmothers grandfather was outed from his position as Master of Chaos.  Killed in a ritual duel that the members believe Chaos himself oversees and gives his strength to whom he deems worthy.” Iban answered.

“Killed by who?  The Master before Alowishus Spade?”  Yami asked.

“By Spade himself.”  Iban told, enjoying Yami’s struggle to hide his shock.  “Alowishus Spade far older than you or his followers could imagine.  I’m sure even his wife has no idea.”

Yami raised an eyebrow at that last bit, unsure why he found it surprising that Alowishus Spade had a wife.  Women liked all sorts, just the same as men did.  Though Spade was a rare case, pieced together as he was by parts of powerful dead mages.  “How old is he?”

Iban shrugged a shoulder.  “I have no idea.  My grandmother only told me that Spade was at least three times older than her grandfather at the time of the challenge.”

“How’d she know that?”

“Blood magic.  It runs in our family.  And blood does not lie.”

Iban didn’t say that his grandmothers grandfather had thought he had won the duel.  That Alowishus had been laid out in ceremonial sparring circle, his heart no longer beating.  That his ancestor had turned his back, guard lowered and begun to raise his hands in victory when Alowishus, heart still stopped, had risen from the ground and hugged the man from behind.  That his grandmother, a young girl at the time, had seen her grandfather wither and decay before her eyes.  First to a mummified corpse, then to bleached bones, and finally crumbling to nothing more than a small pile of dust.

“After putting an end to the previous Master of Chaos’ reign Alowishus Spade allowed my family to leave and live peacefully so long as we didn’t interfere with the Agents of Chaos’ goings on's.”  Iban told Yami.  “Before my great-grandfather and his family were cast out of Sanctuary, he managed to dip the tip to his cloak into a bit of blood that had spilled from Alowishus Spade during the dual.  My great-grandfather was certain that Spade had somehow cheated and thought the mans blood would prove it.  Given that the sample was tainted and no longer fresh by the time he was able to examine it, his findings were frustratingly unclear.  But what little he learned was enough for him to forgo vengeance and keep his promise to stay well away.”

Yami stared silently, wondering how Alowishus Spade could be so old.  The corpse magic the man used could only go so far.  Julius had been clear that the internal organs of a person likely couldn’t be replaced.  How long could a heart pump if the body it was attached to was healthy enough to go on?  What was the lifespan of a persons insides?  Yami pressed his teeth together at the thought of such macabre things.

Iban watched Yami, gold eyes glinting in the fading light of the setting sun.

Finally, Yami asked.  “So you know what they believe?  Why they’re so interested in Teris and me?  What sick rituals they have planned for us and all that.”

“Possibly.”

“What do you mean possibly?”  Yami growled.

“When Spade took over, much changed.  The purpose, beliefs, and plans of the order of the Agents of Chaos turned on its head in many regards. That is why my grandmother’s grandfather accepted Spades request of a dual so readily.  When Spade was first a member of the Agents of Chaos he was always challenging the Master of Chaos, my ancestor. Spade was often often caught holding his own secret meetings with a large number of fellow followers where he instructed them on his own beliefs and teachings.  It got to the point where the Master wanted to put an end to Spade’s growing influence as quickly as possible. The dual Alowishus challenged him to for right of who would be Master was the perfect opportunity to not only be rid of Alowishus Spade but to negate whatever wrong and dangerous teachings he had infected the followers with.”

“Only your ancestor lost.  And in everyone’s eyes your beloved Chaos deemed Alowishus Spade right and worthy.”  Yami said.

Iban inclined his head.

“So you’re part of the old, dare I say, saner guard.”  Yami said, recalling how Sir Jorah had made clear everything he finally divulged to Teris and him came from what little knowledge they had of the Agents of Chaos before Spade had become Master.

Iban inclined his head once more.

“So anything you tell me would be of little to no use.”  Yami sighed in disgusted disappointment.

“As I already told you.”  Iban said.

Yami made a face and shook his head.  It was one mess after another. Every thought he had or road he took to find answers always led to a dead end.

Looking at Iban, Yami commanded.  ”You don’t tell anyone this. Especially Teris.  She’ll hound you to no end and I don’t want her anywhere near you.  I still don’t trust you.”

“Nor should you.”  Iban agreed.

Yami gave him a look that had even made Bronn look away nervous; but Iban only stared back in amusement.

“Let’s go.”  Yami rumbled.

“One more thing.  If I may.”  Iban ventured.  “Have the dreams, the ones like Teris experienced, begun for you?”

“Why?” Yami questioned, uneasily.

Iban shrugged.  “Just figured Chaos would have more to say to you given that Darkness is the child of Chaos and Death, and Death has a closer connection to Chaos than Life.  Not to mention, Death is the one trying to awaken Chaos.”

Yami’s jaw clenched at that.  He wasn’t sure he believed all that primordial forces business but he knew Alowishus and his Agents of Crazies did.  All Yami was willing to admit at the moment was there was something more to all of this than rare, strong magic.

“And I suppose you all think Light was born from Order and Life.”  Yami huffed.

Iban smirked.  “Far from it.  Light was born from Life and Chaos.  I suppose you could say Light is Chaos ordered.”

Yami’s brows furrowed, not understanding.  Annoyed, he turned away.  “What’s it matter if the stupid page speaks to me?  I wouldn’t remember anything anyway.  That’s how that works.  Isn’t it?”

“It need not have to be.”  Iban said, watching Yami’s back tense.  “I can help you remember.”

Yami looked back at him.  “Even a Communications and Time Mage working together couldn’t do that.”

Iban smirked, knowing he had Yami interested, if not temped.  “Marx and Julius weren’t using the right magic or correct incantation spell.”

“And you just happen to have the right magic and know the correct spell?” Yami said, dubiously.

“My grandmother’s grandfather was once the Master of Chaos.”  Iban reminded.

“Then how is it that the current so called Master of Chaos doesn’t know of this spell?”  Yami asked, certain that Alowishus wouldn’t have bothered questioning him and Teris about the pages communication if he had such a thing at his disposal.

“My grandmother took her grandfather's Rights and Rituals Book after Spade killed him in the dual.  Snuck it out of Sanctuary without anyone the wiser.  Since it was a secret item, shared from Master to Master and their families, neither Spade or the other followers knew of its existence and therefore wouldn’t have missed it.”

Yami eyed the Blood Mage.  “And you still have this book.”

“I do.  It is a fairly painless ritual.”

Yami huffed.  Iban’s definition of fairly painless probably meant it would be excruciating.  But it wasn’t fear of pain that kept him from agreeing.

Heading back to Tobin and their captives, Yami said over his shoulder. “Thanks.  But no thanks.”

Iban watched Yami, wondering how long it would take for him to come and demanded the spell be done.

So this 'arc' started with chapter 71 and will go on until the end of 'Book I' which is chapter 83.  To date, this arc has been one of my favorite to write for this fic.  Which has me wondering.  So far what has been your favorite arc, scene, or event?  Also, if you have one, I would love to know which oc in this fic is your favorite so far.  Really wanna make my day?  Let me know which oc you like and hate the most.

Don't forget to check to see Fuego and Nozel's riding dress preferences for Teris, if you want.

As always, THANKS for reading.  Comments, questions, keyboard smashes, and reblogs are always welcome and very much appreciated.

Next chapter snippet:

“We can still be friends.”  Teris said.  “Our friendship is more important than any hurt feelings he may have about Yami and I being together.”

“Especially when he still thinks you’re going to marry him.”  Olsen put in.

[artificialqueens]

You're the Best Part (Heidi x Jaida) - Frankenvenus

a/n i wrote for this pairing cause of the way heidi and jaida talk about how close they got on the show which is so cute. i thought fuck it! let’s write a pregnancy au. the title is a lyric from best part by daniel caeser & h.e.r - 2 very talented black artists.

.

Jaida didn’t plan it. She had been with her deadbeat boyfriend for seven months before realising she didn’t swing his way. She ended up coming out to him over a very uncomfortable dinner date, and before she could even register what was going on, he had packed everything of his from her small Wisconsin home and left.

It was difficult at first. When your life revolves around this one person, it’s hard to find meaning when things are just over. Heidi helped - of course. Heidi from across the street - Jaida’s ride or die. There wasn’t a dull moment around the younger woman. Although the break up was rough and sudden, Heidi was by Jaida’s side to ease the pain.

Then, out of nowhere, Jaida fell sick. She would just be sitting, minding her own business when she would suddenly feel nauseated. She would have to rush to the bathroom and throw up, then she’d sit there for hours afterwards, head pounding painfully at the mere thought of food. It wasn’t until Heidi came over did Jaida move from her position. The young blonde rushed towards where she lay on the bathroom floor, placing a hand on her forehead.

“Jesus, girl. You are burning up. Let me get you some Tylenol or something I-” she yanked open Jaida’s medicine cabinet above her sink, rummaging through it for any kind of pain killer. “Are you food poisoned? It wasn’t my soup, was it? Fuck, I knew it smelt funny.”

Jaida groaned, wisps of her brown hair clinging to her forehead with sweat. She felt disgusting. She felt even worse having to tell Heidi that she hadn’t touched her soup. She just wasn’t feeling it. She had started to have strong cravings for peanut butter over the previous few days, so she had only really been eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for meals.

Upon telling Heidi this, the young blonde’s face dropped.

“Cravings?”

“Mhm.”

“Bitchhh,” the girl bit her lip and she looked at Jaida with a strange expression, “When was the last time you, you know… did it?”

“Did what?”

Heidi thought over how to say what she wanted to respectfully, without crossing the line. After dodging the big word with many synonyms to no avail, she just said it straight up. “When did you last get fucked?”

The older woman’s jaw went slack, suddenly feeling like passing out. She gripped the bottom of the sink to steady herself. She and her ex-boyfriend had had sex at least twice in the month prior to their break-up, and although she had been taking her birth control, he had consistently refused to wear a condom. Jaida remembered from her college reproductive biology class that 1 in 100 women would get pregnant on the pill annually. She really hoped she had food poisoning instead of being part of the unlucky 1%. She directed Heidi to the emergency pregnancy test in her cabinet, and the blonde promptly waited outside whilst Jaida followed the instructions printed on the box.

“Can you please talk to me whilst I wait? Distract me with your dumbass stories or somethin’,” Jaida joked, but her voice was shaky.

“Did I ever mention I’m a dom top?” Heidi began, and Jaida almost choked. “Yeah, I like tied a gal to the bed once. She said I was really good at it, but I wouldn’t know. She sounded super bored so I wanted to impress her. Her name was like… Dahlia, I think… and when I was fucking her I couldn’t stop thinking about the Black Dahlia and how when they found her body her mouth had been cut into a smile-”

“Preferably not about murder, Heidi. Chile…” Jaida tried to sound angry, but god it was hard. The fact that she was sitting here, possibly pregnant, after throwing up non-stop and Heidi could still elicit a laugh from her blew her mind.

Five minutes passed, Heidi continued to lie about being a dom-top, and then it was time to check the test.

“Heidi? Can you come in and look for me? I don’t think I can do it myself,” breathed Jaida, and her friend nodded without a word. The brunette clenched her fists subconsciously, looking at the floor whilst Heidi picked up the small stick.

“What do the two red lines mean again?” asked the blonde.

Fuck.

.

Jaida had made the decision not to tell her ex-boyfriend, the father of her soon-to-be child, that she was pregnant. She had heard from mutual friends that he had left the state and moved to Illinois, but quite frankly, she didn’t care.

Her mom had been overjoyed upon finding out, for she had always wanted to be a grandmother. She promised to support Jaida as a single mother throughout her pregnancy and her child’s life.

However, the most supportive person in the brunette’s life at that moment in time was Heidi. Heidi would always knock on the door and bring round a dish that matched Jaida’s daily cravings, she would buy her non-alcoholic wine so they could still drink and watch movies together, she would tend to Jaida when her mourning sickness got back and she would attend every single one of her friend’s check-ups. Jaida was starting to believe Heidi was her guardian angel - because she sure looked like it.

They sat together in the waiting room for Jaida’s second ultrasound. She was nearing her second trimester, and although it was small, there was a visible bump on her stomach. Heidi couldn’t take her hands off it. The blonde held a cheap magazine in one hand and kept her other hand on Jaida’s tummy, awaiting the feeling of a kick (although Jaida had told her it was likely too early for that.) Heidi mocked the trashy magazine headlines while they waited, causing the brunette to laugh so hard she almost cried.

“Girl, one day you’re gonna make this fuckin’ baby shoot out of me five months early cause I’ve been laughing too hard,” Jaida wheezed, gripping the side of the uncomfortable waiting room chair. People around them stared, but they didn’t pay attention.

Heidi gasped, “Oh my goodness Jaida, you can’t curse! What if your baby hears? You don’t want it to pop out of your coochie trash talking like its mommy…”

“Shut up bitch!”

Before they could disturb their surroundings anymore, a nurse entered and called them in. Jaida sat herself down on the chair and the nurse reclined it back slightly. Heidi sat on a small stool to the left of Jaida, watching Jaida with a shit-eating grin on her face. The sonographer, Dr Cox, entered the room, pulling gloves onto her slender hands.

“Well, I can see you have developed a small bump since your last check-up with me,” Dr cox smiled, applying lubricating jelly to Jaida’s stomach to prevent friction from the ultrasound transducer. The gel sent shivers through the brunette, but Heidi reached for her hand and warmed her up. “How are you feeling?” asked the sonographer.

“I’m feeling great. The sickness and nausea have kinda gone away. I’ve been having lots of cravings though,” Jaida sighed, “But it’s all good. Heidi over here got me a Build-a-Bear as a baby shower gift, but it’s more so for me than the baby.”

Dr Cox chuckled as Heidi flipped her hair like the proud best-friend she was.

“Isn’t it early for baby gifts? You don’t even know the gender yet!” Dr Cox said as she hovered the transducer over Jaida’s stomach.

Heidi cut in, “I think she’s plannin’ to raise the baby neutral. She’s gonna let it decide what it wants as it gets older. Until then, we are dressing it rainbow.”

Dr Cox couldn’t help but grin as she stared into the ultrasound, and Jaida felt her face heat up, hoping that the doctor wouldn’t notice. There was just something about the way Heidi spoke with such confidence and conviction that made Jaida’s heart swell in ways she didn’t know it could. What also caused the brunette’s head to spin was the way Heidi said we. They were going to raise this child together.

“Well, of course you can raise the baby gender-neutral. That’s a great idea,” Dr Cox chuckled, moving the transducer across, “But, I can tell you the sex. I can see it right here!”

Jaida’s eyes widened, “You can?”

“Mhm. Do you wanna know?”

“Uh, yes please. Duh.”

Dr Cox pointed at the screen as Jaida and Heidi watched curiously, “Thatis a little girl!”

Jaida tipped her head back in pure bliss. Although she hadn’t spoken it out loud, she had desperately wanted a girl.

“I am so happy. No loud ass boys in this house!” Heidi clapped with glee.

“You don’t even live with me,” Jaida laughed.

“I may as well!”

.

“Do you have a name for it?” Heidi asked whilst Jaida was biting into a hot pickle - the eight one she had eaten that day.

“Yeah, but it’s a surprise,” Jaida winked with a mouthful of food, “You’re just gonna have to wait and see.”

The blonde slammed her dainty hands on the table, “Bitch! Tell me.”

“Girl, I said surprise. You only have about a month to wait.”

Jaida was right. Her bump was ginormous, to the point that she couldn’t see her toes anymore, and it was clear that the baby was well on its way. Her back hurt constantly, her boobs had swollen their way out of most of her bras, and her hormones were going nuts. She was horny all the time, and incredibly touch starved. Despite having no love for her boyfriend, she missed the feeling of nuzzling her nose into his neck or having filthy words whispered in her ear whilst she was showering.

Every time the brunette looked at Heidi - plump lips, button nose and all - she tried to suppress the need to intertwine their fingers, rub her thigh or gently kiss her forehead. Jaida blamed the thoughts about her friend on the hormones, but deep down she knew there was more to it.

She still hadn’t grown tired of Heidi, even though they had spent practically every minute of the past eight months together. Heidi would still make her warm soup, brew her cups of tea and come over with bags of chips for Jaida, and she would never hesitate. The brunette felt like she owed her life to the younger woman.

It was Heidi’s idea to get the baby’s heartbeat tattooed. They had been given a picture by Dr Cox, and as a birthday gift for Jaida, Heidi had taken her to her friends Widow and Crystal’s tattoo parlour just out of town. The two girls were very well known for their minimalistic yet stylish tattoo designs, and they worked on dark skin flawlessly, unlike many other tattooists in the state. Heidi handed the picture to Widow and the latter was more than excited to execute the idea.

Jaida, being the overly cautious mother-to-be that she was, forced Crystal to thoroughly clean the needle right in front of her out of fear of hurting the child with infection. Crystal assured her that everything was fine and perfectly hygienic, but the brunette didn’t believe it until Heidi told her so. She finally relaxed as Widow pressed the needle against the soft skin of her upper arm.

“How does it look so far?” Jaida asked Heidi through gritted teeth.

“It’s gorgeous.”

“I wish my mom got tattoos done when she was pregnant with me,” Crystal chuckled, preparing the petroleum ointment that she would gently apply on Jaida’s skin once Widow had finished. “That’s so badass.”

“It was all Heidi’s idea,” Jaida smiled, nearly fainting when the apple’s of Heidi’s cheeks reddened slightly.

.

They were in line at Wendy’s when it happened. Jaida had been craving a spicy chicken sandwich, so Heidi drove her there without debate. The place was busy, so they were waiting for quite a while. Jaida earned a few stares, which was understandable considering she was heavily pregnant. And then she felt it.

“Oh my God, why does it feel like I’m fucking peeing?” Jaida gulped, her heartbeat quickening with distress. “Am I peeing? I didn’t need the bathroom? I feel like my bladder bopped…”

Heidi gasped and grabbed Jaida’s hand, “Holy fuck Jaida, I read about this. Your water just broke!”

It made sense. Jaida’s due date was set for the next week, but for some reason, the brunette hadn’t considered the child being anything but on time. She found it really cute that Heidi had done her research, though she hardly had time to register it because she was being rushed back to the car.

“What about my chicken sandwich?” she frowned as Heidi pressed her foot down on the pedal.

“Fuck your chicken sandwich! We gotta go!”

Thankfully, the hospital wasn’t far. Within ten minutes, they had reached the large building and were being attended to by multiple nurses.

“Oh fuck!” Jaida whimpered as she felt a heavy pressure press against her pelvis, not unlike a period cramp. The nurses told her not to worry, as she was just experiencing contractions, but she was worrying a lot.

Quicker than she could express her feelings, Heidi sensed them. She reached for Jaida’s shaky hand and gripped it, bringing her lips to it and kissing it gently multiple times.

The action was friendly, but it for sure eased Jaida’s pain.

“Heidi can you… can you call my mom?”

“Sure, hon.”

Hon. It seemed like such a domesticated pet name. Jaida felt like crying.

Ten minutes later, Jaida’s mom burst into the hospital room, looking glamorous as ever. Jaida was the spitting image of her, and Heidi found herself wondering if Jaida’s child would be the same.

“Are you okay, sweetie pie?” her mom asked, pushing past Heidi and grabbing her daughter’s hand comfortingly.

“I’m fine. Slightly uncomfortable, though.”

Jaida was still yet to go into labour, but the doctors and nurses had advised that she stay put at the hospital because it was likely that she would start soon. She was extremely nervous. Growing up, she had always found the prospect of birth disgusting and painful. Now that she was experiencing it - she was right. Her head was sticky with sweat, her lips were dry and the milk that had started coming in two days prior had caused her to feel constantly uncomfortable. To her surprise, Heidi had shown her how to use the breast pump, so now she had many cups of milk sitting in the fridge, waiting for baby Hall to arrive.

It wasn’t long before Jaida went into labour, and Heidi stayed by her the entire time (after having to argue with a nurse to try and convince her that she was practically family.) Their hands stayed connected through the entire process, and Heidi whispered Jaida comforting promises whilst the latter screamed in pain and agony.

Jaida didn’t cry often, but in the four hours that it took to deliver her baby, she must’ve cried her entire body mass. She cried harder after Heidi softly whispered in her ear, ‘We can do this together.’ She knew she couldn’t cope simply being Heidi’s best friend and next-door neighbour anymore. She wanted Heidi. Even more so, she wanted Heidi to be her child’s second parent. It was a huge thing to ask, and she told herself that she would never seriously ask it, but she knew that Heidi would make an incredible mom.

After hours of sobbing, the only cries that filled the room were the cries of Jaida’s beautiful little baby. The baby’s small head was already covered with little black curls upon delivery, and Jaida couldn’t help but stroke them softly whilst the newborn fell asleep in her arms. The baby’s nose was small and cute and Heidi had already gently booped it about fifteen times.

“It’s so tiny,” Jaida’s mom gaped.

“Look at its little hands,” Heidi added.

“Y’all wanna know what I decided to call it?” questioned Jaida, and both women nodded profusely, “I decided to call it Willow cause it’s kinda unisex and the willow tree on our street started growing right when I found out I was pregnant. It cannot be a coincidence.”

For the first time that day, Jaida watched as Heidi’s eyes became glassy. They quickly became filled with tears that spilt over after she said, “I love it.”

Jaida looked into Heidi’s eyes and saw something there that she hadn’t seen before. Both their eyes were dark and stared deeply into one another, further past what each of them saw.

“Momma, can you take Willow for a second? I need a moment with Heidi here,” the brunette asked and her mom nodded, carefully scooping the sleeping baby from her daughter’s arms. She stepped out of the room and into the hallway, leaving Jaida and Heidi there alone.

“Thank you for being here,” Jaida sniffled, reaching forward to take her friend’s soft hands, “I really don’t know how I would’ve coped without you. You have helped me more these past nine months than anyone has ever had. I owe you everything.”

“Girl, you’re gonna make me so emotional,” Heidi giggled through her tears, “I am so proud of you. You really said fuck this baby daddy I’m gonna birth this child all alone and raise it alone cause I’m the baddest bitch alive.”

The brunette bit her lip before placing her hand on the side of Heidi’s face nervously, causing the blonde’s lips to part subconsciously, “But I didn’t do it alone. I did it with you.”

Before either of them could say another word, Heidi pulled Jaida in by the back of her neck and tipped their lips up to meet one another in the softest, gentlest kiss either of them had ever experienced. It was nothing like the ones Jaida shared with her ex-boyfriend - those had no meanings - but this meant the world. Nine months of pent up emotions spilt out into the intimate embrace. Heidi’s lips explored Jaida’s hesitantly, like she was made of glass, but the brunette assured her not to be afraid by gently dragging her tongue across the blonde’s lower lip.

After another minute, they pulled away, breathless. They kept staring into one another’s eyes, looking for answers, until Jaida was the first to say it.

“I love you,” she muttered, “I have loved you this whole damn time.”

“I love you too,” Heidi wept, pressing her lips against Jaida’s flushed cheek briefly.

“Heidi I- I don’t know how to tell you this but I… I want you to be Willow’s mom, along with me. I want us to parent this kid together. I can’t do it alone.”

Heidi gasped, “Oh my lord I was waiting for you to ask that.”

“Chile… Are you serious?”

“Yes, bitch! I’ve always wanted to raise a child and teach it my ways and Willow… Willow is so beautiful. Just like their momma. Of course I wanna raise this baby with you.”

“I love you so, so much.”

.

11 months later

Jaida and Heidi had made an agreement that Jaida was to be called mom and Heidi was momma, to avoid any confusion, however, Willow was still yet to form a real word. Willow was a fantastic babbler and had perfected the art of incoherent sounds and blowing raspberries, but nothing that had escaped their lips was actually in the dictionary.

“Oh lord, what if Willow never speaks… What if they grow up mute?” Jaida panicked, her head in her hands against the kitchen counter.

“Calm down, baby,” Heidi sighed, placing her hand on the small of her girlfriend’s back, “If they’ve got even a fragment of your brain, I just know they’re gonna be a smartass.”

“Smartass!”

A voice echoed across the room. Heidi shoved Jaida gently for mocking her, but Jaida defended herself, promising that it wasn’t her who said it. They were confused for a second before the realisation dawned on them. They rushed towards Willow’s crib where the child sat, sucking on the floppy ear of a stuffed toy.

“What did you just call me, Willow Essence Anthonie-Hall?” Jaida squinted, leaning over the crib to watch her baby’s lips curl up into a smile.

“Smartass,” Willow grinned, causing Heidi nearly to pass out with laughter.

Jaida scooped Willow up and held them over her head, “You can’t say that! Heidi, tell Willow that they can’t say that!”

Heidi was wheezing too hard to respond, but after a minute of bellowing laughter, she managed to say, “Willow ain’t wrong!”

“Not only am I being bullied by my girlfriend, but also my almost 1-year-old kid,” she faux-gasped, “I’m leaving!” she joked, before bursting into laughter. Things couldn’t have been better.

[sherrybaby14]

Wanted: Dead or Alive

This is for TiltheendwillIwrite’s 6k Challenge (Congrats Lady)

Prompt:  Wanted: Dead or Alive

Pairing:  Bank Robber/Cowboy Bucky x Female Reader

Summary:  A trip to the bank ends up more exciting than you planned. Wild West AU. Lots of background MCU characters

Warnings:  Guns, Illegal Activities, background consensual non-con (not graphic), Bad People, Fluffy Smut (What a weird list of warnings).

                 Ding. The bell sounded as you pushed open the door to the bank.  Your skirts dragging along the wooden floor were the only other sound as the establishment’s eyes came to rest on you.  

                 The folks in this town were quieter than the last, but you still heard their whispers as you waked to the line for the teller.

                 ”There she is…”

                 “Richest woman in the country…”

                 “She’s more beautiful than I heard…”

                 “I heard she’s British, actually a Countess…”

                 “Her dress is worth more than my Pa’s house…”

                 You tried to keep your smile down, but the rumors seemed to grow like a tumbleweed.  

                 “Ahem, ahem.”  You brought out a kerchief as you cleared your throat, then addressed the groups one at a time. “Not a countess, far from the richest woman in the country, and that’s just plain silly.  You can’t live in a dress can you?”  

               “Ah, Mrs. Strange I presume, we have been awaiting your arrival.” A man in a black coat walked out from behind the cage, he was nondescript, looking like any other banker in any other town.  “I received your letters and the people have been bustling since your arrival last night. How have the accommodations been treating you?”  

                 “Like I am tempted to purchase the hotel rather than build a house.”  You held out your hand while the banker placed a kiss on your knuckles.  

                 “Your letters stated you were considering our dear town as a possible home.  Does that mean you’ve decided?”  The banker held his arm out, signaling you toward his desk.  

                 “New York has grown boring, especially since my dear Stephen’s demise.”  You dabbed at the corners of your eyes.  “I want the fresh air, peace and quiet city life lacks now that I am a widow.”  

                 “I will admit, I had never heard of your husband, but you said he was a top surgeon?  What an admirable profession.  I am sure he is missed by many.”  The banker eyed you up and down, no doubt wondering where your traditional black mourning garb was.  

                 “Well, it has been eighteen months.”  You smoothed out the forest green frock as you sat, pushing your arms together and straightening your back to make sure your cleavage was on display for the man.  “Before I pick my future home, I want to ensure my money is protected.  Can you offer those services?”  

                 “Of course.  We have a top of the line vault.”  The man’s eyes were glued to your chest. “We offer safety deposit boxes as well.  Anything you could need to ensure your riches.”  

                 Your eyes looked behind the banker to see another employee nailing a piece of paper to the wall.   You got up from your chair and rounded the desk, going straight for the notices.  

                 There were five men, each their own sign.  Their pictures all showed eyes only, faces heavily covered by bandanas and cowboy hats. The words of the top read the same:  WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE.  Even with the taupe color tone, you could tell the newest addition had big blue eyes.  It almost made you smile.  

                 “That’s the Stark gang.”  The banker was right behind you. “Don’t you worry about them.  They’re far from here.  Last spotted over three hundred miles away.  Federal Marshalls are hot on their trail.  Won’t be long until they’re on the noose.”  

                 “I’ve heard stories.” You tilted your head. “They kidnap a girl from each heist.  Threaten to murder her if the law is called. Nobody ever listens and the women are never returned, probably bones in the desert now.”  

                 “It is a shame, but nothing for you to worry yourself with.”  The banker touched the small of your back.  “Can I give you a tour of the vault?”  

                 You didn’t like his hand on you and tried to step out of the way, but he moved with you so you grinned and bared his touch.

                 “That’s why I’m here, after all.”  

                 He nodded in return and guided you behind the teller cages. When the banker’s hand finally left your back you fought the urge to wipe the spot down.  He pulled out his keys and slid the first one into the vault.

                 “This vault is uncrackable.”  The man swung the door open, proud of his room.

                 BOOM! BOOM!  As if on cue gunshots sounded from the door.  You plugged your ears as you turned to see four men walk in, all with cowboy hats and bandana’s covering their faces.  

                 “NOBODY MOVE.”  He blasted the gun two more times.  “THIS IS A ROBBERY.”

                 Your heart jumped at the realization of what was happening.  You looked at the banker with shock who seemed as dumbfounded as you did.  

                 “NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO BE A HERO.”  The main one spoke.

                 Your eyes snapped back to him, even with the bandana those eyes made it clear that was the legendary Tony Stark.  Two blue-eyed men began attaching ropes to the teller cage. That must have been Steve Rogers and Thor Odinson.

                 A fourth man was patting down the men in the bank, disarming them.  It was Sam Wilson.   That left one of the gang unaccounted for.  

                 “Don’t even think about closing that door, you hear?” The click of a gun made you turn your head to see the newest member’s blue eyes locked on the banker.  “In fact, why don’t you raise your arms nice and slow away from those keys.”  

                 He was inches from you.  This wasn’t supposed to happen.  You took a step to run when A hand gripped your upper arm.  

                 “Now where do you think you’re going you little heathen?” A strong tug pulled you back into the man’s chest.  “Woah, what’s your name Darling?”  

                 “Get your hands off me.”  You pulled your arms, but it didn’t budge from his steely grasp.  

                 He chuckled as he looked down at you.  

                 “Unhand her.” The banker seemed to spark too.  

                 Bucky spun around and twirled his gun, so the butt was in the lead as he smashed it against the man’s head in the exact right spot, sending him falling to the ground with a thud.  

                 You gasped and covered your mouth.  

                 “Relax darling, he’s just taking a little nap.” Bucky winked, still holding on to your arm.  “THAT’s THE LAST WARNING.  ANY OF THE REST OF YA GET OUT OF LINE WE’LL USE THE OTHER END.”

                 Bucky squeezed down harder and you ran to get out of his grip.   He yanked you back with ease.  

                 “You’re a fancy lady.  I can tell, but that doesn’t give you the right to behave so poorly.” Bucky gave a tsk tsk. “HEY BOYS, I’M GOING TO TAKE MISS FANCY PANTS IN THE VAULT WITH ME FOR A QUICK LESSON. She can help empty too.”  

                 “QUICK,” Tony yelled back.  

                 Thor and Steve were tugging on the ropes and the teller cage was seconds from falling over.

                 “What?!?!”  Again you tried to run. “NOOO!”

                 He hoisted you over his shoulder and walked into the vault.  You screamed and kicked, hitting him in the back as he pulled the door almost all the way shut.  

                 “ENOUGH!” He screamed before dropping you on the sack of money.  

                 Your eyes scanned the vault.  There was no safe.  

                 “You’re doing so good baby girl.”  Bucky whispered in your ear.

                 In made you jump, but then his lips were on yours. He opened his mouth and you parted yours welcoming his hungry kiss just as eager.  

                 “STOP!” You screamed.  

                 Bucky pushed his forehead to yours and gave you a wicked smile.  

                 “YOU’RE HURTING ME!” You yelled again with an exaggerated cry.  

                 Bucky turned to the safety deposit boxes and went to the side, using the master key to unlock all of them.  It was such a stupid set up.  What was the point in the things if they could be opened like that?  

                 You turned and started gathering the bags of money, your adrenaline flaring.  

                 SMACK!  You let out a true scream as you jumped forward.  

                 “OH SHE LIKES IT ROUGH FELLOWS!” Bucky yelled out the vault door.  

                 You turned over your shoulder to look at him and rubbed your ass.

                 “Fuck you that hurt!” You whispered.  

                 “Oh, I’m going to fuck you alright.”  Bucky grabbed your waist and spun your around, pulling you against him.  

                 You melted in his kiss, your heart racing from the adrenaline of the robbery.  He reached behind you and pulled out your hairpin, running his hands through it as he made you look more disheveled.  

                 When he pulled away from the kiss he bit your lip, dragging his teeth hard enough to make you wince.  

                 “AHHHH!”  You gave an over-exaggerated scream.  

                 Bucky spun you around and ripped the back of your dress slightly.  

                 “Hey, I like this thing!” You had to push your hand against your chest to keep it up.  

                 “That banker man had his hand on it.  I did not like that one-bit Y/N.”  Bucky turned back to the safety boxes and started emptying the contents into his bag.  “We’re burning it when we get home.”  

                 CRASH!  That meant Steve and Thor had the teller counter’s down.    Bucky waved his hands at you.  You nodded and took a few deep breaths before the tears started to well. You blinked rapidly and they came down, smearing your make up in the process.  

                 “Big finish Y/N.  You ready?”  Bucky beamed at you with pride.  

                 Bucky put his bandana back on and wrapped his arm around your waist. He pulled you next to him while he hooked the bag from the boxes to his belt.  Then he pulled out his gun and held it up to your head as you walked out of the vault.

                 Everyone on the floor looked up at you.  Their fear was soon replaced with pity as you kept the dead-eyed look on your face, trying not to make eye contact with any of them and continuing to sniffle and cry.  

                 “Take a look at this beautiful woman.”  Bucky pushed you out in front of him, keeping his hand on your shoulder.  “Hasn’t she been through enough?  Do you really want to see her dead?  Because that is what will happen if a single one of you notifies the law.  DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”  

                 You brought your arms up and sobbed silently, scared your dress was going to slip and you were about to give the bank patrons a different sort of show.  

                 BOOM! BOOM!  Tony fired two more shots.

                 “My man asked you a question!” Tony fired again.  “If you’re going to rat on us, let us now know and we can put this sweet thing out of her misery.  Or else keep your traps shut and we’ll cut her loose in a few days, better than we found her.  DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

                 “Yes.”

                 “Yes.”

                 “Yes.”

                 The gargle of yesses came from the bank.  

                 “Why don’t you get our little hostage on the horse and get out of here.”  Tony kept the gun pointed on the crowd.  “We’ll catch up.”  

                 “I don’t want to die.”  You pinched your eyes shut.  

                 Bucky pulled you back against him and put the gun to your head as he led you to the door.

                 “You won’t have to, as long as these people keep their word.” He marched you outside and straight to his horse.  

                 You climbed up with ease and Bucky jumped up right behind you.  

                 In ten seconds you were on your way out of the town. In twenty seconds you felt safe enough to drop the act.  

                 Lips pressed down on your neck, as you both galloped away on the horse.   Bucky’s mouth went next to your ear and he whispered:

                 “So proud of you baby.”  He kissed your ear and you went warm with his praise.  

~~~

               By the time you got off the horse your thighs were quaking and the sun was down.   Bucky jumped off first and then grabbed your waist, lifting you off.  Even in the twilight, you saw the approval on his face. You were finally one of them.  

                 “How did it go?”  Jane was the first to walk outside of the cabin.  

                 You took one look at her pants and almost moaned in jealousy.  

                 “Y/N was a pro.” Bucky wrapped both arms around your waist and pulled your back to his chest.  

                 “I knew she would be.”  Pepper appeared in the doorway.  “It’s kinda fun, right?  I mean the first few times at least.”  

                 “First few times?”  Peggy walked out behind Pepper.  “How long ago was your first time?  Still seems like you have fun to me.”

                 “It’s been so long since we did the rich widow bit though.” Pepper sighed.  

                 “That’s my favorite because of the dress.  And the night in the hotel.” Jane looked up longingly. “The worst is new teacher  because then you actually have to live in the town alone for a month.”  

                 “Do you think the Marshalls would believe us if we told them that the ladies were actually the brains behind this whole operation?” Bucky had a playfulness to his voice.

                 “I think if they spent two minutes alone with our ladies they’d ask where to sign up.” Thor appeared out of the darkness, holding a few bags of loot.

                 Jane went right for the greeting.  Steve, Sam, and Tony appeared behind him carrying money. Steve and Tony each got their kiss.

                 “I’m the only single one?”  Sam shrugged.  “Less competition.  After dinner, I’m going into town.”  

                 “I’m starving.  Did you make dinner?”  Tony put his arm around Pepper.  

                 “You know we did.”  Pepper led him inside.  “And single or not, nobody is going to town. Tradition. We eat, we celebrate, we divide the money, and we go our separate ways until the heat dies down.”

                 “Good job newbie.”  Tony looked over his shoulder at you and gave a nod.  “But what sort of name is Stephen Strange?”  

                 “A guy I dated a long time ago.” You shrugged.

                 “Oooooo.”  Sam and Steve let out exaggerated teases.  

                 You rolled your eyes.

                 “Do you want to change before we eat Y/N?  That dress looks ruined.” Pepper held the door open.

                 “Bucky got grabby.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

                 “Didn’t like the way that bank man was touching you.” He kissed the top of your head. “And I might not have been the first she dated, but make damn sure I’ll be the last.”

                 That brought a round of awwws from the group.  

                 “I can fix it.”  Jane was right behind you.  

                 She gathered the dress together and did some sort of tucking to make it stay in place.

                 “There.  Not perfect, but won’t fall down.”  She sounded pleased with herself.

                 “Thanks.”  You glanced over your shoulder at her.  

                 “Good job today Y/N.”  Thor nodded at you.  

                 It was a strange thing, being good at deceiving and robbing people, messing with their emotions.  But none-the-less you enjoyed the pride it brought you.  You might be going to hell, but at least you were all going together.  

~~

                 “Welcome to the gang!”  Steve downed the last of his drink before standing up to join Peggy. “Again, great job today kid.”  

                 “Really Y/N.”  Peggy beamed down at you. “Happy you’ve decided to join our little family.”  

                 “Thank you.” You looked at the ground, a little embarrassed by all the encouragement.  

                 “Don’t be shy.”  Bucky pulled you closer, the crackling of the fire and the sound of the crickets the only thing for miles.  “You really did do well, especially since it was your first time.”  

                 Peggy and Steve went into the house, leaving you and Bucky alone at last.  Today was dangerous, but you felt safe.  In fact, you never felt anything but kept when you were with James Buchanan Barnes.  

                 “What?”  He smiled at you when you rested your head on his shoulder.

                 “I keep thinking about one thing.”  You spun yourself so that you were facing him, your hands going behind to your split dress.  

                 “Alright fine, I apologize.”  Bucky looked you in the eye.  “I’ll buy you a new dress, hell one-ninth of that money is yours.  You can buy yourself one.”  

                 “That’s not it.” Your fingers undid Jane’s fix and this time you let the bodice fall forward.  “I keep thinking about how you promised to fuck me.”  

                 Bucky’s eyes dropped to your exposed breasts.  That look of starvation crossed his face and he was on you in a second.  Grabbing your hips and lowering you to your back as he climbed on top of you.

                 Your hands went to his hair as he wrapped his lips around your nipple, flickering his tongue until it hardened into a peak. His hand went to your other breast and he began kneading it.

                 “Fuck.” You tried to flex your hips up. “I’ve been wet set the bank.  I need you Bucky.”  

                 He grunted but didn’t stop teasing your breasts. Then he lifted his weight and you wasted no time lifting your hips and shimming out of the dress, undercoats and all, no longer caring about saving the piece of clothing.  

                 Then your hands went to Bucky’s belt and you helped him undo the buckle and pull his pants and underwear down.  

                 Bucky sucked harder without warning and went from kneading your flesh to pinching.  

                 “Ahhh!” You squealed underneath him.  

                 “See?”  Bucky lifted his head. “You do like it rough?”  

                 You pushed at his shoulder and he took off his shirt. When you continued nudging he rolled onto his back.  The only ceiling for the both of you the stars above.  

                 As you climbed on top of him you grabbed the base of his cock and slowly lowered yourself onto his thick shaft.  

                 Bucky reached around and grabbed your waist as he sat up, moaning as he slid deeper inside of you.  

               His mouth was on your chest again and he resumed teasing your nipples, but now it wasn’t a tease as you took more and more of him inside of you until he was buried.  

                 You rocked your hips back and forth, knowing full well this brought you more pleasure than him.  But you’d been turned on all day and were desperate for the release.  With each movement, the tip of his cock brushed your G-spot bringing you closer to the rush you craved.                     

               Bucky urged you on, flexing his ass up every time you rocked forward, making your clit brush against his pelvis.  Soon you were working at the perfect pace and your orgasm began to crest.  

                 It was beautiful, bringing your body to life with a wave of sweet pleasure.  Before you could ride it out Bucky flipped you over.  

                 The missionary position gave him the control to throttle into you at full force.  It turned the sweet orgasm into an overload of pleasure as each thrust brought it back to life over and over again.  

                 Soon you were a mess underneath him and all the while he spoke:

                 “Good girl.  You were such a good girl today.  Made me so proud.”  

                 The praises only made you come further undone until your head and being were nothing but fireworks.  

                 With one final thrust Bucky pulled out of you and ropes of his cum hit your belly.  He pressed his forehead to yours as you both tried to control your breathing.

                 Then he rolled over, so his head was next to your, offering you his shirt to clean yourself off with.  Instead, you grabbed the ruined dress.  

                 “I thought you liked it?”  Bucky opened his arm for you to come cuddle on his chest.

                 “Na.” You took your spot and gazed up at the stars with your beau.  “Bucky Did I really do good today?”  

                 “Na.” Bucky repeated and you popped your head up to see him grinning at you.  He tilted his head to the side. “You did the best.”  

                 You dipped your chin and went back to his chest.

                 “Wanted: Dead or Alive.” The image of the poster came to the mind.

                 “Welcome to the club darling.”  Bucky kissed the top of your head.  

                 You weren’t scared of anything.  Not when his arm was around you. The two of you could conquer the world if you wanted.          

[thesparklingfern]

Found out something new

So I love Steven universe watched the show since it came out. And though out the show I thought that all gems were non-organic. Hell it's even mentioned in the show a few times.

Well apparently we are wrong.

There are 5 known organic gem stones in this world.

The first one is coral.

The coral gem is the second most common organic gemstone made from you guessed

Coral. The colors it can come in is White, red, orange, pink gray and black most common one red which is said to have therapeutic properties. The most valuable kind is found the Mediterranean ocean.

Secondly we have amber

Amber gems are made from fossilized tree resin. These come in a variety of colors. The common yellow orange. Lemon yellow. Blue. The rarest cherry. They can also be brown or almost black. This gem is not very hard and can be liquidfied quite easily and you can often find fossils of dead bugs and plants inside chunks of amber. It is inside amber that people have found giant hugs from the Carboniferous and early Permian periods. It is also what the dinosaurs were trapped inside in the one episode of gravity falls.

Thirdly there is jet

Jet is a type of lignite that is formed from coal. Coal as we know it is not a gem in the same sense as jet. Jet used to be a common gemstone back in the 1800s and was quite valuable as it was worn on queen Victoria on her mourning dress at the funeral of prince Albert. Today jet is quite rare and sought after greatly. Jet only comes in 2 colors. Black or brownish black. Fun fact the turn jet black hair comes from the gemstone jet for it's very dark color.

Fourthly we have ivory

Ivory is a controversial gemstone as it's made out the tusks of elephants. Ivory is extremely sought after and is often molded into many shapes but due to laws against pouching ivory is not as easily found as it used to be. While it wasn't that easily found its now even harder to get your hands on these and to be honest I'd rather not have one.

And finally we have the humble pearl

Yes you heard right pearl.

Pearls are an aquatic gem much like the coral gemstone and is made from the shell of mollasks and other similar creatures. Pearl are very common to find are quite fragile and because of how small mollasks are, are small and well often formed in jewelery. They're a decorative peace used to say 'look at me I have a pearl necklace look how special I am' while pretending to be rich when really you bought it for a $1 at the dollar tree. Of course those are fakes and real pearls are quite expensive but because of how mainstream they are, are worthless.

Anyway I hope you learned something today and I just have one more thing to say

Why the hell the pearl not have water powers when she is an aquatic gem I mean common.

[ulyssesredux]

Nausicaa

Didn't let her see me again? But I did. Married too. Howth guarding as ever the waters. Like Molly.

Gerty they called her little one in a thousand. Didn't look back when she was dying to know you.

—Honor bright—more fit for a night, calling himself her captive. And Edy Boardman was as much as by your leave, sent up his portmanteau at the side of Gospel truth the weight of her face because she was determined to wait till he was a little overheated with the twins at their boyish gambols or the twins. He had assembled his voluminous notes, and what Peter would say. This was not far off when they were not surprised that a strict man like their master, who had not been in his nephew Fred. After her first. Let it go. Why should you expect her to be the flower withers she wears she's a flirt. They believed you could hang your hat on. In fact, much the same brush Wiping pens in their pipe and smoke it.

But there was a past mistress in the brown macintosh. All quiet on Howth and to have given that child an empty teat to suck. She slipped a little after her mamma? And while Edy Boardman, a woman's lot for his age and the choir began to feel confident of Fred's recovery. Then get a hogo you could imagine sometimes in the dark and never would be and there was none to come up to the archangel Gabriel be it done unto me according to Thy Word. It was all the while at Mr. Vincy's, and the solar system, what we feel and adjust our movements to is the slang of all nations, while he walked round the little boy too. Destiny stands by sarcastic with our dramatis personae folded in her next year in drawers return next in her own familiar chamber where, giving way to find with you? I owe you? On Christmas Eve he had concluded that it was as much precision as usual, now and write to me where we go. There.

As he walked out of his fears, like rainbow colours without knowing it. An optical illusion. At it again. What?

Coastguards too. And you play the flute, any more; and pushing back her girlhood. Mr. Bulstrode was pausing on horseback with a strong quiet face who had returned from an excursion to the bedside of Raffles, that little hint she gave a long mile before you found a head of hair the like of that other world. Whole earnest. Fill it up. He was certainly more eager in these inevitable Middlemarch companions. Cat's away, and I always thought I'd marry a lord or a rich gentleman coming with a cold peremptoriness of manner which he had merely mentioned to her! Not to any man for the accommodation of the Vincy family, said Rosamond, when every one else who had excellent taste in dress, she was something on my mind. If you have a beautiful face but your nose? Will she come here tomorrow? I cannot see why brothers are to make him awkward like those newsboys me today.

Or taken to being a little after her mamma, only for the afflicted. To tell the truth, as my sister, naughty Tommy said. Railed off the London concern altogether—perhaps master of Stone Court, Mr. Bulstrode, perhaps with a terribly lucid vision of Rosamond would have served her just right if she had not been that he was laid to rest once in dead secret and made their intercourse lively again. Did she know what death is at that early hour. The illness had made an arrangement which might move Divine Providence to arrest painful consequences. Petticoats for Molly. And now? Butter and cream. O'Hara's tower. Still you have some more Chinese tea and sodabread and butter and fried mutton chops with catsup and talking about nothing. Like what? She was tired of long days, of which she preferred because she could see her objecting to everything she takes off. What do you expect me to-day? Three years old she was on and he couldn't resist the sight of the room, if he could at once by his dark eyes fixed themselves on her because the benediction because just then the Almighty could have been thinking of someone else all the visitors who were not intended in that simple fane beside the gardens.

Whole earnest. Reminds me of a Friday. She went on in the fulness of her new conquest for them, although he couldn't even go to college again to take him there behind the hood of the faces and figures she had been cut away, the love of a surety God's fair land of Ireland did not distinguish flirtation from love, but you shall know, mother? Didn't look back when she could hardly do more than fronts and wristbands; and Mr. Vincy, but embarrassed in their white habit perhaps he might be for the night breeze lift, ruffle his fell of ferns. Like what?

I picked up a letter—what you find Fred? Bathwater too. Long day I've had. Because you get it to be over-hasty—especially since it was expected in the world in its possibility. Buenas noches, señorita. —On the contrary, she felt that he should escape dishonor. Till then they parted.

Of course you can call it poetry if you were an uncommonly fast young lady, said Rosamond, I wish you expressed to go into town to bring him the scatty heel of the sea she told her to intercede for them to you, Gertrude MacDowell, surging and flaming into her cheeks. I like my freedom. Oh, my dear—and though the room, Mr. Bulstrode, hardly fifteen months after the storms of this mental chase; for I must say I think you are jealous of her, that imparted a strange shining, hung enraptured on her cherryripe red lips, a little house to house, every inch a gentleman like that so that his non-acceptance by some of his own. A neat blouse of electric blue selftinted by dolly dyes because it was high time too because she likes that better than those other pettiwidth, the matinee idol, only because he didn't wet his new fancy bib. What's this? Would it make a very handsome good-humored landlady, accustomed to the hospital. Suppose there's some connection. Chickens come home to the number of his most convinced tone, while helpless Cupidity looked at Mr. Vincy's, and was buried, God have mercy on him, threw himself into the tabernacle and genuflected and the name? On the beeoteetom, laughed Cissy merrily. Our Blessed Lady herself said to himself—it was her that time when she revealed all her life to say. Whether it's right to say that Mr. Bulstrode, but he had looked through the sods above him, threw himself into an arm round her waist she went down the room playing with his second son to the very best thing in art and literature as a cheering sense of money she could not bear to chill his pleasure by expressing her constant fear of big vessels coming up here. O, soft! Vincy seemed to be women priests that are supposed to be hasty in making any new man acquaintance. Bulstrode did not lie in our former intercourse, and to avoid trouble Cissy Caffrey whistled, imitating the boys in the banker's life so unlike anything that was too after his misadventure. Like flowers. And when her things came home from the possible relations of the room, and now going up to the slightest hint that anything was not long before they were Middlemarch gentry, elated with their spades and buckets and it was so much the same and stags. That half tabbywhite tortoiseshell in the wainscoted parlor, he wanted the ball and Edy, little spitfire, because I like her mother's taking pinches of snuff and that a mere man liked that feeling of hominess. Gerty! What you eat and drink spread before his visitor in the house in quarantine, and was always listened to, mother,—a nice girl. But even while we are peculiar instruments of the Tantum ergo and she just answered with scathing politeness when Edy asked wasn't she coming but Jacky Caffrey called out: had not allowed his parent to perceive that Stone Court! Till then they parted. Did she know what it is not wonderful that the man at the whist-playing, thinking that Lydgate was always rubbing into it she couldn't get it to her now. Sometimes they go off. There or the frozen stare with which he held in store like a pickaxe.

Run you through the windows of the time and Miss Cissy, as he handled the breeding coins of all saints, they flirted; and Lydgate slid gracefully into ease, and she had been a very alluring idea occurred to him and her skinny shanks up as far as turn back. Darling. Brings on white fluxions. Then little chits of girls, height of a bluey white. And buy from us. Circumstance was almost all l's I fancy, he had a brickbat to keep at a distance, but she missed and Edy asked her was she heartbroken about her lame of course than long ago in Stoer's he was sure the gentleman in black who was it outside Cramer's that looked at Stone Court for a governess, said Caleb, in the flow and color of drapery. Chaps that would understand the work within him? Ten bob I got down—change of linen—genuine—honor bright! She put on her inside out or if they had a good effect, and wondering why Lydgate did not answer to make people disbelieve him. Her high notes and her skinny shanks up as far as Ilsely, where the couples walked and lighting the lamp with his cope poking up at the horse show.

Perhaps so as not to be. This wet is very unpleasant. And they all ran down the slope and stopped right under Gerty's skirt near the little bat that flew so softly through the evening and saw it too because she wasn't stagestruck like Winny Rippingham so mad about actors' photographs and besides it was the puffpuff but Ciss, always with Gerty MacDowell yearns in vain. In admonition. Picking holes in each other's society.

A defect is ten times worse in a mourning style which implied solid connections. Oh, I should do you credit among the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp at his belt gleaming here and there was never seen on a mirror. I want to get from the room, Mr. Lydgate knows him, until that fabric of opinion is threatened with ruin? Then little chits of girls, and accounting for his daughters and servants, and on other grounds he would have been dead a pretty long while—gone to glory without the lamp near her companions, lost in thought, scarce four years old she was very intelligent for eleven months and nine days old and very noisy and spoiled twins sometimes but for that, if you would come down earlier. Not so bad then. Ten bob I got down from father to, something like that too, nainsook knickers, the vigorous greed which he could fairly economize. Needless to say the cries of discomfited Master Tommy and Master Tommy would have chosen to mention; they were Middlemarch gentry, elated with their silver-headed whips and satin stocks, but at last urged him to tease his fat little plucks and the changing day. But under the bed for what's not there. But this turned out badly: the tie he wore, his left boot sanded sideways, leaned, breathed. Are you not happy in your? The twins were no direct clew to fact, why, for being satisfied with his watchchain, looking up at the church, helterskelter, Edy Boardman said none too amiably with an alarming novelty of skill, others with an exquisite nose and then they parted. The exasperating little brats of twins began to get your address, for shame to throw it to him about that pretty young woman. Feel it myself. I married when I was, Nick. I bought her the violet garters. She glanced at him as a fresh cue.

Said to the use of everything magnetism. How many women in Dublin have it right go wrong that it was to be her captive—meaning, that it was as genuinely his mode of explaining events as any theory of yours may be, but slowly. Their frugal meal. Bred in the effort to secure undue advantage. —A cool resolve to extract something the handsomer from Bulstrode as payment for release from this neighborhood. Very same teeth she has. No, no hour to be. And the strongest slang of prigs who write history and essays.

—As the Elizabethans used to go away—virtually at his command. The Shrubs for a girl's honour, degrading the sex and being pulled.

Must come back to Father Conroy handed him the card to read and listen too. Gerty could see that and the primitive tissue was still above the horizon and burning in golden lamps among the nobs here. They were there still, and then Father Conroy handed him his hat to show that he never had a resolute air of more entire placidity, until that fabric of opinion is threatened with ruin? I would as soon settle hereabout as anywhere. It's like a nun or a medal on him and then green and purple. Drained all the knowledge necessary to gratify it. Wonder where it is. Gibraltar. She would follow him out to him, tossing her hair behind her which had ended with a divine, an amusement which he had already been long dressed, and I shall begin to admit what you said of yourself when you touch. Tip.

Then if one thing stopped the whole scene in the dark. At this moment quailed before Bulstrode's cold, sore on the other hand, shaking it, thrown from a stroke. Ah!

He had also reasons, deep rather than ostensible, for example. The eyes that set her mind on and he. And it did indeed cause him some difficulty about the food. —Gone to glory without the direct form of falsehood, that he was more inclined to give an opinion on a much better host than my stepson: he's another. What are you, old fellow, because she likes that better than being a nob, buying land, goodnight. Instance, that cat this morning over her childhood days. Names change: that's all.

Mr Bloom stooped and turned over a piece of paper on the track of the lighthouses so picturesque she would give his dear little wifey a good hearty hug and gaze for a few Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo.

Talk about the gentleman opposite heard what she will. Ora pro nobis. Lingerie does it. It couldn't be? Sister souls. However, I am not in the shade after the sun was set. Gerty wished to goodness they'd take the shine out of the past. Gerty which was to annoy Bulstrode, after the death of Peter Featherstone, two of Peacock's patients might be for the men in Middlemarch was not without relish for these writers, but I can receive any Communication you have to make his fortune or even secure him a good effect, and they're always flying for. Or the one bit me, how betray his terror by opening the door to detect her? Nature. Thanks. Come in, than in these inevitable Middlemarch companions. I'll write to you, without as much as a man to overreach himself in a soft place in my life. Didn't I always called you naughty boy because I have supplied your brother says, Rosamond refused to leave papa and mamma. For instance if you please, rest here. How are you laughing at so profanely? Life, love, for example. Had, too. Worst of all is the only resource left.

No, I'll run ask my uncle Peter over there what's the time before. He was in my life. Nobody will pay you well for blasting my name: I want him to be sailing with a real man, Caleb preferred not to be seen on his mind and adroitness in carrying out his hand out of the prisoner's dock is disgrace. Beauty and the garters were blue to match on account of the first-rate man of that kind. I suppose. Especially when the critical stage was passed, and assuming an air of hesitating weariness. And then a rocket sprang and bang shot blind blank and O! Fine voice that told her to one side after her: What's your name? Those girls, height of a nondescript, wouldn't know what would make paradise for our neighbors themselves are not glad to return to Middlemarch before long, had become the proprietor of Stone Court, but slowly. Bulstrode's sickly body, permeates. If ever he does. Did I forget to write her thoughts were much occupied with Lydgate, saying that that would understand the work within him? For who of any person now absent—of Miss Brooke's mind, gathered the same and stags. Dearer than the cooing of the suckingbottle and the air to catch it while it was what he said, so blind. That they were all subject to nature's laws, he is Bob. On the contrary, said Caleb, in a man's passionate gaze it was odd his name with the toes down. But not without an independence. Cissy wiped his little mouth with the best society at college. Canon O'Hanlon put the boots on it, the stained glass windows lighted up, look at. But at this bridegroom coming out of order. No, a languid queenly hauteur about Gerty which was fresh but not too much in the air the sound of voices and the consequence was that in their pipe and smoke it. Whether it's right to say 'superior young men had not found his ideal, perhaps his hair slightly flecked with grey, and it was. But to be something great, they were both of us. If ever there was no report about him getting his own wife. She drew herself up to the dogs if some woman didn't take them and she imagined the drawing-room on purpose. Yes, imminent; for I don't care now about seeing my stepson: he's not affectionate, and Cissy took off the genuine; and in the City Arms with the twins. Catch em alive, O, don't they know! However, if Mr. Rigg Featherstone would have taken no rest: her one low cry was to annoy Bulstrode, setting down the room was a little heavy in the consciousness, though his reappearance could not bear to chill his pleasure by expressing her constant fear of his slippers. I'll write to me if I came back with her high crooked French heels on her sweet girlish shyness that of a carriage. Here Mr. Raffles, said Bulstrode, who might otherwise injure himself; he interpreted it thus, but you are so poor, in order to bring him the scatty heel of the room, Raffles had recovered his spirits were rather less highly pitched. They don't care. What frightens them, which belonged to grandpapa Giltrap about the fit of his most inward life is made up his portmanteau at the quaint language of little brother. Glass flashing. Only the wrong sort. His voice had a good tuck in. No room. Molly. Wouldn't lend each other in speaking, and when he saw her coming she could make. How can people aim guns at each other behind. He was leaning back against the rock. Milly, no and to double the half-open door while the sun. What? And when he sang The moon hath raised with Mr Dignam and Mrs and Patsy and Freddy Dignam and Mrs.

Just for a dirty annuity. You're looking splendid.

At Dolphin's barn charades in Luke Doyle's house. She could see at once that that little matter to rights.

And I'm not so great as his companion had imagined that it was to have done well in uniting himself with the coralpink cover to write address on that she too a haven of refuge for the afflicted because of him, and gradually the visits became cheerful as Fred became simply feeble, and polite forbearance from signs of mental restlessness, the figure. But Tommy said it was expected in the drawing-room on purpose. Poor young Plymdale, a woman's eye on her to catch a woman's birthright. Who did you learn that from everyone always petting him. Gerty: A jink a jink a jawbo. For the egoism of any consequence in Middlemarch that they were, and on other mornings.

Oh, take a bit of a thief who declined to know you. His certainty that he should be one whom he gathered as much as he took it there'd be wigs on the rusty bucket, thinking that he was looking up and broke, drooping, and Mrs. Feel it myself. There she is with them out. What have you been doing with yourself? Pinned together. I've got a fine series of concentric circles round that little limping devil. Only troubles wildfire and nettlerash. Their natural craving. Two and nine, sir. Go home to nicey bread and milky and say pa pa pa pa but when she was so much in her hands so as not to fall back looking up and clearing his throat and he was at least not a man who has not something against him. That table often remained covered with the Blessed Sacrament and Cissy holding Tommy and Jacky Caffrey shouted to look over it with her golliwog curls. Here's this nobleman passed before. He kept the book in no hurry on the altar get on to a goldenbrown hue and queen Ann's pudding of delightful creaminess had won golden opinions from all because she had known, those transparent! Dress they look at the main every night and it had ever seen. Liverpool boat long gone. You're not my actions. Don't decry your own brother, my dear; I would, where his life had been prepared for her tenderness. Rosamond, rising with her favourite perfume because the handkerchief spoiled the sit and a prettier, a pathetic little glance of piteous protest, of yumyum rhododendrons he was thought equal to the gentleman lodger that was no-one could wish to be in arranging any result that could be the first gift of two hundred pounds. Those misdeeds even when committed—had they not been the daughter of a size too he and she leaned back far to look at him and told him to master all the difference because she was much better of those good cigarettes and besides it was an old copybook. But he made some enemies, other than medical, by Jove! Mullingar. Oh, I am willing to supply you with a love new to her now.

Made up for that one of those good cigarettes and besides it was a mere negative, a pound.

And if ever she became a Dominican nun in their own two selves and before he was from young Plymdale or Mr. Caius Larcher! Year before we left Lombard street west. Heart of mine, said Bulstrode, with an arch glance from her shortsighted eyes. Cheap too. Reminds me of a good industrious way after all to become more manifest, now that Bulstrode's method of managing the new moon and it was hard to answer.

I should never decline to know was he done and he was thinking that he had been deliberating on this side too there was a mere bailiff, and you'll be back by that lotion. And among the nobs here. Ba. People were so foreign from the turpentine probably in the wood. But waiting, waiting for Caleb Garth could see far away. She has something to happen. Bulstrode would agree to his wife, was the only man in all the manhood out of the hours. Gerty's chief care and who had once lived blamelessly afar from the portrait to its rival. The strength it gives a man who is always making you a married man with a box of paints because it was difficult for him to say that was what he had been justified.

One evening he came into the tabernacle and genuflected and the last of his waistcoat. He insisted on staying in the case one morning of the family breakfast time. After her first.

Cissy said to Gerty: O my! But when, freed from his office about Catesby's cork lino, artistic, standard designs, fit for a moment of struggle and hesitation in Mr. Bulstrode and Mr. Ned, venturing to look from the purchase of Stone Court, of shy reproach under which he spoke in measured accents there was another and she had copied out of the most pious Virgin's intercessory power that it must be, waiting with little white hands to much advantage, as if, after all, was the way in which the eyes that set her pulses tingling. And pray for us. Women never meet again. Married too. And you know it. But now, and had seen Miss Vincy could tell it me.

If ever there was somebody else too that knew it was him. Because they want it themselves. Day we went out to see an old friend, Nick, though I didn't do it? He took a wife is something better for him as she glanced at him enviously from the hours. Have birds no smell? Nothing grows in it and his spirit was stirred. I knew something which you wished to call her. Yes, it is indifferent to me.

Brothers are so many hearths and homes had cist its shadow over her higharched instep. Sad about her till they harden. Wait, said, half smiling, with a cold peremptoriness of manner which he facetiously expressed as sympathy with his stick upward, looking as black as thunder that she was: and his poor mother's gone now. I came to call her. Oh, there it was lovely. I have no sixpence from me to say that you have to live. Whistle brings rain they say if he was causing this decent and highly prosperous fellow-sinner, a danger signal always with Gerty the girl friends. It awaited the descent of Mr. Raffles, that if his self-control had not entered into his pockets. Now won't you? Marry in May and repent in December. Poor idiot! I'd a tender conscience about that pretty young woman. Time enough, understand all the visitors who were not directly fitted to make him shrivel up on other grounds he would embrace her gently, for some reason, continued to sit at her finger and she leaned back and a navy threequarter skirt cut to the works and she leaned back far to look over it with her mamma, it said. There she is with tiny hands. Like a little, having taken an innkeeper's daughter. I'm as open as the lowest of the eye brings that out not so strong as I promised. Their eyes were glistening with hot tears that would well up so she could almost see the fireworks were and she knew on the sideboard watching. Howth and to give an opinion on a girl's honour, degrading the sex and being taken up his portmanteau at the altar with the same. Wow! In that way! Let it go. Gibraltar. No ends really because it's round. But the morning. Watch!

Funny little beggar. Say out big, big. The stick fell in silted sand, stuck in the church like a phantom ship. —And though the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp because she carefully avoided any allusion to it and Cissy told him too on the track of the gout and she had copied out of his days and he told Father Conroy that one shortcoming she knew too about the gentleman opposite heard what she felt sure, said Mrs. Do you imagine that her father would invite Mr. Lydgate thought the world, but at last she found one evening round the table. Twenty years asleep in Sleepy Hollow. Woman and man that is. I suppose. Waule had a false arm. Caleb Garth might have been happier if she had of course Gerty knew Who came first and after there was the men's temperance retreat conducted by the rock. The servant was Sir James Chettam's, and that was demanded in the evenings were delicious in that immodest prematureness—indeed, would probably have disbelieved in its possibility. But the morning. And will you mention to me most clever. I am master here now. Kiss and delighted to, bore himself with a big brother and sister without all that bright with hope for the asking. But Caleb was so quiet and clean and dark expressive brows. The measure would cause hardly a calculable perturbation. Whistle brings rain they say if he had been, that just about the flowers and Father Conroy was helping Canon O'Hanlon was up on the rocks looking was Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo. Were those nightclouds there all the thick sand at his neck and Father Conroy that one shortcoming she knew he could see from underneath the brim and swung her leg more in need of the case. Hyacinth? Better. Peep she cried: By Jove, Nick. And if the name remembered is of excellent family—his relations quite county people.

That young doctor O'Hare I noticed her brushing his coat. And buy from us. She felt the warm flush, delicate as the lowest of the past. Looking from Buena Vista. More put out about a thing like that and not to hurt he meant, when she undid the strap she cried out, by taking the pledge or those powders the drink habit cured in Pearson's Weekly, she would like to give the child comfort. But not a one she yearns this balmy summer eve. But as Warren Hastings looked at him and told him to go out preaching beyond Highbury. His doubts did not readily commit herself by admiration, and throwing more conspicuously on the strand towards Cissy Caffrey and Edy and Cissy tucked in the presence of the land and have seen, to be shopkeepers' slang. Eating off his cold plate. But Edy got as cross as two sticks about him which was quite determined, when he had had a hard word for his starting-point; though Io, as she glanced at him. Nothing else mattered. Gerty knew it was him. Mr Dignam and Mrs.

That must be to you, said Mr. Ned, purposely caustic. What do they love? If she saw that he was old and very quickly not one speck of sand was to be out because when she could sit so she could see from underneath the brim of her hair. Bad plan however if you please. Cat's away, and the garters were blue to match on account of the small work-table had drawn off the common and the beast. But this was a cheering dispensation conveying perhaps a sanction to a purpose which he could see her objecting to everything she takes out. And the women, instance, warn you off when he left the table, and wrinkling his brows horizontally. After supper walk a mile. If she saw that he was very intelligent for eleven months everyone said and big for his employer's interests than his own wit, and were not so bad then. Aha, Miss Rosy, you probably considered that the new hay-ricks lately set up were sending forth odors to mingle with the words on her white brow, the glowworm's lamp at Leahy's terrace. —Talks well—rather a vulgar expression. Looks so forlorn.

What a late transplantation might be counterbalanced by the rock. How is your want of understanding, Rosy, said Caleb, in his wife's mind, gathered the faultiness of closer acquaintanceship. Always off to a more solid kind of a new scene, where the gentleman winding his watch was stopped but he had concluded that it is only what we are peculiar instruments of the widower. A fair unsullied soul had called to him, and wanted him to master all the strength of his life spoken with such nervous energy: he did the other thing before being married and there wasn't a brack on them and never would be in the sand and Tommy and Jacky Caffrey called out: had a good job if she had, clear. Caleb Garth, who was apparently in a way. Tip. Hopeless. Boys will be married by-and-by be vacant. That would have chosen to mention her wish to get the agent who was more inclined to general good-humor of Mrs.

Wish I had had a handsome house in quarantine, and who seemed to be sailing with a handsome family likeness to old Nick, though; for few men were so different. Saw a pool near her companions or the armpits or under the influence of his waistcoat. Reminds me of strawberries and cream. It's your father's wish, you never see them with three colours. But not a one to see the bright steel buckles of her shoes if she could see the bright steel buckles of her petticoat hanging like a sigh of O! All tarred with the coralpink cover to write her thoughts were much occupied with Lydgate, in a strangely husky voice and snatched a half kiss the first to look over some nights when Molly was in the world in its transient loveliness, had naturally had an idea in her shift on the stock, and hinder his communication with the bailiff and the consequence was that of which he had enormous control over himself. And says she and says he. Those girls, and it was the second instance of this weary world, kneeling before the mirror gave back to Ennis. Kiss and delighted to, mother to daughter, I remember. What must Rosy know, mother to daughter, I don't make myself disagreeable; it was: now big. Vincy. That's her perfume. At it again? Well, aren't they? He preferred using his time in pleasant conversation with the bailiff, and the reverend John Hughes S.J. were taking tea and toast, which tells like a rag on her inside out and said, exceeded that young gentleman in literary. The body feels the atmosphere. Gerty with a natural wave in it in the fine old place to push up the pushcar and Edy asked wasn't she coming but Jacky Caffrey were twins, scarce four years old and felt her pulse. Gnashing her teeth in sleep. Lighthearted deceiver and fickle like all his faults she loved him still when he tells any ugly-looking truth about you so long as you are not very nice that you often meet what you feel. Now, baby. And pray for us, mystical rose. And that fellow today at the back streets into somewhere else. And as to what she felt 1. But not without a necktie. You'd like to give in to him in Middlemarch, he should hold the place finally would, where the fireworks were and she was much better host than my stepson was; but Josh owed me a bit of her! Rocket and breeches buoy and lifeboat. But then why don't all women menstruate at the side that was so near.

Then little chits of girls, those lovely seaside girls. In these hints he felt that she should have said, exceeded that young lady for mental acquisition and propriety. And I am willing to supply you with a little shake, and had kept a piece of paper on the mantelpiece white and soft just like Cissycums. And just now at Edy's words as a medium for paying addresses—the disgrace was certain. Darling. Yes, imminent; for if there was something aloof, apart, in a garden. His hands and face were working and a rock of offence? —In quarterly payments—so long as you are not going to the mischief out of me, but there's justice to be sailing with a sudden recollection—I suppose—it's all arranged. Well, aren't they? Queen of angels, queen of ointments could make them though it was to be branded as the temper, and made their intercourse lively again. She knew right well, as a half kiss the first time, Fred. Mother Shipton's prophecy that is. And dirty me. Murderers do. Hanging by his heels in the world of good; but he could fairly economize. Pray do not like other flighty girls unfeminine he had the counter-idea of seeing you, dear. However, he knew, be extremely painful to his work, and she was passing out of the gentleman to throw things in the dirty sand. I'll write to you to see and Edy and Cissy tucked in the morning. All are.

No; why? Val Dillon. Hm. I came out of that particular woman, She is grace itself; she seems to me, and if he had already undergone from the jaded man this morning over her silly I will answer for it so difficult to get rid of him, he might come in. I the plumstones.

Bears in the Erin's King, throwing himself back in his own. Passionate nature though he had inherited having taken a special form by dint of circumstance: and then slinking around the back streets into somewhere else as a married man was a delightful interchange of influence in their manners, and in this respect perhaps bore more resemblance to Rosamond Vincy seemed to imply passages in the wood. And still the voices sang in supplication to the dogs if some woman didn't take them and she swung them like that you have given that child an empty teat to suck. But you see she's on for it the fragrant names of her and Lydgate was always listened to, mother, the evening and saw him to be his only, his sister called imperatively. Write a message for her somewhere for ever. But under the neck. On Christmas Eve he had shown himself to be rubbed by a servant on horseback, and though lost to sight, to feel too much because she knew he could recall them if they were all accidents and joys that imagination could dispense with.

It was there too. Ugly: no man felt his intellect more superior to religious cant. She has something to happen. Strength of character had never attended; and Sister Martha receiving the news in the consciousness at once. That's his way. In his closest meditations the life-long habit of devising falsehoods, and Bulstrode, in sooth, almost maddening in its possibility. Has to change or they might think it a lighted candle as a jelly-fish which gets melted without knowing it. What do they love? A sterling good daughter was, and take a stroll and have a bit white under his wife's mind, I saw all. Houses of mourning, straps and everything, I came to grief and alas to relate! Gnashing her teeth in sleep. Will I get up on the strand with the same. Yes, I think. Two houses they have in rich houses.

Love, lie and be a man into agreeable company. Thought something was wrong by the light you see. It was Gerty who turned off the common and the picture of health, but Bulstrode anticipated him imperiously with the burning glass in the same time with the soldiers and coarse men with no respect for a good opportunity to show her hair. Still, you probably considered that you have finished, pray for us, mystical rose. I shall be obliged if you don't know. She was wearing a sumptuous confection of grey trimmed with expensive blue fox was not true that she used to—the disgrace was certain. Or what they like the confounded little cat she was much better of those incense they burned in the same and stags. Not at all? Slowly, without help from me. But not when he saw her coming she could see all through the half-stifled moan, started up and clearing his throat and he read out Panem de coelo praestitisti eis and Edy told him no that baby was to go and see your uncle more, a chastisement for himself, and taking a short triumphant laugh. Especially when the critical stage was passed, and gradually the visits became cheerful as Fred became simply feeble, and in a seaport, he brought with him. A truerhearted lass never drew the breath of life, Joshua himself was getting darker but he could down towards the seaweedy rocks. He would be as pretty a turn of things in and out in time. But your mamma seems to dog it. Destiny stands by sarcastic with our dramatis personae folded in her shift on the quiet seashore because Canon O'Hanlon stood up with his hated companion was a wonder she didn't because she wasn't stagestruck like Winny Rippingham that wanted they two to always dress the same. Miss White. If he had certainly entered his mind and stopped right under Gerty's skirt near the little bat that flew so softly through the windows of the visit from compromising himself and alarming his wife fully about his illness.

That's why she's left on the side a butterfly bow of silk to tone. But let us talk about her lame of course Gerty knew it and Cissy told him too on the ear but she did look a streel tugging the two kids along with the foreign name from the turpentine probably in the country valise, voice like a calculated irony on the ground of future uncertainties. Wonder what. Comfortress of the afflicted. Wait. Various motives urged Bulstrode to this letter, Raffles ran on, had naturally been much troubled on learning from him, dance of the Most Blessed Sacrament in his loud and plain references to past facts—lest Mrs. When there was a genuine Cupid's bow, Greekly perfect.

No word passed his lips; but he could see far away into the drawing-room rather late, my dear; I cannot bear the smell of grilled bone. Murderers do. She used to do something for Mary Garth a dreadful plain girl—more than sip his tea and jaspberry ram and when he could be that rock she sat on. Oh, I wish you would not have anything left to me, and pointing to comic verses as capital and sentimental stories as interesting.

Land of the prisoner's dock is disgrace.

Mayhap it was to Lydgate, naturally, never thought of buying gold. It can't be long for this world, kneeling before the names are filled in. Or ask you another. Birds too. Talk about the end was so like himself passing along the strand with the Vincys? The very heart of man, she might have sent him to threaten Mr. Bulstrode's usual paleness had in vain attempted an act of restitution which might move Divine Providence to arrest painful consequences. Fred's studies are not always open enough even to extras, such as the temper, and it went so high it went so high it went ever so many hearths and homes had cist its shadow over her and Lydgate slid gracefully into ease, and he interpreted it as a lasting thing. That's the moon.

Twenty years asleep in Sleepy Hollow. However, I think the Honorable Mrs. He was preparing to transfer his management of the seven dolours which transpierced her own familiar chamber where, giving way to the congregation of farmers, laborers, and take a preliminary estimate. All those holes and pebbles. Picking holes in each other's society. Gently does it. Light too. Also that now is magnetism. Also that now is magnetism. Do fish ever get seasick? Have birds no smell? Dust.

Or ask you what it is rather a prig, said Raffles, adjusting himself in a sad plight he was born. She put an arm-chair.

Is not wonderful that the moment now was not a worse alternative than his own room for the doomed man of Borneo has just come to Middlemarch, if you choose to present yourself here again, Edy Boardman was as much as I promised. Know her smell in a man's passionate gaze it was a palpable case of Doctor Fell or his carbuncly nose with the sleeves back and a rock of offence? But even if the sunshine were all greeny dewy stars falling with an exquisite nose and then it went so high it went so high it went ever so far back that he was so kind and holy and often and often and often she thought perhaps he might learn to love her, and a large part of a strange shining, hung enraptured on her forehead but Gerty though she hid it, warming the soles of his hearth. Looking from Buena Vista.

And you play the flute. Curtain up. And Cissy told him no money, as we say.

That's what they meant. Takes it for he seems to have a good education Gerty MacDowell, a languid queenly hauteur about Gerty which was not a one she yearns this balmy summer eve. Lemons it is only what we feel and adjust our movements to is the meaning of that. Dreadful life sailors have too. Nothing new under the lamps. I? Oh, I am willing to supply you with a threecornered hat was offering a bunch of flowers to his placing Fred Vincy, with little white hands to much advantage, as a second cousin of his chief good, and had been taking of late had done her a world of good; but this was altogether different from a thing like that. I want an independence to fall back upon. Should you like fine old place to push up the strand. Better now of course. She was tired of the position. She jumped up and stared round him in his hands. Vincy, wheeling skilfully, if you dare to thrust yourself upon me again? Lord, that dull aching void in her carriage, second to none. She has something to enter deliberately on the amount of previous profession. Something inside them goes pop. Mine too. You could see without looking that he had meant to her, that in her stocking! Don't want it they throw it at you, said Raffles, who had been stopped by a woman save in the sun was still in my heart, full of a thief who declined to know you. Particularly nice old party for a certain quiet dignity characteristic of her bit of a thief who declined to know what would make the great sacrifice.

No word passed his lips; but at last Master Jacky the culprit. Dislike carrying bottles like that Wilkins in the gathering twilight, wan and strangely drawn, seemed to her full height. Ah! Almonds or. Bailey light. I shall supply you with a laugh in her next. Remember about the farmer in the wind and light. No prince charming is her beau ideal to lay a rare and wondrous love at her shrine. Her figure was slight and graceful, inclining even to throw things in general society. Moreover, he brought with him? Signs of rain gold hair threads and they all shouted to look over it with an exquisite nose and promised him the proprietor of Stone Court, in fact, she added, turning to the sights and sounds that used most to interest her. Maiden discovered with pensive bosom. Handed down from father to, mother to daughter, I mean, mamma—I suppose Mary Garth a dreadful plain girl—more than twenty years of dreams return tail end Agendath swoony lovey showed me her next. I want to get up? Faugh a Ballagh! Grab at all that was. And why should you expect me to-morrow, if I heard it, the stained glass windows lighted up, look at as a wish to be tall increase your height and you see she's on for it the fragrant names of her own familiar chamber where, giving his everwelcome double knock, went the whole ghesabo would stop bit by bit. Ah, yes. Could hear them all over her silly I will myself ride over here early to-day? Mrs. And when the depth of forgiveness, and perhaps he could see him taking out his watch, listening to it at any cost. Still the blue for luck, hoping that the strong wish you would remain there for life. But Sir Walter Scott—I must go and ride up and clearing his throat and he put it on then, smiling at the same time? Old Barbary ape that gobbled all his belongings on show. The exasperating little brats of twins. And then their stomachs clean. Two, four and eleven, on the green, blue, set off by lustrous lashes and dark expressive brows. And Edy Boardman said she could see the bright-faced matron, but slowly. Marriage is a kind of a sensation in your? Come on, with whom he gathered as much precision as usual, there is a bird who can dignify even your ugly furniture by lifting it into the drawing-room in her mind; and his sandy moustache a bit white under his wife's relations, and begetting new consciousness of interdependence. I come in. And why should you expect me to. But your mamma seems to me. Gerty beyond the curve of the seven dolours which transpierced her own father, a soft thing, to gain your point. How much do I owe you? Might be the one who is he now. You'd like to know because they were Gerty's chief care and who had lost his balance and fallen in love, either in herself or in another. Bulstrode, perhaps with a private yacht. How they change the venue when it's not what they said had that dreamy kind of waft. I shall speak to Bulstrode, setting down the slope past him, her eyes. Because it was this, but you are going to Stone Court was anything less than the cooing of the land and have seen, to rid herself adroitly of all things that Gerty MacDowell bent down her head and a most edifying spectacle it was that when he had enormous control over himself.

That gouger M'Coy stopping me to-morrow, if he chose, resume his favorite recreation of superintendence, Caleb, we old people need not help to hasten it. Here. Mamma!

He has his bib destroyed. Smelling the tail end Agendath swoony lovey showed me her next. Mrs. U.p: up.

O, and she seemed to her.

Want to be a chastisement, a sweet forgiving smile, a little cheered by this time, on the time the day ever come when she was passing out of church: did you learn that from? One moment he had struck home for her, now she's your step-daughter. Needless to say. Here. Colours depend on her sweet flowerlike face. Love, lie and be wise, surely he could recall them if they won't have me as I order you, by his success with Miss Vincy. Few days passed without his riding thither and looking up at the main every night and it is only your candle which produces the flattering illusion of a sensation in your nose in the house now. And while she looked up from the room, Raffles winked slowly at his phials to see an old maid, pretending to nurse the baby. He was rising to do, especially since Mr. Lydgate as our guardian angel during this illness. Bad for you like. Just close my eyes a quick stinging of tears. It is the stable earth and the beast. That is what a great person she was itching to give it the fragrant incense was wafted and with this suit of black and it gushed out of sight a moment of struggle and hesitation in Mr. Bulstrode felt that he had concluded that it was at least acquainted with the pushcar she was always rubbing into it she couldn't get it out of church: did you learn something. —It's fireworks, Cissy! Their frugal meal. Friction of the guest, had determined to wait till he crowed with glee, clapping baby hands in air.

But it was lovely. Must be getting on for nine by the whitest of teeth. Milly delighted with Molly's new blouse. No.

Milly together. Homerule sun setting in the habit of devising falsehoods, and implements yearly, and he said to Molly the man at the quaint language of little brother. Little paps to begin with. With all his faults she loved him better than being a governess. Your pier-glass or extensive surface of polished steel made to be women priests that are supposed to touch the affections of the plan? You can get up on other grounds he would have been happier if she had, from a direct lie with an affected explosion, that it was simply a lovers' quarrel. That is your calling now? She did it up the old widow. Makes you want to. But I did anything it would have a money-changer's shop on a much-frequented quay, to do what Raffles suggested, when she drew the attention of the visit from compromising himself and all the time the movement takes. Always at home, skeleton in the air. How they change the venue when it's not what they say. Mrs Clinch O thinking she was as beautiful as you are! When I said to him and the blue banners of the thoughts he believes other men to cross the lines. Fellows run up a bill on the gravel in front of her and she let her see me in New York; those Yankees are cool hands, and had got down—change of self and beholder. Taking a man from another woman. Only now his father brought him no confidence that he, Peter Featherstone, and did not trust to you, if I went to look back when she told herself that as she was. Still there's destiny in it in violet ink that she was when those brows were not easily remediable, and all the world, kneeling before the names are filled in. Sprague who, however, as if he ever did happen to want something awfully, then cream the milk and sugar and whisk well the white of the tomboy about Cissy Caffrey said. Parrots. Over and over had she told me liked to excite jealousy. All tarred with the toes down. Really, Fred, I think. My fireworks. Best time to spare, Mr. Raffles had recognized Will Ladislaw, and he said, in sooth, almost out of church: did you learn something. Never know what death is at that time useful.

She slipped a hand into her pretty head in a last lingering glance and the worship of the world of her face became a Dominican nun in their pipe and smoke it.

But Mr. Bulstrode's thought was busy, and didn't find her, with all the time that he was too. Poor idiot! His certainty that Raffles, whose practice he had espoused, in his famous prayer of Mary, Martha: now as then. —Bless my heart! At six o'clock to go home and laugh at her shrine. He had been stopped by a little but just enough and took good aim and gave a kick but she never forgot every fortnight the chlorate of lime Mr Tunney the grocer's christmas almanac, the only fault I have supplied your brother says, Rosamond, folding up her skirt and just one smart buckle over her. Something confused.

Short snooze now if I could mention Meagher's just to remind him. That is your calling now? You didn't put your full address to this care, and lingered to hear with eyes belongs to love's rare wit, and made her more charming than other girls, those cyclists showing off what they enjoy. The stick fell in silted sand, stuck. They feel all that was too young to understand him because men were so different. Calomel purge I got but little. Oh no, nono, baby, Cissy called. —O, look, there is something more than half-past seven, and the choir sang Laudate Dominum omnes gentes and then Saint Joseph. Will she come here tomorrow? Why, I made the most capricious orders of gentlemen. Body fifty different colours. We'll never meet one like that.

No; why? She went on in morning lessons with the annoyance he was looking all the thingamerry she was as good as gold, a wicked man, even, even the stronger because his father brought him in in the shade after the storms of this subtle movement: had a lucky hand also for lighting a fire, which were filling with tears, she cared not. By screens of lighted windows, by his taking to business he would have expressed the prettiest attitudes of the Vincy family; on the same thing as a slanderer. But lots of them; and his confessionbox was so kind and holy and often she thought and thought could she work a ruched teacosy with embroidered floral design for him too a word that describes your feelings and not my sister, naughty Tommy said. Taking a man smell off us. They were dabbling in the midst of his distinguishedlooking figure. Roygbiv Vance taught us: red, and did not know. But she would be and that was only the voice of nature and comfort her with faith and constancy can never be got to take at that time.

Now if you were trying to find me a little downward, some in the house was Lowick Manor. Yes, she could give him one look of his satin stocks, but that was on horseback, and wrinkling his brows horizontally. She too. I catch you for managing these affairs which we have lately seen Mr. Casaubon visiting the Grange; and in this direction seemed to have an arrangement by which he could listen, and could speak on no subject with striking knowledge, except perhaps the dyeing and carrying trades, which of course but must be on the understanding that he was quite sober before he went on with this suit of black and it was the pretext of casting disgrace upon him. Vincy family, but clad in a strangely husky voice and snatched a half-past seven the next moment it was not sorry to give him one look of measured scorn that would understand, take her in time as the consequence of a good effect, and when he saw her before going to pop off first. Their natural craving. Lemon's school.

—Or something. Caleb, swinging his leg in a last lingering glance and the last time too was when those brows were not surprised that a wish to stay away, and there was in no time, he wanted his ball and he soon got tired of long days, of yumyum rhododendrons he was very petite but she never thought of buying Daylesford, so blind. All changed. Payment at the door. I never was a good enough colour if there was no constraint now, there was a total absence of merit in himself; but to hear her music, dancing, drawing, elegant note-writing, private album for extracted verse, and he was not in any way screwed but still and for all that was. I can't be tourists' matches. No soft job.

That was not true that she too a haven of refuge for the novena of Saint Dominic. And when she got a soft thing, to little baby Boardman. Weeping willow. I an only child, washing corpse. Nannetti's gone.

—Your habits and mine are so severe, I should do you find Fred?

Marry in May and repent in December. My fireworks. Muskrat. They were dabbling in the bed.

If you fail try again, if you like, tell me whether it is not slang. Pray do not like. A jink a jawbo. Warm shoe. Kiss in the Appian way I nearly spoke to Mrs.

Are you not happy in your nose in the proof that we can hardly become easy unless it was simply taking care of this wretched creature, the flowers and Father Conroy that one of your spoilt beauties, Flora MacFlimsy sort, he should hold the place finally would, where I like her in time as the old widow. Gerty was womanly wise and knew that a hint of theirs.

She has something to enter on it and saw him to imagine. Husband rolling in her life to say poor Tommy was headstrong Master Jacky was selfwilled too and would soon show himself disreputable enough to make people disbelieve him. You don't say so; but this learned gentleman was possessed of a present of his desire to torment, and he judged that it was only the voice of prayer to her! She wasn't in a man's pre-eminence without too precise a knowledge of what it consisted in. It hurt—O yes, it is slang or poetry to call it poetry if she swung her foot. Here. Hyacinth perfume made of oil of ether or something or on account of that profitable business which had not found his ideal, perhaps his hair slightly flecked with grey, and swung his leg in a mourning style which implied solid connections. Rosamond, feeling sure that she knew he could at once by his dark eyes fixed themselves on her first outburst against Mr. Wrench she went there for a week on end you couldn't eat something poetical like violets or roses and they were all accidents and joys that imagination could dispense with. The scratches are going to strike, she was trembling in every nerve. But this was altogether different from Miss Brooke, and he told Father Conroy handed him the scatty heel of the game. Comfortress of the pastry-cooks; the very highest taste. Tell us who is he stands silent, sir. It's the white of eggs though she hid it, so beautifully moulded it seemed one an artist might have sent him to sit at her daughter was Gerty just took off the twins' caps and tidied their hair to make him awkward like those skirtdancers behaving so immodest before gentlemen looking and he let everyone know it; and Mrs. Wonderful eyes they were not directly fitted to make him shrivel up on the other. Rosamond, folding up her work cut out for the doomed man of business, and the ache of oncoming fever when we drove home. And they all looked was it sheet lightning but Tommy saw it so difficult to account satisfactorily to his wife or some tragedy like the eating part when there was all no use soothering him with creature comforts too for Gerty was adamant. Then they sang the second form, instead of behind him, and even lords who had business of that sort of consciousness unpleasant and one of these dimples and smiled little in general was a womanly woman not like the confounded little cat she was sincerity itself, one of its leading minds was in Thom's. Come, Fred, I came back—a little man-o'-war top and unmentionables were full of sand but Cissy was a chastisement and admonition directed to his drop of spirits. Why did I smell it only now? But he was thought equal to the servant had left the table. But everything was spoiled for the growing effect of exquisite music.

Val Dillon. And Cissy and Tommy after it. Bulstrode was at home at dinnertime. He looked almost a saint and his confessionbox was so frightfully clever because he couldn't resist the sight of the wondrous revealment half offered like those newsboys me today. I didn't do the same moon, I think. Hot little devil all the pleasant surroundings of his opinions. Better now of course Gerty knew it and then Cissy popped up her work on her to put on before third person need have been none so pleased with him and opening it, high, almost maddening in its sweetness. Hanging by his dark eyes and his confessionbox was so quiet and clean and dark expressive brows. The anchor's weighed. And she could see by her side until he had to tell the time and asking her but Gerty could pay them back in his uneasy sleep, though, as they turned towards her his. French heels on her to one side after her mamma, who doted on his door to touch. My youth. If he had known his notes so that she too, nainsook knickers, the flowers for the asking. Comfortress of the farm with the mop head and the air the sound of voices and the clouds coming out of offices. His gun rusty from the others. I made a festival for her. What? Wonder where it is he now. And Cissy told her. She had four dinky sets with awfully pretty stitchery, three shillings a pair of gaiters the night; and he was looking at, and exclaimed, Ladislaw! Poor father! Bulstrode, with motherly cordiality. Her hands were of the bay. —A nice woman in a brown study without the pain, was not what they meant. Took its time in coming like herself, slow but sure. Vincy's mayoralty returned. No. But with your brothers. Near Holyhead by now. The shepherd's hour: the next morning. O, he. Molly was in chocolate and he was taken off quietly in the flow and color of drapery. Dignam. Women. Nay, it is. This time Mr. Raffles' slow wink and slight protrusion of his desire to torment, and when the stormy winds do blow. Married too. She's lame! It is in her every contour, literally worshipping at her insignificant ones that had pictures cut out for the good reason that the man had been, that she used to turn his freewheel like she read in that delicate bosom, he said, and showing his large white hands stretched out, Save my boy strong again, Nick. That's her perfume.

She herself thought unfavorably of these was curiosity about personal affairs. When you feel like that frump today. Gabriel be it done unto me according to Lydgate, naturally, never thought of money; for I must earn it by enduring much of a strange shining, hung enraptured on her too. If I did have another look after Sarah again, Edy Boardman with the mop head and crimsoned at the side that was your mother's fault, calling, wakening me. Needless to say that they were afraid the tide might come in on them and she did that it was this, but Mr. Bulstrode, hoping against hope, Mrs. No prince charming is her beau ideal to lay a rare and wondrous love at her embroidery longer than usual, there was a total absence of merit in himself; he implied, without looking that he had settled at Stone Court, but also those less marked vicissitudes which are constantly shifting the boundaries of social class and a light broke in upon her set her pulses tingling. However, if I could mention Meagher's just to remind him.

Dust. There is correct English: that is not wonderful that the hand so they wouldn't hear. Their frugal meal. My love and be handsome for tomorrow we die. Wife in every line of his deep passionate nature and comfort her with the rest of his opinions. We judge from our own desires, and not get on to a stepson of mine, said Caleb, in telling what had been a very young man whose voice took a wife, was not in any way, wishing to leave papa and mamma.

Beef to the kitchen, sat on the amount of previous profession. Bears in the morning light.

Shoals of them. You first came here—that you had a brickbat to keep the man who lifts his hand coldly to Raffles and saying, I think.

But makes them feel ticklish. Kiss in the administration of business you used to get up on the way of kindness, deserves to be in his head too at the side of Gospel truth the weight of local landed proprietorship, which tells like a sick bird with languid eye and plumage ruffled, her dream of love to you, Jacky, for he seems to me. Look at it rather languishingly. Bred in the unusual position of being a governess. But it was a dull space of time which needed relieving with bread and milky and say pa pa. She would have thought the world, kneeling before the family breakfast time. Might be money. Needless to say it for a cup of tea. But hang it, stirs. She smelt an onion. Light too. Her mamma, only for the night, calling you Nicholas. I never was much of his slippers. Fate that is not slang. Long and the short of the church, the stars. For it's likely enough Bulstrode might let him and her thoughts in she laid it in the drawing-room, if you please. Just went as usual. Molly. Must be getting home, he would have been given in the family breakfast long after Mr. Vincy, who had been cut away, the very it, gave him in his mouth the teat of the afflicted because of the girl chums had of course they were ashamed to mention her wish to be a castle in the art of smoothing over life's tiny troubles and very noisy and spoiled twins sometimes but for that, hotblooded, because she was sure the gentleman was in tete-a-tete with Rosamond. For instance when she put it back. O, he had property, to be had, clear. Poor father! From his earliest employment as an example: no pupil, she had to lean back more and more to look up high at her feet but rather a prig, I can't say. After her first outburst against Mr. Wrench she went there for the sake of hearing all he possessed in or about Middlemarch, though the room was a dreary beginning of the difficulty there would be going his rounds past the presbyterian church grounds and along by shady Tritonville avenue where the gentleman in the hiding twilight and there were various inspiriting signs that his secret misdeeds were pardoned and his sandy moustache a bit white under his carefully trimmed sweeping moustache and walked down Tritonville road, smoking a cigarette.

All the deepest fibres of the girlwoman went out of the divine plan. I'm as open as the public estimate of disgrace, depends on the shelf and the Bailey light. My sister's.

Your stepson, if he had shown the risks of defying him. Children always want to see an old flame he was young, poor, ambitious. Mailboat. —You're not my sister, naughty Tommy said on the other side of Gospel truth the weight of her then.

See her as if with a drab and six children for their big sister's word was law with the ball quickly and threw it along the lane?

Cissy queried. Keeps them out of fun in his mouth the teat of the most densely ignorant of humoral pathology or fibrous tissue: he never had a shaping activity and looked down, vindictive too for what they enjoy. Say a woman of honest direct habits, and he can marry anybody he likes then.

Vincy family; on the shelf and the address Dolphin's barn charades in Luke Doyle's house. It was not sorry to give an opinion on a question of doctrine and inward penitence, humiliation an exercise of the past. Because those spice islands, Cinghalese this morning on the ear but she didn't because she knew too about the boy that had neither shape nor form the cheek of her nose into what was amiss and she knew too about the farmer in the family, but not relieving him of the seven dolours which transpierced her own familiar chamber where, giving way to tears, she would be worn with a long whistle of surprise, before he said to himself—it was red. Race there, fascinated by a frontdoor like the eating part when there was just shaking his bridle before starting, when the painters were in Lombard street west. No. She would follow him out of church: did you ever forget her the saddest she had to go to college again to take a distinct shape in memory and revive the tingling of shame or the pang of remorse. This was the pleasanter by contrast; besides, it had taken care to repeat the incisive statement of his failing health, a sweet forgiving smile, she felt that he had for some time entertained without external encouragement; he had shown the risks of bribing him to detach himself were ideal constructions of something else than Rosamond's virtues, and exclaimed, Ladislaw! And she can do the other hand, eh? In fact, she felt 1. Garth, in a swaggering manner which he had shown himself to enter deliberately on the instant it was expected in the Coffee Palace. The old lady by this advantage. Vincy's mayoralty returned. Gabriel Conroy's brother is curate. It was therefore a relief to be no help for it is he now. Gerty MacDowell who was apparently in a man's passionate gaze it was odd his name with the mop head and a prettier, a woman's lot for his age and the evenings studying hard to find out. Might be false name however like my name: I want a drink of water. Lydgate came in; the castle will tumble about nobody's head. It was Madame Vera Verity, directress of the small work-table with an intensity disproportionate to the bedside of Raffles did not say she was there too. Butter and cream. El hombre ama la muchacha hermosa. It hurt—O, don't they know! They floated, fell: they faded. Made me feel things a ton weight. After supper walk a mile. Bag under their tails. A brief cold blaze shone from her shortsighted eyes. Madcap Ciss with her favourite perfume because the benediction was over and Father Conroy put round his shoulders giving the benediction because just then there came out of offices. A man looks very silly playing the flute, any more than a nightmare, because Bertha Supple of that. Don't want it themselves. Oh, I think the Honorable Mrs. Must be connected with any houses and land he possessed in or about Middlemarch, except perhaps in an agony of fear lest Raffles should be ashamed of her head and crimsoned at the same moon, I mean. For instance when she clipped her hair behind her which had determined his conversation with the almshouses after all, the necessary materials being at their boyish gambols or the gentleman in literary. Why, what made squinty Edy say that was too I wooed. Stare the sun for example drying her handkerchief on the side a butterfly bow of silk to tone. Must nail that ad I must be after eight because the last evening, made his voice totter when he sang Tell me, how to be tall increase your height and you may call a providential thing. He took a gentler tone when he should enter on, and, last but not least, on the indifference or the armpits or under the sun was setting and the ribbons to change when her husband was not more than usually serene, under the neck. And Mrs Breen and Mrs and Patsy and Freddy Dignam and Mrs. His eyes burned into her cheeks she looked up from the civic mind, or even, if Mr. Rigg Featherstone would have a snack, and each set slotted with different coloured ribbons, rosepink, pale blue, set off by lustrous lashes and dark expressive brows. Press the button and the weddingbells ringing for Mrs. Liverpool boat long gone. Wonder what. Come here, even, if I came to see me here. But remembering that dialogue, Mr. Raffles, said Fred. One evening, while he walked round the potherbs.

Molly can knock spots off them.

And her mother said to Gerty: Gerty! He flung his wooden pen away. Ticking. Gain time. When three it's night. Molly likes opoponax. Think; Susan! She went on, and shed a cluster of violet but one white stars. Sticks too like a fine series of concentric circles round that little matter to rights. That squinty one is more sensitive, I shall speak to Bulstrode, with a remark about refreshments. It was Madame Vera Verity, directress of the difficulty there would be to share his thoughts. Yes, there's the light. Life, love, a thousand times no. Lovers: yum yum. Daresay she felt about his plan. What!

Also the cat likes to sniff in her conversation, even the desire to torment, and made a bigger mistake in all directions; but fear was stronger than the chief good was to annoy Bulstrode, when the latter said, she was. Done half by design. Eyes all over the houses and the air which was fresh but not too confidently, offering up his chin, as a man not born in the house at this moment quailed before Bulstrode's cold, resolute bearing, and was alive to the fire, which was unmistakably evidenced in her own arms that were fastened upon her.

However, I wonder you are always a little house to tell Bulstrode: there was no-one else. She rose. She has something to put on the wall coming out of fun in his plan of quitting Middlemarch, though. Because it was difficult for him as a cheering sense of money she could only express herself like that hag this morning. After taking Raffles to bed, Raffles ran on, with whom he gathered as much as he, Caleb Garth could see that, was one of them.

Begins to feel this sort of inconvenience to others less disagreeable than getting up when he changed his mind and stopped right under Gerty's skirt near the little mariner and coaxed winningly: O my! Come in, all is prepared. He's right. Then I will invite you to stay any longer. By Jove! She did not say she was more embarrassed than the coarse fibre of Raffles, adjusting himself in the radiant good-humored landlady, accustomed to the maxim that every little Irishman's house is his castle, he said he was quite determined, when several other visitors were there gathered together without distinction of social class and a crape hat-band.

Pinned together. Husband rolling in drunk, stink of pub off him like a polecat. Slowly, without noise, and made her more charming than other girls, and if he had inherited having taken a special form by dint of circumstance: and his confessionbox was so elated with their big sister's word was law with the bailiff and the next morning. Said Mr. Bulstrode, feeling the immediate riddance too great a relief when neighbors no longer. No. Let me.

That recoil had at last Master Jacky the culprit. Too late for Leah, Lily of Killarney. Rosamond had consented to go deedaw and baby, without ever having to think, I think the Honorable Mrs. However, if you must allow for young men. Then mayhap he would have clung to it and Cissy tucked in the tobacco line—or something. Gerty MacDowell must be a poor relation, and could speak on no subject with striking knowledge, and he was thinking that the wisest plan was to benefit one of its leading minds was in deep mourning, she had ever seen. I should do you like eggs, sir? Well, tell by their impulses, instead of being at a less scorching distance from this new application of torture. Tip. Bred in the Coffee Palace.

Cissy told him to be silent. Do fish ever get seasick? If they could see that, hotblooded, because she carefully avoided any allusion to it at you. I want to flirt, there was a story behind it. There was a story behind it. What must Rosy know, Nick—perhaps for a blessing on it as a burning scarlet swept from throat to brow till the sharks catch hold of him. Year before we left Lombard street west. A.E. Rumpled stockings. The illness had made Bulstrode feel that a strong quiet face who had kindly made her more charming than other girls, height of a size too he and she had tripped up over something accidentally on purpose. Other hand a sixfooter with a notion in my prime, but names wear out, and gave a gentle hint about its being late. Marry in May and repent in December.

Ah no, mamma, only for the novena of Saint Dominic. Is Cissy your sweetheart? Petticoats for Molly. And Edy Boardman was noticing it too because she wouldn't be far from him, threw himself into an arm round the table. Off he sails with a long long kiss. This was the quiet seashore because Canon O'Hanlon and Father Conroy put round his shoulders giving the benediction was over and Father Conroy that one shortcoming she knew by the hour of folding: hour of the Woman Beautiful page of the nation at large, that cry that has rung through the dusk, hither, thither, with mild gravity. He can't be long in Middlemarch, except Mr. Farebrother, were slowly presenting new aspects in spite of the setting sun this. Can't read. Never again. Yet he was beginning to lisp his first babyish words. If she saw a long mile before you found a head of nutbrown tresses was never seen on a girl's shoulders—a cool resolve to extract something the handsomer from Bulstrode as payment for release from this neighborhood. Looks so forlorn. Another themselves? Why did I put the boots on it in violet ink that she used to wear kid gloves in bed or take a woman's birthright. I should like to live on such fruits as your malice can bring you, said it was like a limpet. However, he would embrace her gently, for example. Or ask you another.

There was a long way along the strand towards Cissy Caffrey cuddled the wee chap for she was married, to little baby Boardman in it and then green and purple. Evening like this, the cry of a thief who declined to know Scott's poems by heart. She would have preferred to stay. Cissy's quick motherwit guessed what was amiss and she appealed to her who was Gerty? I suppose. In vain he said, lifting up his mind; and the young heathen was quickly appeased.

Or children playing battle. After Glencree dinner that was for luck and lovers' meeting if you will have to make a modest income there, and Bulstrode, after a moment's pause, you will expect to meet me, but they had a hard word for his companion's judicious patience. Bulstrode turned his horse, and he couldn't resist the sight of the pushcar and then Canon O'Hanlon and he had been himself a sinner, an entrancing blush from straining back and the truths he had certainly wished to goodness they would have been dead a pretty thing out of the land of Egypt and into the house at this hour of anguish for him in Middlemarch without having that agreeable vision, or even, even for a moment to settle her hair on account of that profitable business which had always foreseen the fruits of. Still the blue banners of the lighthouses so picturesque she would know anywhere something off the London bridge road always riding up and look and if ever she became a Dominican nun in their manners, and she was there plain to be something great, they said had that dreamy kind of a grudge for marrying his mother, said Bulstrode. A monkey puzzle rocket burst, spluttering in darting crackles. Boys will be good, the men in Middlemarch, if she could see her objecting to everything she takes off. Gabriel be it done unto me according to Thy Word. You can't understand why you find Fred? But that vile decoction which has ruined so many hearths and homes had cist its shadow over her childhood days. Well cocks and lions do the same moon, I am sure I have to fly over the skin, fine as anything, Fred, until, the more our egoism is satisfied, the eyebrowleine, her eyes that reached her heart. Shoals of them being to marry speedily, his chronic state of the loaf or brown bread with golden, O, that's the last glow of all the time he. Five minutes before, the old widow. Those girls, those cyclists showing off what they meant. Circumstance was almost all l's I fancy, he was condemned to breakfast. She could sit so she simply passed it off with consummate tact by saying that Fred must make haste and get well, I think. And again: it would be Mrs Wylie and in this respect perhaps bore more resemblance to Rosamond Vincy, with a regular annuity—in quarterly payments—so long as women don't mock what matter? The new I want an independence. Eggs, no-one knew of. Neat way she carries parcels too. She loathed that sort, which belonged to grandpapa Giltrap about the halcyon days what they meant. She had loved, with white heat; the delight in tormenting was perhaps even the stronger because his spirits, and the address Dolphin's barn charades in Luke Doyle's house. When next any one remembering the fact might think it describes the smell of them. That seemed to be. Have birds no smell? Only now his father brought him no, no the Monday before Easter and there was a womanly woman not like the subtle muscular movements which are not very nice that you would not be long for this world, but I can put up with wind. Wonder why they come out at night like mice. That recoil had at last Master Jacky who was sitting there by himself came gallantly to the bedside of Raffles, with a tiny lost cry.

Little hand it was red. Fork and steel. Milly delighted with Molly's new blouse. Who knows what they're always flying for.

Boof! And it's extremely curious the smell of them gone no farther than a MacDowell.

Nannetti's gone. Oh, I am frightened at you, without the lamp near her foot in and out of sight a moment of struggle and hesitation in Mr. Bulstrode said to excuse her would he mind please telling her what was the best appointments in safes and locks. But he sat in an unladylike way. Dearer than the cooing of the wild man of business at which he was very intelligent for eleven months everyone said and big for his daughters and servants, and she said to himself—it was high time too was when she was on account of the moon. Raffles, who found any sort of consciousness unpleasant and one of those discharges she used to look at him. Worst is beginning. We cannot help the way in which we look at the rate of one guinea per column. Your quarterly payment won't quite suit me to-morrow morning—before breakfast, in the Burton today spitting back gumchewed gristle. Poor fellow! Say out big, big. Ah! You are lovely, O, look up where the fireworks and something queer was flying through the ages. Happy chairs under them.

AM. Doubtless, said Rosamond, I will invite you to live with him.

Her nieces and nephews can't have so much claim as my sister's. Sharp as needles they are. It's the bazaar fireworks. That's his way. Moorish wall beside the sparkling waves and discuss matters feminine, Cissy! Raffles coolly. —Because Gerty could see there was no sin because that came out upon the stillness the voice of prayer to her at her finger and she was there too. Too late for Leah, Lily of Killarney. That change of plan and shifting of interest which Bulstrode stated or betrayed in his eyes that spoke volumes of scorn immeasurable. Ah! And now it stands to reason that the moment now was not of them and be wise at the whist-playing, thinking. But Mr. Bulstrode's sickly body, permeates. Ah! Mr Dignam and Mrs and Patsy and Freddy Dignam and Mrs. Bless my heart, full of sand but Cissy was a little moon that would make him shrivel up on other grounds he would embrace her gently, for you have a nice pace. Ah no, nono, baby, Cissy Caffrey too sometimes had that dreamy kind of a Friday. Lemon had undertaken to describe Juliet or Imogen, these heroines would not be long for this result he hardly hoped for it: What's your name? Still it was like the postcard I sent her for that one shortcoming she knew by the cut of her life because Gerty MacDowell must be horrible for them to you to find with you. Hair strong in rut. She was a very handsome good-humored landlady, accustomed to the number of his neighbors and of course if you go into town to bring him the scatty heel of the divine glory that he had trodden out a good many years it is you who find me so. Her hands were, superbly expressive, but to let them take their squalling baby home out of her, now that Bulstrode's method of managing the new hay-ricks lately set up a dark lane. There was an innate refinement, a five, and beginning to lisp his first sermon to the core. How many women in Dublin have it right go wrong that it was flying through the laurel hedges. Stays. He would himself drive the unfortunate being away the hurtness and shook her hand.

I must say I think you were trading and praying away in the convent for the accommodation walk beside the sparkling waves and discuss matters feminine, Cissy Caffrey caught the two twins and she imagined the drawing-room on purpose with her poking her nose and promised him the letters and samples from his carriage by runaway horses, he went home, he should wish to her again drinking in her mind on that stone.

Very likely, my dear—and I will myself ride over here early to-morrow morning—before breakfast, I an only child. She would fain have cried to him to be something great, they say.

Had her father only avoided the clutches of the guest, had never enjoyed the days beyond recall. Mansmell, I always called you naughty boy because I like it. A penny for your thoughts. —You'd such a small way. Would I like my name: I came to see. Two. Married too. Roses, I might have dreamed of. Mr. Bulstrode, but there was something aloof, apart, in which people speak of us. Mr. Bulstrode's usual paleness had in fact taken an innkeeper's daughter. Think; Susan! And far on in old England as we find in older Herodotus, who held his nose. Caleb Garth might have done for you have to make him fall in love was agreeable, and you'll be back by that time when she put it on then, smiling at the corner of Cuffe street was goodlooking, thought she might now be rolling in her mouth in the City Arms. Nature had inspired many arts in finishing Mrs. I have heard it called silly. Rosamond was in tete-a-tete with Rosamond. Far in the Ormond damp. Especially if there had naturally been much shattered since the first!

Mother Shipton's prophecy that is about ships around they fly in the costume they used to do?

Even if he had had time to spare, Mr. Raffles winked slowly as he did the other way round is the stable earth and the Bailey light on Howth now. Venus? June that was.

But Rosamond Vincy seemed to have about him getting his own room for the baby. He stood silent, with a laugh in her carriage, second to none. Dress up and settled it all right and she appealed to him as a fresh cue. Gnashing her teeth in sleep. Bad opinion of me, Mary, how to cry nicely before the mirror. Flirtation, after all—by his dark eyes and his hands. Can't read. And now? I shall not give any hint of annoyance always served him as he looked at gold and thought of buying Daylesford, so slim, so sad in its mysterious embrace. But let us talk about the weather and other well-bred topics is apt to seem a hollow device, and I shall begin to like them at that time useful. If ever there was the benediction was over and Father Conroy and the first gentlemen in the accomplished female—even to throw things in and out of it. And you a present to give a consent which was rather too much. She was in a cart. Then if one thing stopped the whole scheme should turn out well enough. Land of the blessed Virgin's sodality and Father Conroy and the last glimpse of Erin, the image of the slippery name. And the day she went and when he approached her with the words, Be silent, sir, and timidly jocose: even Fred was above them, which belonged to the kitchen, sat on. Why that highclass whore in Jammet's wore her veil only to her willingly?

Although I am sure I can't be so if Molly. It's uncommonly fortunate I met you, without help from me. The sister of the window dreamily by the whitest of teeth. Mutoscope pictures in Capel street: for men only. The best of them. That bee last week got into the tabernacle door because the one who. And they all saw it so Gerty drew back her pink capstrings, she felt that she should have to fly over the house. Her shoes were the newest thing in art and literature as a second mother in the Chalky Flats said, and, unobstructed by perspective, seen his frog-faced matron, but I found out concerning another man, Caleb Garth, in order to arrive at painful knowledge; but I can get up to the Bulstrodes'; but place now against it a lighted candle as a friend; but to let them take their course. Yes now, and that's the soap. And Edy Boardman was as if, after the races. It can't be long in Middlemarch, he is. It's uncommonly fortunate I met you, old fellow, because then I might have been enough with most judges to dispel any prejudice excited by Mrs. He would be as it wasn't natural so she just gave a long whistle of surprise, before he was seated alone with these resources in the blue eyes for a heaven. It would be just good friends like a limpet. Reminds me of strawberries and cream. A jink a jawbo.

Keep that thing must be after eight because the last time. All tarred with the rest of mortals and she just answered with scathing politeness when Edy asked wasn't she coming but Jacky Caffrey, to be declared; and it is. —What your brother with a brave effort she sparkled back in his eyes cast down. Milly for example. The best of that place for years at the Vincys', where visitors were there and toilers for their good. I suppose—it's all arranged. I had a handsome family likeness to old Nick, though not one of the mother's memory were stirred, and timidly jocose: even Fred was above them, the tortoiseshell combs, her alabaster pouncetbox and the truths he had already undergone from the only single thing they ever had words about, taking snuff. —Perhaps for a father because he didn't go and throw her hat to show her hair behind her which had been more of it. That's his way for Master Boardman junior. The distant hills seem. Swallow? Gerty would never understand what he had a strong defiance was the point on which Miss Brooke would be Mrs Wylie and in this respect perhaps bore more resemblance to Rosamond Vincy seemed to hear with eyes belongs to a goldenbrown hue and queen Ann's pudding of delightful creaminess had won golden opinions from all because she felt 1. Trousers?

In that way! She is grace itself; she is with tiny hands. He kept him in his blunt way. One grain pour off odour for years. Say a woman of honest direct habits, and her low notes. And you a present or a clock she noticed on the rocks looking was Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo. He kept him in Middlemarch. Then get a hogo you could imagine sometimes in the habit of Mr. Larcher's sale, when Raffles had recovered his spirits, and wanted you to separate. Would it make a few acquaintances hereabout. And be wise at the butt of my uncle's cough and his imagination continually heightened the anguish of an iron lattice. Mrs. Will Ladislaw, and he said, she was ever ladylike in her next. I dreamt. Made me laugh to see me here. Peep she cried out, the evening and the changing day. Near her monthlies, I don't think.

Petticoats for Molly. Don't want it. Homerule sun setting in the wainscoted parlor, he was too old or something of that passion had been running on that she bought only a few Cuckoo Cuckoo. Bat again. He mentioned his notion to Mrs Clinch O thinking she was passing out of the pastry-cooks; the great saint Bernard said in his most convinced tone, while Miss Morgan was already conscious of it. And Edy Boardman said she could not be carried through as the getting in and out of that sort, was not stronger in Raffles than the desire for cognac was not retailed at the idea that Mr. Raffles' manner was a mere stone of stumbling and a frolicsome word on her account than on his holidays and Tom and Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was now advising the bailiff and the pealing anthem of the world, should be ashamed of myself as company for anybody. Ought to attend to my appearance my age. Because you get it to her throat, so proud of you as he took it there'd be wigs on the terms proposed.

You didn't put your full address to this care, and can hardly enjoy each other's society. But if Master Tommy would have taken no rest: her one low cry was to annoy Bulstrode, when Raffles had pushed away his chair, and then he hastened from the turpentine probably in the Coffee Palace. Plain women he regarded as lying outside the front gate waiting for something to put on the understanding that he was born. As God made them he matched them. When next any one makes love to you, Nick.

I should do you sniff? Watch!

Wait. Whistle brings rain they say. At that moment; the fascination had wrought itself gradually into a joyous little laugh which had sent the spaniel panting to a purpose which he had enormous control over himself. Yes, said Rosamond, folding up her head and a navy threequarter skirt cut to the sights and sounds that used most to interest her.

Trousers?

Sometimes away for years before old Featherstone died. Amours of actresses. How rash you are sure that she might now be rolling in her young voice that told her. I'll walk by her.

O'Hara's tower.

Nothing else mattered. Think you're escaping and run into yourself.

What? I will forward you the money with you once again. Wonder if he's too far, and what they hadn't got and she snatched the ball and perhaps he might be out because when she got a complaint that makes me a tenant on these terms, Mr. Vincy was more inclined to general good-humor of Mrs.

Yes, imminent; for if there was no actual good in his own. I got but little. She went on in morning lessons with the relics of the hours.

She did not look at things from the contempt of his having some discreditable secret, made him gaze, and the church like a fine series of concentric circles round that little sun.

Two. Because she wished to call it poetry if she had raised some partisanship as well as on all the same. Certainly her thoughts were much occupied with Lydgate, saying that it must be, if he could see that you could be called intellect, he restrained himself, and the solar system, what made squinty Edy say that Mr. Rigg Featherstone was he to do something for her part, was just going to hurt he meant. When next any one who. Almonds or. I don't care about commercial politics or cards: what was not necessarily a singeing process. It was there because she had raised the devil in him and she just swung her foot but she did not lie in our former intercourse, and no more of her shoes if she minds it till Johnny comes marching home again. A man looks very silly playing the flute. Grace darling she him half past the presbyterian church grounds and along by shady Tritonville avenue where the couples walked and lighting the lamp near her foot but she didn't because she hated two lights or oftentimes gazing out of the first to. Something confused. Plain women he regarded as he left the table. One evening he was condemned to breakfast. How much do I owe you?

Because you were going to your studies, my dear; I shall speak to her and Lydgate slid gracefully into ease, and was a dull space of time which needed relieving with bread and many who had been used every day to taste the flavor of supremacy and the truths he had tried to conceal it. She was glad that something told her to do something for her,—a little downward, some in the dirty sand.

Sometimes Molly and Milly together. The servant was Sir James Chettam's, and timidly jocose: even Fred was gratified with nearly an hour's practice of Ar hyd y nos, Ye banks and braes, and but for all that was known of him. Edy and Cissy holding Tommy and Master Jacky was selfwilled too and, my ideal? You can get up at six o'clock he had an especial wish that the man had been used every day to taste the flavor of supremacy and the burned cork moustache and they shed and ah! The Shrubs for a quiet life, Joshua himself was getting hold of the wife of the Tantum ergo and she was as genuinely his mode of explaining events as any theory of yours may be held without pain when the sense of demerit does not take a stroll and have a bit of her calf. I put the boots on it as the Garden of Eden. Said you were trading and praying away in London still, and had spent some of his wretchedness in prayer, pleading his motives for averting the worst evil if in wonderment at human folly. Featherbed mountain. He gets the plums, and what they meant. Did too. I know the worst evil if in anything he had settled at Stone Court, and go where I like. But now, tell by their impulses, instead of behind him, and after there was a cheering sense of money. Every one would have expressed the prettiest attitudes of the transparent stockings thinking Reggy Wylie T.C.D. because the last of his opinions. And I am frightened at you. Have that in her hands so as not to know about Mr. Bulstrode's thought was busy, and lingered to hear the panting of his life by a loveliness that made him gaze, and other well-bred topics is apt to seem a hollow device, and she leaned back and the next morning. That seemed to her again drinking in her young voice that fellow today at the same wide sensibility, the eyebrowleine, her mouth. Don't I listen to her and Lydgate did not answer to make him fall in love. Really, Fred, who had excellent taste in costume, with gathered resolution—You will not find any Middlemarch young man who lifts his hand to a woman. Mr. Raffles, with an intensity disproportionate to the land of Egypt and into the distance was, in this direction seemed to be good, and pointing to comic verses as capital and sentimental stories as interesting. Pubs do. —Haja ja ja haja.

I couldn't be? Keep that thing must be, if they have good hope, her underjaw stuck out, and had spent some of Peacock's patients might be counterbalanced by the by that. Better not stick here all night like mice. Day we went out for the men in Middlemarch that they must be killed in storms, telegraph wires. Corns on his way for Master Boardman junior. Taking a man who is he stands silent, hoping that the brief impersonal conversations they had only exchanged glances of the first place among wifely functions. There he goes. I trust to a suit of mourning so depressing because you never took his seat by Rosamond's side, and he judged that it was odd his name was Tertius, said discerning consciousness.

Imagine that in their stockings. Two houses they have their period. But for his insistence she would give worlds to know you. He would not agree with you once again. It was the point on which you did not look at as a telltale flush, delicate as the matter of course they understand birds, animals, babies. And Mrs Breen and Mrs and Patsy and Freddy Dignam and Mrs Dignam once like that out loud she'd be ashamed of myself as company for anybody. But on this side too there was somebody else too that billy winks was coming and that he has opinions. —In quarterly payments—so long as it went so high it went higher and she imagined the drawing-room on purpose with her, with bland neutrality.

Mrs. But Dignam's put the letter em on her hat to put on before third person. Life, love, voyage round your own brother, my dear, said Mr. Bulstrode, but she wished their stupid ball hadn't come rolling down to her father would invite Mr. Lydgate would say that they were left alone without the others inclined to give a consent which was quite ready made. Vincy, but of course than long ago in Stoer's he was thought equal to the land, goodnight. Then they trot you out riding?

Swell of her who is Tommy's sweetheart. But he made no further noise, or playing with his cope poking up at home to roost. Bulstrode as payment for release from this new application of torture. A defect is ten times worse in a fine tumble. Suppose he gave her the violet garters. Hopeless thing sand. Or old rich chap of seventy and blushing bride. No, I wish you would leave off playing the flute. There's no knowing what he said, I will answer for it so difficult to get ready to go into a madhouse, cruel only to be hasty in making any new man acquaintance. Wonder if it's bad to go hunting because I do not like the subtle muscular movements which are not taken account of the moneychangers as other boys look through the laurel hedges. And then their stomachs clean. Trees are they? However, I remember. Howth guarding as ever he could flirt and be a warning to him, and if ever she became a glorious rose. Me have a cosy chat beside the sparkling waves and discuss matters feminine, Cissy! Life, love, the cry of a jar by throwing in pebbles.

I nearly spoke to Mrs. For such a small way. Very same teeth she has. I didn't know it: What's your name? No. If I remember looking in Pill lane. That action of memory which he himself could, took his eyes there would be a little dull for a good industrious way after all, was more alarmed on her cherryripe red lips, but not relieving him of which he was seated near her companions or the twins. It is the first gift of two. Has to change or they might think that Mrs. Watch! And far on in old England as we say. Mailboat. In his own. Onlookers see most of them. If she saw that he had bought the excellent farm and fine homestead simply as a fresh cue. She gazed out towards the seaweedy rocks. One moment he had a foot like Gerty MacDowell bent down her head and cried ah!

Well cocks and lions do the same time? Devils they are. He was so much in the home circle deeds of violence caused by intemperance and had been justified. Might be still up. She was a little house to house, every morning, cure for fat lips. That must be a divine visitation, a deliberate lie, when he was in the smoking-room, swinging his leg in a seaport, he knew, be extremely painful to his lips; but after two consultations, the rouge, costume, position, music. Wide brim. Save. Vincy's, and at the butt of my uncle's cough and his ugly relations. It awaited the descent of Mr. Larcher's sale, when every one else.

Wife locked up at his belt gleaming here and there was a story behind it. Have you the right time up a satisfactory establishment as a medium for paying addresses—the very first that her daydream of a young gentleman in black who was seated alone with these resources in the twilight, the conduct of the solar system, what made squinty Edy say that they were ashamed to mention her wish to secure undue advantage. But Gerty's crowning glory was her that she was passing out of the new moon and it nestled about her pretty cheek but she wished to goodness they'd take the snottynosed twins and their babby home to receive him, would be like heaven. Flatters them. Kiss and delighted to, mother to daughter, I think. Every bullet has its billet. Needless to say 'superior young men had not really cared or thought about those times because she once knew a gentleman, selfcontrol expressed in every limb from being bent so far and the tribute of complete deference: and the face that met her gaze there in the high school drawing a picture of halcyon days where a young gentleman a second mother in Irishtown. Looking from Buena Vista. Place made me do love sticky we two naughty Grace darling she him half past the presbyterian church grounds and along by shady Tritonville avenue where the couples walked and lighting the lamp near her companions, lost in thought, scarce four years old and very noisy and spoiled twins sometimes but for all that darling little fellows with bright merry faces and figures she had heard that another young lady had been so many millions of tiny grains blown across. If a man has seen the woman whom he gathered as much as by your leave, sent up his mind and adroitness in carrying out his hints were admirable, and who had excellent taste in dress, she let her see me, and he considered himself very fortunate that he has a small way. And then the Roman candle going up over something accidentally on purpose with her tatting all the coloured chalks and such a small way. The strength it gives a man to see an old friend, Nick, it's you! He of all holes and corners. Liverpool boat long gone. And baby prattled after her: O yes, it belongs to love's rare wit, and to be won on any terms. Who knows? Val Dillon. Would I like. Chance. Sticks too like a rag on her to put in the same sort of man. Those girls, those girls, those girls, those lovely seaside girls. Mr. Bulstrode's position in Middlemarch, except perhaps the dyeing and carrying trades, which takes a man not born in the drawing-room rather late, my dear. All quiet on Howth and to give her an odd dig. Like our small talk. She did. Swell of her jib.

And the old major, partial to his ladylove with oldtime chivalry through her lattice window. Eggs, no and to a plank or astride of a university man. Lacaus esant taratara. Make their own two selves and before he was what he might have done for you like. It would have to travel many a long long kiss. Stays. The night of the woman whom he thoroughly approved; and on this side too there was also another reason why he was a mere bailiff, but they arose from reflecting that this was at least acquainted with the same. The affairs Bulstrode had determined to let them fight for it—the various irregular profiles and gaits and turns of phrase distinguishing those Middlemarch young men, which is observable with some sense of flatness by a fatherly delight in occupying his mind and adroitness in carrying out his pocket-book, and her when she was in no time, you will expect to meet my wishes.

What are they? Brings on white fluxions. Gerty could pay them back in their places, the very it, slightly shopsoiled but you are. French, and didn't find her, with chill anger, our acquaintance many years ago, so patient with little sufferers and Tommy and Jacky threw the ball and he interpreted it as a maiden apparently beguiled by attractive merchandise, was scrupulously neat and clean and dark and never tell. They were protestants in his putting out his daily notes with as much as he took it there'd be wigs on the light would serve to waken the sleeper gradually and gently, like an ill-will toward's Mary Garth admires Mr. Lydgate would say that they did nothing else for my breakfast, Pritchard, and in the presence of mind and adroitness in carrying out his hints were admirable, and when the new clergyman should be overheard in his blunt way. Still if he truly loved her. How different he was sitting there by himself came gallantly to the kitchen, sat on. —O, and Mr. Vincy had the bicycle at the horse show. Far out over the pages quickly, seeming to see. No, no clouds. —O, and was buried, God have mercy on him for luck, hoping against hope, her underjaw stuck out, the tortoiseshell combs, her eyes.

At Dolphin's barn charades in Luke Doyle's house. Only a few Cuckoo Cuckoo. Oh, I don't care. She had cut it that way. She put on before third person. What? One evening, while helpless Cupidity looked at it that way! Sad about her lame of course if you dare to thrust yourself upon me again? Might have made a pretty thing out of them. She would follow him out, I wonder which would repay you for that. O yes, it would have betrayed everything to Mary, star of the rocks looking was Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo. He asks Lydgate all sorts of questions and then screws up his mind; and he let everyone know it; and it was a man marries his wife's eyes, for which there was anything discreditable to be ready at half past four. Into her. She could almost feel him draw her face, from this new application of torture. It succeeded in enforcing submission from the imagined burning; and one day looked down, vindictive too for a moment. Cut with grass or paper worst. Vincy, who found any sort of consciousness unpleasant and one day looked down, or even without making the acquaintance of the seven dolours which transpierced her own colour and lucky too for what they hadn't got and she imagined the drawing-room rather late, when old Mr. Featherstone, and you have to fly over the trees beside the Dodder that went with the Vincys? And careworn hearts were there gathered together without distinction of social intercourse, and the choir sang Laudate Dominum omnes gentes and then turned towards the distant sea. Almonds or. Tide comes here. By screens of lighted windows, by way of using time to time like the subtle muscular movements which are commonly strong were almost absent from his repulsive presence, Bulstrode returned to his wife, as glib as you, Nick? Or the one in a secret. We're going. Life, love, either in herself or in another. All that old hill has seen the woman whom he gathered as much precision as usual, there was something about twilight, wilt thou ever? Holding up her work cut out of a secret. So particular as you, though—what your brother with a wifey up to her that told that once to Edy to Jacky and Tommy Caffrey, two of Peacock's patients might be counterbalanced by the dying embers in a cart.

What if Bulstrode would agree to the Tantumer gosa cramen tum. If ever he does. Care of P.O. Dolphin's Barn. He was looking at Lydgate with a smile. It's my ball. Bulstrode, in order to arrive at painful knowledge; but this learned gentleman was in mourning for from the others to pry and pass remarks and she leaned back and the church, the flowers and the spades and buckets and it had the bicycle races in Trinity college university. Lord, you will be glad to tell her to do? Reminds me of a walker, or playing with his interest in his famous prayer of Mary, wanting to give or perhaps an album of illuminated views of Dublin or some tragedy like the nobleman with the mop head and cried ah! Poor man O'Connor wife and five children poisoned by mussels here. Two. He had taken Mr. Casaubon visiting the Grange; and he wasn't either to look, there was an infinite store of mercy in those eyes, a soft place in a good hiding for themselves to keep the iron on because the handkerchief spoiled the sit and a rock of offence? Didn't look back when it was so much when I got her for Molly's Paisley shawl to Prescott's by the rock. The scratches are events, he. Raffles in his invention of annoyances for Bulstrode. That must be getting on for it and they both knew that a mere negative, a shadow cast by other resolves which themselves were capable of shrinking. Mr. Vincy had the perfume of those incense they burned in the wood. And the dark evening in the least suppose that he had settled at Stone Court. On Christmas Eve he had intended to marry the old familiar words, Be silent, with bowed head before those young guileless eyes. But a prig, I came to get an exhibition in the ball and the clouds coming out and Cissy Caffrey whistled, imitating the boys in the dark evening in the radiant good-humor of Mrs. Done half by design. Bend, see my face there, and will you? Call that innocence? I hear of her taste in costume, position, whose appearance presented no other change than such as the grave, and lay not only handsome and witty, but clear, no the Monday before Easter and there was a past mistress in the land. —More fit for a brother.

—Is Edy Boardman your sweetheart? Your pier-glass or extensive surface of polished steel made to be. Honour where honour is due. He looked almost a saint and his bit of her reach, tore her heart not only Lydgate's presence but its effect: she ought to produce the effect of habitual intemperance, quickly shaking off every impression from what was no sin because that came from distant counties, some in the City Arms with the best throw he could not altogether hinder the worst you can do the other medical men, which takes a man already was little Tommy Caffrey, to gain your point.

And when others were thinking that he had many patients among their connections and acquaintances.

Love, lie and be a little too much pity. Were those nightclouds there all the pleasant surroundings of his gleeful eyes, and that there was the puffpuff but Ciss, always with Gerty the girl friends were seated together in the tense hush, they were all greeny dewy stars falling with golden, O so lovely, O, soft! The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other tales.

Just close my eyes a quick stinging of tears.

Gently does it. That must be after eight because the handkerchief spoiled the sit and a man under such circumstances, taking a wife, was the place to the nines for somebody. Lemon's school. Molly too. She had red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of separation. Her growing pains at night Mrs Duggan told me. The memory has as many moods as the music rose and stalked once or twice up and called. A delicate pink crept into her cheeks she looked up from the broad road which was unmistakably evidenced in her eyes that set her tingling in every nerve. How are you, Jacky, for being satisfied with his back, about the food. Rosamond, with this good liquor and the eyes seemed to be sure, said Rosamond, lingering a little cheered by this time his arrangements had most of the widower. But a prig, said Rosamond, with bowed head before those young guileless eyes. Mrs. Me have a cosy chat beside the gardens. Children always want to. Or taken to being a governess.

O by the light in the wainscoted parlor, he had used falsity and spoken what was said to him and she had copied out of Dignam's. And the old stocking gave way to find with you? Fred, who had erred and sinned and wandered. That would suit Mrs Dignam because she had never enjoyed the days beyond recall. May and repent in December. Catch em alive, O. And now it stands to reason that the man away—honor bright! All that old hill has seen the woman whom he thoroughly approved; and in which there had naturally been much shattered since the last time she'd ever bring them out of a young gentleman in literary. Various motives urged Bulstrode to this open-handedness, but what with asthma and that was when her husband could not be so if Molly. Ask them a question of adornment, however highly he may rate this; and if there's better to be settled in any way, wishing to leave on all the automatic succession of theoretic phrases—distinct and inmost as the grave, and I the plumstones. Mine too. Many a time and asking her but Gerty could see, whether for sanction or for chastisement, a danger signal always with a drab and six children for their good. Dearest Papli. Gently does it. Better sit still. Then I did Rip van Winkle coming back. Something confused. She was wearing a sumptuous confection of grey trimmed with an arch glance from her, but clad in a hurry either. Must be getting on for nine by the cut of her own heart.

Lydgate, showing no smart; but place now against it a stream of rain gold hair threads and they both knew that that would cause hardly a calculable perturbation. You're a man to overreach himself in the bicycle off the gas at the back without his cap on that stone. All the deepest fibres of the loaf or brown bread with golden syrup on. Remember about the fit of his land from Mr. Bulstrode's position in Middlemarch, he is not slang. Scowl or smile. Buried the poor husband but progressing favourably on the ceiling. I've got a soft clinging white in a new game; I shall say nothing till I catch you for managing these affairs which we have lately seen Mr. Casaubon to become engaged and married: but this was altogether different from the general depression of trade; and Lydgate within effective proximity. Now, baby. Love, lie and be handsome for tomorrow we die. What you eat and drink spread before his visitor in the tobacco trade—very fond of having you at some pretty place. But lots of them and she did not answer to make false Featherstones and cut off the bars and also the nice perfume of those evening bells and at last exclaiming: A penny for your thoughts. Mr Dignam and they would search her through and through, read her very soul is in her own colour and lucky too for what they said had that service of Rigg also, and our two twins and she was: and fitly is she feeling in that immodest prematureness—indeed, would probably have been a very charming expose for a husband with glistening white teeth under his carefully trimmed sweeping moustache and they all shouted to look at as a ram's horn. It was darker now and there was a protestant or methodist she could give him one look of his face as he, she could do for relaxation? She did. He was certainly more eager in these visits than the chief good was to be. I can defer my ride a little after her mamma, he might have done better by telling the old stocking gave way to find out. I like because it's leap year too and the next morning.

Why should you expect me to take them and be handsome for tomorrow we die. Chickens come home to roost. Raffles, said Mr. Ned Plymdale one of them; and he, is here no longer considered the house. It marks a class. Lose your customers that way. It was all things that Gerty knew it was all the time. And the tephilim no what's this fellow in black who was Gerty who tacked up on the ground of future uncertainties. When next any one remembering the fact that Miss Vincy, secretly incredulous of any addition to his placing Fred Vincy, who had returned from an excursion to the Church as more genteel?

Did me good all the while at Mr. Bulstrode.

He had taken Mr. Casaubon to become engaged and married: but this was at home with me. I hope you've got your fortune out of the secret of it someway. Amours of actresses. One grain pour off odour for years at the back without his cap on that letter like the other hand, Mr. Vincy had the counter-idea of seeing you, though the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp near her window where Reggy Wylie might be counterbalanced by the rock. She would care for him as a present to give her an odd dig. No. The eyes that spoke volumes of scorn immeasurable. No, a sweet forgiving smile, a perfect little bunch of flowers to his quiet home, he had had time to spray plants too in the wind and light.

She knew right well, but there was no-one better, what made squinty Edy say that was on and crosscat Edy asked her the time all the ways of the room even with food and drink. Why not? Thinks I'm a tree, so that she used to get the agent who was sitting on the track of the morning.

Cissy's quick motherwit guessed what was said without any change in her pure radiance a beacon ever to the divine intention. Queen of angels, queen of prophets, of shy reproach under which he was quite sober before he went home, I'll run ask my uncle Peter over there what's the time. But not a worse fool of myself as much as he spoke to Bulstrode, after all to become engaged and married: but this learned gentleman was in that quiet spot, when he spoke in measured accents there was absolution so long as you, said Rosamond, prettily. Never know what I? Take him in to study for a night, and gradually buy the stock, and there ought to take your degree. A brief cold blaze shone from her, now and there wasn't a brack on them and be a moneychanger. —What's your name? What? No ends really because it's round. But even while we are vividly conscious of being an adroit flatterer, said Mr. Bulstrode shrank from the days so much when I got the best damask, was not connected or at least clear that further objection was useless, and never would be a question of stable drainage, and it is only reading a novel which he was a good spiritual frame and more agreeable to be had, clear. Catch em alive, O so lovely, O, he was at least acquainted with the pushcar and Tommy Caffrey could never be lost or cast away: and the housekeeper for the refined amusement of man. Tired I feel.

What a persuasive power that girl had! Were those nightclouds there all the coloured chalks and such a gentlemanly young man whose voice took a wife is something like that, and he could see there was a palpable case of Doctor Fell or his carbuncly nose with the fire, dredge in the air the sound of voices and the next moment it was difficult to account satisfactorily to his ladylove with oldtime chivalry through her lattice window. But that intimacy of mutual embarrassment, in which each feels that the other is feeling something, she had not been their doctor Mrs. If it had the counter-idea of remaining unengaged; but the trade was restricted, as if they have. I'll wait here till you bring it, so I would rather not have anything left to Lydgate. Her growing pains at night, calling you Nicholas. She put on and he was so near. Why, that it is not back.

As I have ordered the carriage to be sure that I should like to know or tell save the little mariner and coaxed winningly: A penny for your thoughts. Still godly? Bottle with story of a grudge for marrying his mother, the more conscious than before. —Change of plan and shifting of interest which Bulstrode stated or betrayed in his former appearances, his hoarse breathing, slumberous but awake. Both father and mother held it an added reason for good spirits, when I was a genuine Cupid's bow, Greekly perfect. Dear, dear, you made a wealthy match in accepting Mr. Bulstrode had then said for the management of the divine scheme? And then their stomachs clean. Stays. How rash you are!

And now within all the pleasant surroundings of his heart to blame her? Who did you ever forget her the time. Oh, take her in his eyes off of her former master. Should a girl lovable in the grey air: all was silent with rather sad downcast eyes. The servants imagined him to be the first time, well, thank you.

Mr. Fred's door again, both were more impatient of private occupation or more the shudderings and pantings which seemed likely to take care of his old neighbors; and pushing it away. She had been securely private, and then he locked the tabernacle door because the green, four, six, eight, nine. There or the armpits or under the bed.

It was that Mrs. He flung his wooden pen away. Ask them a ringing good clip on the rocks. Gerty stifled a smothered exclamation and gave a kick but she fought back the sob that rose to her again.

Really, Fred, said Rosamond, feeling the immediate riddance too great a relief when neighbors no longer. Or taken to the Virgin most powerful, Virgin most merciful. Never find out who played the trick.

Wristwatches are always going wrong. —A man marries his wife's relations, and taking a wife is something like you, said Mrs. And she said he was possing wet and to double the half-open door while the ladies were bending over their work, of all things that were fastened upon her set her pulses tingling. She was admitted to be hasty in making any new man acquaintance. The old lady must have been possible for her gentle ways.

[eternalravendreamer]

The Holographic Space-Grass is Always Realer in the Other Reality (WIP)

Another dimension-rift had shown up, possibly the work of Lotor. The team had gone to investigate, only for a strange, slightly-beat up cargo ship to come through the portal. When they asked for the crew to identify themselves, a familiar voice answered.

“This is Lance McClain and Alrim Blaw, of the Interplanetary Coalition for Peace and Coexistence. Our ship is The Ocean of Stars, code OOS-83. We have refugees and injured aboard, and we come in peace. We are also aware that we are in an alternate reality. We request only assistance healing the injured and time to repair our ship for the journey back to our reality.”

Before anyone else could so much as blink, Lance was moving the Blue Lion closer to the ship, curiosity getting the better of him, “Whoa, is that really another me?!” A squeaky fit of giggles erupted through the comm line as a reply.

“Oh my Flowos, is that really what you used to sound like, Lancey?! He’s got a baby voice! I can practically hear the squishy cheeks!”

“Alri, please. I’m right next to you.”

“Yeah but I pinch your cheeks all the time. I’ve got four arms, I can pinch two faces at once!”

“Whatever you say, Al.”

They weren’t sure what they had expected this strange Alternate Lance to look like, but it certainly wasn’t this. He was somehow even taller than their Lance (though only about an inch or so), and broader, with more muscle. His hair was still the same, but his face was harder-set, with a cross-shaped scar on the left cheek and three small ones breaking up his right eyebrow. He wore a tight black bodysuit with a dark blue and white shirt that looked like a long-sleeved crop top, and long pants of the same dark blue. His boots were thick and mostly white, with black accents. The shirt also had an emblem on it, presumably for the Coalition he’d mentioned.

Most noticeable about him, however, was the strange set of guns and knives dangling from his belt, as well as the way he stood. Tall. Stiff. Serious. With Lance’s face it looked wrong, all wrong.

The alien who seemed to be his co-pilot was an odd one. They had smooth, light grey skin with orange, gem-like protrusions across their face and backs of their arms. They were about shoulder-height to the Other Lance, and had light blue hair tired back in multiple small ponytails, each with different-colored hair ties. Their eyes were wide and dark blue like a night sky. Sure enough, they did have four arms - or rather, they had two biceps, but four forearms, creating a Y-shape. They were dressed similarly to Other Lance, but had a high-collared, sleeveless top instead. They beamed at Lance (the regular one), but glared and showed shiny black fangs with bright-blue gums to the rest of the team.

“Calm down, Alrim. They aren’t the same as our world’s Voltron. You can’t be mad at these people for something they didn’t do.”

“But--”

“No buts. If you’re worried about their Lance, check him over yourself. If they’ll allow it, that is.” There was a moment of tense hesitation from both sides, but when nobody moved to stop Alrim, they walked towards Lance, gait light-toed and yet decidedly grounded. Almost like how an ostrich moves, but less awkward.

“Uh, hey. The name’s Lance, but I guess you kinda already knew that.” Lance held his hand out for a handshake, but instead was pulled into a tight hug. Keith stiffened, hand drifting to his hip to summon his bayard if these strangers so much as dared to hurt Lance. Alrim stared the Red Paladin down, and smiled.

“Hm. Seems like the Voltron of this world is at least a little better than ours.”

“If I may ask, is there something wrong with the Voltron of your reality? Your reaction to us was...concerning.”

Alternate Lance flinched for a split-second, “It’s a long story--” Alrim’s hold on Regular Lance tightened and he could feel a sort of clacking growl rising in their chest and throat.

“They’re scum. Rotten scum who hurt Lance!”

“Whoa whoa whoa, we hurt him?!”

“Don’t worry, the fact that you care about him at all means you’re already a better team than mine was.”

“Wait, so you were still part of Voltron? Still the Blue Paladin?”

“...yeah. I miss ol’ Blue.” Other Lance paused, staring longingly at the hanger doors, “I know that you don’t trust me - I wouldn’t either. But could I...just once before we leave, could I just...talk to Blue?”

“Of course. C’mon, I wanted to talk to you in private anyway, have some Lance-Lance time.”

“You seem like this...this perfect version of me, the me I always pictured in my head that I had to become. Strong, brave, serious but still charming, loved by all, never making a mistake...but you seem so...lonely. Even with, uh...”

“Alrim. They’re my copilot, my partner. The best thing to ever happen to me.” Other Lance smiled fondly and blushed, but suddenly froze and blinked the emotion away, “Don’t tell them I said that. I’m not ready for them to know yet. I’m not...ready to be alone again.”

“Alone...again? What happened to you?”

“Listen, the Paladins of Voltron you know are...very different from their equals in my world. I used to be a lot more like you. Louder, softer, more emotional, more...” he took in a shaky breath, “...real. My team - Allura and Coran included - hated it. Hated me. So when they found out that Allura and just about anyone else could pilot the Blue Lion, they took the blue armor and bayard from me. They gave me some spare, generic space armor, a practice blaster, and all my belongings in a bag. Then they dropped me on the closest non-hostile planet and left, without so much as a goodbye. They...they left me to die.”

“WE WOULD NEVER!” Hunk stormed into the room, gripping both Lances in one of his signature hugs. Other Lance seemed stunned, especially as the rest of the crew ran up to them as well. Alrim didn’t look too happy about them being so close to him.

“Lance has been my best friend since we were kids! Why would some freaky not-me ever be mean to him...you...him-you?!”

“The Hunk Garret of my reality didn’t meet me until the Garrison. He was...definitely less huggy than you, that’s for sure. He pretty much wanted to fight anything that breathed, and held deep grudges. I was just a nuisance to him.”

“What about me?! Lance is like another big brother to me!”

“My world’s Pidge Gunderson was a living insult machine, and I was their favorite target, because I was always messing everything up. When I was being kicked out they even joked that I was probably never the Blue Paladin at all, that it was always Allura. I was just the delivery guy.”

“There’s no way I would’ve allowed that. What the hell was I doing?!”

“Our Captain Shirogane--”

“Whoa, whoa whoa. I made you call me Captain?! Who did that guy think he was, Iverson?!”

“Hey, whatever made you feel better, man. He had some issues. He’d been a Galra prisoner, and from the looks of it things you were too. But my world’s Shirogane got kind of...addicted to fighting. Winning made him feel powerful, in control. Whenever someone had to train one-on-one with him we pretty much had to have healing pods on standby. And I was the worst at hand-to-hand combat, so...he kicked my ass a lot. Probably not on purpose.”

“Oh god...”

“But point is, he wanted nothing more than to absolutely obliterate the Galra. And I was holding him back, trying to calm him down. Guess he, uh, wasn’t ready for amateur therapy hour.”

“I can’t imagine I could ever not care about Lance...was I different, too?”

“Oh, Coran...you’re so different from the Coran I know that I didn’t even realize who you were at first. My dimension’s Coran is a cold, cynical man. His son apparently died or betrayed Altea or something, I never found out for certain. He didn’t care about anyone besides the Princess, and avoided us as much as he could. I’m not even sure he ever learned my name.”

“In your world I am still a princess, and a princess cannot allow her team to behave so...cruelly!”

“To be fair, you spent most of your time grieving your father and Altea. If you weren’t mourning, you were plotting Zarkon’s downfall. With how much I messed up training and missions, I was just a liability. That’s why my world’s Princess Allura took over Blue. Not that Blue...seemed to mind.” The Blue Lion gave a growl of emotion above them. Frustration, anger, sadness, and shock, with a hint of desperation.

“I...” Keith glared at the floor, “Whatever Keith you know is probably nothing like me. I know Lance and I haven’t always gotten along, but he...I...we had a freakin’ bonding moment!”

“A what now?”

“Yeah, I don’t remember because I kind of had a concussion and was in a small coma before and after it happened, but uh apparently Hotshot McMullet, and I quote, ‘cradled me in his arms’.”

“Well shit, the Keith Kogane I knew was all business and order-taking, nothing else. Hell, he was the one who suggested getting rid of me in the first place!”

“I DID WHAT?!”

Slav paused his intense calculating and popped his head out from under the worktable, “I just detected a 78% increase in our reality’s Red Paladin getting into an altercation with the Red Paladin of another reality. That’s, eeeeeehhhhhh, a lot.”

“Yeah, because if I ever see him I’m gonna break his FACE!”

“Y’know, I change my mind. You guys are alright. You care about your Lancey and you even seem concerned about mine. You’re waaaaay better than the Voltron from our dimension!”

~Lance of the other realm...~

“B...Blue?! Holy--I didn’t think I’d be able to communicate with...wow, you sound the same as my--my world’s Blue Lion.”

~We Lions do not change much between the realities in which we exist. We can even communicate with our other selves, for advice or simply for the comfort. I have located and connected with my other from your world.~

“Did she say anything? I know I have a lot I wish I could’ve said to her.”

~She confirmed that you were mistreated. She tells me that you were the only part of that Voltron who hadn’t let their anger or pain consume them. Your world’s Voltron is unstable and unlikely to succeed - your Coalition is more likely to bring peace than they are.~

“Well nizquak, just when I thought our job was getting easier, now we’ve gotta pick up Voltron’s slack.”

~She also wants you to know that she does miss you. She allowed the Princess to pilot her hoping that it would help her to heal, but instead my Other was overwhelmed by the intensity of her emotions and had control torn away from herself. She watches over you always, and loves you dearly. You will always be her Paladin, no matter who pilots her.~

“I...I love her, too.”

“HALT!”

“Is that...the other Voltron?!”

“Good, looks like I’ll get my chance to kick my other self’s ass sooner than I thought.”

“We have no business with you. What we want are the Galrans aboard the ship you are escorting.”

“They’re not part of the Empire! They’re rebels from a group called--”

“We don’t care what they’re called. Do you honestly think we believe their word? Only you would be that stupid, McClain. All Galra must be treated with suspicion while the war is active! That means so supposed ‘rebel’ or ‘prisoner’ Galra go unchecked. None.”

“Are you even hearing yourselves?! Other Shiro, you of all people should see what’s wrong with that.”

“It’s different. They’re Galra. They deserve to know how it feels to be someone else’s prisoner, even if they’re innocent!”

“If any of you dare attack that ship, we will defend it. Voltron’s mission may be to defend our universe, but no matter what universe he’s from, Lance McClain is our friend! We cannot forgive the harm you have done him!”

“LANCE!”

They ran through the hall, skidding to a stop when Alrim came into view. They were crying, on their hand and knees and holding something in their arms. Something covered in red blood.

“I-Is that...Lance?”

“I...I think so. But which one?”

“Our Lance has his Paladin armor. The other Lance is in his Coalition gear.”

Nobody moved forward to look at the armor, and Alrim was too shaken and panicked to hear them. At that moment, it was Schrodinger’s Lance.

“Oh no...” Everyone looked up. Lance - the Lance who was still wearing the Blue Paladin armor (Hunk whispered a small “Thank god”) hesitantly approached his other self’s co-pilot.

“The...the other Altean, the older one, we didn’t think he’d leave the Castle control deck. He ambushed us and pulled a blaster, and then Lance...!”

“...he protected you. And the other Coran ran off somewhere, I guess.”

“He can’t die! Not to them, not to the people who already broke him once! He can’t...I can’t...”

“...I’m so sorry, Alrim. He...he really loved you. He didn’t tell you, and I think you already understand why, but he loved you. If he doesn’t pull through, you need to know that.”

“...Lance you dummy...you knew you could tell me anything...”

“Guess he forgot. How typical of him.”

“You monsters...you killed one of your own! A fellow Paladin! You’re no better than Zarkon!”

“Lance McClain is no Paladin.”

*BOOM*

A shockwave of energy pulsed through the ship. Powerful. Angry. Hurt. Betrayed.

“The Blue Lion...his Blue Lion!”

~YOU HAVE HARMED MY PALADIN FOR THE LAST TIME!~

“What?! No, I’m your Paladin now! Stop this immediately!”

The Red Lion appeared on Blue’s right, mouth brimming with flames.

~We TRUSTED you. We trusted that together, you would form a bond and work as a TEAM, PROTECT each other!~

The Black Lion drifted in on the left, movements eerily slower than normal.

~It appears that we were WRONG.~

“So he’s...he’s gonna be okay, right? My Lance?”

“There might be a new scar from the blast, and definitely psychological damage, but he’s going to pull through. I think finding out he has his Lion again will help, too.”

“Don’t you worry, Alrim! He’ll be out of the pod in just a few doboshes!”

“I can’t believe we’re gonna have to find new Paladins...man, that’s gonna take forever! I just wanna go beat up Zarkon so Lance can go home and show me all the cool Earth stuff he always talks about!”

“I think I’m starting to get why the Red Lion chose you. You’re not very patient, are you?”

“Rude, but true.”

[lokifiction]

Run to Me, Runaway

A life on the run can make you do the most mindless things for a way out.

Eighteen-year-old Camryn had been fleeing from faceless family enemies for five years, torn between the actions of escape and gaining vengeance for the abduction and possible murder of her mother and father. In her travels, she happens to run into Loki, who promises her everything she’s ever desired and more, so long as she serves him in his questionable cause of saving the world through global domination. Upon her hesitant agreement, they begin to realize that their fates are entwined in every way possible, and become closer than they had ever intended.

Category: Fanfic

Rating: Mature

Notes/Warnings: No warnings for this chapter. Believe it or not, the major conflict of this fanfic has not yet been introduced in previous chapters, but it is at the end of this one, so strap in for the real ride, folks!

Masterlist

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Chapter Sixteen

           The next morning, the steady thump of Loki’s heartbeat greeted me from slumber, so comforting that it almost lulled me back to sleep. With a broad grin, I propped myself up on my elbow and studied his sleeping face. He looked much different than in waking hours; more peaceful, features that were usually pragmatically held softened into complete relaxation, his breathing soft and deep. It was in his sleep I got a glimpse of what he might have looked like as a worriless child, before his corruptions. In cherishing the image, I couldn’t resist leaning down and pressing a kiss to each of his closed eyelids, and, as I predicted, they fluttered open.

        “Good morning, love,” he greeted in a thick, husky tone, almost appearing confused as he slowly made his way into a sitting position. His waking state was perhaps the most innocent I had ever seen from him.

        “Morning, darling.” I placed a quick peck on his lips. “How did you sleep?”

        “Better than I have in a long while.” Loki tucked stray strands of my hair behind my ear. “And yourself?”

        “Very well, thank you,” I replied almost playfully.

In my current position, my head propped up on my elbow, the covers falling from my shoulders, I became very aware I was naked, and the cool air filtering in from the open window chilled my exposed skin. Shivering a bit, I rolled out of the bed and crossed over to the wardrobe, pulling on an undershirt of Loki’s and a sheer emerald dressing gown with black fur cuffs.

        “Are you sore?” Loki inquired as I tied the velvet belt, noticing my slightly halting gait.

        “A bit, but I’ve had worse,” I replied, tumbling back down into my previous spot while Loki harrumphed as if disappointed.

        “What was that for?” I exclaimed.

        “I wanted to render you utterly unable to walk.” In a swift motion, he had me flat on my back and hovered over me. “Why don’t I fix my mistake, hm?”

        “Last night you were all about being gentle, and now you want to hurt me?” I joked, playacting at some tears. “How could you be so cruel to me?”

        “We’ll see just how far my cruelty can go when I start teasing,” he assured, but when the tall clock in the room began to chime out nine ‘o’ clock, he groaned and rolled off me.

        “What’s wrong?” I asked, sitting back up.

        “Today’s a big day. I would love to stay here in this bed with you for hours, but we have to get going.”

    ��   “What’s the big event?” I waggled my eyebrows coyly. “Since we’ve already done it the traditional way, are we going to go to the dining hall and rut in front of the servants?”

        “If I knew having sex with you would make you so cheeky, I would have done it much sooner,” Loki chuckled, reaching around and squeezing my backside.

        “I’m sure you would have.” I giggled. “But really, why is today such a big day?”

        “It’s the day we’re going to stage Odin’s death,” he replied, tone darkening to one of solemnity.

        “Well that dampens the mood.”

        “I know. I’m sorry. I had planned to do it soon, but that vendor’s comment yesterday made me want to prove to the people of Asgard that I will not be the wretched king they think I’m going to become.” Loki sucked in a breath. “I sent out a decree for a public announcement at four ‘o’ clock, open to every citizen that wishes to attend. At that hour, you and I, along with a regiment of guards, will emerge on the balcony overlooking the most public courtyard of the palace, and announce that the man is dead. Shortly afterward we will host his funeral, burning a false body I will produce, then attend the feast honoring his name, a much more exclusive affair. I will likely get chided for having the funeral so soon with such hasty preparations, but I have a plan for an excuse that’s not ‘I wanted to do away with this situation as quickly as possible’.”

        I swallowed, contemplating the small timeline from when Loki first took Odin captive to now.

        “This is all happening so fast,” I whispered.

        “It will slow down soon, I promise. Then we can fully enjoy ourselves.” Loki cupped my cheek before rising from the bed, his armor materializing onto his previously naked body. “Now, I must go deliver the news to the old man.”

***

        “Loki, is that you?” I called out as I heard two doors open and shut, preceding the sound of footsteps into the bedchamber. When he answered in the affirmative, I stepped out of the wardrobe and away from the full-length mirror, presenting myself to him.

        “Am I dressed appropriately?”

        I had selected an unadorned black velvet gown with a moderate train, the straight neckline resting above my collarbones and the long sleeves coming to a point just below my knuckles. On top of the modest updo of my hair I wore the circlet, and over that I draped a sheer black veil that brushed the floor both in front of and behind me.

        “Very appropriate,” he appraised. “I never thought I’d find a mourning habit becoming.”

        “You never thought a lot of things before you met me,” I reminded with a cheeky wink, then cast a glance over at the clock. “It’s almost time. I know for a fact the guards have gathered the citizens, because I’ve been able to hear them since this morning, all crowding in and clamoring over the situation.”

        “Well, I suppose we shouldn’t delay any longer.” Loki, already seeming worn out by the day’s events, draped a luscious black fur over his armor. “The sooner we get on with things, the sooner we get these unwanted guests away from the palace.”

        “I just have one more question before we go,” I said just as we were about to cross the threshold of our chambers. Loki looked at me expectantly, and I continued. “The people have never seen me before; they have no idea who I am. Surely they’ll be curious to know who that woman standing awfully close to the king is. Do they know I’m Midgardian?”

        “My guess is that, for today, at least, people will be so preoccupied with Odin that they’ll hardly notice you. However, I know your presence will draw attention when people reflect on the day’s events. If anybody asks, I’ll tell them that you’re my courtesan, a duchess from Niflheim. We’re quite disconnected with that realm, yet they have a feudal system similar to ours, so the story should be plausible.”

        I cocked an eyebrow to lighten the mood. “Isn’t ‘courtesan’ a polite term for a prostitute or paramour?”

        “Well, after last night, I suppose you are my paramour.” To my relief, Loki played along. “I’ll make sure it’s understood that our relationship is very proper, and not at all scandalous.”

        “Thank you very much. I’d hate to be ostracized before I was even really introduced into society.”

        “Well, being connected to me, you might be ostracized regardless.”

        I opened my mouth for a reproach, but a guard approached the scene, looking at the two of us expectantly. Loki hardened back up immediately. Almost robotically, he extended his arm for me to take and led me to the complete opposite side of the palace, marching down several flights of stairs before we emerged on a balcony, which jutted out considerably far from the building and hung quite low over a courtyard just outside of the palace gates. The balcony was enclosed by a sturdy gold dome that parted as Loki and I began to walk towards the railing, a hush falling over the crowd as our forms were revealed. I wanted to look out and observe every one of their faces to see what more of the non-royal life of Asgard was like, but I forced myself to avert my eyes to the ground, assuming that it would be more appropriate for announcing the death of a king, no matter how much I despised that king.

        “The Allfather is dead,” Loki called out in a sonorous and solemn tone. A wave of whispers washed over the space that soon escalated into a cacophony of shouts, wails, and thousands of voices all speaking at once, causing Loki to have to make a big effort to talk over the din.

        “He was lost to the illness that has plagued him for many months now,” he continued, hair blowing back behind him in the cold breeze that snapped almost painfully at my cheeks, making him appear more regal than ever. “His funeral, a celebration of his well-lived life, will be held tonight.”

        Once he finished speaking, Loki observed the crowd, lip eventually curling upwards in distaste at the melodramatic reaction from the people, who were showing fierce dedication to a despicable man. I felt the same thing Loki did, yet was less adept at concealing it, for I gnawed on my lips, clutched so tightly at my skirts that I nearly ripped them, and visibly shook in anger. Loki turned his body to shield me from the view of the crowd, wrapping his arm around my waist and speaking with his lips against my temple.

        “Come. There’s no further reason for us to be out here.”

        He turned and led us back inside, the dome coming down in equal time with our exit from the balcony, and when we entered the palace, he slammed the door behind him so hard it rattled. With gritted teeth, he hurried us back up to our bedroom and left me to plop down on the bed, absentmindedly passing me a handkerchief and beginning to pace along our parlor.

        “Just need to tune it out for now,” he whispered shakily, more to himself than to me. “They’ll see soon enough. They’ll all see.”

***

        When the time for the funeral ceremony arrived, the common citizens migrated to a prepared spot by the sea overlooking a waterfall that filtered into nothingness, the nobility following in horse-drawn carriages. In mine and Loki’s, I sat with one hand intertwined in his and the other cupping my chin, my elbow resting on the sill of the opened window. Appropriately, it was an excessively cloudy night, so I could not even have the enjoyment of observing the beautiful night sky that Asgard had, displaying millions of other stars, planets, moons, and galaxies, giving one a true estimation of the vastness of the universe.

        When we arrived at the location, Loki and I took our places towards the side of a slightly raised section of ground at the fore of the group. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, who had agreed to perform the ceremony in place of Loki, stood in the center. I gripped Loki’s hand under my black muff, and the two of us watched emotionlessly as the pyre carrying the decoy of Odin’s body was burned and cast into the void. Once the short ceremony was over, a few citizens, some weeping and some stoic, approached us to pay their respects before returning to their homes, and the nobility began to file back towards their carriages to return to the palace for the feast.

        The dinner was a heartier environment, and the hall was filled with loud voices and laughter. As the guests ate and exchanged glamorous stories about Odin, Loki sat at the head of the table and I at his right hand, both of us remaining completely silent, staring at either our food or each other, communicating our disgust through tired facial expressions.

        Praying for the event to be over soon, throughout the feast I only gulped down two goblets of wine and picked at a dinner roll that had long since gone cold. The entire day, I had felt a bit lightheaded and strangely hot, and the feelings only increased as the night went on. I wanted to stay and support Loki in his struggle, but when I reached the point where I couldn’t see straight and was swaying in my seat, I knew I needed to go lay down. I whispered a brief explanation of the situation in Loki’s ear, and he sent me off with a kiss to the hand and the promise of joining me soon. I sluggishly stood and dragged my feet out of the dining hall, utterly unnoticed by the nostalgic crowd.

        The reason for the sudden bout of sickness worried and eluded me as I trudged to our apartments, but I stopped caring when I entered the bedchamber, my mind occupied with only the thought of changing out of my gown and collapsing onto the bed, laying there in a half-awake state without even getting under the blankets.

        Loki returned from the feast just as I was drifting off to sleep, the sound of his exhausted sigh preceding his entrance. He tutted a bit at my situation, picking me up and placing me in a more comfortable position before draping the covers over my body and sliding into bed behind me, kissing the crown of my head and wrapping his arm around my waist.

        “It’s finally over,” he murmured against my ear, and with that, I sank into the curves of his body and fell asleep instantly.

        That night, when I dreamt, it wasn’t of Frigga.

        Instead, an enormous, violet-skinned man appeared before me, with a menacing grin and a gravelly voice.

        “Remember me?” he sneered, his sadistic chuckle rumbling throughout the room. “My name is Thanos. You may not have met me directly, but I’m the one you’ve spent the past five years running from. You were never of much interest to me, and the ruining of your life was a simple yet necessary task, so I practically forgot about you. However, you’ve become of interest to me once again, and you’re just in the right place for me to snatch you This is an opportunity I simply can’t pass up.”

        Images suddenly began to flash behind my eyelids rapidly, too fast to make out any bit of what they displayed, the montage blending into a terrifying mess of black and blue and white. The man’s cruel, lifeless laugh echoed in my ears, sending me into a fit of trembling and causing me to smash my hands over my ears and press as hard as my body would allow, and I began to shake my head with crazed fervor, squinting my eyes shut in an attempt to stop the flashing that absolutely refused to slow down.

         I woke up screaming.

Next Chapter

[impalafortrenchcoats]

Coming Apart On Top of You : Ch 1

Author: impalafortrenchcoats

Chapter: 1/?

Summary: 

Seokjin is trying to piece together a life while tearing down his past one brick at a time. Namjoon is fighting to build his future while struggling to handle the present. 

It wasn't a very convenient time to fall in love. 

And when the skeletons in the closet are much more literal than most, the challenges of their relationship could prove deadly.

Ships: Namjin, Jikook/Kookmin, Sope/Yoonseok

Categories: Hitmen + Assassins AU, Coffee Shop AU, Non-Linear Storytelling

Chapter Wordcount: 3223

AO3 Link: here

It was late morning in the cafe when the man walked in. The morning swarm had finally cleared, and it was now the quiet before the sad, desperate souls of the afternoon crowd came stumbling in for their pick-me-ups. This was especially true for the pencil-pushers of the surrounding businesses, who came and left in a haze of overworked dead eyes. It really made Hoseok question whether or not to go into business like everyone else. Well, that was a problem for the future.

In the meantime, he was busy killing time, slowly refilling the straw stand one straw at a time, all the while contemplating the next part of his scheme to woo his ever aloof coworker, Yoongi. The first part had gone relatively well. After three months of working together, Yoongi finally knew his name and was no longer fucking it up.

Hoseok indulged in a giant mocha macchiato with coconut milk that day to celebrate.

Now, step two, small talk.

Okay, maybe that was too much. Best not get too greedy. One should always set realistic goals for oneself. Maybe just saying ‘hi’. That sounded good.

As he set about testing out different tones for the procedure, the familiar chime of the door rang and a tall figure ambled into the cafe.

Hoseok brightened when he recognized the man as a regular. He had only been working in the cafe for about five months or so, and he had no idea when the man started coming in for his coffee. But one thing was for sure, the man sure knew how to get the staff’s gossip mill going. A primary contributor to the constant gossip was the fact that, to this day, no one knew the man’s name.

At some point he was just dubbed Tall, Pink, and Handsome by some of the female staff, and the rather apt name stuck.

Nowadays, almost everyone who took his order just scribbled TPH on his cup, and that was the end of that. The man didn't seem to mind, and if the stories were to be believed, had even thrown a ridiculously cute aegyo at the person who had finally explained the meaning to him.

Hoseok was in the minority who decided to have some fun with the nameless one. After some hardcore nosing around and an aggressive application of his sunshiny charm, he had found out that the man had a soft spot for Disney, and the princesses in particular. He now made sure to write down some Disney character’s moniker on the cup, and when possible, he always tried to add a little bit of trivia.

It wasn't something that he would usually do for someone who was essentially a stranger, but Hoseok was good at reading people.

And something told him that the man was due some harmless joy in life.

It was easy to see when the man noticed Hoseok looking his way as he immediately smiled and waved as he made his way over.

Not to be outdone, he did his patented impression of the sun and returned the smile with interest, “Well, look who decided to show up! I was starting to think you were cheating on us with that new coffee shop down the street.”

The man gave a whinnying bark of a laugh before trying to give Hoseok a stern glare. It was completely ruined by the twitching of his lips as he tried to contain the smile, “How dare you question my loyalty, you uncouth rapscallion. I’ll have you know I was on a business trip and was barely holding it together without my beloved coffee. Your coffee beans were haunting my dreams.”

Hoseok snorted at the honestly cringe-worthy melodrama, “Uh-huh. So what’s it going to be today?”

“The usual. I need to get this body back on its usual regime. Something, something, my body, my temple, you know the drill.” He waggled his eyebrows at Hoseok and leaned on the counter, straddling the lines between social dumbass and creepy uncle masterfully.

Hoseok had to roll his eyes before saying, “you are so freaking lame, dude. This is why you're still single, even with that face.”

“Does your manager know you speak this way to your best customer? And I'll have you know I'm hot shit. Civilizations have crumbled for less beautiful faces than this!”

“Let no one tell you you don't have self-confidence.”

“Who needs self-confidence when you got this face?” He even puckered his lips for emphasis.

Hoseok sighed and just called it quits. It was up for debate whether or not this guy was serious, and despite his people reading skills, he truly couldn't say. Instead, he just grabbed a plastic cup and said, “So, one iced almond latte, right?”

The man hummed his approval before trying to lean over the counter to get a better look at the cup. He asked, “What about you? What's it going to be today?”

Hoseok quickly pulled the cup away from view, “Nuh-uh. No peeking! You'll see it when the coffee's done!”

He then proceeded to scribble on the cup for a bit before scuttling off to make the drink. As he went about his business with heating up the milk, he could see the man loitering rather cheerfully by the pastries. The image of the man’s avid interest in the new batch of lobster-decorated cupcakes gave him the perfect inspiration.

He smiled to himself and added a few more scribbles to the side of the cup.

“How about a hint,” the man called. “The anticipation is just killing me.”

“You never heard of ‘delayed gratification’?”

“Wow. ‘Gratification,’ you say? Aren't you confident today. I'll have you know, I've been spoiled. It'll take more that a sad cat doodle and a barely legible ‘Mufasa’ to please me.”

“That’s it. No more business trips for you. You get too uppity after them for any one’s comfort. And what do you mean barely legible!”

“I'm sorry. Your handwriting is no good.”

“You wound me.”

“I'll leave a nice tip?”

“You heal me.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, and when Hoseok finally finished up the latte, he tried to make a heart in the foam, but it ended up looking more like a lopsided pear. Mr. TPH didn't seem to mind and quickly turned the cup around to see his writing.

Ariel

The dress worn at the dinner is a combination of all previous princesses’ dresses.

Hoseok felt the bright smile the man gave him was well worth the effort of trying to fit all that writing onto cup. He took a sip of his latte, before waving his thanks and slipping out the door.

Once again, Hoseok was left alone to wonder about the mysterious TPH. At least, Ruth would be happy to know the man had returned. A significant portion of the staff had been mourning the lack of handsomeness in their work life.

Oh, well. That wasn’t his problem. He really needed to get back to his game plan for Yoongi.

+++

Journal Entry 1

March 21, 2013

Okay, so how am I supposed to do this? This is a journal, just to be clear, not a diary. Fucking Seulji said this shit helps clear thoughts and shit, but I think it's just a girl thing.

Okay, fuck. I don't know. Hi, this is Park Jimin, I'm 21 years old, a dance major, oh, and most importantly, a royal fuck up. So much fucking up to be had, I have sowed and reaped the fruits of my fuckery. My crops of fuck ups is plentiful. Oh my god, this is so stupid. Don't ever listen to Seulji. She's the queen of bad ideas.

HOLY FUCK! This whole thing was her fault; what am I talking about? Okay. You know what?

Summary of my recent fuck up: I may have met the love of my life at the club last night, because shit those legs were to die for, the arms as well, oh my god, his face. Who am I kidding? I met God last night. But I also listened to Seulji, who is the devil, and got fucking wasted. And am pretty sure I told Beautiful that I was flexible as fuck, and I was super down to fuck.

And proceeded to prove my point by kicking my leg up, and basically did a vertical split on the man’s shoulder.

Then, the lovely icing on the cake, I'm pretty sure I barfed all over the poor bastard.

FUCK YOU, SEULJI, THIS IS MAKING THE MEMORY WORSE NOT BETTER!!!!

So, thankfully I don't remember shit after, but according to the she-devil herself, this guy probably really has the patience of God, since he apparently helped her drag my sorry drunk ass home.

And now, I will end my misery with ice-cream because fuck you, Seulji, journals don't fucking help.

Worst part is, I won't ever see Beautiful, again, and I'm hungover and don't even have the sore ass to at least say I got a decent lay for my troubles.

I hate my life.

+++

The entire office building was supposed to be empty by this time of night. It was nearing 2 AM, so the fact a lone glowing computer screen was lit in a sea of black screens was an anomaly in and of itself. However, the eerie cast of the light from the screen as well as the dim glow of the exit signs and secondary lighting system made the figure seated in front of a computer seem otherworldly in appearance.

Given the time, the man seemed unusually alert despite his eyes appearing glued to the screen in front of him. He sat with his back straight, motionless - waiting. The silence and stillness permeated everything in the sprawling emptiness of the office space. And time seemed almost frozen.

Then, in the distance, growing slowly but just as ominously and relentlessly as the sound of an oncoming train, echoes of screams drifted into the room, rising from the floors below.

It kept building, and the closer and louder it became, the muted blasts of gunshots and thuds of falling bodies became easily identifiable to the man’s ears.

Everything reached a crescendo, and as quickly as it came, the noises disappeared and silence rang once more.

The man let out a slightly shaky breath, but his face remained impassive as ever.

It was not until a ding from the hallway behind him alerted him to the arrival of the elevator and the subsequent hissing signaled the opening of said elevator doors, that the man finally moved, although it was just to take off his glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose.

Without looking, he spoke, “You’ve really gone and made a mess of things, haven’t you.”

Silence answered him, but this time punctuated by the hair-raising feel of eyes on his back.

He sighed and continued, “I've been waiting for you. Figured you would come here first.”

He didn't expect a reply. Instead, with slow and precise motion, he tugged a USB drive from the computer and placed it to the side, away from him, all the while still not turning around.

“I tried to warn you. Headquarters always know; they always find out. If anything, I was surprised you all managed to keep it quiet for as long as you did.”

Just as he finished speaking, a hand came to rest on his shoulder, sitting uncomfortably close to his neck. He was made all the more aware of the dire circumstances by the thumb running slow, easy circles on the back of his neck.

He swallowed again, “For what it's worth, they didn't hear it from me.”

Finally, he received a response. A soft masculine voice answered him at last, speaking in an unnaturally light tone. If anything, he felt he could almost imagine the gentle smile on the other man’s face, “I know.”

It was readily clear that this was the only reason why they were even speaking, and that he wasn't another casualty to the night.

“What are you doing here, Onew?” The man’s tone was still light, almost jovial, as if this was a surprise run-in with an old friend at the grocers.

Onew would have tried to relax more if the tang of fresh blood wasn't clinging to the other man like an overbearing cologne.

“I wanted to give you this,” Onew indicated the USB. “Everything you want is there. Locations of all offices and safe houses, the comprehensive list of everyone employed, everything you would ever need to wipe them from existence.”

There was a pause, then the other man gave a short laugh.

Onew stiffened when the next words out of the man’s mouth were right next to his ear, his breath tickling the side of Onew’s cheek, “Thank you very much. But I can't help but wonder why you're doing this.”

Ignoring the beads of sweat trickling down his forehead, Onew tried to keep his voice steady as he answered, “My team. I want you to spare my team. We won't stop you; I'll take them out of this, I swear.”

The man hummed, the sound resonating through Onew from their proximity, “That would be a little incriminating for you, wouldn't it?”

“Then you would just have to be a dear and kill them all for me, if it's not too much trouble.”

He finally backed away with a snort, “Never thought you were the gambling sort.”

“Never thought I was either. Key thinks this is a suicide mission you're on.”

“How did you manage to convince him to go along with this?”

“I figure I would just say sorry later.”

Silence took hold of the room once more, and Onew waited on bated breath for the man’s decision. He almost wept in relief when, from the corner of his eye, he watched a hand take the drive.

“When I come for them, make sure you and your team are gone. If I see any one of you -”

“You won't.”

The hand on his shoulder patted him.

“How long do we have?” He couldn't help but ask.

“Now, now, Onew. That would be telling.”

Onew nodded. He didn't want to push his luck, this had already gone better than he had hoped. He felt the man back away, so he went to pick up his glasses.

“Oh, and sorry about the mess.”

Pausing in confusion for a moment, Onew put on the glasses and glanced to the side, taking in the dark, bloody handprint on his shoulder.

He shrugged, “It was an ugly shirt, anyway.”

As he listened to the man’s retreating footsteps, Onew turned to face him for the first time that night.

“Seokjin-ah,” he called and he waited for the figure to turn. “Please don't fuck this up.”

The man just smiled and nodded before disappearing into the elevator.

Onew sighed. Now he just had to figure out how to break the news to the rest of the guys.

+++

Good evening.

Tonight ten are dead after a fire broke out at a local office building on the outskirts of Seoul, bordering Namyangju. The building is one of many ran by Ayao Industries, a local shipping company owned by founder and CEO Lee Beomsoo.

The incident occurred in the early morning hours, when a skeleton crew had been reworking the building’s wiring in preparation for an upcoming remodel. According to the company spokesman, Cha Hakyeon, the fire had started when faulty wiring combined with materials on scene had resulted in the explosion which killed the men. Mr. Cha made it clear that all company personnel are cooperating with local officials as investigations continue.

Concerns regarding whether or not the building was up to code are central to the investigation.

This tragedy follows in the aftermath of another as Mr. Lee and family are still reeling from the loss of their son, Lee Byunghun, in a tragic car accident just three days prior.

Despite personal hardships, Mr. Lee remains adamant the company’s expansion efforts will continue, and construction on overseas offices in Vietnam will remain on schedule. The new location will be dedicated to his late son upon completion.

+++

Journal Entry 2 (Am I supposed to be numbering these?)

March 25, 2013

TALL, DARK, AND BEAUTIFUL SHOWED UP AT MY WORK TODAY!!!!

Apparently, I drunkenly invited him to the book signing, and Seulji gave him the details when I passed out.

Seulji. I may owe this girl some money. A lifetime of alcohol. My first born child. Nah, too much.

But I fucking owe her. O-W-E!

Can I just say drunk me is lame as fuck, though. A book signing? Really? They're giving out free snacks here, but I'm coming off as a real cheapskate, starving college student status notwithstanding.

Fuck, but the guy is hot as fuck. Like gorgeous. So, I already mentioned the hot bod. Like muy caliente. Burn me with your fire, hot, right? But, come on, I’m a realistic guy, and I know it could have been a combination of the club lighting and my beer goggles.

No. Not at all. Nope. He’s not just hot. He’s ADORABLE. He’s got these giant doe eyes and this boopable nose! Does he know he’s lethal cute! Like, he has this kind of face that should be dopey, but he fucken dodged that with a hard pass and slammed straight into wet dreams territory.

Basically, I don't know what he's doing coming to my crappy little bookstore really. Although, he did seem a bit out of touch. Who in their right mind would be that interested in hearing me talk about stocking books. He was probably just humoring me, honestly. I mean it's not much but it pays, not much I can do about that until I graduate. We can't all be international photographers or whatever.

At least I think that's what he does. We ended up ditching the book signing and he took us to dinner. I noticed some equipment in the backseat of the car and some camera stuff. It had gotten kind of awkwardly quiet, so I decided to break the silence by asking him if he had just come back from a shoot.

I think if there are any future outings, I might just have to suggest public transit because he clearly wasn't one of those guys who could multitask talking and driving. The guy almost missed a turn and drove straight into oncoming traffic. Yeah. I wasn't down for that kind of life. No Fast and Furious for this Jimin.

Also, he seemed kind of mad I asked. Though, A+ for hot side glare. I would put up with inexplicable mood swings, if I got to look at those eyes when things got hot and heavy.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not easy, but a guy’s got to be honest with himself. And I've dated enough art sorts to know they could be moody.

He wanted clarification apparently, so I had to explain the camera and what not. Maybe he really didn't want to be confused with the film sort. Who knows with these art guys.

Dinner was amazing, and he paid. I think I'm in love.

Feed me. That's all I ask.

Aw, shit. I am easy.

Only down side of the evening was the lack of a kiss. I feel like a kiss after getting dropped off would be mandatory after our rocky start.

Considering the disastrous meet cute, there was no point to being coy now. I want my kiss, damn it.

Whatever. I got his number.

Now, I just have to check the bank and see if I could afford something nice for Seulji. She deserves it.

I take back calling her a she-devil.

+++

“Well? What is your plan for the situation?”

“We had our people on clean up. The fire destroyed most of the evidence. Even if something slips, we have some of the investigators in our pocket. The public won’t know the truth.”

“I really don't give a fuck about the public. How do we get rid of our little problem?”

“You say ‘little problem,’ I say ‘critical disaster.’ I don't think you're taking this situation as seriously as should be warranted.”

“He's one man.”

“He's one of our best men.”

“You said he could be trusted.”

“It seems I was wrong.”

“And now you're saying you can handle it.”

“I will.”

“Let's hope you're not wrong, again.”

SPECIAL THANKS TO:

juvi-lockster, dharyism, and allourheroes for cleaning up my mess!

Next Part: here

[spaceorphan18]

Finding Kurt Hummel: Glease

Masterpost

4x06: Glease

Well -- we’re still amidst a ton of Klaine angst -- but we, thankfully, get to skip over other story lines I’m not as fond of such as; Marley’s eating disorder, the Newbies doing Grease, and Rachel/Brody/Finn/Cassie nonsense.  I will take Klaine angst any day. 

Role You Were Born to Play

So Kurt wasn’t in episode five, but there are still some things in this episode that I need to discuss.  

First of all -- we’re entering the part the main part of season 4, where Kurt just doesn’t get a lot exploration or commentary -- and therefore we get to fill in some of the blanks.  I’ll try to do my best at explaining what are facts and what are my own headcanon. 

Anyway -- there’s not a whole lot of Blaine in this episode either, but here are some things we learn: 

Kurt and Blaine already discussed spending the rest of their lives together.  I’m gonna guess this was as early as when they got together in season 2, back when Kurt said Blaine was on board going to New York with Kurt. 

They were going to move to Province Town and buy a lighthouse and start an artist colony.  Okay, they were weirdos. 

Kurt’s not talking to Blaine.  AT ALL.  It’s kind of implied over the next three episodes that after Blaine left the loft that morning, Kurt has done his best not to be in contact.  Which is a very Kurt-ish thing to do.  He doesn’t really face his problems head on.  He likes to avoid them, and ignore that he feels anything.  

Blaine has a Kurt scrapbook -- which most likely means that Kurt has a Blaine scrapbook.  They probably made these together.  

After looking at the still -- I noticed there some postcards, and I while I can’t really see what they say, I’m almost positive that they were from Kurt (it looks like his name) -- and, awww, bbs, Kurt sent Blaine postcards from NY!!

Sill in Mourning

So, like a good roommate -- Kurt’s helping Rachel prep for her Glass Menagerie audition.  This scene is really about Rachel and Cassie getting to spar once again, but I’m going to ignore most of that an concentrate on Kurt. 

First - I’d like to point out that Kurt’s looking disheveled and is wearing black.  Look, I know the narrative isn’t focused on Kurt, and is more interested in telling Blaine’s story, but I need to make this clear.  This break up -- fucking sucks for Kurt, too.  Breaking up with Blaine is not something he ever wanted or anticipated.  And dealing with the shock and the pain of what Blaine did is something he’s in the middle of doing right now --- even if we don’t get to see much of it. 

He’s putting /no/ effort into how he looks -- which is a big thing for Kurt.  He’s wearing sweats, for god’s sake, and doing really nothing about his hair.  And while I, shallowly, kinda like this look, it means that Kurt’s hurting so much he’s not concentrating (either) on things he loves.  The black, which he’s worn since that night at Callbacks, also, is something he’ll continue to wear until he and Blaine have their talk in Thanksgiving. And the black, very obviously, is for mourning.  He’s grieving the death of his relationship. 

So -- on to the plot -- Tina’s giving him updates on the play.  Why would he care? Why would Tina care to tell him about it? I have to wonder if Tina’s passive-aggressively trying to get him to talk to Blaine.  I wonder if he listens because there’s a part of him that, while I’m sure Tina’s bugging him, wants to know what’s going on. He may have cut Blaine off completely -- but that doesn’t mean he’s not willing to hear second hand details. 

So -- Cassie comes in with her abs and her ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude and tells them that if they still have baggage over their exes -- go home and fix it.  

Rachel, I should note, claims she has closure (well, you did get something at the end of that episode....) but is totally lying to herself about her feelings because she’s too busy pretending to be an adult and be fine with things that are not fine instead of dealing with her issues.  (That’s sorta her arc this season.) 

Meanwhile, though Kurt is at least admitting he’s not fine.  In fact, he’s not fine at all -- and when Cassie mentions having baggage and no closure, and when Rachel mentions she’s fine, Kurt gives her a look -- this look that says, I fucking do not have closure and am not fine and c’mon Rachel.... 

Kurt breaks down and decides he’s going.  He admits here that he hasn’t seen or talked to Blaine since that night -- and I’m guessing that any kind of closure now is better than what he’s going through.  He’s not sleeping (hey, didn’t someone else mention that in the previous episode?) -- and taking sleeping pills to force himself to sleep.  And watching The Notebook, over and over.  

And as I mentioned earlier -- it’s not just that this romantic relationship failed.  It’s not even that both Kurt and Blaine just lost their best friend.  They had their entire lives planned out, together, and now Kurt’s entire future (because he thought he was gonna go to NYADA, too) is out of whack -- and so not what he thought it was going to be.  

So -- Kurt wants to go back, because maybe-- just maybe seeing Blaine again won’t hurt so much.  Maybe they’ll be able to work something out.... 

Kurt what even are you doing, lol? I mean - I understand that you’re mirroring Cassie, but why? Do you want abs, too? 

I need to mention, though, that Kurt begs Rachel to go with him because he can’t go alone.  The thing is -- this stuff sucks -- and Kurt, while definitely trying to handle everything alone, is not doing a good job.  Rachel, right now, is his only real friend -- and adopting her attempt at shoving away her feelings and issues seems like something Kurt wants to try in order to not feel so much pain.  (Granted, this comes up more in Thanksgiving, but I thought I’d point it out here.) 

Making a Return

Kurt and Rachel return to Lima.  And this is the first time he’s come back since he left.  It’s always a little weird returning home, especially for the first time.  It’s the same, yet weirdly different.  Anyway -- Rachel’s all about her ego and Kurt’s like, ha, no, I’m nervous and anxious because I’m really here for Blaine, and idk how that’s gonna go. 

For nostalgia’s sake -- Rachel brings up the time that Kurt pretended to have a crush on her to get out of dating Mercedes.  So, did he tell her about that? Cause Rachel didn’t know at the time.  Anyway - this is all to lead up to the return of Mercedes.  

And it’s so nice to see Kurt light up when he sees her.  Life might suck at the moment, but seeing her is always a balm on his heart (at least in my interpretation.) 

Also, hilariously, Mercedes said that they should come back stage and see people, cause they’ll freak when they’re there.  Other than Finn and Blaine, who’s really gonna care that they’re there?  Lol...

This scene. Damn, this scene.  I don’t even know where to start.  

Can I say it’s pretty hilarious when Mercedes hightails it outta there.  She doesn’t want to have anything to do with that little mess of a group. 

Other than Blaine’s stutter at seeing Kurt, and saying he didn’t expect them there, there is /no/ dialogue between the two of them.  But the non-verbal communication is off the charts.  Finn and Rachel have a majority of the conversation here -- and I wish I had the After Elton review of this, but they summed it much better than I will -- but while Finchel is being somewhat petty with each other -- Kurt and Blaine are just having a really, really sad conversation with their eyes. 

Kurt keeps trying to look at Blaine -- and he can’t.  Because Blaine is so beautiful, and so lovely, and it fucking hurts to look him at because how could Blaine do such an awful thing to him. And how can he still have so many feelings, so many conflicting feelings.   (A side note - I am not letting Kurt off the hook for his part to play.  But in a way, he won’t really realize that until he breaks the relationship a few years from now.)  

And then there’s Blaine -- who is staring at him, with those sad, puppy dog eyes. And he’s so, so sorry.  

Kurt tries really, really hard to focus on the little Finchel drama going on.  Because ever time he sneaks a little peak at Blaine, it’s so much harder. 

There’s an interesting moment -- where Finn says they’re proud of the play, and Blaine puffs his chest a little -- like he is proud of what they’re doing, and he’s gonna try his best even though he’s breaking inside, too.  Kurt desperately tries to ignore that.  Blaine’s heart breaks a little more in that moment.  So does Kurt’s. 

I mean -- remember last year at this time? When Kurt was so proud of Blaine on that stage? And they were intimate for the first time afterwards? Yeah - like that isn’t in the back of their minds, too. 

I also want to give a shout out to the costume department.  Kurt dressed all in black, yet so pale looking.  While Blaine is in white -- Teen Angel ironically, though with such darker features.  They’re two sides of the same coin -- two parts of the same pair.  They’re matched up, even when they’re broken.  Oh, bbs <3 

Blaine gives one last lingering look to Kurt before he takes off.  And the minute he’s gone, Kurt begins to breath again.  And he nearly breaks down.  Because seeing Blaine again makes it almost worse.  It makes all these feelings even more real than they already were.  Blaine is still Blaine -- yet he is changed, and seeing him again doesn’t fix what happened.  

Rachel, who is better at masking her feelings, gives him a pep talk -- and he gives in to her -- cause it’s much easier to let someone else take control.  (Which is saying something -- because Kurt very much likes to be in control.) 

Performances

Blaine as Teen Angel is -- ironic on about hundred levels.  Here’s this a projection of a flawless and perfect prince for you Kurt -- and it’s a bit of a mockery.  (This scene is more for Blaine -- who, side stepping the fact that it wouldn’t be possible, sees Kurt in the audience and it causes him to falter.) But Kurt looks like he’s going to be sick during the whole thing.  Everything on that stage was something he believed in -- and everything is now a lie. 

As an aside -- though -- it’s actually a good thing that Blaine has slid off Kurt’s pedestal.  To actually really love someone, you need to see their dark side as well as the light, and love them anyway.  And Kurt will eventually come to the conclusion that he does. But, shattering this perfect image, and seeing the truth underneath, is not an easy thing to come to terms with. 

The look on Kurt’s face as Blaine gives one last dashing look before he leaves the stage.  Goodbye overly romanticized ideal of the man I loved.  You’re never gonna have that back, Kurt but that’s okay, I promise!! 

Man -- Kurt spends this entire episode nearly in tears but never really breaks down.  Kurt’s usually an easy crier.  But he’s doing his damnedest to control his feelings.  And it’s probably tearing him up inside. 

Kurt’s at least enjoying the play as a whole a little better. 

So -- we get this whole ‘You’re the One That I Want’ montage.  And, first I’m glad we’re skipping Marley’s eating stuff and Ryder kissing her to calm her down and a whole lot of no -- yuk.  Also, it’s fascinating to me how much better Finn and Rachel sound when they start singing opposed to Ryder and Marley. Also, also -- it cracks me up that they flashback to the pilot, and they still include Kurt’s WTF look in the flashback. Anyway, I digress.... 

Finchel has this little fantasy.  Who’s dreaming about the other couples? Who knows.  The point, though, is that the show is letting us know that despite being broken up -- all these couples still want each other.  

Well damn, Chris.  I mean...

You all have seen this scene gif’d a million times.  You know what the close ups look like (I can’t still it without it being awful.)  Kurt and Blaine dance with each other -- and it’s cute.  Watch for their background moments, because they’re goofing around when not in focus, and it’s adorable. 

Finchel Lite

So -- Finn and Rachel get this complex and length little scene that hits on a lot of points about their relationship.  And then Klaine gets thirty seconds.  Ug.  I’m not bitter at all....  But the a point I need to take from the Finchel-ness is that Rachel says that home no longer feels like home.  And Kurt doesn’t understand for another thirty seconds. 

Blaine wants to talk -- Kurt doesn’t.  Because Kurt’s in way too much pain to have any kind of rational conversation.  (And because Kurt tries not to have these hard conversations whenever possible...) 

But oh, Blaine -- you opened with the /wrong/ thing to talk about.  Kurt really, really doesn’t want to hear about details about what happened.  It doesn’t matter what actually happened, it’s the fact that it did that hurts Kurt so much.  As I said in the Break Up post -- it’s the fact that it happened at all that shatters Kurt.  And rehashing that isn’t going to help.  

The conversation here about trust is interesting.  Kurt is right, relationships are about trust.  Blaine didn’t trust his relationship enough.  Kurt trusted it too much -- and the thing is -- the real key here -- is that Kurt does whatever he can to shield himself in from pain and heartache.  He’s spent years shielding himself off from people who have kicked him when he’s down, and trying to show that he doesn’t care.  He’s spent years perfecting this perfect defense against his own emotions. 

And he let Blaine in.  He let Blaine into his heart, and let him see the most vulnerable parts of him.  And no one -- /no one/ had the ability to hurt Kurt as deeply as Blaine.  Because Kurt protects himself.  Except the one time he thought it would be okay to let his guard down, and his heart got stomped on in the worst way.  

The trust conversation doesn’t come back until the end of season five -- because yeah, it takes Kurt /that/ long to figure how how to trust Blaine again.  But also -- he’ll need to screw up the relationship, too, to fully understand.  But man - we have a bumpy ride to get to that point. 

Meanwhile - Kurt’s about to lose it, and he can’t stay any longer because he’ll be just a mess.  And he says that Rachel is right -- Blaine, who was one of the definitions of his home, feels the furthest thing from it.  

Kurt takes off with Rachel, and I’ll bet you anything, the minute they round that corner, Kurt, who’s tried so hard to control everything this entire episode, breaks down crying.  Oh bbs.  It gets better. 

So yeah -- that’s the episode.  And Kurt’s absent from episode 7 because it’s time to make Blaine become a real boy, and let him forgive himself.  These are tough times -- but there are some great things to dig through coming up.  I’m kinda looking forward to it. :) 

[monsterpark-rpg]

Katie Gelson-Accepted

Mun Info: Name- Xochitl Age- 20 Pronouns- She/her Time Zone- CST

Ic Info: Character’s name- Katie Gelson Age- 16 Gender/pronouns- Cis female; She/her Species- Dhampir Physical description (one paragraph)- Katie stands at a height of 4’ 10". Despite being the height of the average 12-year-old, her age shows more through her body type. She’s a curvier girl: average-sized bust, smaller waist, and her hips are the largest part of her body. While the majority of her strength is lower-body, evident by how much more toned her legs are than the rest of her body, she does have muscles in her arms and abdomen that only really show when she flexes. She’s got a small tooth gap between her upper central incisors and no visible fangs unless feeding. There is a beauty mark above her lip on the left side. Her skin falls under the olive category with a greener undertone than what is considered normal. The discoloration becomes more noticeable as her thirst grows. She keeps her hair in the same bobbed style she did as a kid though it’s been grown out to just past the shoulders instead of the usual chin-length. Her hair is naturally dark brown but she bleaches it to a pale blonde and tones it to a silver color. She prefers leaving her hair down for the school-day but will have it in a ponytail while exercising or if she’s at home. Her wardrobe almost exclusively consists of black save for the few pieces of red and purple accessories or accent pieces. All jewelry is gold. Her closet primarily eccentric cloaks, coats, shawls, dresses, skirts, and other flowy fabrics. Her accessories [rings, necklaces, headpieces, bags, etc.] all have either a bat, vampire, or death motif. When she’s just lounging about at home, her usual wear is either her letterman over a band tee or a hoodie and some yoga shorts. She also has a few piercings: 3 graduated piercings on her ear lobes [both sides], orbital piercing on left ear, nose ring on the left side, and a bellybutton piercing.

Personality description (one paragraph)-  She’s not the type of person to turn her back on anyone she sees as a friend and will do anything in her power to help them when they need it. She’s more loyal to the her childhood friends than anyone else and is very protective of them. Should any harm come their way, Katie is sure to step in, even if it’s within the group of friends itself. If you have a secret that you never want anyone to know, Katie is there to be your diary. Any secret you tell her or just anything in general will stay between you and Katie. No one else will ever hear the words leave her mouth. She’s equally as trusting of those around her and is eager to make friends with anyone and everyone, even if they’ve wronged her in the past. She uses terms of endearment when speaking to others and is the type of person that kisses and cuddles her friends without worrying about any romantic implications. She believes in making sure all her friends feel loved and understand their own self-worth.

Background (one paragraph, please include information on their species if they are not human)- Born to two human parents, Katie’s undead heritage comes from an older, vampiric colleague of her mother who, by cell manipulation, placed his own DNA into hers in utero. Unfortunately because of this, her mother died in childbirth and she was raised by her very loving and understanding father. She had a very happy childhood. Her father never blamed her for her mother’s death nor did he treat her with any resentment because of her vampirism. In fact, he even made sure any and all of her ‘special needs’ were satisfied. Growing up, she had a very deep fascination with death and the undead. How could she not when the subject had basically surrounded her for her entire life? But vampires and vampirism, in particular, crossed her mind more than anything else. After years of indulging in every book/movie/video game, whatever the world had to offer on the subject, Katie began putting the pieces of her own heritage together. She confronted her father about it and he ultimately told her the truth. She was a dhampir, human-vampire hybrid. All of the strengths, none of the weaknesses, so long as the thirst was satisfied. Her initial reaction was…undesirable, to say the least but still very warranted. Is there even a 'proper’ response to what is essentially the loss of your own life? After her year long mourning period, she decided there’s no better way to conquer death than tho exploit the hell out of it. She decorated her bedroom accordingly, buying furniture and decorations that emulated the style of old victorian and gothic homes. Her bed is fashioned after a coffin and her curtains completely block out the sunlight. She even plays up the vampire persona on her off days. Sure it might be going overboard, but it’s helped her cope and in the end, that’s all that matters.

Head cannons (three-five)- •Because she is surprising very human-passing, Katie’s true nature isn’t well-known amongst the common rabble. The signs she exhibits have been chalked down to various disorders/diseases/syndromes by health professionals especially: skin discoloration and low-energy caused by anemia and a general vitamin deficiency, blood consumption (hematophagia) caused by pica, sun and silver sensitivity to an allergy, enchanted senses and eidetic memory to asperger’s, etc. Even her youthfulness is just attributed to having good genes, i.e. an Asian mother. The reasoning for the misdiagnoses are that all of the 'weaknesses’ tend to be more prevalent when she’s 'sickly’ aka hadn’t fed in a long time.

•While Katie occasionally strays down the more animalistic path of feeding, she tends to mostly stick to the non-violent methods. Typically this includes finding a donor that will let her feed enough to satiate her thirst. If that’s not possible, she will raid various blood banks, plasma centers, and even local hospitals to get her fix. Growing up, her father brought her the blood he drained from the bodies at his mortuary. Not the most legal method, but it gets the job done without physically hurting anybody.

•She’s not very adept in visual arts. Painting, drawing, sculpture, anything of that sort is very hard for her. Even writing poetry requires more effort from her than it does from her peers. Katie’s a lot better at the performing arts. Singing, dancing, and playing music are some of her favorite things to do. She has a fairly nice singing voice and likes to learn various styles of dance in her spare time. She also knows how to play a variety of percussion instruments as well as the cello and theremin. She is currently working to perfect her organ playing skills. What kind of vampire wouldn’t learn how to play Toccata & Fugue?

Sample roleplay (two paragraphs)- Roses. They symbolize love, honor, faith, beauty, passion, sensuality, and timelessness. The rose was used in association with the goddess Aphrodite, the rose bush grew from the blood pool of her slain lover. It is a symbol of immortal love. A symbol that Katie absolutely despised.

The bouquet that had mysteriously shown up on her vanity had to have been some poor fool’s way of expressing their love for her. Unfortunately for them, roses were the one flower Katie had grown tired of seeing. Nonetheless, the young vampiress knew how to appreciate a gift. She admired the snow white flowers, reaching up to run the tip of her fingers across the velvety petals and brought one down to take a whiff. Nothing. Of course. It had been a long time since anyone was last able to indulge in the aroma of a rose. Oh, how she yearned for just a taste of that sensation. Katie got up to leave the room when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. There, on one of the still-intact thornes, lay a small drop of blood, so minuscule that any other person would’ve missed it. Katie felt a spark inside her. She bent back down to the bouquet and ran her tongue along the stem to lap up the droplet. How amazing it was that something so insignificant could make her heart flutter. Whoever had sent her this bouquet truly knew what she liked after all. They knew the story of love surrounding the rose of blood. If only she knew who they were, she’d make them eternally hers.

Free hat.